‘So you could see what she was wearing?’
Rompuy’s frown remained. ‘It was a jacket, I think. Fawn or maybe a light brown.’
‘Can you describe it?’ demanded Blake.
‘It was just a jacket.’
‘What was the cloth like, rough, smooth? Could it have been suede? Leather?’
‘It was cloth, of some sort. Smooth, I think.’
The questions were building up in Claudine’s mind but still she held back. Momentarily Blake turned his eyes to her and she gave an almost imperceptible nod to show that she wanted to take up when they were satisfied.
‘What about the style of her hair?’ said Harding. ‘Did she wear it loose or tied?’
‘It wasn’t tied, exactly,’ said the man awkwardly. ‘But it was tight against her head, one side sort of folded over the other…’
Blake looked hopefully at Claudine, who in turn looked round the room and then picked up some paper and quickly sketched. ‘Like that?’ Claudine asked.
‘Yes,’ agreed Rompuy at once, pleased at making himself understood.
‘It’s a pleat,’ said Claudine. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? Her hair was pinned into a pleat, so that it made a line down the back of her head?’
‘Exactly,’ said the man, smiling again.
Both men moved to speak at the same time and again Harding deferred to the English detective. Blake said: ‘You’re doing very well. You’re telling us a great deal we need to know. Now you saw the back of the woman’s head, looking from your car into hers. But they’d stopped for Mary, hadn’t they?’
‘As I now know, yes.’
‘Did Mary get in immediately?’
‘No.’
‘What happened?’
‘They talked.’
‘How long for?’
The man shrugged. ‘I don’t know. A few moments.’
‘Fine,’ said Blake. ‘They’d stopped and the rear door had opened, for Mary to get in. But she didn’t, not at once. Who was she talking to, the man or the woman?’
‘The woman.’
‘So the woman must have looked towards Mary?’
‘Oh yes,’ said the man, as if he was again surprised at the question. ‘That was when she kind of leaned across.’
Neither man showed any impatience at not having already been told that. The tension was palpable to Claudine. Blake said: ‘If she was looking towards Mary, leaning across the car, you must have seen her in profile?’
‘I did.’
There was a brief hesitation from both detectives. The noise of Smet moving in his chair sounded loud. Blake said: ‘Was she full-faced or thin in the face?’
‘Thin, I think. That was the impression I got.’
‘Tanned or light-skinned?’
‘Definitely tanned.’
‘A lot of make-up? Or not very much?’
‘I don’t remember there being a lot of make-up.’
‘You’re looking at her in profile,’ said Blake. ‘Was her nose large or small? Straight or crooked? Describe it to us, in your own words.’
‘Straight,’ said the man, trying hard. ‘And sharp. That’s how I remember her, as a sharp-featured woman.’
At Blake’s pause Harding took up the questioning. ‘You could see part of her front now. What was she wearing under the jacket? A blouse or a sweater?’
‘I don’t remember seeing anything under the jacket.’
‘You say she was thin-faced. What about that much of her body that you could see? Was she big-busted or small?’
The man looked embarrassedly towards Claudine. ‘I don’t think she was very big.’
Claudine smiled at the man and said: ‘Don’t feel awkward. There’s no reason to be. All this is vital to us, so try to help as much as you can.’
‘Quite small-busted. Not noticeable at all, really.’
‘Was she wearing earrings?’ asked Blake, returning to the questioning.
‘Yes. Hoops. I think there were jewels in them.’
‘What colour?’
‘Clear. Like diamonds.’
‘What about her ears? Large? Small? Close to her head?’
‘Quite small. And close to her head.’ The man sat back in his chair and said: ‘Could I have something to drink?’
‘Of course,’ said Blake, looking to the police commissioner.
Poncellet quickly gestured to Smet. The lawyer hesitated, actually turning to where the clerks had sat before realizing they weren’t there any more. He hurried irritably out of the room, a man demeaned by a chore that was beneath his dignity.
Rompuy said: ‘I hope everything is all right.’
‘You’re doing remarkably well,’ replied Blake. ‘I wish every witness could be as helpful.’
‘I want to help,’ said the translator. ‘She must be suffering a lot.’
‘That’s why we want to get her back as quickly as we can,’ said Harding.
‘ Will you get her back?’
The media might discover the man, Claudine thought. As Smet came back into the room, carrying a carafe and glasses, she said: ‘I’m quite sure we will. What you’re telling us adds a lot to what we already know.’
The man drank the water gratefully. Smet leaned close to the police commissioner, who shook his head to whatever the lawyer said.
‘Can you go on now?’ Harding asked the translator.
‘Of course.’
‘You’ve given us a very good description of the woman,’ said Harding. ‘What about the man?’
‘I couldn’t see him so well, in the front.’
‘Did he turn at all, for you to see him in profile?’ asked Blake.
They’d started to hurry, overlooking questions that should have been asked, decided Claudine. The interview had been going on for over an hour, so it was understandable, but she had a vague feeling of disappointment in Peter Blake. It was fortunate she’d held back to allow the two men to finish.
‘I don’t remember him turning, although I suppose he must have done if he opened the rear door.’
‘Was he wearing a jacket?’ asked Blake.
‘Yes. Black.’
‘Like a chauffeur?’
‘I suppose so. My impression was that he stayed looking to the front, as a chauffeur would have done.’
‘Could you see more of his back than you could of the woman’s?’
‘Yes. And I remember he kept his seat belt buckled.’
‘What about his hair?’ asked Harding.
‘Black.’
‘Long? Short?’
‘Short. And he was going bald, at the top…’ Rompuy frowned, putting his hand vaguely to the back of his head. ‘Here, like the way monks have their hair?’
‘At the crown of his head,’ said Blake. ‘A tonsure.’
‘That’s it!’ said the translator. He poured himself more water.
‘What about his ears? Were they flat against his head, like most people’s? Or did they stick out?’
‘I don’t remember anything about his ears.’
‘Could you see his hands, sitting as he was? Was he holding the wheel?’ asked Harding.
‘I think so.’
‘Could you see if he was wearing a ring?’
‘I couldn’t see.’
‘Did he turn the engine off or keep it running?’ asked Blake.
‘He kept it running. And the brake lights were on all the time, so I suppose he was sitting with his foot on the brake.’
‘What about indicators?’ said Harding. ‘Was there any signal that the car was going to turn in to the side and stop before it did so?’
‘No. That’s how I got stuck behind. It was too quick for me to get round him.’
‘Didn’t that inconvenience you?’ asked Blake.
‘It delayed me a few minutes. And I was in a hurry.’
‘Did you sound your horn?’
‘No.’
‘Did the car move off immediately Mary got into it?’
Take your time, take your time, Claudine thought.
‘Yes,’ said the man.
‘Fast?’ asked Harding.
‘There was too much traffic to drive really fast.’
‘Was it as fast as the traffic would allow?’ insisted Blake. ‘As if he was anxious to get away?’
‘I suppose it was as fast as he could go. I wasn’t really ready and in the gap that opened up someone else overtook and got in front of me.’
‘With another car in the way, were you able to see what was going on inside the car after Mary got in?’ said Harding.
‘Not really.’