Chin propped on one hand, Reynolds was making quick notes from the stream of words coming from the woman sitting opposite him.
‘And I can tell you that this isn’t the friendliest of places to work. I’m not interested in office gossip, so I just get on with what they give me to do. Being a temp here, I feel like I’m invisible and—’
Reynolds looked up at the fast-moving mouth, searching for the words which would get him out of here and back to headquarters. ‘Mrs Sowden—’
‘Ms.’
‘Sorry. You’re saying that you’re unable to say anything about Molly Lawrence and anyone else who works here—’
‘Did I say that? You weren’t listening.’
Reynolds frowned at her then at the words he had written.
‘You just told me that this place isn’t friendly, that you just do your work—’
‘It sounds to me like you haven’t had a lot of training.’
The words scythed through Reynolds’ head. If Watts could hear this. He looked up at her, saw the contempt, suspecting that he was looking at what Judd referred to as ‘bitchface’. And something else. Avidness.
‘If you have information, Ms Sowden, you need to give it to me.’
Sowden leant on the desk towards him. ‘The woman you’re asking about, this Molly Lawrence, she’s a bit of a looker, know what I mean? The clothes! I never saw anything like it. She comes in here looking like she’s part of a fashion show or something, although a baby would have put a stop to—’
‘You’re saying that Mrs Lawrence was inappropriately dressed for work?’
‘To my way of thinking. Too expensive. Me, I wear basics to come here.’ Reynolds eyed the beige and black. ‘If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for them, is my motto.’ She pursed her lips. ‘She’s the sort who’s all work. No time for basic pleasantries or a bit of a chat. In fact, at times I found her very off-hand.’
Recalling Watts’ words, he said, ‘I need you to be more specific, Ms Sowden.’
She gave him an irritable look. ‘I’m telling you, she’s very demanding. She wants everything the way she wants it, when she wants it. Everything has to be done just so. No doubt the others who work here will tell you how great she is. I believe in telling things like they are.’
‘Isn’t it a part of her job to make it clear how she wants things done and when?’
She stared at him. ‘How would you know? I’ve worked for her. There’s something else. You have to be careful around her. We had a big rush on a few weeks back. Roger Kemp, this other accountant, because that’s what she is, despite the fancy title she’s got, he was up to his ears in work and she did some bits and pieces for him and then, I overheard her telling Wells, the boss man here, that she’d done the lot!’ She sat back, arms folded.
Reynolds was now avoiding looking at her. ‘I’ll speak to Mr Kemp.’
‘You can’t. He left soon after. I keep a low profile around her but once or twice when I took stuff to her office, I’ve heard her on the phone.’
‘And?’
‘She wasn’t talking to her husband, if you get my drift.’
‘No, I don’t. What was she saying?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘It wasn’t what she was saying, it was how. The tone. The way she was whispering and smiling.’
‘If you didn’t hear any words, how can you be sure it wasn’t her husband?’
‘Because nobody I know talks to a husband like that!’
He closed his notebook, wanting rid of her. ‘Ms Sowden, if you have something to say about Mrs Lawrence, something which doesn’t come under the category of office gossip, I want to hear it.’
A few minutes later, the door opened. Wells leant into the room. ‘Sorry for the interruption, PC Reynolds. Eunice, I’m still waiting for that report I gave you to type.’
She stood. ‘I’ve been tied up here, talking to him.’
She marched past Wells and out. Wells watched her go, turned back to Reynolds. ‘My advice is to be cautious about anything Eunice told you. Women such as Molly, attractive, well-dressed, with a good job, plus a husband, Eunice views as … well, I don’t quite know how to phrase it—’
‘Personal criticism?’ said Reynolds.
He gave the young officer a surprised look. ‘Exactly.’
Reynolds was back at headquarters, reading what he’d got from the visit on his screen. The conclusion section was incomplete. He’d brought back two conflicting pictures of Molly Lawrence, one of them positive, the other from a dark, acid place. He re-read both, then reached into his holdall for a book which had been part of his brief engagement with his university course. Consulting the index in a couple of places he flipped pages, wondering if he should add what he was reading. Why not? It chimed with what he was thinking.
Returning to the conclusion, his fingers flew over the keys. Ending it with a question mark, he pressed send.
He was reflecting on his interviews with Molly Lawrence’s colleagues when Kumar came into the incident room. ‘You’re looking pleased with yourself, Tobes.’
‘I am … I think.’
4.30 p.m.
Watts looked around the packed incident room. ‘Now we’ve got Molly Lawrence’s agreement, we can crack on with Will’s plan.’
Chong said, ‘The Lawrences’ Toyota has been moved out of the Forensic Test Area and is completely covered. There’s no chance she’ll see it.’
‘Adam?’ said Traynor. ‘How’s it going with the stand-in for it?’
‘We’re working to the same dimensions and shape as the Toyota. How does a pale grey colour sound?’
‘I’d say ideal for keeping emotional responses to a minimum.’
Watts looked around at his officers. ‘Will says this is our best chance. To me, it looks like our only chance. Anything you want to add, Will?’
‘Only that those of us directly involved in the re-enactment need to monitor our own facial expressions and body language. I’ll introduce the
