He poured another coffee and looked into his dog’s adoring eyes.
‘Didn’t even bother to tell Mrs Sissons face-to-face, Lady. I hope he’s more sympathetic when they meet.’
6
Sophie flew down the stairs, satisfied her makeup was in place and she was dressed just smartly enough to come across as professional, but casually enough to put her neighbour at ease.
‘I wish you were coming.’
Her brother stood to see her out.
‘Me too, but you’ll be less threatening alone. Trust me, Masters won’t want me anywhere near. Try not to tell him what you do for a living.’ Carlos kissed her cheek.
‘Unless he asks.’
‘He won’t. He’s not one for detail, and experience tells me his only interest is himself. I’m going out for the morning to chase up some leads on the case I’m working on. Should be back around two. Is it all right if I leave Lady here? She won’t be any trouble.’
‘No problem. I’d better go, Carlos.’ Sophie ruffled Lady’s fur before departing.
As soon as she arrived at her neighbour’s, the door opened. Meg must have been looking out for her; she appeared years older and much frailer than she had been just a few days ago.
‘Hello, Meg. I’m so sorry to hear about Harold.’ Sophie knew better than to try to hug her, as an attempt in the past had turned awkward, the older woman going stiff as a board. She and Gary had laughed later that day when she told him. He had explained that some older people just don’t like being hugged.
‘Thank you, Sophie. Do come in. I’ve made a pot of tea.’
Sophie scanned the familiar room as she followed Meg into the lounge. Everything was in exactly the right place, just as it always was. She’d only been in the house half a dozen times, but nothing ever changed. There was not a grain of dust, as far as she could see; the polished dining room sideboard held a fruit bowl placed dead centre on a doily that, although ancient, was clean.
The sterility of the lounge always struck Sophie as lacking personality, particularly as the place had no photos. Most elderly people she knew displayed family photos, often a youthful wedding photo to remind themselves of times past, but there were none. She knew Meg had a daughter called Caroline, but when she had asked about her, a faraway look had appeared on the older woman’s face. Now that she thought of it, Sophie didn’t know her neighbour at all. They passed the time of day, spoke about mundane things like the weather in the typical British way, but Meg and Harold had always answered questions with automatic responses.
‘How are you?’
‘Fine, and you?’
Since Harold Sissons’s disappearance, Sophie had managed to get a little more information out of Meg, but not much.
‘How are you?’ Out of habit, Sophie asked the ridiculous question.
‘Holding up.’ Meg looked behind Sophie as if expecting someone else. The police were due any minute; perhaps she was looking for them.
‘I can’t believe he’s gone.’
Was that a sense of relief Sophie detected in Meg’s usually expressionless eyes? Of course not, she’s in shock.
‘Have you told Caroline?’
Sophie noticed the immediate stiffening of the old woman’s body as she stopped in front of the tea tray she’d neatly prepared for her arrival. A vacant confusion crossed her face.
‘Who?’
Sophie’s mouth dropped open. She wondered if the woman’s shock was more serious than she’d realised.
‘Here, let me bring that through.’ Sophie lifted the tray and laid it on the coffee table in the lounge part of the room. Meg followed, like a puppy.
‘Harold usually does that.’
Sophie nodded, understanding. ‘Shall I pour?’
‘No!’ Meg snapped. ‘I do that. Harold wouldn’t like it.’
Sophie was glad she’d put the tray down or she might have dropped it. Gary teased her about how clumsy she was, and the sudden sharpness in Meg’s usually meek tone had made her jump. She withdrew her hand and smiled. The routine she had previously thought quirky now struck her as verging on obsessive.
Why didn’t I notice it before?
‘Please take a seat.’ Meg recovered, taking over the pouring, but not before moving the tray to the exact central position on the table. Sophie sat down, and almost straight away she heard car doors slamming outside, followed by a loud male voice.
That must be the DCI Carlos mentioned, the reason he’s not here.
Meg remained seated, pouring tea as if she hadn’t heard anything and not looking up when the door knocker banged. Sophie surreptitiously glanced to check whether her neighbour wore a hearing aid.
‘Milk, no sugar, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, please. Meg, I think the police are here. Should I answer the door?’
‘No. We don’t answer the door at this time. Harold doesn’t like to be disturbed when having tea.’
‘Meg,’ said Sophie gently. ‘The police are here to talk about Harold. I think we should answer.’
Meg gazed up from pouring her own tea. The vacant mask and confused eyes appeared once more. The pause lasted forever as the door knocker banged again, louder this time. Then, as if a light had been switched on, the older lady rose from her seat and hurried to the door.
‘Mrs Sissons, I’m DCI Masters and this is DS Cook. I believe Sergeant McDonald called earlier to arrange an appointment.’
‘Yes, Chief Inspector. Do come in, I’ve made tea.’
Sophie remained seated as a burly man in his mid-thirties stomped into the room, followed by a scruffy female wearing a pale blue plastic mac. DCI Masters was handsome in a rugged sort of way and obviously kept himself in shape. He was dressed more smartly than his DS in a brown suit with an immaculately positioned tie. His hair screamed ex-army as if he wanted to let people know where he came from. She noticed the head of a snake tattoo peering from the right-side of his neck, above the collar of his shirt.
DS Cook was mid-forties, obese and the opposite of her boss. She wore a loose-fitting pink floral dress that had seen better days underneath the unbuttoned mac. Her lipstick was smudged, but her face was radiant and kind. Sophie liked her immediately.
‘And who might you be?’ The DCI addressed Sophie.
‘This is my neighbour, Mrs Cole. I asked her to be here, Inspector. I don’t want to miss anything with my memory not being what it was.’
‘I see.’ He shrugged.
‘Shall we sit down?’ DS Cook motioned to the remaining two armchairs and the DCI sat down heavily on the one nearest the fireplace.
Meg let out an audible gasp. DCI Masters missed the reaction, but DS Cook was on it in an instant.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It will be easier to talk if we all sit.’ Her voice was low and reassuring.
Meg returned to the sofa, sitting next to Sophie while anxiously keeping the other chair in sight.
DS Cook fetched a dining chair from the far end of the room. ‘Sir, why don’t you sit over there while I sit here and take notes?’ She directed her boss to the other armchair.
‘Why?’
‘I think it would be better, sir. You would be able to see Mrs Sissons better.’