But it didn’t prove to be that easy. Eddie Testor wasn’t to be found at the leisure centre, although he had been scheduled for duty that afternoon. After some enquiries it transpired that he’d phoned in sick the previous day, saying that he’d caught a bug and had been told to go to bed for a day or two. But he wasn’t at his home, either, a rented flat above a video store in the centre of Romford. No one in the store or the neighbouring flats and shops had seen him for a couple of days.
Eddie Testor, it seemed, had disappeared.
By the time Kathy got back to unit 184 that evening, after following up a number of reports from the police information desks in the malls, the excitement generated by Belinda and the hunt for Testor had evaporated. Phil, the action manager, still at his sentry post by the door, filled her in in lugubrious detail. ‘Best you pack it in for the night, Kathy,’ he concluded. ‘You’re not getting paid for this anyway, not with my overtime budget.’
‘Thanks, Phil.’ She did feel weary, and thought of Leon.
She went to a phone in a quiet corner and was dialling his number when she heard a familiar female voice in the background.
‘We particularly wish to speak with Sergeant Kolla,’ the voice said, in a piercing tone. ‘We have information for her… There she is! We can see her over there. Sergeant! Sergeant Kolla!’
Reluctantly, Kathy put down the receiver and turned to see Phil vainly trying to restrain Harriet Rutter. The use of the first person plural was probably not a case of the royal we, she saw, for the tall figure of Professor Orr was there too, looming in support in the background.
She took them into the interview space and sat them down and tried to look enthusiastic. ‘You’ve got some information, Mrs Rutter?’
‘We feel so stupid. You see, we knew the poor girl. We knew her quite well, didn’t we Robbie?’
Orr nodded without comment.
‘A lively young thing, bubbling with life. I can’t believe it’s her. It was only just now, when we were passing one of your posters, that Robbie said to me, isn’t that our young friend at Snow White’s? And I said, good heavens, yes!’
‘And how exactly did you know her, Mrs Rutter?’
‘Well, we like to get to know the young people who work here. And she was a favourite of ours. Robbie has a weakness for Snow White’s pancakes, and I love the milk shakes… Yes!’ She laughed, slightly shame-faced. ‘Milk shakes!’
‘Strawberry,’ Orr said.
‘Quite delicious. I’d never had one before. She persuaded me to try it, Kerri did. She said I must try it at least once in my life, and she said it so mischievously, that I just agreed. And it was delicious. So we made it a regular thing, a pancake and strawberry milk shake. Once a week.’
‘On a Monday?’ Kathy asked hopefully.
‘No, Wednesday. I don’t know why. No reason, really. It’s just nice to have little habits, to mark the days of the week.’
‘Yes?’ Kathy smiled, waiting for more, but there didn’t seem to be any more. ‘So, did you a see Kerri on the Monday? The sixth?’
They shook their heads. ‘No. We just thought you’d want to know. .. that we knew her.’
They saw the look that Kathy wasn’t quite able to keep out of her eyes.
‘Oh, you’re disappointed,’ Mrs Rutter said, and they both frowned at once, as if she’d reproached them.
‘No, no. Not at all. Every little bit of information is useful,’ Kathy lied. They just want to find out what’s going on, she thought, want to be part of it, like everybody else, play a little role in the drama in the mall. It would probably be humiliating for the secretary of the Silvermeadow Residents’ Association not to play a part, to be able to speak as an insider to her committee.
‘Have you had a good response from the public?’ Mrs Rutter asked stiffly.
‘Oh, we’ve had a lot of reports, yes.’
‘But have you had a positive lead?’ she insisted, slightly belligerent now, as if she had a right to know.
‘Have you got a suspect?’ Orr put in bluntly.
‘I can’t discuss that I’m afraid,’ Kathy said, trying to be patient. ‘There are a number of leads we’re following up.’
Mrs Rutter nodded, as if she’d had her answer. ‘We know how you work. Look to the family first, eh? That’s usually where the answer lies, isn’t it?’
‘Really, Mrs Rutter, I can’t discuss it.’
‘That’s all right,’ she said, huffily. ‘That was our first thought too. That ridiculous little man. She said he gave her the creeps. Well, if it was him…’ She stopped and changed her mind. ‘It doesn’t matter. Come along, Robbie. We’ve taken up enough of the sergeant’s time.’
‘Mrs Rutter, hang on,’ Kathy said. ‘What little man? Who are you talking about?’
‘Her uncle, of course.’
‘Uncle?’
‘Well, that’s what she called him. Bruno Verdi, I’m talking about, or whatever his real name is. The so-called chairman of the Small Traders’ Association.’ She said the words with contempt. ‘That arrogant, trumped-up little man who presumes to tell the rest of us how this place should be run!’
‘You think Mr Verdi is Kerri’s uncle?’
They saw the disbelief on Kathy’s face and hesitated, as if some long-cherished gossip were coming under attack. ‘That was how Kerri referred to him one time,’ Mrs Rutter said stoutly. ‘“Uncle Bruno’s watching me again,” she said, and we thought it was her nickname for him, but she said, no, he really was her uncle, but they didn’t speak, and he gave her the creeps. That’s what she said, and I could believe it, because we saw the way he watched her too, from the front of his ice-cream place, watching her and the other girls on their roller skates. It made my skin crawl.’
‘You obviously don’t like him,’ Kathy said carefully. ‘But is there anything concrete you can tell me?’
‘The man’s clearly a phoney,’ Orr said. ‘He knows about as much about Italy as Harriet’s cat. I asked him once where he came from, and he said Rome. So I said, ah Rome, my favourite city, the Ponte Vecchio, the Pitti Palace, the Uffizi, and he just smiled and agreed. Well, you get my point-all those places are in Florence! He had no idea. I even tried a bit of Italian on him. I may be a bit rusty, but he just mumbled something and walked off.’
‘ Rude man!’ Mrs Rutter hissed.
‘I’d say “gelato” is about as much Italian as he knows,’ Orr said dismissively.
After they left, Kathy tried to make sense of what they had said. Clearly there was some kind of feud between the ‘residents’ and the Small Traders’ Association, and some more personal animosity between their two leading figures, but the story of an ‘uncle’ seemed bizarre. Surely they must have misinterpreted something Kerri had said, and embellished it for Kathy’s benefit. Easy enough to check, she thought, and picked up the phone.
It rang for some time before Alison Vlasich answered cautiously. ‘Yes?’
‘Mrs Vlasich? It’s Sergeant Kolla from the police. How are you?’ The words came out automatically, and Kathy winced as she said them.
‘Oh, you know… what you’d expect I suppose.’ The voice sounded weary and flat.
‘Yes. Of course. I just wondered if there was anything we could do.’
‘No, I don’t think so. The social worker is very good to me.’
‘Oh, that’s great. Look, maybe you could help me with something. Is there another member of your family working at Silvermeadow, by any chance?’
There was a long silence. Eventually Kathy broke it. ‘Hello? Are you still there, Alison?’
‘No,’ the voice said faintly. ‘No one of my family.’
‘Oh, fine. You see, someone told us that they thought Kerri had an uncle working there…’
‘Yes.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Yes.’ The voice was almost inaudible.
‘Yes, she had an uncle?’
Another pause. ‘That’s right.’
‘But I thought you just said…’
Every answer seemed to take for ever, and Kathy began to think she’d have to drive over to talk to the woman face to face.
‘Not in my family. He’s in my ex-husband’s family.’