Bliss loved replaying in his head how neatly she’d folded her clothes before fitting herself into his bed for what he’d thought was going to be a one-night stand that neither of them would ever talk about, least of all to one another.
And then six months had gone, seven months, and they still had a dangerous secret. Only coming close to exposure after the cockfight fiasco, when he’d discharged himself from the hospital, walking like a drunk, his eyeballs ringed with blood, and she’d driven him out to her flat in Great Malvern and taken two weeks off to hold him together. The nearest either of them had come to commitment, and he still didn’t know how it had survived. They were both so—
A short, formal tapping on the back door. Bliss jumped up from the sofa. Hadn’t even heard the car. Had he fallen asleep again, without feeling sleepy? He drew a long breath against the creeping numbness down his left side.
The tone of the knock was enough, and it wasn’t yet sunset. He stumbled through and opened the door, and there she was in her long, pale mac, the strap of her overnight bag over a shoulder, and then his mobile blew the evening apart.
A farmer voice. His heart sank. Never happy with farmers.
‘Inspector Bliss, is it? I’m sorry to bother you. Robert Winterson, it is.’
‘Sorry, who?’
‘My sister’s Tamsin – PC Winterson?’
‘Oh, right… Tamsin, yeh.’
‘I’m at my dad’s farm. Where Tamsin lives, with my parents? Only, she was gonner to babysit for me and my wife tonight, and she didn’t turn up. So I rang my mother, and she en’t heard from her. If she’s doing overtime or some’ing she always rings her mother.’
‘Right.’
‘We left it a bit, because she don’t like anyone from yere bothering her at work. And then we called her mobile. No answer.’
‘When was this?’
‘’Bout an hour ago? I know that’s not long…’
‘Could be there was no signal where she was,’ Bliss said. ‘You know what it’s like round there. How did you get my number, Mr Winterson?’
‘It was on her laptop. Everything on her phone she copies into the laptop in case it gets lost or stolen. My mother says she’s been working for you. Nights and that.’
‘Nights?’
‘Been out till late the last two nights. So you don’t know where she is?’
Bliss was unsure how to handle this. When he was a young copper living at home he’d often tell his ma he was working late on a case when he was really out with his mates or some judy. Didn’t want to drop Tamsin in it if she had some unsuitable feller on the go.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘she has been checking on a few things for me, but… you’re sure she’s not on nights?’
‘My mother’s sure.’
‘Look, if I hear from her I’ll get her to ring you ASAP.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. She’s been… quite excited, kind of thing, working for you.’
Except she hadn’t been working for him, not really, had she?
‘She’s a good girl,’ he said. ‘Enthusiastic.’
‘She is.’
‘Tell you what,’ Bliss said. ‘Could you give me your phone number and your mother’s? And do you happen to have Tamsin’s mobile number?’
Should’ve taken it down when he gave her his, but he’d never figured on it being necessary.
‘Sure to,’ Robert Winterson said. ‘I’ll find it now.’
Annie drew the curtains across the window. Bliss called up Tamsin’s phone.
Annie said, ‘Do I know her?’
‘You might’ve seen her if you were up this end.’ Tamsin’s phone was switched off. ‘Red hair, freckles, serious-looking. She was checking out a few things for me.’
‘On what?’ Annie took off her mac, folded it carefully over the back of the sofa. The coat-stand had been Victorian; Kirsty had taken it before he’d changed the locks. ‘Not the bloody drowning?’
‘They’re all talking about that, are they?’
He’d given her the full background over the phone. No secrets from Annie Howe any more. It felt weird.
‘They couldn’t care less about the drowning, just you.’
‘In Worcester?’
‘In Worcester, I get phone calls from Gaol Street questioning your mental health. Not in so many words, but you get the idea.’
‘Brent?’
‘Calls me more often than he needs to. He doesn’t like you at all. And, as he thinks I like you even less, he talks to me without inhibition.’
‘That must be fun.’