“It’s going to be sixty degrees and raining next week,” says Jane. “Make the most of it!”
Jane pours him a tall glass of cold water, and they sit for a moment in the shade of the living room, where the shutters are closed against the sun. “Haven’t been here for ages,” says Dexter, his eyes trailing around the place.
“You haven’t?”
“No,” he replies. “When Dad’s in town we tend to meet up my way for dinner. He never invites me here. I forgot how nice it was.”
“How often do you see him? Your dad?”
“Once or twice a year, I suppose. Maybe three times? Not much. And always kind of quick.”
“Oh.” Jane blinks. She’s long entertained fantasies about the rich lives her lost families have lived in her absence, not rushed suppers à deux in Belsize Park dineries. Dexter’s sister, Romy, is at university in Leeds, so it’s only Dexter left stranded here in London. “That makes me sad.”
“It’s fine.” Dexter smiles tightly. “I’m a big boy. And I’ve got you.” He leans toward Jane and squeezes her kneecap.
“You have,” says Jane. “One hundred percent.”
“Well, maybe twenty percent, after Brian, Bluto, Reggie, and Beamish.”
Jane laughs wryly. “Well, yes,maybe… But I’m so looking forward to the big get-together next weekend. It will be great for you to catch up with the others.”
“I was always in awe of your other stepchildren. They were so cool. With their posh names and ponies and country houses.”
“Ponies and country houses don’t mean anything,” says Jane. “I should know that. But in spite of it all, they’ve turned into lovely, levelheaded adults. Do you want something to eat, by the way? I have crisps and stuff.”
As she lays out a selection of snacks, Dexter asks her about her investigation. Jane tells him about finding the hoodie, going to the school in Islington, the student movie starring Jessamine Black, her third visit to the house in the Vale of Health, and another frosty doorstep interaction with creepy Stuart Tucker.
Dexter nods enthusiastically as Jane talks. “Wow,” he says. “Sounds like you’re really getting somewhere.”
Jane sighs. “Well, no, not really. Precisely nowhere in fact. So far I have a young woman called—possibly—something beginning withD, who lives—possibly—with her mother, Jessamine, and stepfather, Stuart. She—possibly—took the family dog, absconded to the countryside and made herself at home in an Airbnb paid for in cash, and then somehow—possibly—got entirely lost while walking the dog. The police seem to have stopped looking for her, and as far as I know they haven’t followed up with the man in the Vale of Health even though the vet gave them his details.”
“So, what next?”
Jane blows out her breath. “Good question. Any ideas?”
“Don’t you know people? Like, you know, Dad’s people?”
“Well, yes,” Jane replies, thinking of the man Tony had once paid tokeep him safe, both personally and professionally, a man called Tobias who had access to high-security corners of the internet, to police records, to people with information. She’d used that very man earlier in the year when she was trying to identify the marriage scammer, but this is different. She’s not looking for a crook this time; she’s looking for a young woman who may or may not be a runaway. It’s all just feelings and ideas, there’s nothing substantial enough for Jane to throw at a third party and say: Here, check this for me, get me stuff. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate to use him here,” she says. “I think this is down to us. Well, me.”
“No! Us!” Dexter replies. “Definitely. But we need to find out more about Jessamine and Stuart. About Rose White, Black, whoever. We could always, maybe, ask their neighbors?”
“We could,” says Jane, sitting up a little straighter. “Yes, we actually could. But we’d have to be careful. I wouldn’t want it getting back to Stuart. I mean,” she says thoughtfully, “if there is someone in peril in this situation, we really do need to tread carefully.”
Dexter nods. “I could pretend to be an old friend, maybe? Like, the girl and I used to go to school together? And lost touch?”
“Yes!” Jane claps her hands. “That could work. Though we still don’t know what her real name is. I’ve been thinking, you know—White/Black—maybe she’s swapped the first name for something similar too? Maybe a floral thing, to go with Rose? It might be, I don’t know… Dahlia? Or Daffodil? Or…” She runs out of ideas.
“Daisy?” Dexter suggests.
Jane nods. “Yes,” she says brightly. “Maybe. Let’s just assume that it is something flowery and take it from there.”
They start at the farthest end of the terrace that leads toward Stuart Tucker’s house. Here there are three small stucco-fronted cottages in a row, each one a different shade of cream. It’s four o’clock and Jane hopes they’re in time to catch people at home after the school run or maybe working fromhome. Nobody comes to the door of the first house. At the second house an au pair or nanny opens the door. She has an accent and no idea about the neighbors. She tells them her boss will be home at six, but that her boss has lived in their house for only a year.
At the third cottage, a middle-aged man answers the door. He is handsome and stylish in a T-shirt and shorts, horn-rimmed glasses, and a deep suntan. He looks at Jane and Dexter curiously. “Yes?”
Dexter begins: “Sorry to bother you, but I used to have a friend who lived down here. About my age. I’m not sure which house she lived in, I can’t quite remember. But we were both at Waterside Academy. She lived somewhere up there with her mum, Jessamine.”
“Hold on,” says the man. He turns slightly and looks over his shoulder. Then he calls out, “George?”
