‘Is he still there?’
‘I presume so. It’s not long since I spoke to him. Gary Wright’s in North Shields. He’s not working until tonight. One of the local men called on him earlier.’
‘Did they look inside?’
‘I don’t know. Didn’t ask.’
‘I’m going to check Wright’s flat,’ Vera said. She knew it was probably a waste of time, but she was too restless to wait in her office for the phone to ring. She imagined Laura Armstrong locked in the room where she’d sat chatting to Wright, drinking beer. Even if the girl got out onto the balcony and started shouting, would anyone hear? ‘And Parr? Where’s he?’
‘Nobody knows. He’s taken a day’s leave. Arranged it yesterday. He’s not in the house in Morpeth.’
‘I want to find him.’
Ashworth nodded. ‘Look, do you want me to finish the story? I don’t want to be too far away from home today anyway. Sarah had a few twinges in the night. Could be the baby.’
So that was what it was all about, she thought. He wasn’t supporting her at all, just looking for an excuse to be in the office. She was about to make a sarky remark then thought it wasn’t worth it. Office politics didn’t matter so much with Laura missing.
‘Stay in here,’ she said. ‘Give me a ring when you’ve finished the story. Earlier if anything occurs to you.’ He nodded. She gathered up her bag and left the office. He was already engrossed.
Vera was in the car park when she realized she hadn’t looked at the coroner’s report into Claire Parr’s death. She retraced her steps, ignored Ashworth who was comfortable in her chair, and dug through a mound of paper until she found what she was looking for.
‘Oh Christ,’ she said. ‘Parr’s wife. She
Chapter Forty-One
Gary Wright opened the door to her with a sandwich in one hand and she realized that she should be starving. She wasn’t, though. The thought of food made her feel sick.
‘What’s all this about?’ He stood aside to let her in. ‘One of your people turned up this morning, but they wouldn’t say what was going on.’ There was some music playing. Vera didn’t really do music. Occasionally there was a song which stuck in her head, made her feel sentimental. Usually a tune she’d heard as a kid. Mostly she just considered it a distraction.
‘Do you mind turning that off?’
He turned a knob and the music stopped. They were both still standing. ‘Coffee?’ he asked, then, seeming to remember her last visit, ‘Beer?’
‘You’ve not heard from Julie, then?’
‘Not today.’ He paused. ‘She was here last night.’
‘Aye, she said.’ Vera sat down. ‘You’ll not have heard about her daughter?’
‘Laura? What’s happened?’ He’d just finished the last of his sandwich and she had to wait for him to empty his mouth before he answered.
‘Do you know her?’
‘I met her once when I went to the house in Seaton.’
‘What did you make of her?’
‘Nothing. I don’t know. We only exchanged a couple of words.’
‘Interesting-looking girl.’ She nodded to the photo of Emily. ‘And you like them skinny.’
‘For Christ’s sake! She’s fourteen!’ But despite the bluster, Vera thought she caught something under the words. Guilt? Somehow the girl had got under his skin. ‘I felt sorry for her. Being in the house while her brother was being strangled. I was saying to Clive the other day-’
Vera interrupted. ‘She’s gone missing. You don’t mind if I have a quick look round.’
‘What would she be doing here? She doesn’t know where I live.’
‘Humour me, eh, pet.’
She pulled herself to her feet, knowing all the time that she wouldn’t find Laura. If Gary had taken her he’d be too clever to bring her back to his flat and she couldn’t really see it. But now she was here she should go through the motions. She opened the door to his bedroom. The bed had been made and the room was tidy.
‘What time did she go missing?’ he asked.
‘About eight-thirty. She never made it to the school bus.’
‘I was here then, with Julie.’
‘According to her she was sleeping off the effects of a bucketful of wine. Which you gave her’ Vera threw open the bathroom door. There was a row of shower gels and aftershaves on the window sill. More things to make you smell good than she’d ever possessed. No sign of Laura.
‘She was determined to get pissed. I couldn’t have stopped her even if I’d wanted to. And why would I? She wanted one evening when she wasn’t thinking about Luke.’
Vera looked into the kitchen and through the glass door onto the balcony. Nothing. ‘I know. I don’t blame you.’ She stood, quite still, in the middle of the room. ‘You can imagine what sort of state she’s in now. Are you quite sure there’s nothing you can tell me? About Luke, or Lily Marsh? About any of this mess? Have you heard anything from Clive or Peter or Samuel?’
He hesitated for just a moment. Had he been tempted to confide in her about Peter Calvert’s affair with Lily? Had he known about that? But in the end male solidarity took over. He shook his head.
‘Sorry, Inspector. It was all just a horrible coincidence. I can’t help you at all.’
At that, she lost patience with him and walked out. She’d only reached the top of the stairs when she heard the music again.
In her car she punched her own office number into her mobile, having to think for a moment what it was. Joe Ashworth answered immediately. ‘Inspector Stanhope’s phone.’
‘Well?’
‘No news on the girl. I’d have called.’
‘What about the story?’
‘I’m still only halfway through. I wanted to start at the beginning. It’s fascinating, though, isn’t it? The similarities.’
‘I thought I was going mad,’ she said. ‘Obsession can do that to you. I’m going to see if I can track down Parr’ She switched off her phone before he could reply, slipped it onto the passenger seat. She’d never got round to fitting a hands-free set.
When she got to Morpeth, it was early evening. In the quiet street where Samuel Parr lived, his neighbour, a middle-aged woman, was dead-heading roses in the small front garden. Further away, children were splashing in a paddling pool, giggling and shrieking with delight. The woman tried not to watch as Vera got out of her car and knocked at the door. She would think it rude to stare, would hate to be seen as intruding. Vera thought Samuel Parr should be in. This was a time for preparing an evening meal, for the first glass of wine. But there was no reply.
Vera went up to the wall which separated the houses. The woman looked as if she wanted to escape inside.
‘You don’t know where Mr Parr’s likely to be?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’ Tight-lipped, as if she begrudged the effort it took to form the words.
‘It’s all right, pet, I’m not selling.’ Vera flashed her warrant card, grinned mirthlessly. ‘I need to find Mr Parr. It’s urgent.’
The woman looked up and down the street. ‘You’d better come in.’
They sat overlooking an immaculate back garden. Away from public view the woman seemed to relax. ‘I’m sorry, I really don’t see how I can help. We’ve been neighbours for a long time, but never what you might call friends.’
