Juliet hesitated before calling Jake Fidler. It wasn’t that she still felt awkward with him – the conversation he’d initiated about the future of their relationship had helped her to relax, so that now she felt she’d be entirely easy in his company and certainly not shy of asking him for a favour. Her diffidence stemmed from the fact that, although they’d originally met through their respective jobs, since they’d started seeing each other the context had been entirely social. More than anything, Juliet wanted a private life, an existence unrelated to her work. Involving Jake in this new murder enquiry seemed like a violation: it would mean allowing the murk and graft of her job to intrude into what was still a fragile friendship. She felt superstitious about it, as if the very act of involving Jake in the Smythe murder, however tangentially, could damage their regard for each other.
She was upset that Tim had found out about Jake: although she thought she could rely on his discretion, he’d put her on the spot by assuming that her personal friends were at the beck of the force. It was annoying.
She was still deliberating with herself when she remembered that she’d promised to call Jake that evening. He answered on the first ring.
‘Juliet? It’s great to hear you. I’ve heard they’ve found a body in the town centre. I thought you might not have time to call.’
‘Hello, Jake. That’s nice of you. I wish I could say I wasn’t putting my job first, but I’m ashamed to admit that it’s about the murder that I’ve called. And because I promised I would,’ she added. She knew it sounded like an afterthought.
‘So it was a murder! On the news it just said the body was found in “unexplained circumstances”.’
‘That’s what we tell them to say, until we know for sure. And until we know who the victim is. Otherwise we’d have people turning up from far and wide, worried about someone who’s gone missing even if that person doesn’t remotely fit the description. What exactly did they say on the news?’
‘Just that the body of a middle-aged man, believed to be local, had been found in the Butter Market in unexplained circumstances.’
‘Well, that’s accurate, anyway. They didn’t try to guess who it was?’
‘No. Is that why you’re ringing? Is it someone I know?’
‘It may be. Have you ever come across a social worker called Simon Smythe?’
‘No, can’t say that I have. But I’d probably only have known him if he’d worked with one of the children here.’
‘I knew it was a bit of a long shot, asking you, but worth a try. He doesn’t seem to have any next of kin we can contact.’
‘If he was an official social worker, he’ll have been registered with the Health and Care Professions Council.’
‘Thanks, I should have thought of that. Don’t mention this to anyone else, by the way. There’s an outside chance that the man we found isn’t Simon Smythe, but I think it’s unlikely.’
‘I should hope you already know me better than that. Talking of which, is there still a chance of seeing you this weekend, now you’re involved in this murder case?’
‘I’ll do my best to get away for a few hours if I can. It might be during the day, though.’
‘That’s fine by me, especially if it’s on Sunday. I’ve got one of my rare weekends off – there’s a relief manager coming on Saturday morning; she’s staying until Monday morning.’
‘To what do you owe that privilege?’
‘They still haven’t found a deputy for me. I’ve been running the home on my own ever since I took over as warden. I get the odd day off, as you know, but the regular staff aren’t qualified to be left in charge overnight.’
‘I see. That’s great,’ said Juliet, trying not to sound strained. There was an uncomfortable silence.
‘Not that I need to stay out overnight,’ said Jake brightly. ‘It’s just nice to know that I have the option, for once.’