Maggie made it to the Popes’ apartment with only a minute to spare, so there wasn’t time to call Walker and brief him on her conversation with Annika. Patricia needed to be tackled again on that row in the light of Annika claiming it was about an unknown male and not Declan, but because she had already denied it ever happening Maggie wasn’t sure she should be the one to broach it. As she pressed the buzzer outside the apartment door, she decided she would hold off raising it until she’d spoken to Walker first. Being FLO to the Popes was, she was coming to realize, unlike any other case she’d worked as family liaison: dealing with a highly experienced ex-senior officer was a minefield.
Patricia opened the door with more enthusiasm than she had the first day they’d met in Crystal Palace.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Would you like a coffee?’
‘That would be great, thank you.’
This was promising: Patricia appeared to be in a good mood.
Maggie followed her into a long room that housed both the lounge and the dining area. The first thing she noticed was that the air con was on an arctic setting and the second was the presence of George Pope. He was on the sofa in shorts and a T-shirt and, as Patricia ushered her closer, Maggie could see that the thick golden hairs on his legs were standing to attention from the chill.
‘Nice to see you again, Maggie,’ he said, smiling widely.
‘You too,’ she said awkwardly.
They hadn’t spoken since Gatwick, although she had seen him since arriving in Saros. She’d sidestepped getting into a conversation with him, feeling unsettled in his company and not wanting to think about why.
‘How’s your hotel?’ he asked.
The unobjectionable question relaxed her a little.
‘It’s fine, actually. How’s everything here?’ She glanced across to the door that led to the kitchen, where Patricia was now preparing a fresh pot of coffee. ‘How are your parents coping?’
‘Mum like the Trojan she always is. As you can see, she’s been busy.’ George nodded at the coffee table in front of him. It was covered in flyers with his sister’s face on them; some of the wording was Spanish, the rest English.
‘I can help her put those up,’ said Maggie.
‘She’d appreciate that. We want to cover as much ground as possible.’ He moved a pile of flyers off the seat next to him. ‘Here, sit down.’
Maggie lowered herself onto the sofa but stayed perched on the edge.
‘I don’t bite,’ he grinned. ‘Well, only at a full moon and on Bank Holidays.’
Maggie ignored the comment. ‘How’s your dad?’
‘Wishing he was anywhere but here, but he’s being stoic about it for Mum’s sake.’
‘What about you? Do you find it as hard coming back?’
His face fell.
‘Fuck, yes. I hate it as much as Dad does. Being here makes me absolutely loathe summer and Katy wouldn’t have wanted that. It was our favourite time of year as kids. Do you have any siblings?’
‘Yes, a sister.’
‘Make the most of having her,’ he said softly. ‘I took mine for granted like all siblings do; now I’d give anything for just five minutes again with her.’
He turned his head away swiftly to hide his tears. ‘Sorry,’ he said, wiping them away with the backs of his hands. ‘Normally I’m fine talking about her, but everything is amplified being here.’
‘That’s understandable,’ said Maggie. ‘It’s a tough week for you.’
George reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you.’
Blushing scarlet, Maggie pulled away as Patricia came in with a tray of cups and a full coffee pot. She sprang to her feet. ‘Here, let me take that.’
‘I’ll just clear these away and you can set it down on the table,’ Patricia said.
As his mum gathered up the flyers, Maggie could sense George was staring at her. She glanced over at him and he smiled. Two of the cups clacked together as the tray wobbled in her grasp.
A few minutes later the three of them were sat discussing the memorial service as they sipped their coffee. When Maggie enquired after Philip, Patricia told her he’d gone for a walk. It struck Maggie that he appeared to have little say in what went on in his daughter’s name – or perhaps he preferred it that way.
‘So, how are matters progressing your end?’ asked Patricia, once they’d covered the topic of who locally had been invited. The British Consul in Palma had confirmed a representative would be present but it sounded as though Patricia was pinning her hopes on the mayor of Saros being there.
‘We’ve been busy,’ said Maggie, fearing it was a trick question and whatever she said would be the wrong answer.
‘Doing what?’
‘DCI Walker has drawn up a list of witnesses from ten years ago he wants us to re-interview. People who still live in the area.’
Patricia looked pleased. ‘Good. Who is on the list?’
‘It’s probably best if DCI Walker briefs you,’ said Maggie politely. ‘You may have questions for him that I’m unable to answer right now.’
Patricia steadied her gaze.
‘A FLO is meant to be the conduit between the Senior Investigating Officer and the family of the deceased. It is the job of the FLO to make sure information sought by the relatives is addressed quickly and answered to their satisfaction,’ she said in a slow, measured tone.
Maggie couldn’t believe it. The woman was actually quoting from the Met’s family liaison guidelines. She decided to fight fire with fire; she might not remember the section verbatim, but she remembered enough to make it sound as convincing.
‘There may be times when a FLO is unable to share information with the family because it may jeopardize future criminal proceedings, but they should always make it clear when that is the case,’ she replied evenly.
Unless she was mistaken, Patricia’s mouth almost twitched into a smile. George, on the other hand, showed no such restraint.
‘Touché,’ he laughed. ‘So, does that mean there might be something, but you can’t tell us yet?’
As openings went, it was a good one: George had given Maggie the opportunity to jump straight in and tell them what Annika had said. But she held back, knowing Walker should be briefed first. There was a reason that nowhere in the case file did it mention that Patricia and Katy had rowed about another boy and not Declan Morris the day before her disappearance. Patricia would’ve known that was a crucial fact, so if she was withholding on them that needed looking into as much as the row itself. Maggie also wondered what Philip Pope might have to say about it now.
‘It means we’ve only just started re-interviewing, but we will share the information we gather when we can. The point I was trying to make is that if you,’ she addressed this directly to Patricia, ‘want to know who is on the list, it really should come directly from DCI Walker.’
To her relief, Patricia nodded then changed the subject.
‘Tomorrow is Sunday. My husband and I will be going to Palma to attend a service at the cathedral and shall be gone for the day.’
‘Leaving me here on my lonesome,’ said George with an exaggerated sigh. ‘Unless you want to come and hang out?’ he asked Maggie, who blushed again.
‘You have work to do, for your trial,’ Patricia told her son firmly, ‘and so does Maggie. She’ll be busy with all those interviews. It’s not her job to be at your beck and call.’
George released a sigh even more drawn out than the last.
‘More’s the pity.’