I found pen and pad and pressed play.
Click. ‘Sal, it’s Rachel. I’ve lost my diary with your home number in. It is such a drag, I hate losing my diary. So that’s why I’m ringing you at work. It’s nine o’clock now and I should be in the rest of the morning if you can ring me back. It’s about someone I know who’s looking for a place to stay. She’s just started in our office and she’s kipping at her cousin’s in Sale at the moment. I thought of you, don’t know if you’ve got anyone yet. Anyway, give me a ring. Bye.’ Click. Beep.
Click. ‘It’s Jimmy Achebe.’ I felt the hairs lift on the nape of my neck, the skin on my face tighten. ‘I know I still owe you for the job. I haven’t forgotten. Erm…I’ll try and drop it in later this week. Erm…right then. That’s it.’ Click. Beep.’ I pressed pause. My head buzzing with confusion. When had he rung? When had Rachel rung? I was pretty sure I’d cleared my messages on Wednesday. Had the light been blinking when I’d come here with the police on Friday? Tina had been found on Thursday. Surely the last thing a murderer would do would be to ring round settling outstanding bills. Or was that exemplary psychopathic behaviour? No, he must have rung before it all happened. Or maybe the machine had had one of its funny turns and had not shown there were messages waiting on Wednesday.
I pressed play.
Click. ‘Sal, Rachel again. Sorry, something’s just come up and I’ve got to go out It’s what…half-nine nearly and this will probably take me a couple of hours at least so you can try me after twelve, I should be back then. Bye.’ Click. Beep.
Click. Beep. Whirr. Someone who didn’t like leaving messages. Click. Beep. Whirr. And another.
I reset the machine and cleared my desk.
I’d told Jimmy about Tina on Thursday, the twenty-fourth of February. Exactly a week later she’d died. In the time between had Jimmy been wound up to breaking point, his fury and rage growing till it erupted in such terrible violence, or had he planned her death with ice-cold vengeance?
His message seemed utterly trivial now set against the tragedy he was involved in. I didn’t expect I’d ever hear from him again.
I thought back to our last meeting. His hands trembling as he took the photo, the tension in his body, eyes bright with anger. Was there anything I could have said that would have made a difference?
At home I made myself an omelette and ate it while Maddie talked me through her latest set of drawings. I put off ringing Agnes. Tomorrow.
Maddie and I got ready for a trip to the park. There was a nip in the air and the clouds were scudding along at a fair old rate so I gathered up gloves, scarves and hats. Maddie got her bike out. I stuffed crisps and apples into my duffel bag. Digger followed me about, desperate to be included. I don’t often take him out, there’s not a lot of love lost between us and Ray is happy to do all the dog chores, but I’d no excuse for not letting him join our jaunt. First, though, I let him out into the front garden where he could relieve himself shielded from view by thick privet hedges. Since Digger had moved in the front garden had become his toilet area. We never used it for anything else anyway, too gloomy.