Abigail: Chapter 8

When I got home and walked into a full scale argument between Louise and Grace, all thoughts of my mother were chased from my head. I had bigger problems to contend with. Psychoanalysing my sister and her relationship with Mum would have to wait until another time. When things had eventually calmed down and all three of us were fed, I went back through the forms I’d collected from Abigail and made arrangements to meet with Rob, one of the local police detectives who owed me a favour. In exchange for letting him try and sneak a peek down my top, he kept me up to date with all the latest happenings and that included any new cases they had. Even if he hadn’t been involved with the search for Toby Rogers, I was sure he could get me the most up to date information.

And so it was, the following morning, that I found myself sitting in a greasy spoon near the train station, awaiting his arrival. I’d already eaten but I knew why Rob had suggested meeting here. The Railway Inn did a mean cooked breakfast and you could be sure I’d be buying. It was as I was contemplating ordering a second coffee that a figure appeared next to me and pulled back the chair with a screech.

I looked up. “You’re late.”

“G’morning to you too. Lovely to see you this fine morning.” He hovered over my shoulder and I instinctively pulled my cardigan closed.

“Sit down would you?” If I was buying breakfast he could sod off trying to guess the colour of my bra.

“What’s got your knickers in such a twist?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. I’ve just got lots to do and you’re late.”

This wasn’t true. I didn’t have a single lead yet, Rob was the first person I’d spoken to, but I was itching to get started and didn’t appreciate being messed around. The waitress came over and I listened as Rob rattled off his breakfast order. She turned to me.

“Just another coffee please. Black this time.”

Pleasantries over with I gave Rob what I hoped was my most piercing look. “What do you know about Toby Rogers.” I took a photo out of the folder I’d prepared from Abigail’s information and showed it to him.

“Hmm, I feel like I should know this one. What’s his story?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. Reported missing six months ago by his wife, a Mrs Abigail Rogers, my client. She says your lot aren’t doing their job properly, wants me to see what I can find.”

“Missing person eh. Vulnerable?”

I shook my head. “Not especially.”

“Been any contact? Ransom demand? Suicide note?”

“Nope, nothing. He just went to work one morning and never came home.”

“Weird.”

“Is that really the best you can do?” The waitress appeared with my coffee and the food for Rob. I waited while she arranged his toast and gave him sauce. When she was gone I gestured to the food he was now tucking into. “I buy you breakfast and all you can give me is weird?” I made air quotes and rolled my eyes at him.

“What do you want me to say? I don’t even remember the guy. I’ll have a look at his file when I get back to the nick but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“Can you at least tell me the procedure? Would they have done a phone trace? Looked at his bank records? Maybe searched his house and talked to the wife?”

Rob chewed slowly and took a sip of tea before answering. “Come on, you know the procedure Charlie. He’s low risk. We can’t do a trace on someone low risk, it costs an absolute bloody fortune and the paperwork is a pig!”

I sighed. Of course I knew that, I just wanted to hear a different answer, hoped that maybe something about Abigail or Toby might have stuck in his mind, to give me something to go on.

“What did his wife say about it all? You trust her?” It was Rob’s turn to give me a pointed look.

“Just that they were love’s young dream. No way he’d choose to leave her and the kids like that.” I chose not to answer his second question. How could I admit to a police officer that there was something suspicious about her? Even if it was only Rob, he’d feel compelled to act on anything I told him.

“And you don’t buy that?”

“Call me cynical but have you ever met anyone who’s actually that happy? The perfect marriage with the perfect kids? Do me a favour!”

“Spoken like a true divorcee.” Rob smiled and caught my eye, his hands held up in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying, maybe your perception of marriage is a little skewed.”

“But I …”

“Understandably so. I get it. Just cut the lady some slack until I pull up the file. Okay?”

I nodded. “Of course. I’ve been nothing but sweetness to her. Poor woman’s missing her husband. I’m just waiting for the plot twist and was hoping you’d be able to help find it.”

Unofficially of course. Rob and I both knew that anything he told me was strictly off the record but we had something of an agreement. He told me what I needed to know about missing people and I kept out the way when the aforementioned missing person was someone they were actively seeking. My ‘no find, no fee’ policy meant that he and I rarely found ourselves looking for the same people. My clients tended to be motivated by money. Specifically, searching for someone who had skipped town with it. Rob and his colleagues were more interested in the kind of missing people who all too often ended up being found without a pulse. The thought made me shudder and cross my fingers. For all my doubts about Abigail, I really didn’t want to think about how this one might end up back in Rob’s jurisdiction.