"This time it's different," Dr Snow said. "There's been a development."
I waited, wondering what was coming. My uncle had just told me to get over here pronto, that the shrink would provide the details. And that I was to report to him afterwards.
"Mrs Wilson has received a demand for money." Dr Snow paused. "Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, to be precise."
"Oh, that's beautiful," I said. The crazy woman had written herself a ransom note. "She's let her imagination run riot."
"Well, I think it's a natural progression. And if you think about it, it's not a bad thing."
"How can that be?" I asked. "She's getting worse, surely."
"On the surface, that's how it might look. But I think it might be her way of finally letting go." The shrink leaned towards me as if she was going to tell me a secret. She even lowered her voice. "I believe she's tried before." Her breath smelled of strawberries. "The previous disappearances of her son were an attempt to let go of the illusion that he was still alive. But it was too easy for him to come back. Maybe it's necessary for her to add a kidnapping and ransom demand. Maybe if she doesn't pay it, something happens to Bruce and…" She spread her fingers.
"And this time he doesn't come back?" I asked.
She nodded, sat upright.
"I can appreciate all this," I said. "But why did you want to speak to me?"
"It's important that Mrs Wilson follows this through. She mentioned your colleague, DC Mason."
"Erica, yes."
"Who kindly gave me the name of Detective Inspector Fleck. Said I should talk to him."
"And you did and he sent me along," I said. "I'm second best, then."
"We have to use what we're given." She smiled again. "He spoke very highly of you."
"That's because he's my uncle."
She started to laugh.
"Honestly," I said. "He is. And he has to say nice things about me or my mum gets angry."
"Quite," she said. "But joking aside, none of us want Mrs Wilson to pay the ransom."
"Can she afford to?"
"She's a wealthy woman. Her husband was a partner in a major law firm. And he had some nice investments. When he died, he left her quite a bit. The house was paid off. And there was insurance money. I've no doubt Mrs Wilson could pay the ransom several times over."
"I'm a cop, Dr Snow," I said. "And I'm not sure this is police work."
"Despite what your uncle says?"
I nodded. "I solve crimes. That's my job."
"Then at least check it out," Dr Snow said.
"But there's no crime."
"Mrs Wilson says she has a ransom note. Is it not a crime to demand money from someone?"
"We know she wrote it herself."
"Do we?" Dr Snow asked.
"If she didn't, then who did?"
Dr Snow smiled. "Like I said, you should at least check it out."
15
Fifteen minutes later I was in Mrs Wilson's sitting room.
"Can I see the ransom note?" I asked her.
"No."
Her response surprised me. She'd seemed pleased to see me when she answered the door. She looked older, the tension in her face more obvious. The twitch in her eye was regular now, every few seconds.
"It's evidence, Mrs Wilson." I dug in my pocket, took out my notebook. "I need to see it."
"You can't." She looked through the bay windows at the empty street outside. "I destroyed it."
I couldn't control myself. I said, "For God's sake."
She turned her attention away from the peaceful scene outside. Placed her right hand on her left shoulder and squeezed as if the muscle was sore.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"He told me to."
"Who did?" I asked.
"The man who took Bruce."
"Mrs Wilson, are you sure there was a note?"
She put her hands on her head and pressed down. She rocked backwards and forwards a few times. "It was on a sheet of A4," she said. "Folded in three. The words were made out of letters cut out of magazines. Or newspapers."
Just like the movies. These days, most ransom notes were typed up and printed. But Mrs Wilson wasn't to know that.
"How did you destroy it?" I asked.
She lowered her hands. Crossed her arms. "Set fire to it."
"Where?"
"I burned it in the sink," she said. "Then I washed the ashes away."
"So there's no trace of it?"
"None."
I said, "Do you mind if I sit down?"
She shook her head, sat down in the armchair and crossed her ankles. I sat opposite. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.
I didn't know where to go with this. "Can you tell me anything about the ransom note?"
"The envelope was white," she said. "There was no name, no address, no postmark. He must have popped it in the letterbox."
"This morning?"
"Maybe last night. I don't know."
"What time did you go to bed?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said again. "I was out late, looking for Bruce. It wasn't here then. I had a couple of drinks after that." She shrugged. "Only way I can get to sleep."
"Do you still have the envelope?"
She shook her head. "I thought I should burn it too."
"Pity," I said. "What did the note say? Do you remember?"
"Every word."
"Slowly, if you don't mind."
I noted down the words as she spoke them:
Mrs Wilson,
Sorry about this but I need the money.
250 grand in cash by Friday night.
Deliver the money and I will deliver your son.
I'll tell you where.
Burn this letter after you've read it.
"That's it?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Word for word?"
"Yes. I knew I was going to have to destroy it so I memorised it."
"He didn't use Bruce's name?"
She shook her head.
That was interesting. And authentic. Most kidnappers didn't refer to the victim by name.
"And there was no warning about you contacting the police?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said. "Otherwise I wouldn't have allowed Dr Snow to call you."
Unusual. Most ransom notes, even if they didn't mention the police specifically, said to tell no one. It would have seemed like an oversight for Mrs Wilson to leave that out, but there must be some point to it in her mind. She must have wanted Dr Snow to get in touch with us. Could be the shrink was right and Mrs Wilson was looking for help to accept her son's death.
"When I spoke to Dr Snow," I said, "she had the feeling you were going to pay up."
"Of course. I've contacted the bank. I'm picking up the money tomorrow."
"They were okay with that?"
"I spoke to the manager. Told him it was a family emergency."
"Still, I'm surprised."
"He wasn't keen," she said. "Told me it couldn't be done. But I'm a good customer. I let him know that he didn't want to upset me or I'd withdraw all my money and deposit it elsewhere. His attitude changed. Suddenly he couldn't be more helpful."
Yeah, losing an account like Mrs Wilson's in the current financial climate would be more than his job was worth. "I'd advise you against paying up," I said.
"You can't stop me."
"That's right," I said. "If you want to give your money away, that's up to you."
"It doesn't matter to me." She got to her feet. "I want my son back, whatever the cost."
"Okay," I said. "I know you do."
I could have used Erica's help right now. It was unfair of my uncle to send me here on my own. What made him think I was capable of dealing with crazy people, I don't know. I found sane people hard enough.
"I know what you're thinking," Mrs Wilson said.
I doubted it. "What's that?"
"What if I pay the ransom and Bruce still doesn't come back?"
"That's a strong possibility," I said. It really did sound as if she was trying to find a way to get rid of him.
"It's a chance I have to take."