“Ugh. That reeks, Reynolds.” Clarke scrunched his face in disgust at Rebecca’s dinner. “We won’t get the stink out of the office for weeks.”
“It’s salmon and prawn sushi — it’s healthy.” Rebecca tucked into it with her plastic fork. “Only two quid from Boots. Bargain.” They were eating a late lunch together in the office, one that would easily qualify as dinner, after working separately for most of the day.
“So, how’d you get on with the rest of the door-knocking? Any luck?” Clarke peeled the plastic box open to reveal his sandwich. Cheese and pickle.
“Not a lot, to be honest. So many school girls walk through Chapelfield Gardens in the morning that no one noticed her in particular. No one saw any potential arguments, well, except one old dear who went into great detail about this domestic she saw between a couple.” Rebecca raised her eyebrows as if about to spill some juicy gossip. “Clearly wasn’t Teigan, though, as the woman was in her thirties, and she said the guy was about twenty. Toy-boy. The old dear had guessed he’d cheated, and she’d found out. Think she quite enjoyed the spectacle, to be honest.”
“Right,” Clarke rolled his eyes as he took a bite of his cheese and pickle sandwich. “So, nothing of use?”
Rebecca shook her head. “Nah, although there was one woman, another old lady, bless her, who seemed to be on edge. I don’t know how to explain it, but she just seemed to be hiding something. All jittery like.”
“Maybe she just had early stages of Parkinsons, Reynolds.”
Rebecca threw her plastic fork at him in jest. “Oi! No, seriously, something seemed off. I want you to come back with me tomorrow and see what you think.” She gestured towards the fork. “Give us that back, will you? I’m not finished.”
He tossed the fork back towards her. “Fine, not tonight, though. It’ll be too late, especially if she’s an older lady. I don’t want to catch the poor dear in her nightie.”
Clarke took another bite of his sandwich, his stomach bubbling in satisfaction at getting something other than coffee. “We’ll go see Poppy together tomorrow, as well. I spoke to her and her mum on the phone after what Suzanne had said about the boyfriend rumours. Poppy said she’s got no idea who ‘xoxo’ was, and Poppy’s mother seemed very opposed to a face-to-face discussion. She said it would be too much for her. But now that this ‘xoxo’ character is looking like a real possibility, we’re going to have to go talk to her properly.”
Rebecca nodded as she finished the last mouthful of her sushi bowl. “So, how was Suzanne at the press conference today? She looked like she did all right on screen, considering.”
“Not too well.” Clarke hesitated, wiping the crumbs off his hands before he spoke. “There’s just something about her. Look at what happened when she was nineteen.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened as she swallowed her mouthful of sushi. “Being unfortunate enough to find that her father killed himself doesn’t mean she’s a criminal.”
“She’s keeping something from us,” Clarke said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Is this just because you’ve got a bee in your bonnet about social workers?” Rebecca asked, one eyebrow raised. “You can’t let it cloud your judgment, you know.”
Clarke rolled his eyes at her patronising tone, but he knew what she was getting at. His mind wandered back to those early days after Emily’s death, when Children’s Services had “wanted to check he was coping okay.” It was his neighbours who had done it; they’d heard Kacey’s cries throughout the night and his ineptitude at calming her.
“Yeah, all right. I take your point, but still. There’s something there.”
Rebecca sighed. “It’s just guilt that she argued with her that morning before she left. I mean, how would you feel if Kacey disappeared, and your last interaction with her was an argument?” His chest clenched a little just as the thought of it. “Trust me,” Rebecca continued. “It’s the ‘xoxo’ guy who we need to track down.”
Clarke nodded. She was probably right. The question was, with the phone trail dead and nobody able to identify him, how were they going to do that?