‘I was on ma own.’
‘Oh dear,’ said the inspector. ‘That is unfortunate.’
Thirty
‘And you are?’ asked Michael Colledge. ‘A detective constable, my researcher said.’
‘Not quite,’ Bob Skinner replied. ‘He misheard me. Deputy chief constable, in fact, but rank’s irrelevant here.’
‘What’s wrong?’ the MP exclaimed. ‘Has something happened to Dave?’
‘No. To the best of my knowledge your son’s fine.’
‘Come on,’ said Colledge, ‘deputy chief constables don’t call to tell one one’s won the lottery.’
‘Maybe not, but we delegate the bad-news calls whenever we can. This isn’t one of those. I’m calling from Collioure.’
‘I thought I heard seagulls in the background. Now I really am confused. A deputy chief constable’s gone looking for my son; I didn’t realise I was that important.’
You’re not, chum. My girlfriend outranks you by quite a bit. Skinner held back the retort, but only at the last second. ‘Circumstances, that’s all. I happened to be in the region, and so my colleagues asked me to visit Davis and break the news to him about his friend’s death.’
‘And did you? Is he with you?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. I found his apartment, no problem, with the help of the local police, but he’s not there. His landlady says that he’s gone off for a few days, touring.’
‘God.’ Colledge sighed. ‘He’s a sod, but at least he’s all right. Thanks for taking the trouble, Mr Skinner: I’m sorry your courtesy’s been wasted on him. I’m sure he’ll phone me, sooner or later. When he does I’ll tell him to get in touch with your officers, as they asked.’
‘I don’t think we can be as informal as that,’ the Scot replied. ‘This isn’t a minor offence we’re looking into: it’s a murder investigation. Your son’s a close friend of the victim. He may have information that we need, so we can’t just wait for him to turn up. Bottom line is, I’ve asked the French police to find him.’
‘Are you saying that you’ve put an APB out for my son?’ There was a change in the MP’s tone.
‘Nothing as heavy as that, but they’re keeping an eye out for him. When they find him he won’t be apprehended, but they’ll make sure that he gets in touch with us. And with you, of course,’ Skinner added. ‘If he gets back to Collioure before they do, I’ve left a note for him.’ He chose not to add that Madame Marnie, the landlady, had promised to call the gendarmerie as soon as he returned.
‘You’ve been in his digs? Did you have a warrant?’
The DCC bridled. ‘We had the permission of the owner. Is that enough for you?’
‘Of course, I’m sorry. Stupid question. What’s the place like?’
‘It’s fine. Not a hovel by any means. He’s comfortable, and the set-up’s ideal for the work he went out there to do.’ He paused. ‘Tell me about your son, Mr Colledge. What sort of a guy is he?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s a dedicated artist, I know that, but does he have any other interests?’
‘Of course. He’s a normal chap in that respect. He got his school colours in rugby: played in the centre in the first fifteen. He plays a pretty decent squash game: left me behind when he was fourteen, and I’m not bad. He was a sergeant in the school’s army cadet force. That’s how he met Sugar in fact: the force is a joint effort with Mary Erskine. He was along there one day and they got talking. Someone had told her he was a very talented painter.’ Colledge chuckled. ‘Oh, yes, one other thing: he’s a Chelsea supporter.’
‘What did the cadet force involve?’
‘Kids playing soldiers, really. But no, that’s unfair: its purpose is to give them a basic military training, to give them a taste of army discipline and of the reality of service life. If a lad wants to get into Sandhurst, does no harm to be able to include that in his application.’
‘They don’t use real bullets, though?’ The enquiry sounded casual.
‘Sometimes, but only on a military range, under army supervision. As a matter of fact, Dave’s a pretty good shot. He showed me one of the targets they let him keep.’
‘How’s he going to react,’ asked Skinner, ‘when he finds out that Sugar’s dead?’
‘He’s going to be devastated.’
‘I’m sure, but how will that express itself? Is he a volatile lad? Will he be numb, will he be tearful, or will he be angry? If you feel it would help, I don’t mind coming back up here, when he does show up.’ Since seeing the painting, it had been his intention to return, if and when the French police found Davis Colledge.
‘That’s good of you, Mr Skinner. If you did that, it might help him deal with it. Dave’s a good lad, nice boy, but he could handle the news in any one of the ways you’ve described. You used the word “volatile”. I confess that description’s been applied to me a few times, and he is my son.’
‘Okay, Mr Colledge. I’ll take that on. For now we have to wait for the French to trace him, or for him to show up of his own accord. So long for now. I’ll be in touch.’
He flipped his mobile closed. ‘Sorry again,’ he said. ‘I’d hoped that this would be a quick job, a day trip, interview the boy, send him home to his folks and that would be that.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ said Aileen. ‘But look on the bright side. The lad will probably turn up before you’ve finished your lunch.’
‘I don’t think that’s going to happen.’ He told her about the painting, and about Michael Colledge’s assessment of his son.
‘Are you telling me that Davis has suddenly become a suspect?’
‘Not suddenly; he was never entirely discounted. He always needed to be interviewed, to be eliminated. But now, having looked through that window into his state of mind, I’d say he’s moved up the pecking order. The look on his face in the painting, the gun in his hand: I want to get hold of this boy, soon as I can.’
‘They’re bound to find him.’
‘No,’ said Bob, firmly. ‘If the kid wants to disappear, he’s got a fair chance of staying hidden. You know what worries me most? He left his phone behind him; we found it in the apartment, with the charger.’
‘Maybe he just forgot it.’
‘He didn’t forget anything else. There were no other personal effects left there, but the damn mobile was right in the middle of the table. He’s got a return air ticket, but there was no sign of it. If he’s going away for a few days, why bother taking it? It’s no good to anybody else. No, I don’t think he wants to be found. I bet that he’s used his plastic again, to pull as much cash as he can. I told Neil to find out. If he has, that’ll be a sure sign he’s done a runner.’
‘When do you step up the hunt?’
‘I won’t take that decision. It’s for the guys on the ground, but my guess would be a couple of days.’ He took a sip of his mineral water and looked across at her. ‘Have you ever met his dad?’
Aileen nodded. ‘I have, as a matter of fact. I was down in London last year, at a parliamentary reception, and I was introduced to him by the then Defence Secretary.’
‘Did you form any impression,’ he grinned, ‘or did your natural antipathy to Tories get in the way?’
‘Hey, I’m broad-minded: I like quite a few Tories. I even suspect I’m sleeping with one.’
‘Most people would agree with you about that, but you’d all be wrong.’
‘You’re just saying that to keep me in your bed. But, please, tell me you’re not a Liberal.’
‘No danger of that. But what about Colledge?’
‘He’d never be one of the Tories I like. He’s a smooth wee chap on the outside, but there was something about him that I didn’t take to, something bubbling under the surface. If that lot do get in next time and he’s in the cabinet, I reckon his civil servants will be in for a hard time. But, please, don’t let that cloud your view of his son.’
‘I’m not. I’m just indulging in a wild flight of fantasy. The night before she was killed, eighteen-year-old Davis introduced twenty-six-year-old Sugar to Mum and Dad across the dinner table, and told them that they were off to France for a month in a one-bed apartment. Now, I don’t believe for one moment that Mr Colledge was as relaxed about the relationship as he made out when DI Stallings spoke to him.’