were distracted, someone else got out of the passenger side and ran off?’
I took a couple of moments to think and replay the scene. ‘It might have been,’ I conceded. ‘But . . . there wouldn’t have been time for them to get clear before I turned round and spotted them. Why?’
‘We’re just trying to complete the picture, sir. We suspect that Anna Harmony was involved in the abduction, but we’re not sure how far.’
‘Does it matter, since she’s as dead as Francey?’
‘Probably not, but we’ve had word from on high there are to be no slip-ups on this one; or else.’
I was intrigued. ‘How high?’
‘As high as it gets.’
That surprised me. ‘Why the “or else”? The job’s tough enough without that sort of pressure.’
‘A difference of opinion with the Communications Directorate.’
‘What?’ I laughed. ‘That’s a service department. Since when did it have a fucking opinion?’
‘Don’t ask me, sir. I’m just a detective sergeant, dog-shite on the shoes of the high and mighty. And I’ve probably said too much as it is. Thanks, sir, so long.’
Before I put my phone away I made one more call. ‘One down, one to go,’ I murmured as I retrieved the number I’d been given for Jock Hodgson, the part-time engineer of the Princess Alison, and keyed it in.
My call rang out seven times before the BT answer woman cut in and invited me to leave a message. I did: my name, the fact that I was on Eden’s business, my number, and a request that Hodgson call me as soon as possible to arrange a time for us to meet. Before my discussion with Hurrell, I’d intended to speak to the engineer by phone, but I’d changed my mind on that.
My mind was still on new regimes as I left Eden’s building and headed along the King George IV Bridge. I had called Alex from the train and arranged to meet her for a sandwich lunch in the Balcony Café of the National Museum.
‘Who’s stolen your scone?’ she asked, as I joined her at the table she’d nabbed. She’d ordered too; a platter of sandwiches and a large bottle of sparkling water awaited my arrival.
‘Sorry,’ I chuckled, brightening up instantly. ‘Was I looking grumpy?’
‘Just a bit,’ she said. ‘Are you still dwelling on yesterday?’
‘Just a bit,’ I admitted, grinning.
‘From what I read into the police statement, the little girl died of natural causes. Is that right?’
‘Yes, it is. But the guy who took her, and his girlfriend, that was different.’
‘Yes. I caught a piece of the lunchtime TV news on my iPad a couple of minutes ago. Sammy Pye looked very tense, Pops.’
‘From what I’m told, he is. I’m beginning to think I’ve made a big mistake.’
‘How?’
‘In supporting your ex’s application for the chief constable post.’
‘What did I say yesterday?’
‘But would I, or anyone else, have done any better than he’s doing?’ I wondered.
‘It doesn’t matter, Pops,’ she declared. ‘The ashes of the bridge are long gone down the river and I won’t let you rebuild it. So, what have you been up to?’
‘I’ve been working on my commission for Eden Higgins. In fact I’ve just come from interviewing his personal assistant. His duties included captaining the missing boat.’
‘Eden has a personal assistant now, does he?’
‘Three of them, if you include Rory. He’ll be fronting The Apprentice before you know it. This assistant, though, he won’t be a contestant; he’s a minder, pure and simple.’
‘I suppose you need one,’ Alex said, ‘when you’ve got as much money as he has. He’s as rich as they say, you know. When I was a corporate partner at CAJ, I was involved in a couple of deals that touched on his interests.’
‘Even so,’ I murmured.
‘You have your doubts?’
‘About Eden, no, not for a moment. But about his factotum, Hurrell, that’s another matter.’
‘You weren’t impressed?’
‘It’s not that,’ I said. ‘He’s an impressive bloke and well qualified for the job, but . . . As I asked him about the theft, I was left with a nagging suspicion that he was trying just too hard to steer me . . . nice choice of verb in the circumstances . . . in a specific direction.’
‘Do you think he’s a suspect?’ Alex asked.
‘No, he’s too close. He’d be crazy to be involved. All the same, he’s left me with a niggle.’
‘Another itch you have to scratch?’
‘Yes, and I will.’ I picked up a prawn sandwich. ‘Sarah says I should lay off these. High cholesterol.’ I bit off half of