Common Murder

Annie relented, touched by the concern in Cordelia’s voice. “She had left a computer tape with me for analysis, and she came round to collect the results. She did say that she intended to get back to London tonight. This attack on Deborah has taken a lot out of her. I think it frightened her badly.”

“I know that,” Cordelia replied, “but what was this tape all about? What kind of tape was it?”

“It was an ordinary cassette tape.” That made sense, thought Cordelia, remembering the tape in the stereo. “But I think you’d better ask Lindsay what it was about. I’m not in a position to discuss it, Cordelia. I’m sorry, I’m not being obstructive, just cautious. I think there are too many people involved already.”

“What do you mean, Annie? You can’t leave it at that!”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said as much as I have. Lindsay’s mixed up in something that could cause a lot of hassle. I told her she should be talking to the police about it, not me. Maybe she took my advice.”

“Jesus, Annie, what the hell’s going on? Are you saying she’s in danger?”

“Don’t worry, Cordelia. I don’t imagine for one minute that she’s in any danger. She’ll be in touch. She could be trying to phone now, for all we know. Take it easy and don’t worry. Lindsay’s a born survivor. Look, I’d better go now. Tell her to give me a call in the morning, okay?” Annie’s tone was final.

“Okay,” said Cordelia coldly. “Goodbye.” Her anger at Annie’s nonchalance had the salutory effect of making her do something to fight her own growing anxiety. She collected the mystery tape, pulled on her boots and sheepskin and ran downstairs. She climbed into the BMW and joined the night traffic. When she reached the motorway, she put her foot down and blasted down the fast lane. “Please God,” she said aloud as she drove. “Please let her be all right.” But the appalling fantasy of Lindsay’s death would not be kept at bay by words. Cordelia was near to tears when she pulled up in the car park of Fordham police station just before ten o’clock. She marched inside, determined to find out what had happened to Lindsay.

She marched up to the duty officer. “I need to see Superintendent Rigano,” she said. “It’s a matter of great urgency.”

The officer looked sceptical. “I don’t know if he’s still here, miss,” he stalled. “Perhaps if you could tell me what it’s all about we’ll see if we can sort it out.”

“Why don’t you check and see if he is here? You can tell him that I need to speak to him about the Deborah Patterson attack,” she responded crisply.

He compressed his lips in irritation and vanished behind a frosted-glass partition. Five minutes later he reappeared to say grudgingly, “If you follow me, I’ll take you to the Super.”

She found Rigano sitting alone at his desk going through a stack of files. The lines on his face seemed to be etched more deeply, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. “So what is it now, Miss Brown? Can’t Miss Gordon run her own errands? Or is she just keeping out of my way?”

“I was hoping you might be able to tell me where she is,” Cordelia enunciated carefully. “She appears to have vanished, and I rather thought that was police business.”

“Vanished? If she’s vanished, she’s done it very recently. She was here till about six o’clock. And that’s only four hours ago.”

Suddenly, Cordelia felt foolish. “She was due home at eight o’clock. She hadn’t phoned by nine. I know that probably sounds nothing to you, but Lindsay’s got a real fetish about punctuality. She never fails to let me know if she’s not going to make it at a time she’s prearranged. Especially when we’ve not seen each other for a day or two.” Don’t dismiss me as a hysterical female, she pleaded mentally.

“You don’t think that you might be overreacting?”

“No. I believe she had some information concerning Rupert Crabtree’s death and the attack on Deborah that might have put her in danger. I’m scared, Superintendent. I’ve got a right to be.”

A spasm of emotion crossed his face. But his voice was cool. “Do you know what that information was?”

“Not in detail. But something to do with a computer tape, I believe.”

He nodded. “Okay. I think we may be a little premature here, but let’s make a few enquiries anyway.”

She expected him to dismiss her or summon a subordinate, but he picked up his phone and dialed an outside number. “Mrs. Crabtree?” He said. “Superintendent Rigano here. I’m sorry to trouble you. Is Simon there by any chance?… In London? When did he go, do you know?… Yesterday? I see. And you expect him back Saturday. Yes, a computer exhibition. I see. Do you know the number of his stand? You don’t? Never mind. No, it’s not urgent. Has anyone else been trying to contact him?… No? Fine, thanks very much. Sorry to have disturbed you. Good night.”

He clicked a pen against his teeth. Then he dialed an internal number. “ Davis? Get in here, lad,” he demanded. A moment later the door opened, and a plain clothes officer in shirtsleeves entered. “Where’s Stone?” Rigano asked him abruptly.