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‘She could have been alive all that time,’ says Bradley.
It’s a thought. Nelson mustn’t underestimate Tanya’s new sidekick.
Nelson nearly makes a clean getaway but, just as he is descending the stairs, a siren call echoes after him: ‘Can I have a quick word?’
Nelson retraces his steps to find Super Jo bouncing gently on her exercise ball. It makes Nelson feel slightly sick, for all sorts of reasons. He fixes his gaze on a point above his boss’s oscillating head. Her office seems to be full of watercolour prints and bunches of flowers. Their scent makes Nelson want to sneeze.
‘How are you doing with the Emily Pickering case?’
‘OK,’ says Nelson. ‘I could do with more staff, though. Judy can’t be involved and young Tony’s isolating.’
‘He hasn’t got Covid, has he?’
‘No, he’s been pinged by the app.’ Nelson can hardly believe that these words have just come out of his mouth or that Jo nods sagely, as if they make perfect sense.
‘Why can’t Judy be involved?’
‘Cathbad knew the girl. He was interviewed by the original investigation.’
Nelson doesn’t repeat what he’s just learnt from Ruth. Jo knows Cathbad, of course. At Cloughie’s wedding he told her that she was an ‘old soul’ and she’s been repeating it ever since.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ says Jo. ‘Maybe Dave Clough has someone he can spare. After all, she lived in Cambridge. It’s his case too.’
‘I’ll ask him.’
‘I just wondered,’ says Jo, ‘if you’d thought any more about the Big R?’
‘The big what?’ He knows exactly what she means but he’s going to make her say it aloud.
‘Retirement.’ Jo smiles at him while wobbling gently from side to side. ‘I thought you might want to go back to Blackpool, to be nearer George. . .’
Has she been talking to Sandy? Nelson wouldn’t put it past her. He thinks of Michelle walking along the beach with George. That wasn’t where Sandy had seen them but it’s where Nelson’s imagination places them, with the Central Pier in the background and the tower casting long shadows on the wet sand.
‘There are lots of consultancy options out there now,’ says Jo. ‘Some forces are even advertising for retired coppers to become civilian SIOs.’
The word ‘civilian’ still feels like an insult.
‘I’m not interested,’ says Nelson. ‘I’m just interested in solving this case.’
This time, Cathbad looks resigned rather than nervous. ‘Fancy a walk on the beach?’ says Nelson. ‘We can take that idiot dog of yours. I’ve got Bruno in the car.’
Nelson collected Bruno from the dog walker after work. He knows this is because he’s hoping (planning? expecting?) to spend the night at Ruth’s.
‘That sounds idyllic,’ says Cathbad. ‘I’ll just tell Judy.’
From inside the house Nelson can hear the piano playing and Judy saying something that ends on a laugh. What would she say if she knew why Nelson is calling? Perhaps she already suspects? Thing barks. Presumably he understands the word ‘walk’. Bruno is the same.
In a few minutes, the two men, accompanied by their dogs, are walking the path between the dunes to the beach. Are the animals appropriate to their owners? wonders Nelson. Bruno is a German shepherd, from a litter of police dogs. He’s protective and vigilant, pointed ears always on the alert for danger. On the other hand, he’s much better-looking than Nelson. Thing is an English bull terrier, with a jolly grinning face and a piratical patch over one eye. Like Cathbad, he stands out from the crowd but Nelson thinks that he has a simpler nature than his master. Cathbad, Nelson knows, is a complicated creature.
‘So what’s this about, Nelson?’ says Cathbad, as they walk towards the beach huts. The tide is coming in and the sand is shrinking as the sea approaches. Closing off all avenues of escape, like a good police enquiry.
‘It’s about Emily Pickering,’ says Nelson. He throws a grimy tennis ball that he found in the car and both dogs chase after it.
‘What about her?’ says Cathbad.
‘Were you having an affair with her?’
‘Depends what you mean by affair?’
