Perhaps there’s no one here, I think. It’s a weekend, after all. She’ll send us away. Tell us to try normal office hours. I hear the wall clock ticking. Two o’clock. Nine at night in Chengdu.
The receptionist comes back and says, ‘Detective Inspector Dooley will be down shortly.’ My skin turns to gooseflesh. Nick glances at me, sombre. He rubs his forehead and shifts in his seat.
Another five minutes, then a woman comes in through a door to the side of the waiting area marked ‘Staff Only’.
‘Mrs Maddox? Mr Myers? I’m Detective Inspector Dooley.’ An Irish accent. She holds out her hand. We shake. Her hand is cool and dry, the pressure swift. I catch a trace of tobacco smoke and imagine she’s been having a smoke before meeting us. Her hair is dark and curly, salted grey. She is sharp-featured; lines furrow her brow and fan from the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her eyes are a washed-out blue. She carries a plastic folder and pen.
I’d like to pinch myself. But this is no dream.
‘I’m very sorry to hear about Lorelei,’ she says. ‘If you’ll come with me I’ll take some more details.’
She uses an electronic swipe card to release the door and takes us along a corridor to a small meeting room with four low easy chairs arranged around a coffee table. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ she offers. ‘Only a vending machine, I’m afraid.’
‘Some water,’ I say. ‘That would be great, thanks, just tap water.’ Don’t drink the water – Lori’s rule number one.
‘Yes, water, please,’ Nick says.
‘Of course. Please, take a seat.’
She’s back in no time with two tumblers. Parched, I drink half of mine.
‘Let me just check I have all the details correct,’ she says, sitting down. She consults her file and goes over what we have told the receptionist. It’s all there.
‘And Lorelei is in China?’ she says.
‘In Chengdu,’ Nick says. ‘Sichuan province, the south-west.’
‘What’s she doing there?’
‘Teaching,’ I say. ‘English. She went travelling in September and ended up in China.’
‘She has a work visa,’ Nick says, ‘for a year.’
DI Dooley notes it down. ‘And when did she acquire the work visa?’
I think. ‘That would be February.’
‘And you last heard from her on the second of April?’
‘Yes,’ I say. I explain about the blog. ‘And she Skyped with her father, my ex, the day before.’
‘His name?’ she says.
‘Tom Maddox.’
‘And his date of birth?’
‘First of April 1969.’
‘Is Lorelei good at keeping in touch usually?’ DI Dooley says.
‘It can be a bit random,’ I say.
