Page 55 of One of Us Is Guilty

‘So you’re not a licensed investigator in the state?’

‘I’m consulting.’

Landry stared at him, and rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, mirroring the thoughts rolling around in his head.

Finally, he said, ‘Well, the two of you can come on back to my office. Professional co-operation is the cornerstone of good policing. Just out of interest, who is your client?’

‘We can’t release that information,’ said Bloch.

‘I understand. Come on. You want coffee?’

Bloch nodded. Lake shook his head.

‘Bring us a couple of fresh cups, along with the ID,’ said Landry to the desk sergeant.

The captain’s office had more screens and tech than Bloch was used to. Two monitors sat on his desk, another wide screen hung on the wall and a TV with the local news played in the corner, with the volume down low.

Landry clocked Bloch taking in the room.

‘It pays to be up to date. I can monitor every officer on shift at any time from here. Take a seat,’ and he waved to two leather chairs facing his desk.

A thin file with a blue cover sat there. It was old and the cover was curled up at the edges. Landry sat down and opened it. Bloch leaned forward.

There were perhaps ten or twelve pages in the file. No more.

A paltry body of work for a missing woman.

The desk sergeant came in, handed out the coffees, took the ID from his back pocket and handed it back to Bloch. She took a sipfrom her coffee. It was hot, but not fresh. It tasted of old coffee machines that brewed twelve hours a day and gave every pot the same stewed flavor.

‘The coastguard handled this for the most part,’ said Landry. He’d eyed Bloch sizing up the file. ‘Teresa Chase had been swimming off the east shore. She was there one minute, gone the next. Riptides, you see. We were called out, as is routine, took some particulars and then handed it over to the coastguard. Tragic accident. Not much more I can tell you.’

‘She drowned?’ asked Lake.

‘It would appear so. Body was never recovered.’

‘Tell us about her,’ said Bloch.

‘She was twenty-eight years old. No immediate family. She’d lost both her parents a few years before in a car wreck. Had a half-sister, somewhere, but we couldn’t find her and she never came forward. Teresa was an English grad, worked a little in the local paper, writing up movie reviews, restaurant reviews, that kind of thing. Nice girl, by all accounts. Such a shame.’

‘Who reported her missing?’

Landry leaned on the desk, covering most of the open file with his forearm.

‘A local, who was on the beach.’

‘Did you get a name?’ asked Bloch.

‘Sure, doesn’t matter much. They did the right thing – called it in straight away. Coastguard was in the water fast. They did everything they could to find her. It’s just one of those—’

‘Do you mind if I take a look at the report?’ asked Bloch.

‘Like I said, not much to it.’

‘This local, was his name Patrick Vanderpool?’ asked Bloch.

Landry swallowed a mouthful of bitter coffee, then said, ‘Why, yes it was.’

‘Were they friends? In a relationship?’ asked Bloch.