In Cotter’s Row Ramsay waited for Sal Wedderburn to join him before knocking at the door. He saw her walking briskly down the track, her hands in her jacket pockets. He knew she would be glad to have escaped the Coastguard House.
‘How are the Coulthards bearing up?’
She shrugged. ‘ It gets harder, the longer it is without news.’
‘You left someone with them?’
‘Grace Newton.’
Ramsay nodded. Grace was soft and plump, famous for her laziness. She was irritating to work with but she’d be unflappable, reassuring.
‘Do you know where Emma Coulthard went this lunch time?’ Sally said. ‘To meet Mark Taverner. She came right out with it in front of her husband. She said she’d explain to him later. He didn’t seem bothered. As if it hadn’t come as any surprise that they were meeting.’
‘How long did she spend with Mark?’
‘She didn’t. Apparently he arranged to meet her in a pub and he never turned up. That’s how she was back on the Headland earlier than she’d expected.’
‘Has he phoned the Coulthards since, with any explanation?’
‘Not so far as I know.’
Sally was impatient to knock on the Howes’ door and get on with the interview, but he stood on the pavement for a moment and considered what this could mean. Wild explanations occurred to him, a bizarre conspiracy theory in which Mark had phoned Emma to keep her off the Headland while her child was taken. Ramsay was distracted by the coincidence.
‘I suppose his car might have broken down,’ he muttered. ‘Something like that.’
‘Are we going in then?’ Sally demanded.
‘We’ll talk to Mr Taverner later. When we’ve finished here.’
Marilyn opened the door. She was wearing the same jeans, the same jumper.
‘Is there any news?’ she asked. ‘Claire told me what happened. You read about these things, don’t you? But you never dream they’ll happen here.’
Ramsay had the impression she was repeating a phrase she’d heard. Perhaps the neighbours had said the same thing about her mother’s death.
‘Where is Claire?’
‘In the backroom.’ She lowered her voice. ‘She’s ever so upset.’
‘Is your dad in?’
‘No. He’s working this afternoon. A private party. The taxi came a while ago. He needed a taxi to carry all the stuff he’s got. He’s trying a new act: ventriloquism and magic combined. So he had to take Charlie.’
‘Charlie?’
‘The ventriloquist’s dummy.’
Ramsay wondered what the men on the roadblock would make of that, then thought, with a constriction of the stomach, that they might not even stop the taxi. They were looking for a private car. They might just wave it through.
‘Where’s your dad working?’
‘I don’t know. Newcastle, I think. Somewhere smart. Jesmond. Gosforth.’
‘Does he keep an appointment diary?’
‘Yeah, but he’ll have it with him. Why?’
‘We’ll need to talk to him. He might have seen something.’
‘Are you joking? He was in his room, practising. You could have the Blyth Town Band marching in the street outside and he’d not notice.’
‘Can we go through, then, and talk to Claire?’
‘Sure.’
Although the fire wasn’t lit, Claire was sitting in her usual chair by the side of the grate. She was still wearing her outdoor shoes and her coat. There was a newspaper on her knee but Ramsay could tell she wasn’t reading it.
‘I suppose Mrs Coulthard told you it was my fault,’ she said, still staring at the paper.
‘I haven’t spoken to Mrs Coulthard.’ Ramsay took the other seat, Bernie’s seat, beside her.
‘I told her I wouldn’t be able to manage the three of them outside. She knows David’s a tinker. He hasn’t got any sense of danger. He’s always running off and he’d follow anyone.’
‘I think she probably blames herself more than you.’
‘Yeah, well. It’s my living, isn’t it? I might never work again if people get to hear about this.’
‘You haven’t asked if there’s any news of David.’
‘I’m not daft. You’d have told me if you’d found him.’ She turned for the first time to face him. ‘You haven’t found him?’
He shook his head. She stared back at the newspaper. ‘That’s it, then. Someone’s had him away. You’d have found him if he was still on the Headland.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Do you mind if Sally looks round? We’re searching all the houses is Cotter’s Row, in case he just wandered in through an open door. Is that the sort of thing he might do?’
‘He might,’ she conceded. She wiped a hand across her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed but still it didn’t occur to her to take her coat off. She paused for a moment. Ramsay nodded to Sally, who left the room.
‘A nanny’s not supposed to have favourites,’ Claire went on. ‘But he was the one I liked best though he wasn’t easy. He was always into mischief. Like I said, a real tinker.’
‘Tell me what happened today.’
‘I only agreed to go in as a favour. I don’t usually work weekends.’
‘Did Mrs Coulthard tell you why she needed you to work?’
‘A lunch appointment, she said. She was all tarted up.’
‘Was it usual for her to go out on a Saturday?’
‘No, if she’s going to meet her friends it’s usually during the week. Weekends most people spend with their families, don’t they?’
‘I suppose they do.’ Unless they’re policemen, he thought. ‘When did she ask you? Was it a last-minute arrangement?’
‘Not really. She fixed it up a couple of days ago.’ She wiped her forehead again. ‘So I got there and the kids were already wound up. Their dad had bought them kites and they wanted to go out to fly them.’
‘Did you go out straight away?’
‘No. I gave them dinner first. To be honest, I thought if we waited a bit the weather might change. Not even Mrs Coulthard could expect me to take them out in the rain.’
‘But it didn’t rain.’
‘No.’ Claire turned in her chair so she was facing him again. ‘So I thought I’d better get it over with. I put on their coats and I took them out. I had Helen in the pushchair and the boys carried the kites. David wanted to help though the kite was bigger than him. They played nicely enough for half an hour then I realized Helen needed changing, so I said “That’s it, boys. Time to go in now. You can play again with your dad tomorrow.”
‘But they weren’t having any of that, were they? David threw a tantrum. He’s that sort of age. If I’d had him on his own I’d have picked him up and carried him into the house. I don’t stand any nonsense. But I had Helen in the pushchair screaming and Owen with a face like thunder. He looks just like his mother when he’s in a mood and he’s stubborn as a mule. So I said, “ OK. You can stay for a bit longer, but you’ll have to keep an eye on David.” And I took Helen back to the house. Of course, Mrs Coulthard picked that minute to turn up.’
‘Did you see anyone else out in the Headland?’
She shrugged. ‘A couple of dog walkers. It was sunny. That sort of day.’
‘But no one you recognized?’
‘An old lady with a Jack Russell who lives at the end of the Row. The Laidler kids. They’re allowed to run wild.’ The gang who’d found Mrs Howe’s body, Ramsay thought.
‘Was there anyone who took a special interest in the children?’
‘Not that I noticed. I had my hands full.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course.’
There was a moment of silence.
‘Did you see a man on his own? Thirtyish. Unshaven.’
‘Oh him. Yes. But that was earlier, when I was on my way up to the Coulthards’. He was walking down the cliffs to the jetty.’
‘You didn’t see him when you were out with the children?’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t think I’d have left them if there’d been someone like that hanging around?’
Sally Wedderburn came back into the room.
‘Well?’ Claire asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘Do you know where Bernie’s working this afternoon?’ Ramsay asked.
‘A private party in Gosforth. A doctor’s kid. Bernie went there last year too. That’s why he had to work out a different routine. You can’t do the same act twice.’
‘Where exactly in Gosforth?’
‘I don’t know the address. It’s one of those big houses that look out over the Town Moor. I’d have fancied going if Mrs Coulthard hadn’t asked me to work. Like I said, I only agreed to do her a favour.’
‘Would you mind if we looked out the back?’ Ramsay asked. ‘A team’s searching all the yards in the street but it’ll save you being disturbed later if we do it now.’
‘Do what you like,’ Claire said, but she didn’t move.
‘I’ll open the back door for you,’ Marilyn said. She had been in the room all the time, sat up to the table listening.
They trooped through the kitchen after her. Claire stayed where she was. Even with just the three of them the yard seemed crowded. They had to duck to avoid the washing on the line. A row of large vests and elephantine underpants billowed gently.
God, Sally thought, it was enough to put you off marriage for life. Her boyfriend was slim and fit but perhaps Bernie Howe had once been like that.
Ramsay stood in front of the shed. It was red brick, like the house. There was one small window, which was so covered in coal dust and cobwebs that it was impossible to see in. He tried to pull the padlock open but it was locked.
‘Where’s the key?’
‘In the kitchen,’ Marilyn said. ‘But there’s nothing inside. Claire bought the padlock. She’s trying to persuade Dad to keep his bike in there but he never remembers.’
‘All the same,’ Ramsay said. ‘I think we’ll check.’
‘OK.’
He watched her return to the kitchen and take a key from a shelf just inside the back door. Like the padlock it was shiny and solid.
The key turned smoothly but the paving stones in the yard were so uneven that at first he could only pull the door open a fraction.
‘There’s a knack,’ Marilyn said. ‘You have to lift it.’ She stepped forward. ‘I’ll do it if you like.’
‘No,’ Ramsay replied quickly. ‘That’s all right.’
Because even with the door open just a few inches, the late afternoon sun slanting over the back wall into the yard lit up a patch of the concrete floor. The floor wasn’t dusty, which is what he would have expected, but there was a dark stain as if oil had been spilled there. Ramsay hoped that it was oil.