hair. Forty-something, and trying for thirty-five. ‘Busy busy busy. Only just got back from my constituency.’
‘Which is where?’ Silver enquired politely.
‘Norwich North.’
Silver’s ears pricked up. ‘Norfolk?’
‘Yes.’
‘Nice picture,’ Silver indicated a colourful Russian icon on the wall behind Rafe’s desk, absorbing the man’s words.
‘Just something I picked up on my travels. Visiting St Petersburg for work, I believe.’
And no doubt worth a fortune. Longley had an invite on his desk to the Royal Opera House event on Tuesday 25th July, Silver noticed.
‘Ballet fan?’
‘Not really, but the department likes to be – diverse. Martial arts and comedy are more my cup of tea – but it pays to be fair to all.’
‘So you’re in the Culture Department?’
‘If you can call it that,’ the other man joked. ‘Culture! It’s a broad remit these days. Fancy a toilet as art?’
Silver didn’t laugh. He didn’t like Longley, he knew that much already.
‘So. You met Claudie Scott where?’
‘At a do in January. Sadler’s Wells, I think.’
‘How?’
‘Someone introduced us.’
‘Who?’
‘God,’ the other man narrowed his eyes as he contemplated the question, ‘it’s hard to remember. Someone from the Academy possibly.’
Silver was very careful not to show a flicker of emotion. ‘Not the teacher Tessa Lethbridge by any chance?’
‘That odd bod? No,’ Longley shrugged. ‘But I did meet her later, through Claudie. She was very – passionate, shall we say. About ballet – and about Claudie.’
Silver kept hearing this.
‘And you last saw her when?’
‘Who?’
‘I meant Claudie, actually, but you can tell me about Tessa too.’
‘Tragic that she died,’ Longley went for sincere now. Unconvincingly. He had a slight look of a young Blair, Silver observed. ‘Funny old bird. All those lies. I wasn’t entirely surprised, I must say.’
Silver drew his Ace from the pack.
‘Did you know Claudie was missing?’
‘Missing?’ Rafe stared at him. ‘No. Are you sure?’
‘You really didn’t know? I thought you were an item.’
‘We – er,’ guilt crossed his face. ‘We were never really – exclusive.’
‘Exclusive?’ Silver shook his head, pretending ignorance, enjoying seeing the other man squirm.
‘You know. I mean, we went out for a while, but—’
‘Oh, I see.’ Silver was patronising. ‘You mean you had an open relationship?’
‘Well,’ Longley stacked the papers on his desk fussily, ‘maybe open would be describing it a bit – being a little – strong, you know. But Claudie never seemed that interested. In commitment. I mean, she’d been married. Still is married, I think.’
Which was doubtless what Longley liked about her: she wouldn’t get clingy. Amazing what you learnt from asking the simplest questions. Silver felt a sense of satisfaction. Battle of the Alpha males, Lana would say. And Silver loathed infidelity. It had scarred him deeply when he realised his wife had been sleeping with another man, let alone a friend. He would never be able to trust a woman in quite the same way again, he was pretty sure; he hadn’t yet.
‘So when did you last see her?’
‘On Thursday night, I think. Over a week ago.’
‘And what happened then? You split up?’
‘No, not then.’ Longley was increasingly disconcerted, that was obvious. His handsome face didn’t change, but there was a look in his eyes that Silver recognised. ‘I found her unconscious outside the flat, actually. It was a bit scary.’
The look of a cornered animal before it attempts to flee.
‘Unconscious?’ Silver frowned. ‘Is this normal behaviour for Claudie Scott?’
‘No, absolutely not.’ Longley was vehement; finally telling the truth. ‘We were meant to go out to dinner and she never turned up at the restaurant. When I got home, having not reached her on the phone, I found her slumped in my front porch. She suffered terrible migraines sometimes. I just thought she’d taken too much medication and passed out.’
‘So then what happened?’
‘I put her to bed, and in the morning she was fine.’
‘Fine?’
‘Well,’ Longley’s discomfort was almost painful now. ‘I say fine, she seemed fine. I left her asleep and probably went to the gym before coming to the House. I do most mornings.’
‘I see. And that was the last you saw of her?’
‘Yes. Oh no – wait,’ he paused for thought. ‘I popped round to see her in the week. Wednesday, perhaps? I felt bad. She’s a lovely woman. Just a bit – damaged.’
‘We’re all damaged, aren’t we, Mr Longley?’ Silver smiled pleasantly. ‘I’d be worried if an adult over the age of twenty-one didn’t have some kind of – what do they call it now? Baggage.’
‘Yes, well,’ Rafe Longley frowned. ‘Claudie more so than most, I’d say.’
‘She lost a child, Mr Longley, I believe. No