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‘Why’s that?’ Poe said.
‘Well … she’s not been missing that long. I thought the police had to wait forty-eight hours or something before they investigated.’
‘We take all calls of missing people seriously, Mr Pridmore. Is there anything you can tell us that may help? Anything we might not know.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘What contracts did she manage at BAE?’
‘Something to do with the strategic weapon systems on the new nuclear subs, I think.’
‘Did she ever talk about her work?’
‘Wasn’t allowed to. I doubt I would have understood anyway.’
‘Had she mentioned any new relationships or friendships recently?’
‘She hadn’t.’
‘Would she have?’
‘We had a rough time when the family court judge gave me custody of the kids but she’s quite pragmatic. She has no family in Cumbria and works incredibly long hours – in her heart she knew she couldn’t offer them the home they deserved. She’d have told me if she was seeing anyone.’
‘So you get on?’
‘Better than we did when we were married. The pressure was off to impress each other all the time, I think.’
Poe took a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘Did she have any interests outside work?’
‘Not unless feeding birds counted. If she wasn’t at work she was reading about work.’
‘Birds?’
‘She liked to feed the birds in the garden. She would sit in the kitchen with her laptop sometimes and watch them. Spent a fortune on seed, mealworms and fat balls.’
Poe hadn’t been in the utility room yet. If Rebecca kept bird food it would be in there. He couldn’t see how it was relevant but he would check anyway.
He finished with Pridmore and hung up.
CSI hadn’t yet put stepping plates in the utility room and Poe called them in to do so. Pearson, the detective in charge, followed them.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Probably nothing,’ Poe replied. ‘Just dotting an I.’
After CSI had readied the utility room and completed a cursory search and video walkthrough, Poe and Pearson were cleared to enter.
The room was narrow and an obvious extension to the main building. A large bench ran the length of the wall with the windows. Underneath sat a washing machine, a tumble dryer and two closed units. Coat hooks lined the wall that – pre-extension – would have been external. Some had jackets on, most didn’t. Underneath were wellies and outdoor shoes. The door to the back garden was on the right. The wall on the left had a wall-mounted ironing board.
Poe opened the unit next to the washing machine. It contained washing powder and fabric softeners, two bottles of bleach and spare toilet rolls.
Pearson watched without comment.
Poe opened the other unit. He’d been right. It was where she kept the bird food. There was enough to suggest it was a serious hobby. She had pre-bought mixes but also Tupperware boxes with handwritten labels: finches (winter); wood pigeons (breeding season); high fat (extreme cold).
Poe counted ten boxes, all with different concoctions. There were spare plastic feeders and books on garden birds and wildlife. There was also a pair of binoculars and a notepad recording the species she’d seen in her garden. Poe flicked through it. She had been visited by over one hundred species, it seemed, from the humble sparrow to a goshawk.
‘What’s it mean?’ Pearson asked.
