assistant in tow, hiding behind a manila folder and clearly itching to leave the scruffy suburbs.
“Well done, you found me. Can I go home now?”
“Not just yet. Somebody still has to take your statement.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“Sorry, this is way off my patch. I’m here about that solicitor of yours that went AWOL. Nicky Hale?”
There was something extra-smug about the way she asked, as if she already had all the answers and wanted me to beg her to share them.
“Have you found her?”
McCoy settled into the chair opposite me and her sidekick sat at her elbow like her shadow, only less useful. “I’ve been lookinginto your background, Mr. Maguire. Quite the dark horse, aren’t you?”
“I’m not any shade of horse,” I said.
“Friend of the famous. Infamous, rather.” I stared at her, refusing to toss that ball back. “This brief of yours, Nicky Hale, did she know you were a big pal of the Guvnor?”
“I’m not. But don’t let that stop you making up theories.”
She smiled as if I was being coy. “Don’t you think you should have mentioned your connection to him when you first reported Ms. Hale’s disappearance?”
“There is no connection, as far as I know. I’m not a pal of the Guvnor. If I was, do you think scumbags like Sherwood would try to nobble my business?”
“When the cat’s away,” said McCoy. “We’ve been getting a lot of this recently. Small-time criminals scrapping over territory.”
“I’m not a criminal. I run a gym, and Sherwood’s trying to strong-arm money out of me. I think it’s called extortion, which is the sort of thing the police are supposed to prevent.”
“Have you made an official report of this … extortion?”
“I’ll make one now,” I said. “Have you got a pen?”
“So you’re saying there’s no connection between today’s incident and Nicky Hale’s disappearance?”
“No, I’m not saying that, because I have no idea what happened to Nicky Hale.”
“Is that why you’ve been calling on her family and clients, asking questions?”
I wondered who had complained about me. Joan Bisham? Or Nicky’s husband?
“Somebody had to,” I said. I was pleased to see McCoy bristle a little.
“We’ve made very thorough enquiries into Ms. Hale’s disappearance, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“And what have you found out?”
“We’re still missing a few pieces of evidence.”
“So nothing, basically, is that it?”
“At the moment we’re trying to track down her phone.”
Ah … Nicky’s phone. McCoy pinned me with a stare. Her eyes were two different shades of brown, I noticed, but I didn’t mention it. She probably knew that already, andit might have sounded like I was chatting her up.
I went for sarcasm instead. “Have you tried ringing it?” But I’d already hesitated too long.
“Ms. Hale’s husband says the last time he saw his wife’s phone was when you visited him in his house. Shortly after you left he discovered it had disappeared.”
“Well, has
he
tried ringing it?”
“So you have no idea where Ms. Hale’s phone might be?”
I shrugged, as if mystified, but I had the feeling McCoy wasn’t fooled for an instant.
“Well,” she said, “if you happen to come across it, do let us know.” Why was she backing off? I nearly protested that it was her bloody job to find the phone, not mine. I didn’t particularly want her to look harder, but all the same …
“Why do I get the impression,” I said, “that you’re not bothered if this phone never turns up?”
She smiled again—she had a gap in her top front teeth too, and I found myself wondering if she could wolf-whistle—and held a hand out to her assistant. He wordlessly opened thefolder and handed her a sheaf of photographs, and she turned them the right way up and slid them across the table to me.
Stage by stage, in blurry colour stop-motion, a woman in a baseball cap and sunglasses approached a glass cubicle
“Well done, you found me. Can I go home now?”
“Not just yet. Somebody still has to take your statement.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“Sorry, this is way off my patch. I’m here about that solicitor of yours that went AWOL. Nicky Hale?”
There was something extra-smug about the way she asked, as if she already had all the answers and wanted me to beg her to share them.
“Have you found her?”
McCoy settled into the chair opposite me and her sidekick sat at her elbow like her shadow, only less useful. “I’ve been lookinginto your background, Mr. Maguire. Quite the dark horse, aren’t you?”
“I’m not any shade of horse,” I said.
“Friend of the famous. Infamous, rather.” I stared at her, refusing to toss that ball back. “This brief of yours, Nicky Hale, did she know you were a big pal of the Guvnor?”
“I’m not. But don’t let that stop you making up theories.”
She smiled as if I was being coy. “Don’t you think you should have mentioned your connection to him when you first reported Ms. Hale’s disappearance?”
“There is no connection, as far as I know. I’m not a pal of the Guvnor. If I was, do you think scumbags like Sherwood would try to nobble my business?”
“When the cat’s away,” said McCoy. “We’ve been getting a lot of this recently. Small-time criminals scrapping over territory.”
“I’m not a criminal. I run a gym, and Sherwood’s trying to strong-arm money out of me. I think it’s called extortion, which is the sort of thing the police are supposed to prevent.”
“Have you made an official report of this … extortion?”
“I’ll make one now,” I said. “Have you got a pen?”
“So you’re saying there’s no connection between today’s incident and Nicky Hale’s disappearance?”
“No, I’m not saying that, because I have no idea what happened to Nicky Hale.”
“Is that why you’ve been calling on her family and clients, asking questions?”
I wondered who had complained about me. Joan Bisham? Or Nicky’s husband?
“Somebody had to,” I said. I was pleased to see McCoy bristle a little.
“We’ve made very thorough enquiries into Ms. Hale’s disappearance, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“And what have you found out?”
“We’re still missing a few pieces of evidence.”
“So nothing, basically, is that it?”
“At the moment we’re trying to track down her phone.”
Ah … Nicky’s phone. McCoy pinned me with a stare. Her eyes were two different shades of brown, I noticed, but I didn’t mention it. She probably knew that already, andit might have sounded like I was chatting her up.
I went for sarcasm instead. “Have you tried ringing it?” But I’d already hesitated too long.
“Ms. Hale’s husband says the last time he saw his wife’s phone was when you visited him in his house. Shortly after you left he discovered it had disappeared.”
“Well, has
he
tried ringing it?”
“So you have no idea where Ms. Hale’s phone might be?”
I shrugged, as if mystified, but I had the feeling McCoy wasn’t fooled for an instant.
“Well,” she said, “if you happen to come across it, do let us know.” Why was she backing off? I nearly protested that it was her bloody job to find the phone, not mine. I didn’t particularly want her to look harder, but all the same …
“Why do I get the impression,” I said, “that you’re not bothered if this phone never turns up?”
She smiled again—she had a gap in her top front teeth too, and I found myself wondering if she could wolf-whistle—and held a hand out to her assistant. He wordlessly opened thefolder and handed her a sheaf of photographs, and she turned them the right way up and slid them across the table to me.
Stage by stage, in blurry colour stop-motion, a woman in a baseball cap and sunglasses approached a glass cubicle
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