Blood Line

Chapter Two

Edward Rawlins was not at home when Anna called, but his wife’s carer answered the door. She was a heavily built Jamaican woman wearing a blue overall, and when Anna asked if it was possible to speak with Mrs Rawlins, she gave a shrug of her big shoulders.

‘She’s just got her tray, but you can come in and see her. Mr Rawlins is usually home around this time. I’m Rose.’

The house was dark and with a lot of reproduction antique furniture. It was like a 1970s time-capsule. The walls were a yellowish-brown, with faded flowery wallpaper and sagging chipboard shelves. The avocado shagpile carpet looked equally worn and faded. Anna followed Rose up the narrow stairs to the landing. Rose opened the door of a front bedroom, which was oppressively hot; the heat seemed to waft from the room as the door opened.

‘Kathleen, you’ve got a visitor, dear.’

Anna entered the large room, which contained a lot of dark pine furniture, along with a big television set and stacks of magazines and books. The double bed had a cosy chenille bedspread and frilled pillows, with matching curtains at the windows. Kathleen Rawlins was sitting in a wing-back chair with a tray on a small table in front of her. It held a bowl of soup with a bread roll, sausages with mashed potatoes and gravy, plus a childish jelly with Smarties on top.

Kathleen was surprisingly young-looking; her face was unlined and her natural wavy brown hair was pinned back with two coloured slides. She had large washed-out blue eyes that made her vacant expression childlike.

‘I don’t think I can manage all this, Rose dear. Can you take the sausages away. I’ll just have the jelly.’

Rose removed the plate and bent over the frail woman.

‘You didn’t eat your lunch either, Kathleen. Just manage some soup, will you?’

Kathleen glanced coyly at Anna and gave a sweet smile.

‘She’s so bossy, but I’m not that hungry.’

Rose thudded out and Anna drew up a chair. She wasn’t sure how she should start, watching Kathleen’s small thin hands try to wield the heavy soup spoon.

‘Here, let me help you.’ Anna took the spoon and gently held it to Kathleen’s lips. The older woman sipped and then gave that glorious childlike smile.

‘She should have taken the soup away; it’s pea and I hate pea soup.’

Anna moved it aside and placed the bowl of jelly closer. Kathleen picked up a small plastic spoon and managed a mouthful.

‘I don’t know you, do I?’

‘No. My name is Anna, I’m a policewoman.’

‘Oh, you don’t look like one – no uniform.’

‘I’m a detective.’

‘Oooh, that’s nice. I’ve never met a detective before.’

Anna smiled, watching as the plastic spoon scooped up the jelly with some Smarties. Kathleen crunched them and went back for another mouthful.

‘You like jelly?’ Anna asked.

‘Not really. I like the sweeties on top.’

‘I’m here to ask about your son.’

The wide blue eyes stared at Anna and then the woman’s face crumpled.

‘I have a son, but . . .’

‘You haven’t seen him for a while, have you?’

‘What is his name?’

‘Alan.’

‘Yes, Alan – my son is called Alan.’

Kathleen turned to a dressing-table and pointed with the spoon to where there were many silver-framed photographs. Anna got up to look at them. They were family pictures, the young Kathleen smiling to camera and very obviously heavily pregnant, another with her husband and holding a small toddler. They went from a schoolboy smiling with a bicycle to a young handsome teenager, with the same blue eyes as his mother, but even from the photographs there was a shyness about him.

Anna picked up one and returned to sit beside Kathleen. It was, she surmised, probably quite a recent one. Alan was carrying a surfboard, so perhaps it had been taken abroad or in Cornwall, as Tina had mentioned he went there. He was tanned and smiling and looking more confident than in any of the other photographs.

‘He used to phone you, didn’t he?’

Kathleen nodded, scraping the bowl for the remainder of her jelly.

‘He is a very good boy. I never had any trouble with him and he comes to see me, but not for a while I don’t think. Do you know where he is?’

‘I am trying to find him.’

Rose barged in with milky tea in a plastic cup with two handles.

‘Do you want one?’ she asked Anna.

‘No, thank you.’

Rose cleared the tray and placed the tea on the little table.

‘Did you see Alan recently?’ Anna asked her.

‘No, not for weeks. He would drop by here sometimes after work to see his mum – always brought flowers and she likes jelly babies so he’d bring them for her too. She gets confused now and I don’t think she’s realised how long it’s been, but it’s almost seven or eight weeks.’

‘How did you get along with him?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. The last time you saw him, did he seem out of sorts or worried?’

‘No, he was always cheerful. Well, it was a bit put on for her because he was actually very worried about how his father would cope. She’s got worse, but whenever he came she would brighten up.’

Kathleen held the plastic tea cup with both shaking hands.

‘I just said how much you liked the visits from Alan.’

‘I’m not deaf, Rose – no need to shout at me.’

Rose lifted her eyes to the ceiling.

‘This lady is a detective, Rose.’

She threw a look to Anna and walked out.

‘She treats me as if I’m deaf, but it’s not my hearing that’s the problem. And she always puts too much sugar in my tea.’

‘Did you meet Alan’s fiancée?’

‘Who, dear?’

‘Your son’s fiancée, Tina?’

‘Is he coming?’

‘I don’t know, but did you meet his girlfriend?’

Kathleen nodded and plucked a tissue to dab at her mouth.

‘She’s rather common, but I never said anything to him. She wanted to cut my hair, but I didn’t want it short, I’ve always had long hair. She asked if I had it dyed. “My hair is natural,” I said, “and my husband has always liked it, and he sometimes brushes it for me when I go to bed.”’

‘So you didn’t really approve of Tina?’

Kathleen’s pale eyes looked confused. ‘Who, dear?’

At this moment there was the sound of the front door and Edward Rawlins called out, ‘I’m home!’ Anna heard him running up the stairs and the bedroom door opened. ‘Rose said you had a visitor and—’

There was such a bereft look on his face when he saw Anna that she realised he had thought it was his son.

Anna stood up to shake his hand.

‘I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘Rose was eager to leave and she just said we had a visitor. For a moment . . .’

He attempted to hide his emotion by crossing to his wife and kissing her.

‘How are you, dearest?’ he asked.

Kathleen looked confused again and he sat back on his heels beside her. ‘It’s Edward, dearest,’ he said gently. ‘It’s me. Have you had your tea?’

‘Not yet. Rose is bringing it up.’

Edward turned to Anna and suggested they go downstairs and leave Kathleen in peace. She said in an aside to him that Rose had already brought up his wife’s tray.

‘I know she forgets when she has eaten, or forgets to eat. Do go down and I’ll join you in a moment.’

He turned back to his wife, ‘Do you need the toilet?’

Kathleen nodded. It was as endearing as it was wretched to see him help his wife from the chair, but it was too late. Anna could hear him saying he would get her a nice clean nightdress.

Downstairs, Anna was unsure which room to use. She pushed open the door to what looked like a comfortable lounge with a television and gas fire. The furnishings were not as worn, but looked well-used, and there was a tray with a napkin over a plate.

Edward eventually joined Anna and asked if he could offer her a glass of sherry, and although she didn’t want one, she agreed. He was such a sprightly little man, fetching crystal glasses, opening the bottle and placing a small table at Anna’s side. He glanced at the covered tray.

‘Rose will have opened another tin of tuna. She means well, but I sometimes wish I could tell her that I’d prefer to make my own supper. She even manages to mangle the tomatoes.’ He moved the tray away and sat, then lifted his glass and sipped the sweet sherry.

‘Your wife must have been very beautiful,’ Anna began.

‘She was. To me she still is, but I don’t know how long the Social Services will help me, keeping on a carer like Rose. Still, I’m sure you are not here to be privy to our problems.’

His puppy-dog eyes were like a spaniel’s as he asked, ‘Do you have any news of Alan?’

‘No, I’m afraid not, but I interviewed Tina today.’

Mr Rawlins nodded and sipped his sherry again.

‘Your wife wasn’t too keen on her.’

‘Did she tell you that? Well, that surprises me. Kathleen never says a bad word about anyone. She only came here a couple of times. Kathleen’s problems started a while ago, and in the early stages, before she was diagnosed, we didn’t understand her mood changes. She could sometimes say things totally out of character, and she and Tina didn’t hit it off.’

‘She remembered that Tina was a hairdresser.’

‘Ah yes. That’s sometimes so hard to understand – how she can suddenly recall mundane things and then forget the important ones.’

‘She didn’t like her – did you?’

‘To be honest, I had hoped Alan could do better, but he seemed to dote on her, so who was I to say anything? Often, the less said the better, and I sort of hoped that in time he would see for himself.’

‘See what?’

‘She’s a bit of a pushy girl and I know he helped finance her salon, but then when he said they planned to marry I suppose I just accepted it. He is such a shy boy and I thought that having her with him might give him a bit of a confidence boost.’

‘Did it?’

‘I don’t know. He was always very busy and saved every penny as they were buying a house together. I helped him buy this old Mercedes and he was doing it up to sell. We’d done a couple of other cars and he’d always made a profit and split the proceeds with me. He’s as honest as . . .’ His voice started to crack. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to accept the fact that he’s disappeared. It just doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Tell me, did he have another, secret girlfriend?’

‘No, not that I know of, but then he wouldn’t have told me. Well, I don’t think he would have because deep down he knew that we were not too keen on Tina.’

‘Take me through the last time you saw him.’

Mr Rawlins took a deep breath. He explained how they had sat with Kathleen and then come into the lounge to discuss what they should do about future care.

‘He said he was worried about finances and I said I wouldn’t allow her to be taken into a home, that I’d cope somehow. With Rose here it’s not that bad. The only thing is, she leaves at six when I get home, so it means I am sort of trapped here every evening – not that I mind, but it’s hard not to be able to even go out for the odd pint, and then weekends I have her.’

He sipped his sherry.

‘I said to Alan that if the worst came to the worst, I would sell this house. I own it outright, no mortgage or anything, and it’s worth quite a lot of money. I’d be prepared to sell and scale down, maybe rent a place where I could look after Kathleen. This has five bedrooms and . . .’ His voice trailed off.

‘Did he ask you for money?’

‘Alan? Good God no, he earns a good wage, and I know if I ever needed help he wouldn’t hesitate.’

‘Are you aware if he had any enemies?’

‘Not that I know of. He’s not the type to make anyone go against him; he is, whether it’s a good sign or a bad one, very much like me. I have always hated confrontations and he is the same. He’d walk away from a fight.’

‘Did he and Tina fight?’

‘That I couldn’t tell you. We only ever went to the flat the once when they were moving in. Well, I did, Kathleen never saw it. It seemed very modern, but the rent wasn’t too high.’

‘Did you ever hear him say he had argued with anyone?’

‘No. I’ve never known him to get on the wrong side of anyone, not that he can’t take care of himself.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, that was where he met Tina – at the local gym. He works out a lot, he’s very fit, and he goes for a run every morning. He is a fine strapping lad, but even though I would say he could take care of himself, if he needed to, I have never known him get into any fisticuffs.’

Mr Rawlins topped up his sherry, offering to pour Anna another, but she put her hand over her half-filled glass.

‘When you first came to see me, you said that you felt your son had been murdered,’ she said quietly.

‘Yes.’

‘But from what we have just discussed, there doesn’t seem to be anything to indicate to me that that could have happened.’

He took a deep breath. ‘All I know is this. I had a good caring son, a boy who never missed seeing his mother or phoning me to check how I was dealing with it all. Alan had arranged for us to go and see a film, which meant he would have fixed up a sitter for Kathleen. We’d done it a couple of times and it was the only chance I had to get out – not that I am complaining, please don’t think that. He said he would call me back when he’d checked what was on, and that was the last time I spoke to him. That was almost eight weeks ago.’

‘Yes, I am aware of that.’

‘Eight weeks, when there was never a week that passed when he didn’t contact us. All the way through when he was at college, even when he was a teenager, Alan was caring and thoughtful. I love my son, Detective Travis – he is my best friend and he is also someone I admire, and this silence, if you can call it that, is totally out of character.’

He stood up and he had two pink spots on his cheeks.

‘I will sell this house; I will do anything I have to, even if it means hiring private investigators, to find out what has happened. I know he has taken no money and no clothes, not even his mobile phone, but when I first spoke to her, she said his passport was still in the flat. Now she has changed her story again and said to the Missing Persons investigators that it’s not there.’

‘It would appear, Mr Rawlins, that your son may have left of his own choice as his toiletries, some clothing and passport are no longer at his flat. Miss Brooks phoned you when Alan first went missing and it could be that you have misunderstood some of what she was saying at the time.’

‘I haven’t always been a court usher, DCI Travis. I was a qualified engineer and section manager for a very reputable company. I am not a silly old man who misunderstands what he is told, I have a strong bond with my son and I know when something is wrong.’

Anna got up. It was time to leave. She didn’t want to become embroiled in his suppositions since, unless they found any incriminating evidence, she would have nothing else to do with the case. She was really embarrassed when Mr Rawlins moved close to her, too close, and she had to step back.

‘Please help me find out the truth. If he is dead, I will have to cope with it; if he has been murdered I want to know why, and more than that, I want to know who killed him – because, so help me God, that is what I believe has happened. Alan has been murdered.’

Anna could feel the room closing in on her and she was desperate to get out.

‘Will you help me?’

‘Mr Rawlins, I am helping you and I will continue to investigate your son’s disappearance, but without any evidence to support your belief that he has been murdered—’

Edward Rawlins interrupted her, shouting, ‘Are you telling me that without a body you can’t treat this as a murder enquiry?’

‘I am, Mr Rawlins, asking you to be patient. I will do everything in my power to hopefully reach a conclusion.’

Mr Rawlins was at the door and she was unable to walk out of the room.

‘A conclusion? What do you mean by that?’

‘Exactly what I said. So far we haven’t found any evidence that suggests your son was murdered.’

‘He has been missing for almost two months, isn’t that conclusive proof that he is dead?’

‘No, it is not. Now please move away from the door, Mr Rawlins. I do understand why you are distressed, but it can’t help the situation. Please let me leave.’

He crumpled and covered his face with his hands.

‘I am so sorry, so very sorry. Please forgive me, I apologise. I’ll show you out.’

Anna hurried down the dank hallway as Kathleen called out from upstairs, not her husband’s name, but Alan’s.

Anna sat in her car, shaking. Her head was throbbing and she couldn’t wait to get home, away from the smells, the obsessive, dapper, desperate father, the vacant blue-eyed mother. She began to think that if she had been in their son’s shoes, she might have upped and gone. Their desperation clung to her and she even contemplated the idea that perhaps Alan had discovered Tina was not the woman he wanted to marry, his parents suffocated him with their neediness and he had just, as in numerous other cases, decided to disappear.

On returning home Anna ran a bath and contemplated washing her hair with a colour enhancing shampoo that she had bought months ago but never used. She read the details on the bottle about how it would boost her natural hue but decided not to bother. Lying soaking in the hot water she wondered if her lack of interest in her appearance was down to her own apathy or the fact that she felt she no longer had anyone to glam herself up for.

In her own fresh bed with a scented candle burning, Anna lay wide awake. Had Alan Rawlins planned his disappearance? If so, they would need to unearth some clue. He appeared to be above reproach – honest, hardworking and caring – but had this shy, yet fit young man had a hidden agenda? Would he, being such a good person, be prepared to walk away from his hard-earned savings?

Again Anna put herself in his place, in that dark house with two needy parents who seemed to have no one else in their lives but their beloved son. She then thought about the featureless rented flat he shared with Tina Brooks, a dominant woman. He’d paid for her salon and yet knew his parents didn’t like her – only two visits in all the time they had lived together.

Anna recalled the many photographs in Kathleen Rawlins’s overheated bedroom of their perfect son, and she had to agree he was handsome, with his mother’s blue eyes and thick wondrous hair. One photograph stuck in her mind, of Alan carrying a surfboard, looking tanned and muscular, smiling. Anna blew out the perfumed candle, certain that she was correct: Alan Rawlins had arranged his own disappearance, in order to be free of them all.

‘You must have been working late or came in very early,’ Anna said as Paul handed her a list before she could even take her coat off.

‘Early, but I couldn’t sleep. There’s something about this Alan Rawlins that doesn’t sit right. Maybe it’s his girlfriend Tina – she doesn’t ring true. Look, these are all the people I’ve arranged to interview. We now know that his mobile was pay-as-you-go, but the calls and texts don’t show anything suspicious and pretty much fit with what Tina told us.’

Anna looked down the list, adding up how long it would take to interview everyone.

‘Listen, Paul, I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’ve come to the conclusion that this is all a waste of time.’

‘But didn’t you think that something didn’t add up?’

‘If I queried everything that “didn’t add up”, we’d never get anything done, and quite honestly, I don’t think I’m prepared to spend much more time on this. We’ve not actually been allocated Rawlins’s disappearance as a murder investigation; Mispers are still handling it.’

‘Yeah, along with how many hundreds of other missing persons? He’s just going to be a number, Anna. That washed-out beige on beige in that flat gave me the creeps.’

‘Look, I’ll tell you what. We’ll sift through these people on the list, but as far as I am concerned, that is going to be that.’

‘I think you’ve changed your feelings since yesterday.’

Anna sighed and gave him a brief rundown of her meeting with Alan’s parents. Paul wagged his finger, smiling.

‘So last night you did have the same feelings as I have?’

‘No, last night I was hesitant, but after talking to Mr Rawlins I came to the conclusion that, given the circumstances, Alan Rawlins has simply taken the easiest route out of all the pressures.’

‘What pressures?’

‘That he had maybe made the wrong choice of girlfriend and that his parents were too needy and he’d just had enough.’

‘You think.’

‘Yes, that is exactly what I think, and to be honest, if I’d been in his situation I might have been tempted to do the same thing.’

‘But you don’t know for sure if that is what he would have done. You are just surmising or putting yourself in his situation.’

‘Don’t make me repeat myself, Paul, but yes, that is exactly what I’d have done. There is not a scrap of evidence that gives us probable cause for a murder, and I don’t know if you checked about any life-insurance policies . . .’

‘I have.’

‘And?’

‘Alan Rawlins had a life-insurance policy for fifty thousand pounds,’ Paul stated.

‘Well, you know it takes years before someone can be declared dead after disappearing, and I can’t see Tina as the type to hang around waiting.’

‘Why should she when she’s got their joint bank account?’

Anna headed towards her office. Over her shoulder she told Paul to book out a CID car so they could get started.

‘Already done – your carriage awaits you downstairs, ma’am.’

Irritated, she turned back to him. ‘Just give me a minute, all right?’

The first place they went to was Metcalf Auto in Staines Road. It was a small business, but it looked as if they were busy. There were four cars for sale on their forecourt, two workshops with cars waiting for repairs, and inside the main garage, a Volvo was up on a ramp being checked out by two mechanics. Inside the small office cubicle, which contained just a desk and swivel chair, was the head mechanic, Joe Smedley. He was well-built and dark-haired with a thick beard that made him look like a gerbil. He had an equally thick growth of chest hair that spouted from the open neck of his overalls.

Anna introduced herself and Paul, and having nowhere to sit they both stood in the doorway. Joe got up to shake their hands and showed himself to be surprisingly short.

‘Is this about Alan?’

‘Yes. We’d like to ask you a few questions; hopefully we won’t take up too much of your time.’

‘You take as long as you need to. We’ve all been worried sick about him; he was one of my best mechanics. I’ve already had to replace him – couldn’t keep his job open any longer as we’re so busy. Since the recession began we’ve had a lot of work, as customers who used to change their cars regularly now just keep the old ones and get them repaired. It’s been good for us.’

‘Tell me about the last time you saw Alan, Mr Smedley,’ Anna said as she glanced around the rows of documents pinned up on a cork board.

‘It’d be the Monday, a good few weeks ago now. I’ll have it in my diary, the exact date. He came to work as usual – always on time he was, sometimes he’d be here a lot earlier to work on his own car – but if I remember correctly, he was over at the fridge in the garage taking out a bottle of water. He looked a bit wan. I asked him if he was feeling okay and he just said he had a bad headache.’

Smedley scratched his thick beard and opened a drawer in his desk, taking out a diary.

‘About a couple of hours later he came in here and said he was feeling really bad and could he use my phone. He said he felt he should go home, but didn’t want to drive himself. He called Tina, asking her to pick him up. Then he went out and sat on the forecourt with the bottle of water.’

Joe passed over his work diary to show Anna the exact date, and where he had written that Alan had left work.

‘Tina arrived, he went over to her car and got in, and that was the last time I saw him. When he didn’t turn up for work the next day I just thought he was still feeling bad so I didn’t call Tina until the day after. No, wait a minute . . .’

He scratched at his beard again.

‘She called here first, asking if Alan had come in to work. I said he hadn’t and that I wondered if he was still sick, but she hung up. I rang a couple more times because as I said before, we’re busy and we needed him here, but he never rang back and she said she hadn’t seen him.’

‘On that Monday, was he acting strangely?’

‘What do you mean? All he said to me was he had a headache and he looked a bit off-colour.’

‘How about other times previous to that Monday?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, had he acted out of character?’

‘No. He was a quiet one, though. He wasn’t a drinker and he never socialised with either me or the other mechanics, but he was a hard worker and a nice bloke.’

‘Did you meet Tina on any other occasions?’

‘Not really. I’d seen her, obviously; she’d collected Alan a couple of times when his car wasn’t roadworthy. She’d just pull up, toot her horn and he’d drive off with her.’ He shrugged. ‘To be honest, I think she thought of herself as being above the rest of us. They never even came to the bit of a do we had over last Christmas, but that wasn’t my business.’

‘Did he have a locker?’

‘Yeah, it’s at the back of the garage. Used to keep some of his clothes here and change when he turned up for work.’

‘Can we see it?’

‘Course. I’ve not emptied it, just in case.’

‘Just in case of what?’

They followed Joe out from his office across the garage.

‘Him coming back to work. I miss him and I tell you something – he’s been working on that Merc of his for months. He is planning to sell it and should get a good price, maybe not a lot right now, but if he holds onto it it’ll get a nice wedge as it’s in great nick and he was just waiting for a soft top to be delivered.’

Joe took out a large ring of keys as they approached a row of thin lockers. The two mechanics working on the Volvo looked over then returned to work. Inside the locker was a pair of greasy stained overalls, a pair of oil-streaked trainers and a couple of jumpers. On the top shelf were manuals and auto-repair magazines. Paul checked the pockets of the overalls and flicked through the magazines. They found nothing personal; in one pocket was a packet of aspirin and a folded handkerchief.

‘Do you know if everything was all right between Alan and Tina?’

Joe hunched his shoulders and gave a wide gesture.

‘I wouldn’t know. He was a very private guy. Like I said, I only met her a couple of times. I think they were going to get married, but he never really even discussed that with me.’

Joe led them out of the garage and towards the workshop storing the cars waiting for repair. Covered in a green tarpaulin was Alan Rawlins’s Mercedes and it was, as he had said, in very good condition. Joe went into a long explanation of what Alan had done, from respraying to fitting new engine parts. Even the leather seats had been re-upholstered.

‘It’s odd that he wouldn’t want to take this, wherever he is. He must have spent weeks on it – in his own time, mind – but I know he was waiting for that soft top to be delivered. Maybe . . .’

‘Maybe?’ Anna prompted.

‘I don’t know. It’s just not like him to take off without letting me know. He’s worked here for five years and he’s been a bloody good employee, always on time. In fact, he’s hardly ever taken a day off unless for his holidays.’

‘Do you know where he went on these holidays?’

Joe nodded. ‘Well, I know he went on a sailing trip in Turkey once and a number of times he went surfing in Cornwall.’ Joe gestured at the workshop. ‘His board is back there. He said he didn’t have much space in his flat and could he store it there. It was an expensive one, because I think he was pretty good at it. Do you want to see it?’

‘I don’t think so, thank you. What about his mobile phone?’

‘That was in his glove compartment. I think Tina came round for it when I wasn’t here.’

As they returned to Joe’s office Paul said he would need to have a word with the other mechanics before leaving. Anna thought there was really nothing else she could ask him, but Joe wanted to know if she felt that something bad had happened to Alan.

‘By bad, what do you mean?’

‘Well, it’s odd, isn’t it? He’s a good bloke, a hard worker, and for him to take off without a word to anyone isn’t like him, so maybe something has happened to him.’

‘Like what?’

‘I dunno – he’s got mugged or something. He was very particular about himself, always very spruced up. He wore a spotless white T-shirt under his overalls, even his jeans were pressed, and I know he worked out a lot in the local gym because he’d sometimes have his tracksuit with him. Even that was always pristine, and I don’t know how many times he’d wash his hands. Sometimes he’d even wear surgical rubber gloves if he was doing up an oily engine, and—’

Paul interrupted him. ‘You mind if I ask you something personal about Alan?’

Joe shook his head.

‘Was Alan Rawlins gay?’

‘Gay?’

‘Yes.’

Joe stared at him, then laughed. ‘Because of what I just told you about him? Well, if he was, he kept that well-hidden, and if you want my opinion, he was straight. He was getting married and there was no way he ever gave me any indication he was a poof. Is that what she says about him?’

‘She?’

‘Tina. I mean, she’d be the one to ask – right? Not that I have anything against them, but I’ve never employed one.’

‘A homosexual?’

‘Yeah. Sometimes this is heavy work, not to mention getting dirty and oil-streaked, so I’ve never had anyone light on their feet so to speak.’

Paul, irritated by Joe’s comments, left the office to go and speak with the other mechanics.

‘You said he worked out – do you know which gym?’

‘Yeah, he used a local gym called Body Form in Inwood Street, next to the park, did a bit of weight-lifting and ran the odd marathon for charity so he was fit. He was also a good-looking fella, not that he ever made it obvious. In fact, I don’t think he ever realised that he was a bit of a head-turner.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, we had a girl in the office handling the calls a couple of years back. She had to go because we couldn’t afford her, but she was all of a-flutter if he came anywhere near her.’

Anna smiled and said that he had been very helpful and she appreciated the time he had given.

‘You never answered my question,’ Joe said, following her out.

‘I’m sorry, what question?’

‘You’re a detective and we’ve had people from some other Department for Missing Persons talking to us. What do you think has happened to him?’

‘That is what we are trying to find out, Mr Smedley.’

As Anna returned to the car she looked at her watch and realised that talking to Joe Smedley had taken longer than she had anticipated. It was a further ten minutes before Paul finished speaking to the mechanics in the workshop and she could then see him in the garage yard talking on his mobile. When Paul finally returned Anna found herself even more irritated as he stated the obvious.

‘Mechanics couldn’t add anything interesting. We’re running late,’ he said to Anna as he got into the car. ‘I called Dan Matthews, and he said he could wait – he’s a graphic designer and we’re seeing him in his studio. The other bloke, Julian Vickers, has had to put us off until later this morning. Just as well, as he’s all the way over in Kilburn.’

‘Why did you bring up that Alan might be gay?’

‘Way the hairy man was describing him – the clean white T-shirt, pressed jeans, rubber surgical gloves, all that – he was a mechanic, for chrissakes. Plus him being a fitness freak – I just thought he might be a closet.’

‘Really! Well, I don’t buy that. Let’s drop in at the Body Form gym Alan used. How long have we got?’

‘Two hours.’

‘Fine. Maybe we can also see if Tina is at work. I’d like to take a look at her salon.’

‘Whatever you say. But it was just a thought about Alan.’

‘Maybe best to keep your thoughts to yourself, Paul.’

They drove in silence for a while and then Paul asked Anna what she was thinking. She smiled.

‘Just making a food shopping list in my head for later.’ She didn’t tell him what was really on her mind. Sometimes it felt as if she was acting on autopilot, that everything she said and did was just going through the motions, but she was really elsewhere, in some kind of lethargic haze. It was becoming one of those days where she was finding it hard to motivate herself to do anything, let alone her job.

The Body Form gym was small and almost empty. There were two fitness instructors sitting at a coffee bar in a glassfronted area where some elderly women were having an aerobics class. Music was thudding out, but the rows of equipment were stationary. The weight room had one man lifting and he looked as if he was ready for a seizure. The manager, Benjamin Issacs, was a muscular giant of a man who was clearly into bodybuilding as a daily ritual. He introduced himself as ‘Big Ben’ and then took Anna and Paul to his office and invited them to take a seat. He recalled Alan Rawlins at one time being very regular, but over the past six months he had only been in to work out a couple of times. He said he was always polite, not a mixer – and then ‘Big Ben’ laughed, observing that Alan was very different from his girlfriend.

Tina was still a regular customer, coming in two or three times a week. She would take the advanced aerobic sessions and spend a lot of time at the coffee bar being very friendly and chatting to everyone. In fact, she had been there the previous night. He did know that Alan and Tina had met at the gym and added that he was surprised when they became engaged.

‘Why surprised?’

‘Well, she was really outgoing and he was the opposite – very quiet and studious, came in to work out and then left. He didn’t mix with anyone here, but she did. Yeah, Tina is definitely a mixer.’ Again he chuckled.

‘Give me a bit more detail on the mixer description?’ Anna said, smiling encouragement.

‘Well, not to slight her, but she did put it about a bit. She was sexy and she liked the body-builders; in fact, she went through the members like a dose of salts.’

‘What about after she became engaged?’

‘She behaved herself if he was around, but if he wasn’t, she’d be flirting as usual.’

‘With you, for instance?’

Ben nodded. ‘Yeah, we had a fling a few years back, but I’m married with kids and it just . . . couldn’t happen.’

‘Anyone you know of recently who she was having a fling with?’

‘No. To be honest, it’s very quiet and we’ve had to let a couple of guys go. Business isn’t as good as it was. We pick up more of an evening, but the daytime is virtually empty.’

‘When she was last here, did she seem upset?’

‘No, she was the same as usual.’

‘Flirty?’ Anna smiled.

‘Look, don’t get me wrong, it’s just the way she is.’

‘When was the last time you saw Alan Rawlins?’

‘Like I said, a few months ago. He was no different, worked out, said a few hellos and left. When he stopped coming regular he cancelled his direct debit and just paid at the door.’

‘Do you think he was aware that Tina flirted when she was here?’

‘I don’t know. They didn’t always come in together and she was usually in the aerobic gym, not in the cardio or weight room.’

Anna thanked ‘Big Ben’ for his time and she and Paul left the gym. En route to the car Paul reminded Anna that the next interview was in Chiswick with Dan Matthews and then on to Kilburn to see Julian Vickers the deli manager.

‘Will we have time to go to Tina’s salon as well today?’ Anna asked as Paul drove off.

‘Might be pushing it but they don’t close until six.’

Anna closed her eyes, sighing.

‘Still working on that grocery list?’ Paul enquired.

She gave a small smile, not opening her eyes. ‘Laundry now.’

Paul drove for a while before he brought up what they had gathered from the gym.

‘She put it about and he didn’t seem to be aware of it. These strong silent types often have a long fuse that when it blows, it sky rockets.’

‘What am I supposed to gather from that statement?’

‘That maybe he found out and went ballistic and—’

‘Paul, it’s Alan that’s missing – not Tina.’

‘I meant that he blew up and decided that he’d had enough and walked out.’

‘What – without his car and no money? And we’ve no credit-card transactions. I don’t think he just walked out.’

‘You’re changing your tune?’

‘No. I am more than ever beginning to think he planned to go. Like I said, he had his parents on his back, he fell out with Tina – which is even more likely, now we know she was a sexpot and had had it away with all the members of the gym. We know he was a shy introverted man, someone who hated confrontations so he took the easy way . . .’

They drew up at a small mews courtyard just off Chiswick High Road and parked outside Matthews Graphic Studio.

They climbed up an exterior circular iron staircase that led onto a small balcony with sliding glass doors which in turn opened into the large studio space. Dan Matthews was working on a Mac as they approached. He was slender, wearing a T-shirt and skinny-legged jeans that made him look like a drainpipe. He had large horn-rimmed glasses on and his mousy brown hair was cut short at the sides and long on top.

Anna knocked then entered and introduced herself and Paul, and thanked Dan for agreeing to see them. She went straight to the point of their visit, asking if he was aware that Alan Rawlins had disappeared.

‘Yes, I know. Tina has rung me a few times asking if I’ve seen him, but I haven’t for at least four months. It’s really awful.’ He looked at Paul. ‘Ever since you got in touch I’ve been trying to think of everything we talked about, the last time we met up. He used to come here quite often; I’ve helped him a couple of times with some drawings for personalising his cars. You know, he was very good at respraying motor bikes as well as cars.’

‘How did he seem to you when you last saw him?’

‘Same as always. We’ve been friends since schooldays. He went on to engineering college and I went to art school, but we always kept in touch. Maybe not so much recently.’

‘Why was that?’

‘He got engaged and was caught up with Tina.’

‘Are you married?’

‘No.’

‘Did you meet Tina?’

‘Just the once. We went out for dinner in order for me to meet her.’

‘And?’

‘Well, she was not my type. She wasn’t interested in anything we talked about and she didn’t like the restaurant as she complained that she wasn’t keen on Chinese food. She had a few too many glasses of wine as well.’

‘So it wasn’t a good evening?’

‘No. It’s always difficult when you don’t get on with your best friend’s partner. It wasn’t that I disliked her, I just didn’t think she was the right choice for Alan. He was a bit agitated around her, wanting me to like her, I suppose, and although I never said anything to him we just didn’t see each other as regularly.’

Dan’s eyes seemed large behind the horn-rimmed spectacles.

‘What has happened to him? His father has phoned me asking if I’ve heard anything from him. Mr Rawlins was very distressed; in fact, he broke down in tears.’

‘Yes, it’s very difficult, but we are attempting to trace him,’ said Anna.

Paul looked around at the artwork on the walls. He nudged Anna. There was a large acrylic painting of Alan Rawlins on a surfboard and he went across to look at it more closely.

‘This is Alan, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. I did that after he brought me a photograph of when he was surfing in Cornwall. I thought I’d give it to him as a wedding present . . .’

‘Did he know you were working on it?’

‘Yes, and he was pleased. It’s also a very good likeness.’

As Dan and Paul went and stood in front of the painting, Anna glanced around the studio. It was obvious why these two men would be friends: everything was neat and orderly, and Dan was clearly good at his job. She checked her watch.

‘I think we need to go, Paul.’

Dan returned to stand beside her with his big, owl eyes blinking.

‘What do you think has happened to him?’

‘We’re trying to find out.’

‘But it’s been eight weeks! Surely he would have at least called his parents?’

Anna turned to go down the stairs while Paul was shaking Dan’s hand, thanking him for his time.

‘Did you know his parents?’ Paul was asking.

Anna sighed with irritation since Dan had already said Mr Rawlins had phoned him, so it was obvious that he did.

‘Yes. I was often round there when we were at school. My mother worked so I’d spend a lot of time with them. Alan’s mother always made us tea so my mum wouldn’t have to cook anything when I got home. It’s very sad what has happened to her as she was such a vibrant and fun-loving lady. Alan adored her. He was very concerned that taking care of her was too much for his father, and sometimes when he took his dad out he’d ask me to sit with her. They have a carer, but she leaves as soon as Mr Rawlins returns home and he’s become housebound as a result.’

‘Paul,’ Anna called, heading down the stairs. He eventually joined her outside the studio as she waited in the car.

‘Nice bloke,’ he said, getting in.

‘Yes, and easy to see why they would be friends.’ Anna stared out from the window of the passenger seat, feeling hungry. They just had the next interview to complete, and then she could have some lunch.

‘He’s gay.’

‘Pardon?’

Paul turned out of the mews. ‘I said Dan Matthews is gay – he told me just as you left. He also said that Alan—’

‘Don’t tell me you were right?’

‘No, what he said to me was that when they were in the sixth form he told Alan that he knew he was homosexual and was terrified of it. Apparently, Alan told him that whatever he was he should keep private as it was his life and no one else’s.’

Anna looked at Paul. ‘And . . .?’

‘Well, it was just such a grown-up thing for Alan to say and the fact is that they remained friends. Dan’s confession made no difference. The poor guy is really distressed; he was almost in tears when I left.’

‘You got all that very fast?’

‘Takes one to know one.’

‘I’m sorry?’

Paul sighed and hit the steering wheel with the flat of his hand.

‘Don’t tell me you don’t know.’

‘Know what?’

‘You must be the only person at the station who doesn’t know, not that I am in any way embarrassed – to the contrary.’

‘You’re gay?’

‘Ah, the penny finally dropped, has it, ma’am? Yes, I am.’

She giggled. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Well, now you do. Did you think that Alan was playing for the opposite team?’

Again she giggled. ‘No, I didn’t actually, but what do you think?’

‘I reckon he was straight. Well, Dan said he was and I don’t get the feedback that he was a closet. It was the painting that sort of gave me the hint about Matthews. Alan was bloody good-looking, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, I suppose he was.’

Paul glanced at her. ‘You have a very infectious giggle, ma’am.’

‘Really?’

‘In fact, it’s the first time I’ve heard it. Wondered what it takes to make you laugh.’

Anna felt herself plunge into the void. It happened so quickly, she couldn’t speak; her heart hammered and it took a huge amount of control to straighten out and push the overriding panic down inside her.

‘After the next interview we should grab a bite to eat,’ she said.

‘Okay by me.’

Paul didn’t even notice as he was concentrating on driving, but Anna’s face was drained of colour and her hands were so tightly clenched her knuckles were white.

The next interview was with Julian Vickers, the manager of a small deli in Kilburn. The shop was stacked with all makes of cheeses and hams and imported Italian pasta, with a counter for takeaway sandwiches. Julian was a rather overweight young man with thinning hair and lovely blue eyes, wearing a white apron, and he was at least six foot three. He was openly friendly, and Anna and Paul watched as he sliced some ham for an elderly lady. When she left Anna flipped the door sign to closed and apologised to Julian, saying she needed to talk to him in private but would not take up too much of his valuable time.

‘I have had calls from Al’s father, but I haven’t been in contact with Alan himself for five or six months. This is all terrible, and my wife and I were trying to remember everything that we discussed the last time he came over. I’ve known Al since we were at school, and in fact I make up a hamper every Christmas for his dad because he likes his cheese and a good port.’

As he talked, Julian moved boxes of groceries off two chairs so they could sit down. He said that his friendship with Alan had been very important. His own family had suggested he was out of his mind to start a deli when he didn’t know the first thing about it, but Alan had lent him money to open up, and Julian had proved to be successful even if he did have to work around the clock.

‘So at this last meeting with Alan . . .?’

‘Right. Yes. He would sometimes come over on a Saturday night because I have Sundays off, and we’d try out all the new goods. The last time, we had some herrings marinated in ginger. God, they were bloody awful, made the eyes water.’ He laughed and then his face fell.

‘I know he was engaged, but he never brought his fiancée round, and often my wife would leave us alone to chat. We both worked out together – I may not look as if I do now, but we used to. We even ran marathons, which I couldn’t do now. I run to post a letter and I’m knackered.’

‘Did he give any indication the last time you met that anything was wrong?’

‘No. We mostly talked about the Mercedes he was doing up as I thought I had someone who would be interested. In fact, he didn’t stay all that long. He doesn’t drink like me, just the odd glass. He’s always been a fitness freak, but he said . . .’ Julian closed his eyes, genuinely upset.

‘I tell you something a bit odd. He had asked before then if I’d be his best man, but the last time I saw him, he never brought it up so I didn’t either. You never know, nowadays women come and they go, unlike my wife. I’ve been hoping she’d go for years.’

He laughed and then said that it was a joke.

‘We’ve been married since I left college. We’re expecting twins, which was something else me and Alan spoke about. Well, it’s going to be a big financial situation for me and as always he said that if I needed anything, like a few thousand, he was good for it.’

Julian took out a handkerchief; his stunning blue eyes were full of tears, all jokes forgotten.

‘I hope to God nothing bad has happened to him. He was one of the best people I know. Nothing was too much trouble for him, and as I said, he helped me start up . . .’

‘Do you think he could or would just take off and disappear?’ Anna asked. ‘That maybe being a Good Samaritan became too much for him?’

Paul glanced at Anna. It was on the nail and Julian was already showing signs of distress.

‘No. I personally could not think of any reason why he would do that. I know he worried about his parents, but he was earning good money. Although . . .’

Anna and Paul waited. Julian blew his nose and then tucked his handkerchief into his pocket.

‘In all the years I have known Alan he was like a Samaritan – I’ll give you that – but he was a genuine caring person. You could look at this big blonde handsome guy and think he’d be a real arsehole, but he wasn’t. In fact, he was shy, never self-opinionated. I often wondered if there was another side to him, but I never saw it.’

‘Or was it just he never showed it to you?’

‘You find anyone with a bad word against him and it’d surprise me. I think he was the product of a very loving home. Any time you wanted, his mother would welcome you in, cook up a storm, and their house was always full of kids whose parents were not at home or working. His dad was terrific, arranging outings, packing us into his old Volvo, sometimes taking us off to Brighton funfair. He seemed to have an inside knowledge of the best fairs – Clapham Common, Wimbledon, Putney . . .’

Anna stood up and thanked Julian, but he wasn’t prepared to let them leave his deli without making up a packed lunch of thick-wedged sandwiches and potato salad with sauerkraut, refusing to allow them to pay.

Anna and Paul parked at the back of Julian’s deli in a small side street so they could tuck in and enjoy their lunch without being seen by the public. Paul ate hungrily, but Anna just picked at hers, her appetite gone. They had been given two bottles of a chilled ginger and elderflower drink as well, which was delicious. For a while they ate in silence.

‘What are you thinking?’ Paul eventually asked.

‘I wish you wouldn’t keep asking me that.’

‘Okay – do you want to know what I am thinking?’

‘If I said no, would it stop you?’

Paul took a big bite of the sandwich. He had mayonnaise dripping down his chin and he used one of the paper napkins to wipe it off.

‘Well, go on.’ She folded her own half-eaten sandwich back into its wrapping.

‘I’ll finish that off if you’re through with it?’

She passed it to him.

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Paul said, staring straight ahead as Anna drank from her bottle before screwing the cap back on.

‘We don’t know that. What we need to do is find someone who saw the other side of Alan Rawlins, because so far I think it’s all too good to be true. No one is that perfect. He will have secrets – maybe dark ones. So in answer to your question, we need to find out what made this Samaritan disappear because, as I said last time, I don’t believe he is dead.’