`OK,' says Everett. `I'll start the other side.'
`You're doing Art, are you?' says Somer as she takes her place in the queue behind the girl with the portfolio.
The girl turns and smiles. `Fashion and Design actually. But the bloody sketchbooks are no smaller.'
`We've been talking to some of your classmates, but I don't think I remember you?'
The girl gives her order and turns back to Somer. `Yeah, I heard about that. You're from the police, right?'
Somer makes a rueful gesture. `Rumbled.'
But the girl seems unfazed. `I had that bug over the weekend, that's why I wasn't around on Monday. I'm Jess, Jess Beardsley. You were asking about Faith?'
`You know her?'
The girl makes a face. `Not exactly know, but I don't think anyone here does really.'
Somer buys a bottle of water and follows the girl towards an empty table.
`So you're on the same course, the two of you?' she asks as they sit down.
Jess nods. `But she's out of my league. Seriously shit hot. No one else is even close.'
`And that doesn't make other people jealous? No one likes a swot, do they?'
The girl laughs. `Faith's not like that. She doesn't mind helping you out. You know, making suggestions and stuff. She isn't up herself.'
`Does she have a boyfriend?'
Jess shakes her head. `No one here, anyway. Not for want of trying by some of them. But she doesn't seem that interested. Though, frankly, I can see her point.'
She glances across at the lads at the next table; they're laughing at something and digging each other in the ribs. `Bunch of overgrown kids, most of them.'
Somer returns the ironic look. `How about girlfriends?'
Jess picks up her spoon and starts to stir, a small smile on the edge of her mouth. `You mean girlfriends or girlfriends?'
Somer keeps her voice neutral. `Either.'
`Neither, in fact.' She licks the spoon then puts it down. `And that's not for want of trying, too.'
* * *
Adam Fawley
3 April 2018
10.46
Harrison must have done some sort of a deal with Facilities because his office is actually warm. He isn't even wearing his jacket, which is on a hanger on the coat stand in the far corner. A proper coat hanger. With satin padding. I suspect there's a clothes brush in his drawer too though I've never actually seen it.
He looks up at me and gestures to the chair.
`Your PA said you wanted a quick chat, sir. About the Appleford assault.'
He sits back. `On the hate crime angle specifically. The Area Commander wants an update.'
`Enquiries are still ongoing, sir. We've turned up nothing conclusive so far.'
`Which reminds me,' he says, perking up a little, `I gather the new addition to your team has rather distinguished himself on this one.'
I feel my nerves prickling; he has no business knowing that.
`It was good solid policework, sir. What I expect from all my team.'
He looks at me, and then away. For some reason, he wants Asante to do well. And not just because he was the one who hired him.
`So,' he says, `is there any progress on running down the perp?'
His bloody vocabulary gets more transatlantic by the day. If he starts talking about `unsubs' I may actually have to kill him.
`We've identified several vans that were on Cherwell Drive and the Marston Ferry Road at the right time, sir. We're endeavouring to establish if the drivers have valid alibis, but beyond that we have very little to go on.'
Harrison frowns, picks up his pen and starts tapping it. I'm trying not to let it irritate me.
`What about an appeal `“ asking the public for help?'
So that's it. I wonder, for a tiny moment, if he's been talking to Gis `“ whether that's where Gis got it from. But he can't have `“ Gis wouldn't go behind my back `“
`I'm not sure that's a good idea, sir. It could cause significant and completely unnecessary alarm `“'
His frown deepens. `I'm not sure the quick wins might not outweigh any potential downside.'
Jesus. He'll be talking about low-hanging fruit next.
`We can certainly keep it as an option, sir.'
`So you'll have a word with the Press Office `“ tee them up, just in case?'
I get to my feet, glad of any excuse to get out of there `“ to make this conversation stop. And it's not his turgid bloody lingo I'm talking about now. To paraphrase those immortal words, I do not have to say anything, but it's quite another thing not mentioning it when questioned at point-blank range.
`Absolutely, sir. I'll get on to them right away.'
* * *
***
Adam Fawley
3 April 2018
12.30
I'm late to the doctor's: Alex is already in the consulting room by the time I get there and the kindly receptionist bustles me through as soon as she spots me.
`They've only just started,' she says in a low voice. `Dr Robbins has had a very heavy morning.'
Alex looks up when the door opens and I see the relief wash over her face. She kept saying today is just routine `“ that I didn't really need to come, not if I was busy `“ but I know she wanted me here. Just as I know how worried she is, and how much worse that anxiety is getting as her due date draws nearer. And how hard she's working to keep any of that from me.
`Ah, Mr Fawley,' says the doctor, looking up at me over her glasses. She's only been at the practice for a couple of years. Which is my way of saying she never knew Jake. She knows about him, of course. It's in the file, for a start, but even if it wasn't, everyone knows here. It's why the receptionist is always so nice to me, why Alex is getting check-ups every three weeks: you get a special sort of compassion if you're the parent of a dead child. A child who died at their own hand.
`I'm sorry I'm late. Traffic.' No one questions that excuse. Not in this town.
`I'm glad you're here.' She smiles briefly, then looks back at her notes. `The health visitor asked Alexandra to come in today because she was concerned about her blood pressure. As am I. It's rather higher than we'd ideally like.' She looks over at Alex. `Are you under any particular stress at the moment?'
Alex opens her mouth then closes it again. `No,' she says at last. `Not especially. I'm trying to take things easy. I even got a cab here so I didn't have to drive `“'
`But you're still working, I think?'
Alex nods. `Only from home. Well, mostly. I'm not going into the office unless I really have to. You know, for meetings. Sometimes clients insist. If it's a big case.'
The doctor makes a disapproving face. `That sounds pretty stressful to me.'
`I have an assistant `“ she's doing most of the basics `“'
But the doctor doesn't appear to be listening. She takes off her glasses, as if to underline the point. `I'd like you to take at least a week off `“ completely off `“ and then we'll check your blood pressure again and decide where we go from there.'
I look at Alex and then back at the doctor. `But there's nothing actually wrong, is there? Alex isn't at any risk `“'
`No, no,' says the doctor briskly. `I'm just being cautious. Perhaps overcautious, but I'd rather err on the side of prudence. In the circumstances.'
Alex takes my arm as I walk her back to the car. Perhaps I'm getting paranoid too, but she seems to be leaning more heavily than usual.
`You're sure you feel OK? No dizziness, nothing like that?'