It was too depressing. I sought out my library book. A bit of Patricia Cornwell, forensic sleuthing, stateside – just the ticket.
I made sure I was in my office in plenty of time the next morning for Jimmy Achebe’s call. He rang a little after ten. I’d already decided to ask him to come in and see me; I didn’t want to go into details over the phone.
‘Hello, Jimmy. I’ve got some information for you. I ought to say it doesn’t look very good.’
‘Oh, right.’ He sounded uncertain, very young.
‘Perhaps if you called over after work?’
‘Erm, yeah right.’ I could only just hear him above the noise of the depot.
‘What time do you finish?’ I asked.
‘’Bout five. I’ll be there just after.’
‘OK. I’ll see you then.’
The guy would be in purgatory all day.
I rang Ray at the site to see if he could get back before five. No problem. Relief. I wouldn’t have to ring round sorting out a babysitter for a half-hour meeting.
I called at the photo shop and picked up the prints. They weren’t brilliant but they’d do.
Back at my desk I pulled out the file I’d opened and wrote up my notes on the investigation. I always listed in detail the job I’d done. Just in case. Then I added up the time I’d spent following Tina, and my expenses. The tenner to the receptionist, the rail and Metro fares, even the food I’d bought at the station.
I’d learned the hard way that it all adds up. It’s tough enough to make a living without being soft about the real costs of a case. I prepared the bill for Jimmy Achebe.
Later that morning I got an enquiry from someone wanting a night watchman. I passed them on to a firm I know in Stockport. After that it was very quiet. I tidied files and finally admitted to myself I was time-wasting.
I walked back home, pleased to see the pale sun had succeeded in emerging from the clouds. There were even a few wisps of blue sky. The ground was damp but not frozen. I’d be able to do some pottering in the garden.
For a couple of hours I lost myself in the pungent odour of damp earth and vegetation, the feel of brick and mud and dead wood, as I repaired the low wall of the herb garden, tidied up shrubs and prepared a sweet pea trench.
The children were tired on the way back from school and dived for the telly when we got in. Once Ray got back at four thirty I went round to the Dobsons’. I stuck my head in the kitchen to warn them I was expecting a client at five.
He was early. The stench of cigarette smoke hit me as I opened the door. He had a baseball jacket over his uniform.
‘Come in.’
Once he’d sat down I recited the bald facts as I’d uncovered them. I described following Tina from home to the Worcester Hotel. Tina registering as Mrs Peters, as she’d done several times before. The man joining her, leaving after an hour, Tina coming out later. I had photographs of each of them outside the hotel, nothing of them together.