Luck and Judgement Read online

  ‘Good to talk to you, DC. Come for lunch one weekend.’

  ‘Will do. Thanks Paul. Remember me to Chrissie.’

  Chapter Five

  Between each floor there were thirty steps – fifteen, then a landing eight feet square on which you turned one hundred and eighty degrees before taking the next fifteen. The steps were quite shallow, as if the architect had suspected that the lifts would often be out of action. To get to the fifth floor, then, she had to climb one hundred and twenty of them every time there was no lift. She had once dreamed of the day when Leah would be able to walk up them – no more push-chair – but now they were in the nightmare time when although the little girl could walk, she could not do so for long enough to leave the push-chair in the flat. So now she had to hold the child in one arm and pull up the push-chair with the other.

  She could hear shouting somewhere in the building; it might be above or below but at least it would not be schoolchildren, being a Friday. Life in The Towers was always worse at weekends and in school holidays. She had never been threatened but they raced along the walkways and balconies, up and down the stairs, and they played stupid games with the lifts. And you couldn’t blame them – they were young and full of energy and mischief, and there was nothing else for them to do. In a few years, if she could find no way out, Leah would be one of them.

  Pausing on the next landing, the third, the voices were louder. A man and a woman shouting, him cursing and her half-screaming somewhere behind a closed door. She wouldn’t know them if she saw them but she recognized their situation. It was all about space, or the lack of it. At school there had been a lesson once about rats and aggression. GCSE Psychology – she had enjoyed that because it helped you to understand why people do what they do, that there are reasons for things, that it isn’t all just random and cruel. It might still be cruel but if there is a reason it doesn’t seem so bad. These scientists showed that every time you reduce the size of the cage you increase the number of bites between the rats, and once you go below a certain size of cage, they start killing each other. It was all on a graph, and the line was almost perfectly straight, going up at forty five degrees – with each reduction in the size of the cage, more rats got bitten. At the time it had not occurred to her, but now, on the landing, she thought about the scientists doing that, watching it and making notes; did they go on until there was just a tiny cage and two rats? Did they watch them fight to the death?

  The flats varied in size from one to three bedrooms but they were all small. Their own had two bedrooms, and she remembered how grateful she had been that Leah would have a room of her own. As a child she had had her own room, and for her first daughter not to have the same would have been some kind of failure. She knew of families in The Towers where bedrooms were shared by three children. She had spent money that they did not have making it nice, making it somehow better than the world around it, making it somewhere that Leah would want to be – a retreat, a refuge, a place of her own.

  She had her breath back, and her arms and legs had stopped aching. In the magazines they recommend taking the stairs, it’s good for your heart and tones the muscles of the legs. She talked nicely to Leah, made a game of it, played at counting the steps, hoping that she would not wander around the flat looking for her dad again as soon as they got inside. The first fortnight had been difficult, and then she had almost resented the child’s delight when he did walk back in, smiling, picking her up and throwing her towards the ceiling. Now she could only wonder how she, how they, would cope if he had gone for good.

  When they reached the fourth landing, she held the door open for the girl, the shopping bag swinging awkwardly from her shoulder, dragging the folded push-chair with her other hand. Their own front door was just four from the stairs and Leah already knew the way. She saw the child trot forward and then stop and stare. Turning the final corner herself, she saw the reason why. The two people waiting at their door had turned to look at them – a smartly dressed woman who was a little taller and quite a lot younger than the man who stood by her side. The bag seemed to grow heavier and the push-chair ever more awkward as she stepped towards them. She knew perfectly well what they were, even before the woman spoke.

  ‘I am Detective Inspector Alison Reeve from Kings Lake Central station, and this Detective Sergeant Smith. Are you Lucy Bell?’

  Smith had said very little. He and DI Reeve had made no plan before meeting Lucy Bell but they had worked together many times over the years; it was clear from the beginning that the young woman was to some extent vulnerable, if not frightened, and that she would find Alison Reeve easier to deal with, at least initially.

  The flat was small but tidy, and the child was well cared for. He had seen so many that were not in this very building that he sensed in himself a liking for Lucy Bell that might be dangerous. Something was making her nervous, and it might be the police presence – she might know something about the disappearance of her husband despite being a good mother to her child, or perhaps even because of it. She had told DI Reeve that they had lived here for a little more than two years, which meant that the domestic disturbance incident had occurred soon after they had moved in, during the early stages of her pregnancy. What other scenes had taken place since, unreported and unrecorded?

  In answer to Reeve’s questions, Lucy Bell said that no, she had not heard from Jimmy since he left for the platform. Was that unusual? She looked embarrassed as she said that it was not. As far as she knew, he had taken his phone with him, and Smith made a mental note to follow that up in a few minutes’ time. She had looked through the flat and he had taken his wallet and the bags he had used on his first tour just over a month ago. The leather jacket that he usually wore was still in his wardrobe but he had others and she could not be exactly sure what he might have been wearing.

  Smith said, ‘Does he have a nice leather belt, with a pattern worked into it?’

  Yes he does, she said, with a look somewhere between surprise and relief that the other, older detective, with his rather distracted air, would know that and ask her about it. But nothing else was said about it after that. She told them that Jimmy had been happy to get the new job, that he had done it to get them a fresh start and somewhere better than this in which to bring up their daughter. She looked around then and Reeve had said that she had it nice, that it felt like a home. Lucy Bell responded to that and explained what she had done since they moved in and what she would still like to do if… And the DI let her talk about that for a couple of minutes. She said that she hoped they didn’t need the bathroom as it still needed a lot of work.

  The furniture was basic and cheap; it had probably been bought new within the past eighteen months, but it matched, and the walls had been painted soft beiges and yellows during that time, too. Through an arch, Smith could see a tidy kitchen, a simple set of utensils hanging on a rack, bright orange tiles with a sort of Mexican pattern, a floor that looked clean - and he could also see, in his mind’s eye, the face of Jimmy Bell, striking, confident, handsome, the face of a Seventies porn-star, living here. He couldn’t make it fit.

  He could learn more in five minutes looking through Jimmy Bell’s personal items than Lucy Bell was going to tell them in an hour but he held off from that; when the conversation that he was half-listening to took an unexpected turn, he knew that he would be back here.

  ‘How did he seem just before he left on the Tuesday evening? Had he fully recovered?’

  The girl looked from Alison Reeve to Smith and back again.

  ‘Tuesday? He left on Sunday. He might have had a bit of a hangover…’

  Reeve would perhaps have played it the same way but Smith interrupted.

  ‘Our mistake, love. How did he seem on Sunday?’

  For the first time since they had sat down with her, Lucy Bell seemed unsure of how to answer.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Was he well? You said he might have had a hangover.’

  ‘I wasn’t here.’ />
  The little girl came out of her room and stood in the doorway, looking at them for a moment. Lucy Bell held out her hand and the child came forward and stood beside her.

  ‘I was staying at my brother’s in Wetton. We both were. When we got back on Monday morning, Jimmy had gone.’

  Smith and Reeve exchanged a glance, and he nodded for her to follow it up.

  ‘That seems a bit strange, Lucy. Jimmy’s last day at home for a fortnight? I’d imagine you’d want to spend it together. He’d want to be with Leah, wouldn’t he?’

  She didn’t say anything - she just squeezed the little girl’s hand in her own.

  Smith said, ‘But you think he might have had a hangover.’

  This time she nodded.

  ‘They don’t allow alcohol on the platforms, do they? And I expect Jimmy liked a beer with his mates on the last night. Is that it?’

  Tears were welling up now, and when she nodded again, one spilled over and ran down her cheek into the little girl’s thick, dark curls. Alison Reeve gave him a look that said, that’ll do for now, and he agreed; they needed time to review this.

  Reeve said, ‘Lucy, if you think of anything else that might help us to find him, you can ring me directly on this number, OK. And is there a number that we can reach you on?’

  She took the card, wiping her eyes with the back of her other hand. Reeve gave her another card and Lucy wrote a mobile number on the back of it. Then she said, ‘What’s happened to him?’

  ‘We’re not sure. It seems that he did go out to the platform. I’m sorry to say that he might have had some sort of an accident, but we don’t know that for certain. We’ll find out.’

  Reeve stood up but Smith waited a little longer before he spoke again.

  ‘Lucy. When we know a little more, I’d like to come back and talk to you again. Is that alright?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Does Jimmy have his own things? Drawers, and a wardrobe maybe, other bags?’

  He did.

  ‘And a PC?’

  ‘He has a laptop. I think it’s still here, in our bedroom. He didn’t take it last time.’

  ‘It would help me a lot if you could leave those things as they are, just for now.’

  She seemed to understand, and then he stood up, said thank you and held out his hand to her. She took it and looked at him directly for the first time.

  He said, ‘Just one more thing. Jimmy’s phone. Do you know what sort it was?’

  ‘It was an iPhone. A black iPhone – I don’t know which model or anything.’

  ‘If she’s telling the truth, our Jimmy went missing for two days.’

  Reeve agreed, and added, ‘At least two – she doesn’t know when he actually left the flat, and we forgot to ask when she went to her brother’s. Can you think of any reason why she might lie about it?’

  ‘Not offhand. If we assume that she is telling the truth, what’s the most likely explanation?’

  ‘There’s someone else to whom he wanted to say a fond goodbye. He left on the Sunday but made a detour via some lucky woman’s bedroom.’

  ‘Might not be a woman… But risky, whoever it was. If she’d needed to contact him about the little girl, say, and she’d called the platform? But only risky if he’d be bothered about her finding out, I suppose.’

  Alison Reeve ran a fingertip absentmindedly across the top of the dashboard and held it up for Smith’s inspection.

  He said, ‘He’s got this fancy phone but doesn’t seem to use it much, at least not as far as Mrs Bell is concerned. I don’t think she even expected to get a message like “Arrived safely, good flight, love you both.” Funny. Any other explanations?’

  ‘He had some other sort of business – something that Lucy didn’t need to know about, assuming that she didn’t.’

  ‘I thought she was straight with us.’

  Reeve waited before she said, ‘Me too. Let’s hope so – you did send her a message yourself saying that you wanted to look at his stuff. She might be going through it now.’

  Smith shrugged it off, if it was a criticism.

  ‘If she sterilizes it, that’ll tell me plenty, and if she doesn’t, so will that.’

  ‘Either way, Jimmy Bell was behaving a little oddly before he disappeared.’

  Somehow, Smith’s ‘Yes,’ managed to say “I told you so”, even though he hadn’t actually told anyone any such thing.

  ‘So for once, DC, I’m going to save you the trouble – we need to take a closer look at this.’

  ‘Your need is my command, ma’am.’

  ‘Any other thoughts before I command you to clean this car?’

  ‘I think that she’s afraid of him and she’s afraid that she’s lost him.’

  Reeve’s silence suggested that she did not disagree. Smith had parked the Peugeot on the road that ran alongside the play-park between Towers two and three; the city council periodically renewed its attempts to persuade the residents that they lived in Nelson House and Wellington House but without much success. Two youths in hoodies, trainers and falling-down jeans in between sat on the swings, and Smith watched them as Reeve thought over the interview with Lucy Bell. He said to himself, they should be in school, they’re fourteen or fifteen. I should go over there and just have a word. But it’s only about sixty-forty that they won’t abuse me and then I’ll have to do something. And it’s only about sixty-forty that we won’t be meeting up officially in a year or two anyway. Let’s enjoy our time apart while we can. At least they hadn’t interfered with the car.

  ‘Christ! It’s out of the ark when you think about it.’

  ‘What is? My car?’

  ‘A set-up like that. He has the bank account and gives her money every week, or not, I suppose. He has an iPhone and she gets housekeeping.’

  ‘Yes. Interesting, about that phone.’

  She closed her eyes and pulled a face.

  ‘Yes, alright. The one we have in a bag is a blue Samsung. As soon as we get back, I’ll get it in motion. What did you make of her, though?’

  ‘Pretty, in a quiet sort of way.’

  ‘I’ll be honest, DC, I expected better of you than that.’

  He knew that she was joking but went on to justify it anyway, trying to work out aloud what was troubling him.

  ‘No, I’m serious. I’ve only seen two photos, his personnel file and the ancient one in our own personnel files but she wasn’t what I expected. I wouldn’t have said she was his type, based on the little that I know. We should have asked her for another picture in case that was an old one. Bugger.’

  ‘The world is full of odd couples.’

  He considered asking her about the solicitor that she had been seeing and decided against it.

  ‘I think she’s a good mum and probably a loyal wife to a man who might not deserve it – I’m only saying ‘might’ at this stage, mind. It would be my guess that she’s known better, that she wasn’t brought up anywhere like The Towers, and that it’s a bit hellish for her but she’s made the best of it. And now this, whatever it is. If he has gone, she’ll struggle to get any support, if he just disappears. It’s easier if the bloke changes partners or dies, basically.’

  Reeve moved her feet and kicked a CD case in the foot-well. She picked it up and read ‘The Irish Tour, Rory Gallagher’. She turned it over and read the back but it still meant nothing to her. Opening the glove compartment, she pushed it in and closed the door. Three times it fell open before she succeeded in the tidying of his car.

  She said, ‘Buy a new car. Or at least another one. You’re on a partially protected salary, you can more than afford it. Are you turning into a skinflint in your old age?’

  Smith put his hands on the wheel as if she might try to remove him physically from the vehicle he already owned.

  ‘No. I’m doing my bit for the planet and conserving resources. A new car would have a bigger carbon footprint in its production.’

  ‘I can’t imagine it would be bigger t
han what comes out of the back of this smelly old thing.’

  ‘If she now refuses to start, we will know why.’

  The two youths had become aware of them, pulling down the hoods further and holding a muttered conversation. Smith thought, I suppose we might look like a couple of education welfare officers. Slowly they drifted away, shoulders hunched in mute protest at the injustice of the world.

  Reeve said, ‘You’re right about Lucy Bell. I got the same feeling. She’s not technically a victim of anything-’

  ‘Yet.’

  ‘Of anything yet, but I’m going to put Ann Crisp in touch with her. She’s going to need help, one way or another.’

  Smith nodded in agreement. As well as being an effective family liaison officer, WPC Crisp had good eyes and ears. The youths were out of sight now and the play park was deserted. Tonight, after dark, the Routh boys would be here, running their weed operation from the roundabout.

  Alison Reeve said, ‘Why did you say ‘yet’? I don’t particularly like the sound of James Bell, and I can see one or two odds and ends that would bug you, but he did go to the platform. Now he isn’t on it any more. Unless he’s a particularly strong swimmer, he has probably drowned.’

  He did not respond straight away. Almost certainly, she was correct. Almost certainly.

  ‘Just tiny things. Too soon to say. I’ll talk to the brother, though, and check out what she says.’

  Reeve sounded genuinely surprised.

  ‘Really? At this stage? You’re viewing what she told us as an alibi?’

  ‘If he was abusive, she would have a motive, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘I’ll give you that much. But the opportunity? Forty miles out in the North Sea?’

  ‘One small step at a time,’ he said, turning the ignition key.

  Serena Butler was sitting at Waters’ desk and they were talking – it had only taken a week. When they saw him coming, she got up and went back to her own desk for a sheet of paper.

  Smith said, ‘Go on.’

  ‘The phone number from Bell’s personnel file-’