The soft whirr of the hand drier made a soothing backdrop to Ruby’s thoughts. Like the rest of Shoreditch police station, it was old but held an antiquated charm. The cracked floor tiles, the wonky tap, she didn’t want to change a thing. But there were changes underway, whether she liked it or not.
A man’s cough shook her from her thoughts, and she realised Luddy was waiting for her on the other side of the door.
‘Luddy,’ she said, wiping her damp hands on the back of her black trousers as she greeted her colleague in the corridor. ‘What’s so important that you have to stalk the ladies’ toilets?’
‘Sorry, Sarge,’ Luddy said, a crooked smile on his face. ‘The tannoy’s broken. It’s a phone call from the women’s refuge. A woman named Charlie. She insists on speaking to a senior officer and Jack… I mean, DI Downes, has asked that you take the call.’
‘Oh did he now?’ Ruby said, marching towards the office. ‘Has Worrow left yet?’ she said, referring to DCI Worrow. As the Senior Investigating Officer, she had just led the briefing, delegating duties with regards to the initial enquiries.
‘She’s gone. She wasn’t happy, was she?’ Luddy ruefully replied.
‘If she were any different I’d be worried,’ Ruby said as Luddy held the office door open for her.
‘She’s worried the press are going to hang us out to dry again,’ Luddy said, pointing to the phone which was off the hook on his desk. As with all phone calls, it had been placed on mute.
‘Ah well,’ Ruby grinned as she scooped up the handset. ‘We don’t join the police to be loved, now, do we?’
‘Just as bloody well,’ Luddy murmured, heading for the kettle to put on a brew.
Ruby’s response was curt and to the point. ‘DS Preston; what can I do for you?’
The woman’s softly spoken whispers on the other line could not have been any more of a contrast to Ruby’s strident tones. ‘H— hello? Are you in charge of the Emily Edmonds’s case?’
Ruby pressed the phone to her ear, and jabbed the volume control as high as it would go. ‘You could say that. With whom am I speaking?’
‘I’m a worker at a women’s refuge. I need to speak to you about Emily.’
Ruby frowned. As far as she knew, all the refuges had been spoken to, and they had no knowledge of Emily Edmonds. ‘Go ahead,’ she said, grabbing a scrap of paper and pen from Luddy’s overflowing desk drawer.
‘Well, Emily was due to come to the refuge. I was working out an escape plan with her. But then her daughter, Lucy, got involved and said she would take it from there.’
Ruby’s heart accelerated, delivering an extra beat. Lucy. The name invoked a memory she did not want to recall. ‘Which refuge are you calling from?’ she said, writing the words ‘daughter Lucy’ and underlining it twice with a question mark.
‘I don’t work in the refuge anymore. Look, I’m only ringing because I’m worried. Emily was all set to leave. Then one day she said she didn’t need my help anymore because her daughter turned up out of the blue. Our friendship was ended, just like that, because this stranger turns up saying she’s her daughter.’
‘I thought Emily didn’t have children,’ Ruby said, leaning against the desk.
‘She gave her baby up for adoption when she was sixteen. She’s been through a traumatic time. I just wanted to help.’
‘We’re very keen to speak to Emily; so if you know where she is… ’
‘She sent me a text. She wants us to meet, and I’ve told her I will.’
‘Where? Where’s Emily staying?’ Ruby said, her voice growing louder.
Fingers stopped typing, phone calls were ended, and the office fell into a hush.
‘I don’t know. She’s texting me the details later. I’ll bring her straight to you tomorrow when we’ve had the chance to talk. I know about Harry. Whatever’s happened… it’s not Emily’s fault.’
‘I’ll come with you; keep my head down. She won’t know I’m there,’ Ruby said insistently.
‘No. She trusts me. I’ll bring her to you – tomorrow.’
‘I don’t understand your reluctance. What’s your full name, Charlie?’
The woman’s voice sharpened. ‘That doesn’t matter. I’m not with the refuge anymore. Look, if Emily’s killed her husband it’s not her fault. That man gave her a dog’s life. I’ll call in tomorrow; we can sort this out together.’
Ruby could feel her caller slipping away. ‘Wait. What about Lucy? What can you tell me about her?’
Charlie gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I saw her briefly when I arranged to meet Emily. She turned up and took her away. She was very rude.’
‘What did she look like?’
‘Slim, dark hair, lots of make-up. She had those big sunglasses on like the ones celebrities wear.’
‘Could you identify her if you see her again?’
‘Possibly. Look, I’ve got to go. We’ll sort all this mess out tomorrow. Emily needs refuge. Without her daughter.’
She needs to be arrested, Ruby thought, wondering if the woman on the other end of the phone was making it all up. It wouldn’t be the first time. ‘Why don’t we… ’ Ruby realised she was talking to a dead line. She hung up and jabbed 1471. Damn. The number was blocked.
Only then did she notice the office had turned silent. Keyboards rapidly began working as she looked around; the colour flushed in her usually pale cheeks.
Ruby was shattered by the time she got home. Charlie’s phone call had shed new light on the investigation, and thoughts of Lucy were gnawing at the back of her mind. But she didn’t want to think of that now. Tomorrow would be a full day, and she wanted to put the whole sorry mess behind her, at least for a few hours. She sighed as she glanced around her flat; the cold laminate flooring chilling the soles of her bare feet. The occupants next door were arguing as usual, and on the other side of the wall the thump, thump, thump, of drum and bass vibrated in time with her headache. She turned on her old-fashioned turntable, expecting to drown out the noise with Coldplay. But instead, the sounds of Human League’s ‘Don’t You Want Me’ filled the air. Ruby frowned. She didn’t remember putting that on. Fingering through her collection of vinyl records, she pulled out the Human League sleeve… to find the Coldplay album inside. Weird. But there was no time to ponder as she swapped them around. She slid across the thin orange curtains, barely hanging on the cheap plastic loops designed to keep them in place. The view of the high-rise estate didn’t bother her, but her forthcoming guest valued his privacy, and as much as he hated her flat they had less chance of being seen than if they went to his.
Red wine was her drink of choice when it came to the art of seduction. Decanting the mulberry-coloured liquid into two glasses, she pushed away any lingering doubts to the back of her mind. Sure it was a bad idea, but it had been a bad idea for the last six months; a couple of times a month, preceded by the usual text:
‘Fancy some company tonight?’
The nicotine patch had been thrown in the bin when the text came through. A post-coital cigarette was a joy like no other, particularly when she was in the company of such a satisfying lover. As a relationship it would never work out, and they both knew the score. She dimmed the lights and listened for his footsteps; hoping, for once, that the lifts were working. A smile graced her lips as she reapplied her lipstick. She wanted him to keep every ounce of energy for her.
She threw her shirt on the chair as she entered her bedroom, then undid her bra, rubbing the redness from the underwire in its wake. Later they would bathe together in her old-fashioned tub, and she would lay back into his chest as he gently soaped them in candle-flickered light. She eased her feet into a pair of black heels and threw on a silk dressing gown. A flutter rose in her stomach as the doorbell rang. She straightened the bed sheets before returning to the hallway and answering the door.
‘Well, hello there,’ she purred, arching her eyebrow at the man before her.
‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,’ DI Downes said huskily, closing the door behind him before taking her in his arms.