‘I’m a friend of Martin’s.’
Her face creased with concern. She moved nearer and lowered her voice. ‘A terrible business. It put years on Sheila. Is there any improvement?’ The dog snuffled around my ankles.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said carefully.
‘These things take time, don’t they? So young.’ She shook her head and sighed too. The dog made interested grunting sounds. I kept quiet, hoping desperately for a clue. ‘Still, they can do a lot these days, can’t they? Not like it used to be. I knew a lady worked up at Prestwich – the stories she used to tell. Poor things stuck in strait-jackets, given electric shocks.’ She touched my arm. ‘If you ask me, people got better in spite of all that, not because of it.’
‘Yes.’ I smiled and nodded. The dog mounted my right leg and made disconcerting movements. I tried to edge away. ‘Well, I’d better be going,’ I said. ‘I’ll call some other time.’
‘Okey-dokey. Come on, Millie.’ She tugged the terrier away. It nearly choked; straining to return to my feet.
So, the neighbours had been told that Martin was in a mental institution. A funny sort of explanation for his sudden disappearance. Would admitting he’d run away be more embarrassing? Possibly. People would’ve expected them to be making every effort to find him, enquiring about their efforts. This way, the issue could be avoided. A simple ‘no improvement’ would solicit sympathy and a change of conversation.
‘But that’s awful,’ Diane said.
I shrugged. ‘Stops people asking too many questions.’
‘Do you think they knew this woman, then?’
‘No idea. She could have been a friend of the family, but that doesn’t really tell me why she was so keen to find Martin.’
We were on our second pint and I’d taken Diane through the whole caboodle, eliciting just the right exclamations as I related seeing the photo in the paper, Leanne’s story, the attitude of the police.
‘You look tired, Sal.’
‘Don’t you start. I’m always tired anyway, comes with motherhood, you know.’
‘It’s not just that,’ said Diane. ‘This job, it’s such a mess. No-one’s paying you any more. Why bother?’
‘I want to know who she was, why she was after him.’
‘Why?’ Diane was pushing me. I didn’t like it.
‘Curiosity, loose ends.’ I took a long drink. Diane started to speak, then thought better of it.
‘What?’ I demanded.
‘Nothing.’
‘What?’
She sighed. ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’
‘Diane! That’s pathetic. Anyway, I’m not a cat.’
‘Sorry. I just worry about you. There has been a murder after all…after last year…’
