Philip watched as Maggie furtively plucked a small compact from her handbag and reapplied another layer of powder to her already matte nose.
‘I’m not sure that is going to suffice,’ he said, kindly. ‘I’m afraid your nose is rather too sunburnt to be disguised.’
Smiling, Maggie snapped the compact shut and dropped it back into her bag.
‘Serves me right for not buying suncream with the highest SPF,’ she said.
‘Oh, I don’t think any of us imagined it would be quite this hot.’ As though to illustrate the point, Philip removed the white cotton trilby-style sunhat he’d purchased at Palma airport when they’d arrived on Friday evening and fanned them both with it. ‘It’s nearly thirty-four degrees today, much hotter than the last time we were here.’
They were sitting beneath a sun canopy outside Annika’s restaurant that was next door to Orquídea. It was nine thirty but neither of them had had breakfast yet, and the piquant smell of omelettes being cooked was making Philip hungry. But he felt they should wait until Patricia had joined them before ordering. She had risen early to deliver flyers to the restaurants and cafes on the beachfront: she wanted to make sure word was spreading about the renewed appeal for information ahead of the memorial service tomorrow.
‘How was Palma?’ asked Maggie.
‘We had a lovely day, thank you. Have you been into the city yet? No? You must visit the cathedral if you have the chance. It is simply stunning, one of the most beautiful examples in the world.’
‘I imagine it was nice to get away from Saros for a bit.’
Philip nodded. ‘It’s not my favourite place, with obvious reason. How are the preparations for the press conference?’
‘Good. The mayor of Saros has agreed we can have it on the beachfront and he’s also confirmed he’ll attend the service.’
‘Patricia will be pleased when you tell her. I don’t know how much press interest there will be, though,’ said Philip fretfully. ‘She was disappointed by the turnout at the airport.’
‘She shouldn’t be. Our press office is saying the interviews she and George gave sparked a lot of interest. I think some of the bigger papers are now sending reporters out for the press conference and the service.’
Philip cringed. He felt the memorial should be private, just them, George and now Declan, who was flying in from London later, but Patricia was insisting anyone could attend.
‘It will still be the special occasion you want it to be,’ said Maggie gently.
He appreciated her perceptiveness and kindness. In fact, Philip found he was rather taken with her and any fears she might not be as nice as Katinka had vanished. Maggie was professional without being sycophantic, warm and friendly but not presumptuous. He could tell Patricia was thawing towards her too: after their meeting at the apartment on Saturday his wife had remarked that Maggie was straightforward to deal with, which for her was high praise indeed.
This morning he was finding Maggie delightful company and the heavy sorrow that had entombed his heart the moment he saw the first road sign for Saros on the drive from the airport was easing a fraction.
‘It must be difficult coming back,’ said Maggie.
Philip nodded gravely. ‘I understand why my wife wants us to be here, but if I had my way, we would be marking the anniversary privately at home.’
He fiddled with the red band that trimmed his hat for a moment then placed it back on his head. ‘Do you think we’ll ever find out who did it? I’m sorry, I can see you weren’t expecting such a direct question,’ he said, catching her look of surprise.
‘I wasn’t, but since you’ve asked I shall try to answer as best I can.’ She paused, as though collecting her thoughts. ‘Sometimes all it takes to crack a case is one tiny piece of evidence. It could be something that’s been overlooked so far, or something new that suddenly presents itself. If we can get a breakthrough like that in Katy’s case then I do believe it could lead to us apprehending the killer.’
‘Truly?’
Maggie nodded. ‘It’s not unheard of even in cases that have remained unsolved for decades. I don’t want to give you false hope though. We need to find that evidence first and there have been a few case reviews that haven’t thrown up anything new.’
‘Until DCI Walker took over – he found the jeweller.’
‘It was a good lead,’ she agreed. The email to Lara Steadman was another, but still Walker didn’t want the family to know about it.
Maggie shifted her chair closer to Philip’s; the sun had crept round while they were talking and a shard was hitting her directly in her already rosy face.
‘Your wife might’ve mentioned that we’re re-interviewing witnesses.’
‘She did.’
‘One of them is Annika, who runs this place.’
‘Oh, I had no idea.’
‘Annika was the witness who found Katy crying on the seafront the day before she went missing. Apparently she and your wife had had a bit of a row.’
Philip shifted awkwardly in his seat.
‘My wife already told the police there was no row.’
‘Annika’s adamant there was. In her initial statement she said Katy told her the argument was about Declan, but Annika’s now saying it was about another male Katy had met in Saros who Patricia didn’t like.’
‘That’s preposterous,’ said Philip. ‘Katy couldn’t possibly have met anyone else because she was always with Declan. In fact, that’s why she and Patricia rowed on the beach the day of her disappearance. Katy and Declan wanted to do something on their own in the afternoon and Patricia wanted her to spend more time with us.’
‘Oh. I see.’
‘We were honest from day one about the row on the beach, as uncomfortable as it was to admit. Had there been a row the day before we would have said so,’ Philip went on, upset that Maggie didn’t appear convinced. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, I really am. I would love for you and DCI Walker to have a new lead to follow up.’
They sat in silence for a few moments.
‘Where is DCI Walker anyway?’
‘He’s gone to Palma to meet the Director General of Police. It’s a courtesy visit to thank him for allowing us to come to Majorca for the memorial and to hold the press conference.’
Philip winced.
‘I’m afraid we’ve ruffled a few feathers along the way with the local police,’ he said. ‘My wife has been – how can I put this delicately – rather robust in her critique of their handling of the case.’
‘I think I’d probably be the same in her shoes,’ said Maggie generously. ‘It goes with the territory, thinking you could do it better if you were in charge.’
Philip chuckled. ‘Patricia certainly wishes she was.’ He drained the last of his coffee. ‘Shall we order another?’
‘Can I please have a glass of water this time, lots of ice? I need something to cool me down.’
Philip peered over his shoulder to see if service was close by. A man was already walking in the direction of their table so he raised his hand to beckon him closer. But as the person came into sharper focus, he gasped.
‘Johnnie?’
‘It certainly is,’ said the man, grinning.
Philip rose to his feet.
‘My dear boy, what a glorious surprise.’
Gestures of intimacy didn’t always come easy to Philip but he hugged Johnnie as though his life depended on it. As they parted, he saw Maggie was staring at them curiously.
‘Maggie, allow me to introduce Johnnie Hickman-Ferguson, our godson. His father is one of my oldest, dearest friends. Johnnie, this is DC Maggie Neville, our new family liaison.’
They shook hands politely.
‘What are you doing here?’ Philip asked Johnnie. ‘The last time I spoke to your father he said you were in Brazil.’
‘I’ve been back a month or so. I was in London for a week then I’ve been staying at our place in Ibiza ever since. When Dad said you were all coming over to commemorate Katy, I didn’t want to miss it, so I sailed over yesterday.’
Then, to Philip’s utter surprise, Johnnie burst into tears.