Staying Fit
Illustration by Stan Fellows
Chapter Twenty-Three
MATTHEW LEFT JEN IN the hospital with Christine and started back to the police station. He would have liked to stay with the woman himself, but he didn’t think Christine would remember him after all this time. She hadn’t seen him since he was a teenager and he’d just be a stranger now. A strange man, invading her predominantly female world. Jen would interact better with Susan Shapland too; her manner was easy, unthreatening. And she’d cope better with his mother. He had too much baggage to be relaxed in her presence. He’d been tempted to wait to see Dorothy; surely now she’d feel the need to be gracious, to thaw a little in her attitude to him. He was worried, though, that he’d be disappointed and that she’d still be cold and disapproving. That she’d still blame him for his father’s illness and death.
He looked at his watch. It was later than he’d expected, only an hour until the evening briefing. Matthew thought he’d go home, shower, change into clean, dry clothes. He’d feel more ready afterwards to face the team. Then he remembered that Jonathan was working late. He’d still be in the Woodyard and the trip home didn’t seem quite so attractive. It would be a rush and Matthew hated rushing. Instead, he headed to the Woodyard and found his husband in the familiar office, head bent over a pile of paper.
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Even from the corridor outside, Matthew could tell he was hating every minute of the work he was doing. Jonathan was great at practical stuff, unafraid of tackling wiring or plumbing, cooking an elaborate meal for friends. He had a blind spot for admin. He’d worry at it for days and in the end Lorraine, his assistant, would sort it for him. She always did. Matthew had once offered to help him and it was one of the very rare occasions when Jonathan had lost his temper. ‘Are you saying that I can’t do my job? That I’m incompetent?’ His voice raised and his face red.
Now Matthew pushed open the door. ‘You heard that we found Christine? I asked Ross to let you know.’
‘Yes!’ Jonathan got up and put his arms around Matthew, squeezed him. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. I was starting to think that we’d never get her back.’ He was still beaming when he returned to his seat. ‘Have you worked out what happened?’
‘Not yet.’ Matthew sat in one of the easy chairs facing the desk. Outside, the lights were coming on in the town. The tide was high in the river and the street lights along the opposite bank were reflected in the water. ‘Christine’s okay, but she can’t explain what happened. What she was doing there. She got cold and wet and she’s dehydrated. It seems as if she was waiting for someone. Perhaps she misunderstood what Dennis Salter told her, tried to make her own way back to Lovacott, got off the bus too early.’
‘But you don’t think that’s what happened.’ Not a question.
Matthew shrugged. ‘It’s too soon to say. I checked the bus that Lucy usually takes. The bus driver didn’t recognize Christine, and she probably would stand out.’
The following silence was broken by a wailing sax, the sound floating up from the yard. The cafe was holding its regular jazz night. Matthew thought they should be there, sitting in the half-light, a bottle of wine on the table in front of them, not agonizing over a dead man and a woman who had mysteriously disappeared.
‘Would you like me to talk to her?’ Jonathan asked. ‘Not tonight, but tomorrow if they let her home. I’ve known Christine and her mum for years. Since the old day centre days. Chrissie’s not confident like Lucy, not very used to strangers.’
Matthew nodded. ‘Yeah, that would be kind.’ Something positive at least had come of his need to touch base with Jonathan. ‘I’ve got to go. Evening briefing.’
‘And I have to finish this sodding paperwork. I can’t even make the simple figures add up. I’ll see you at home. At this rate you’ll be back before me.’
‘Don’t be too late.’ This was the closest Matthew could ever get to being demanding, and even that felt like a risk.
The police station conference room again. White board and pin board. Officers slumped in chairs waiting for this to be over so they could go home and sleep. Oldham had left ages before, but nobody commented on that. The rest of the team had all put in extra hours in the search for Christine Shapland. Matthew wondered if they resented the fact that he’d found her, apparently without any effort. They’d think he’d been sitting in his office and responding to a phone call from a member of the public. They’d been out in the drizzle all day, knocking on doors, searching the footpaths around the marsh and the creek.
‘Huge congratulations on finding Christine Shapland. If you hadn’t got word out so speedily or so accurately, we’d never have got that witness call. I’ve just checked with the hospital and she’ll be fine. A big thanks to everyone from her very grateful mother.’ He looked at the room. No appreciative difference in attitude, but he’d done his best. And he’d meant it.
‘We’re not sure yet if Christine’s disappearance is linked in any way to the Walden murder. It seems a coincidence, especially as Walden had been seen making overtures to another learning-disabled woman, Lucy, who lives in Lovacott, in the days before his death. And that Christine’s home is very close to where his body was found. But there’s no evidence that Walden knew Christine so we should keep an open mind. We’ve moved forward considerably today, though, so let’s sum up what we’ve learned so far and plan out actions for tomorrow. Then we can finish in time at least for you to get the last hour before closing in the pub.’
A weak cheer from the back row.
‘We’ve discovered that Walden had a place to live other than twenty Hope Street. A flat in Braunton. We have Jen Rafferty to thank for this. She’s not here so I can tell you that, without the danger of making her feel she’s indispensable.’ A pause and another little cheer. ‘So, I’d be very interested to know why he moved into the house in Ilfracombe with the two women.’
Vicki Robb, sitting at the back, stuck up her hand. ‘Could he just have been feeling lonely and desperate? Maybe having suicidal thoughts and thinking he needed company to keep himself safe.’
Matthew thought about that. He’d been viewing this from his own perspective. He needed solitude far more than he needed company, but not everyone was like him. He nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Good point. Yes, that makes sense.’
The woman coloured with pleasure and Matthew continued. ‘Someone has been in the flat and trashed the place. It looks more like a search to me than an act of vandalism. A search by someone in a hurry. There would have been a lot of noise — glass and crockery got smashed — so it could have happened at night when the bookie’s shop below is shut. Or very early in the morning. Can we get some canvassers into Braunton tomorrow to do a house-to-house? Find out if anyone saw or heard anything unusual? There was no break-in so they would have used a key. It’s possible that the killer stole one from Walden after his death. So, we’re talking an evening between Monday and Wednesday inclusive. It seems likely that the person who was in Walden’s flat was implicated in his death, so this is important.’
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