Constance arrived at Judith’s flat shortly after 11am on Saturday morning. She was carrying the September edition of Esquire magazine under her arm, which she waved under Judith’s nose.
‘Oh,’ Judith said, as her eyes skimmed the front cover. ‘That explains the cufflinks then.’
‘And the signet ring and the gold watch…and the makeup.’
Constance reclaimed the magazine and directed Judith’s attention away from the photograph of Jeremy Laidlaw decorating the front to the article about him on page 62. There, Laidlaw posed in a series of designer outfits, across a double-page spread, replete with expensive accessories, under a piece entitled ‘Legal: the new cool?’
‘Is he allowed to do this?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Judith said. ‘Probably. There are all the rules about not devaluing the profession, but in this new climate, when we’re being forced to break down barriers and be more user-friendly, I imagine he’ll say this is positive publicity.’
‘Do you think he got paid?’
‘Maybe not for the interview, but for wearing all the jewellery, definitely. Think of the enormous potential market, with two million viewers a night.’
‘I suppose all he’s doing is being entrepreneurial, at the same time as doing his job. Greg said we should do the same.’
‘Greg?’
Constance’s heart skipped a beat. Now she was uncovered, there was no point going back. ‘Yes. I saw him a few weeks back,’ she said. ‘We had dinner. He predicted a lot of what’s happened, actually, suggested you and I should take advantage of the opportunities too.’
‘Did he?’
‘He asked after you. I think he was worried you were lonely.’
‘Was he?’ Judith’s face was hard, but only for a moment. ‘All of this is right up his street, I suppose,’ she said, “manipulating the public”.’
‘That’s a bit unfair. He was trying to help, to give us some advice.’
‘He’s good at advice, as I remember.’ Judith closed the magazine and allowed it to drop to the table. ‘Let’s leave Laidlaw’s antics and Greg’s advice to another day, shall we? It has the potential to be an enormous distraction.’
Judith ran her fingers over Laidlaw’s face and then threw it across the room, to land on top of a pile of papers. ‘You saw the two incidents yesterday; the fire and the assaults?’ She looked away from Constance as she spoke.
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t help thinking…’
‘No.’ Constance said. ‘Some people are just full of hate. It wasn’t you.’
‘I lost focus and went for the headline. That’s the only reason Bridget allowed Dr Alves in.’ Judith’s voice cracked and she coughed to hide her discomfort.
‘Bridget allowed Dr Alves in because of all the things they said about her in the media. You know that.’
‘Well I certainly didn’t help. Shall we talk about Monday? That’s presumably why you came.’ Judith said. ‘Debbie’s turn to face the music.’
‘Are we definitely going to call her?’
‘We have to. Laura did well, really well, but it’s not enough. I’ll keep things short, though, and clinical, I think – remind her again of the need to present herself properly; calm and reserved, like we discussed.’
‘You think Laidlaw will push her.’
‘I would. Top of the list must be those diaries and what Debbie’s going to say about them. Shall we begin there?’
‘Sure, that’s my first bit of good news. I got access to Rosie’s laptop and Greg came over last night and has given me some ideas of what you could ask.’
This time Judith said nothing, but her face registered her suspicion.
‘There wasn’t time to start searching around for anyone else,’ Constance said.
‘You’re right. I’m sure if there’s something useful there, Greg will find it. I’ll get the coffee and I bought cannoli. How much more are they going to throw at us before this trial ends, I wonder?’
Constance walked over to the pile of magazines in the corner. While Judith was in the kitchen, she picked up the copy of Esquire and tucked it back inside her bag. There was one more thing she hadn’t yet shared with Judith and she wondered how best to do it.
* * *
‘Hi there. How’s it going? I need to ask you about some new leads we’re following.’ Constance thought back to her early morning visit to Debbie, the way she had tried to sound matter-of-fact, when her reason for calling in was anything but.
‘Isn’t it a bit late for that?’ Debbie had leaned her head back against the wall, her hair long over her shoulders.
‘They’re things we’ve been working on all along, really, but they’re all becoming more relevant now. Do you know someone called Nicki Smith? She’s leader of a number of green protest groups. She used to pester Rosie for help.’
‘I’ve never heard of her.’
‘Here’s a photo, although she’s been in court at least once. She has a distinctive scar on the left side of her face.’ Constance had shown the image of Nicki, on her phone, to Debbie, but there had been no flicker of recognition.
‘You think she might be involved in Rosie’s murder?’
‘It’s possible. And do you know anything about someone Laura might be seeing?’
‘You mean like a boyfriend?’
‘Yes, but maybe someone a bit older.’
‘I’ve never pried into the children’s relationships. Laura once brought a boyfriend home in sixth form, but Rosie was too busy to talk to him for more than five minutes.’
‘There’s a suggestion that Laura tried to tell Rosie about a new friend and that Rosie was worried he might be married.’
‘She never said anything to me. Why don’t you ask Laura?’
‘I may do that.’ Constance had sighed. ‘And now, the last one, and it’s a bit of a strange one,’ she had said. ‘Does the name Rapunzel mean anything to you?’
‘No.’ Debbie’s mouth had said the word, but her face had said something different.
* * *
Constance flicked through her downloads and readied the folder to open it for Judith.
Judith returned with two pastries, nestled in the centre of a small plate.
‘What is it?’ she said, sensing Constance’s anxiety.
Constance’s fingers hovered over her screen.
‘It’s something you need to see,’ she said.