The Runaway. Ali Harper

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      ‘Clingy girlfriend?’ The bangles on her arms jangled.

      ‘Another case,’ said Jo. ‘Take a seat.’

      ‘Who said that?’

      ‘Nikki, hi,’ I said, my knuckles burning against the mugs. I put them down on Aunt Edie’s desk. ‘What brings you here?’

      She carried an envelope, which she waved at me while she spoke. ‘Clingy?’

      ‘Come on in, take a seat. I’m glad you’re here.’ The lie was obvious to the both of us. I sat at my desk and pulled out the notebook from the top drawer. I gestured for her to take a seat, but she ignored me. ‘We’ve made extensive enquiries.’

      ‘Have you found him?’

      ‘We’ve spoken to his tutor, people at the uni, his housem—’

      ‘Jan. Jan told you I was clingy. Bitch.’

      I flicked through some pages, pretending to scan my notes. ‘Jan told us it’s not the first time Matt’s done a runner.’

      ‘Have you found him?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘No? Nothing?’

      ‘We’ve got a few leads to follow up.’

      ‘Like?’

      ‘Listen,’ said Jo. She guided Nikki into the seat in front of my desk. ‘You have to let us do our job. We’ve not had twenty-four hours yet. As soon as we know anything, we’ll tell you, I promise.’

      ‘I brought the photos.’ She handed me the envelope. I flipped it open and pulled out half a dozen snapshots of a man: standing on a beach in a pair of shorts in the first one, his torso bronzed and firm. Nice, I caught myself thinking. Nice … if you like that kind of thing. Which I don’t. I mean, I can appreciate art – doesn’t mean I want to learn how to paint. I handed the pictures to Jo.

      ‘Probably the next step is to contact his parents,’ I said. ‘Unless—’

      ‘Mmm,’ said Jo. ‘Tasty, isn’t he?’

      Nikki glared at her for a moment before turning back to me. ‘Unless?’

      ‘Just saying,’ said Jo as Aunt Edie crowded in for a look.

      ‘Someone may have arranged to meet him.’ I put a hand up to quell the excitement that that news generated. ‘We don’t know whether he’ll show. He might not have got the note.’

      ‘The note?’

      ‘I can’t tell you anymore at this time, Nikki. Jo’s right – you have to let us get on with things.’

      ‘Do you know anyone with the initial S?’ Jo asked. ‘Someone who might want to meet up with Matty?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’m going home this weekend,’ she said. ‘It’s my dad’s sixtieth.’ She slung her shoulder bag on the desk, and in doing so knocked over my mug of tea. Aunt Edie threw herself across the desk and grabbed my laptop. Boiling hot liquid seeped across my desk and burned through the leg of my denim shorts.

      ‘Sorry,’ said Nikki, a wobble in her voice. ‘It’s like an alien has taken over my body. I can’t stand it.’

      Aunt Edie sat the laptop on the filing cabinet and went through to the kitchenette as Jo moved everything off my desk and onto Aunt Edie’s. I did a quick risk assessment and led Nikki over to the coffee table and chairs in the corner of the room. ‘Take a seat.’

      ‘I just want to eat and throw up. That’s my whole life. And I can’t do this without Matt.’

      ‘Look,’ I said, almost pushing her into the chair, ‘we’ll go along to this meeting. Even if he doesn’t show up the person might know something about where he is.’

      ‘Where is this meeting?’

      ‘Nikki, you have to leave this to us. Trust me.’

      Aunt Edie came back into the office with an armful of tea towels. I glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘We’ve got to run. Here, drink Jo’s tea. Edie will look after you, won’t you?’

      Jo unhooked her jacket from the peg by the door and we bustled out the door.

      We got to Old Bar ten minutes before 2 p.m. We were looking for a young woman with long hair and too much eyeliner. Not the most accurate description to go on, but at least we now had a photo of Matt. I wouldn’t have any trouble recognizing him if he showed up.

      We got a drink and took a table. Jo pulled a packet of cards from her pocket and we played a game of Spite and Malice. I was grateful she’d brought the cards – I’m never very sure what to do with my hands when I can’t wrap them around a cold pint of lager.

      We’d only been there a few minutes when another woman entered the room and sat down. She didn’t order a drink – just sat at a table and took out a file. Once she’d settled, Jo sidled up to her and said in that conspiratorial way that she has, ‘You waiting for Matt?’ The woman frowned and shook her head.

      Jo returned to her seat and we played another three or four games (I won but I don’t think Jo’s heart was in it) until another lone woman entered the bar. She didn’t look like our woman – because her hair was short, really short – but there was something about her demeanour that made me stare at her. She was furtive, wary almost. Like she was sticking to the shadows. I glanced at the clock. It was twenty past two. She bought a pint and made her way to a table at the far side of the room. Jo and I carried on playing, but I couldn’t help glancing over every minute or two. Her pint sat, untouched, on the table in front of her. Women drinking alone are still a rarity, even now. Jo saw me noticing her and raised an eyebrow. Worth a shot, I knew she was saying.

      I packed away the cards as Jo crossed the room. I watched her place both her palms on the table and lean across to the woman. The music had increased in volume since we’d arrived and I knew Jo was having to raise her voice to make herself heard. I watched the woman’s face turn from indifference, to engaged and then to something else I didn’t quite recognize from my position at the other side of the room. Was it fear? She’d jolted when Jo had first approached her, like she’d been disturbed from her own private world, even though it was clear she was waiting for someone.

      I slipped the boxes of cards into my pocket and made my way to join them.

      ‘… not until you’ve told me who you are,’ the woman was saying.

      ‘Keep your voice down.’

      ‘Fuck off.’

      ‘Hang on.’ I pulled one of our business cards from my back pocket. The trouble is, in the Students’ Union, everyone assumes we’re students. ‘We’re private investigators,’ I said. She snatched the card from me and I noticed the tremor that seemed to run through her entire body. ‘We’re looking for Matt,’ I said.

      She turned to stare at me and her huge green eyes were like pools, open wide, framed by the longest black СКАЧАТЬ