Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📗

sit on the table and a box in a brown paper bag rests on my dinner plate. ‘What’s this?’

‘Look and see.’

I open the box to a treasure chest of chocolate heaven. ‘My favourite. You’re the best.’

‘I try to be.’

‘I’ll save them for dessert.’

‘At last, sitting down for a meal with my wife.’ He raises his glass. ‘Cheers.’ He takes a sip of wine. ‘The kids really miss you when you’re not here, you know.’

‘Let’s not go there.’ He has a habit of bringing this subject up when I haven’t got the bandwidth to answer.

‘We need to discuss it. Anyway, it’s not only them. I do too.’

‘We’ve been here before, and nothing’s changed. They need to understand I have to earn a living. You do tell them that, don’t you?’

He nods. ‘Come on. I’ve hardly seen you all week. What’s been going on?’

I drain half my glass of wine. ‘Where do I start?’ I bite into a samosa and tell him about the unpleasant encounter with Claudia Walters-Stewart and the outburst from Isabella in the park.

After threatening to give Claudia Walters-Stewart what for first thing on Monday morning, he says, ‘We need to get out of London. For the kids’ sake.’

I sit back in my chair. ‘Where did that come from?’

He shrugs. ‘I guess I’m getting old.’

‘You’re only forty.’ I change the subject and we discuss his work before he asks, ‘Any news on Marc?’

‘Lots.’

‘And?’

Knowing he won’t be happy about the amount of time I’ve dedicated to poking my nose in where I shouldn’t, especially at the expense of everything else going on in our lives, I hesitate.

‘And?’

‘It’s all a bit baffling. I’ll tell you, but you can’t be angry with me.’

I get up to fetch some serving spoons, while he refills our glasses. ‘It’s messy, and the more I delve into it, the more mysterious it gets.’

‘Sum it up.’

I think for a while. ‘What’s that saying? Don’t judge a book by its cover? Well, each day since his disappearance, it has become increasingly apparent that there is more to Marc than the happy family man he presented to the world.’

‘What’s happened now?’

‘Marc’s computer has been completely wiped. His laptop has gone, but I’m ninety-nine per cent sure that he didn’t have it with him on Monday when he left. Sasha thinks it was in his office, but she’s not definite on that. Then there’s the bit about Art driving him to the doctors last Friday. He was prescribed anti-depressants, but no one knew he was depressed. Sasha found the pills, so he didn’t take them with him. The couple who live diagonally opposite them are a bit weird. Pete and Penelope – Pen, she calls herself – have you ever met them?’

Jim shakes his head as he piles his plate with pilau rice.

‘She’s a dog groomer and I’m pretty sure that she’s having an affair with the guy opposite, Tom. You met him?’

Jim shakes his head again.

‘No proof, but I’ve seen him coming out of the parlour twice without a dog.’

‘There could be other reasons.’

‘Fair point, but Pen didn’t hold back on how she felt about her husband. Pete’s a city dealer. She refers to him as Pete the Prick. Sasha found a deposit in Marc’s bank account last week for five thousand pounds – guess who from?’

He passes me a spoon as he shrugs.

‘Pete. Furthermore, five grand was withdrawn from Marc’s account from a bank in Cambridge on Tuesday. And he withdrew three hundred pounds from the cashpoint of the same bank at six o’clock Monday evening.’

‘Cambridge? On Monday when he disappeared? I thought you saw him in the afternoon. He couldn’t have got to Cambridge that quickly, surely.’

‘I worked it out. He could have, but who knows if it was even him who withdrew the money? Now, here’s the bit you’re not going to believe. I found out that, last month, Marc was done for drink-driving.’

‘What?’

‘Sasha didn’t know either.’

He goes to put a mouthful of food in his mouth but stops and frowns. ‘So, how do you?’

‘You said you wouldn’t get angry with me.’

‘Eva?’

I grit my teeth, waiting for the fallout.

He gawps. ‘You didn’t look on the PNC?’

I nod.

‘Eva! You’ll get the boot. Not to mention a criminal record.’

‘They only do spot checks. The chances of one being done on me for this are minimal.’

‘But not impossible.’

I can’t argue with that. I know the risks – policing the police. Now and again – rarely in fact, but it does happen – I’ve heard of officers of all ranks receive a request for information asking what led them to query the police national computer. In the past, police personnel have been caught selling information for various nefarious reasons such as organised-crime syndicates seeking particular details. There have also been cases of officers suspecting their partners of having extramarital affairs and so have checked on their movements. And person checks, where someone would approach a “friendly” officer because they believed their daughter’s new boyfriend was a bit “shady”. Misuse is quite rare these days, but some cops still think they are smart enough to beat the system.

‘Don’t make me feel even more guilty than I already do.’

‘Did you tell Sasha?’ he asks.

I nod, and he shakes his head at me like he does when Isabella has been a naughty girl.

I eat a few mouthfuls of food. ‘That’s not all.’ In for a penny… I tell him about the coke I found in Marc’s wardrobe. ‘And while I was up there, something else happened. What do you think of this? Harry was up in their bedroom, acting all suspicious. He said he was using the loo.’

‘So, what’s odd about that?

‘He didn’t flush, and there was no sign the toilet had been used when I went in there, nor the sink.’ I spoon a second helping of chicken onto our plates. ‘I can’t say for sure, but I think he may have been doing something in Marc’s wardrobe. Putting the coke in there? Or getting some out.’ I share out the remaining