A Roman Shadow, page 9
“I hope they’re paying you,” Shadow whispered to him.
“Ten quid an hour and no chores for the rest of the week,” the young man whispered back with a grin.
When he’d finished his meal, Lucia came to clear his table. After hearing Mrs Chen’s comment about Ling, Shadow realised he’d recently been paying particular attention to people’s hands. He studied Lucia’s as she deftly stacked the empty plates. Her nails were clean and neatly trimmed and her fingers were speckled with the smooth faded scars from burns after years of working in kitchens. Shadow thought back to Mrs Chen’s description of Ling’s hands. When she had said they were old and ugly, he now thought they probably bore the signs of working with hot metal, as Jacqui Heaton’s did, but until they found her, he wouldn’t know for sure.
As he left the restaurant and stepped out on to Petergate, a group of young Chinese women passed him by, giggling and taking photos of each other. Since Ling’s disappearance he’d also begun studying the many groups of tourists and students in the city. One member of this group was wearing a pale pink top. A flicker of hope shot through him. Maybe she wasn’t missing. Perhaps she had met up with some friends. He followed the group as they turned on to Church Street. Unfortunately, they were all wearing face masks. However, when they arrived in St Sampson’s Square, they headed into a pizza restaurant, removing the masks as they did so. Shadow had a chance to look at the girl in pink more closely. It wasn’t Ling.
Disappointed, he was about to leave the square when he spotted the Roman Bath. It wasn’t a pub he often visited as it was usually so busy with tourists. As the name suggested it was built on the site of the Roman bathhouse and it was still possible to go and visit the remains beneath the pub. What had caught Shadow’s attention tonight were the two Roman soldiers standing outside the door posing with some American visitors. Shadow waited for the tourists to hand over their generous tips and leave before he approached the ex-soldiers.
“Ave, gentlemen. Working late?” he asked.
“Just earning a few extra quid,” replied Glenn easily.
“A bit of beer money,” agreed Pete.
“Although apparently having us around is good for business. The punters love having their photo taken with us and we encourage them to go and have a shufti at the old bathhouse, so the landlord gives us our drinks gratis too,” added Glenn with a grin.
“Very enterprising.” Shadow nodded. They certainly made the most of their costumes, he thought. Talk about moonlighting.
Shadow entered the pub and ordered a pint of John Smith’s. He wasn’t particularly shocked to see Stephanie perched on a stool at the other side of the bar. She was wearing a short red silk dress and held a glass of prosecco in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The smoking ban had been in place for years, but like her father, Stephanie clearly believed laws were there to be broken. She completely ignored Shadow when he nodded hello to her.
He took a seat by the fire and sipped his pint. The interior of the pub was decorated with Roman-style columns, and paintings featuring scenes of Roman life covered the walls. The pub was busy. Most of the tables were taken and there was a low hum of various conversations accompanied by the crackle and spit of the logs burning in the grate. The genial atmosphere was rudely interrupted by the shrill ring of a mobile phone. Shadow looked up, not at all surprised to find it was Stephanie’s. She looked at the screen and pulled a face as she stubbed out her cigarette and flicked her hair, before answering.
“Hi, Timmy. You okay, babe?”
There was a pause.
“No, babe, I told you. I’ve got a late-night yoga session, then I’m going for a few drinks with the girls.”
Another pause.
“No don’t wait up, babe. You’ve been really stressed. Have an early night. I’ll see you in the morning. Night night, babe, love you.”
She ended the call and the barmaid gave her a knowing look.
“A late-night yoga session, Steph?”
Stephanie took a sip of her wine, before giving a sly smirk.
“Well I used to tell him I was getting my nails done, but then the bloody police went and shut down my usual place, so I had to come up with something else. And I’ve had to start giving myself a manicure.”
As she spoke, she glanced over in the direction of Shadow and gave him a filthy look, as though she held him personally responsible for this terrible inconvenience to her life.
“Why did they close it down?” asked the barmaid.
Stephanie shrugged. “God knows, something stupid about illegal immigrants or the girls who worked there being used as slave labour.”
“That’s awful,” exclaimed the barmaid looking appalled. “Where were the girls from?”—
“Search me, Vietnam, Korea, the Philippines—they all look the same to me,” replied Stephanie with a shrug.
Shadow could hardly believe the casual callousness in the way she spoke. He knew the case she referred to, although it was immigration who had closed the place down. The girls working there were about the same age as Stephanie. Any sympathy he may have felt for her losing her father evaporated.
At that moment, Glenn and Pete entered the pub and were immediately surrounded by more tourists, Japanese this time, all wanting to have a photo with them. After more camera clicks and more tips, they joined Stephanie at the bar. Pete flung his arm around her shoulders.
“New dress, Steph?” asked Glenn.
“Not really. Tim bought it for me on our honeymoon in Hong Kong.”
“I thought you went to Sydney on your honeymoon.”
“We did, but we stopped off in Hong Kong for a few days.”
“It’s all right for some.” The barmaid laughed. “I had to make do with a weekend in Skegness.”
Stephanie shrugged again as she sipped her prosecco. “It’s not about where you go; it’s about who you’re with,” she said before planting a kiss on Pete’s lips. Shadow swallowed down the last of his pint. He’d seen and heard enough. Dunnington might be a total fool, but nobody deserved to be mocked so publicly.
He stepped out into St Sampson’s Square just in time to spot a familiar tall figure with floppy hair ducking into the narrow entrance of Nether Hornpot Lane. What on earth was Jimmy doing heading to the Swinegate Quarter at this time of night? He considered calling out to him but stopped when he heard a laugh coming from the alleyway. A women’s laugh. Shadow couldn’t see who she was, but his sergeant certainly wasn’t alone. He turned sharply on his heel. Whatever was going on, it had nothing to do with him. Was it his imagination, or had Jimmy been a little furtive recently? Usually he was so open and honest, almost to a fault, yet over the last couple of days he’d had the distinct air of someone with a secret to hide. Shadow headed down Parliament Street and turned on to Ousegate deep in thought. As he crossed the bridge, he almost bumped into Sophie who was hurrying out of the small Sainsbury’s.
“Oh sorry, Chief. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she apologised. There were dark rings under her eyes and she barely raised a smile. Shadow thought she looked exhausted.
“Have you been working late?” he asked.
“Yes, just finished. I thought I’d grab a pint of milk on my way home. I’m going to need all the coffee I can brew to wake me up in the morning. I never thought I’d miss Donaldson,” she replied with a yawn.
“Is Jimmy not with you?” Shadow asked casually.
“No he’s working late—something about waiting for a call about that missing girl from Shanghai. He’s struggling to catch up with them what with the time difference and everything.” She paused and her face creased into a frown. “Actually I thought China was ahead of us, but then right now I’m so tired, I’m not even sure of my own name.”
“Of course, I won’t keep you,” replied Shadow. “Goodnight.” He watched her go then continued on his way. As he plodded down the steps to the river, he wondered why his honest sergeant had started lying to his girlfriend. He shook his head. Jimmy was right: here he was again, thinking the worst of people. Perhaps that’s what thirty years in the police did to you or had he always been naturally suspicious?
*
It was a clear crisp night and the full moon shone down, reflecting on the water and picking out the gold lettering of his narrow boat’s name. When he stepped aboard Florence, his first task was to light the wood-burning stove, then he went to the small galley and poured himself a large glass of Valpolicella. He flicked on his ancient stereo, kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie and sank into the sofa as Louis Armstrong’s voice filled the boat. He was singing ‘Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails’ and Shadow was immediately reminded of Fred Astaire singing the same song at Jacqui Heaton’s jewellery shop, admittedly at a much louder volume.
He considered some of the recent businesses he’d come into contact with and wondered how they managed to continue trading. Jacqui with her deafening music, Le Vel and his workforce that didn’t actually produce anything and Genevieve with her pay what you want café. Then there was Dunnington who seemed to treat the museum like a hobby. Shadow had remembered who Tim Dunnington reminded him of: the countless boys he’d been at boarding school with. They were all the same, not especially bright, but filled with the confidence that came with knowing they’d never really have to work a day in their lives. Their families were wealthy and, thanks to their names, doors would always open for them.
His thoughts switched to Ling. Although the missing girl and Roman coins seemingly had nothing in common other than being reported on the same day, he couldn’t help connecting the cases. Dunnington had spoken to her and she’d been seen on the city walls that were frequently patrolled by Glenn and Pete as well as connecting the Monk Bar Café and shops. Then there was Genevieve visiting Shanghai and Le Vel spending time in Hong Kong along with the Dunningtons who’d honeymooned there. Shadow yawned—maybe his imagination was running away with him and it was all purely coincidence.
The next song began to play. Appropriately, it was Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘My Funny Valentine’. It was over twenty-five years since he’d celebrated Valentine’s, but he could remember that day like it was yesterday. He’d lived in London back then. It had been a Sunday and he’d woken early and gone to the flower market at Covent Garden and bought as many red roses as he could carry and put vases of them throughout Florence as a surprise for Luisa when she woke up. He’d even managed to get an arrangement in the tiny bathroom. She had been delighted; he could see her face now. She’d cooked roast lamb for them, and they’d spent the day lazing around drinking red wine and listening to Frank and Ella. Less than a year later she was gone. Killed. Hit by a careless driver.
Shadow sighed as he finished the last of the wine and stood up to go to bed. He hoped one of Jimmy’s theories was right and that the girls from Shanghai had left their home for romantic reasons and were living happily and peacefully, but he very much doubted it.
*
The next morning, Shadow bolted down his breakfast as quickly as he had his two previous evening meals. He wasn’t concerned that there would be an impromptu proposal over the bacon and eggs, but he was aware of the first Mrs Dunnington’s Zoom proposition and he didn’t want to be late.
When he arrived at the incident room in the station, he found that for the second time that week, Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Tom was busily tapping away at the computer, before confidently declaring, “Ready when you are, sir!”
Shadow didn’t share the young constable’s confidence, but nevertheless he took his seat in front of the screen.
“Shall I stay in case you need me, sir?” asked Tom as eager as ever.
“Definitely. I’ll need someone to take notes,” replied Shadow squinting at the screen while carefully keeping his hands well away from the keyboard.
“Actually, sir, I’ve set it up so that the meeting will be recorded.”
Shadow raised a still-sceptical eyebrow, but to his surprise as Tom pressed a few keys Camilla Dunnington’s face flashed up on to his screen. What didn’t surprise him was Camilla Dunnington’s appearance. She was exactly as he’d imagined her. Sitting at what looked like a kitchen table in her twinset and pearls with a velvet band holding back her hair and wearing just enough make-up to show she cared. There were thousands of women like her up and down the country, sitting on parish councils, organising village fetes and running gymkhanas. Shadow suspected that without them the nation would probably come to a grinding halt.
“Do I just talk normally?” he asked Tom.
“Yes, sir. I’ll unmute you,” replied Tom, stepping forward and clicking the mouse.
Shadow cleared his throat and tried not to feel self-conscious.
“Good morning, Mrs Dunnington.”
“Good morning, Chief Inspector. Now I’m sure you have lots of questions for me, but I’ve made a list of information I think you might find useful. Shall I rattle through that first then hand over to you?”
“Please do,” replied Shadow. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tom and the other constables smirking at each other. On the screen in front of him Camilla started reading from her list.
“Firstly, the insurance company. I’m sure you have their details, but when I last spoke to their representative, he suggested we upgrade the museum’s security system. Now I don’t know if that has happened. If it has you may want to check the company they used and make sure none of their employees have criminal records. Are you writing this down, Chief Inspector?”
“No, but we are recording this meeting, Mrs Dunnington,” replied Shadow.
“Oh yes. So you are. Jolly good. Now window cleaners. As far as I know the museum is still using the same company we have employed for years, but they don’t always send the same team of cleaners—similarly the maintenance company. It could be worth checking who has been sent out over the last year or so. One rotten apple and all that.”
Mrs Dunnington looked up from her list with an expectant expression. Clearly it was now Shadow’s turn to speak.
“That’s all very helpful, Mrs Dunnington, thank you,” he said. “Now I would like to ask you about the time Dr Shepherd visited you down in Suffolk. About three years ago I believe?”
“Yes, that’s right, Chief Inspector. I was hosting a murder mystery weekend here at my mother’s house. Mummy wasn’t as weak then; she enjoyed having visitors. Dorothy came down with Genevieve Knott. Gen and I have been friends for years. We were at school together.”
“Here in York?” asked Shadow.
“Yes, I was a boarder at The Mount from the age of eight. Daddy was often posted abroad you see. Gen was a day girl of course,” replied Camilla referring to the Quaker all-girls’ school. “I’m sure you are looking for a link with this theft and that business with the musket in Chester, but I can assure you that Dorothy—along with everyone else employed at the museum when I was there—went through a very thorough screening process. I checked all references myself. Obviously, I can’t speak for those employed since I left the museum.” She paused for a moment and briefly adjusted the velvet hair band. “Now I know what you are thinking, Chief Inspector. I’m the wronged ex-wife with an axe to grind; however, that simply isn’t the case. I gave Tim and his museum over twenty years of my life, but at the end of this conversation, I don’t intend to waste another second on him or it. He’s made his bed, so he can jolly well lie in it and with whom is no longer any concern of mine. Goodbye, Chief Inspector, and good luck.”
With that Camilla disappeared from his screen and Shadow moved aside to let Tom close down the connection for him. Shadow turned to look at the two whiteboards. The one for the Ling investigation now had a photo of Mei Wu—the other missing girl from Shanghai—together with brief details of where and when they were both last seen.
“Sergeant Chang thought if there’s a chance Mei is here in York, having a photo of her was a good idea,” Tom explained. Shadow nodded, only half listening. On the board for the museum were photos of Dunnington, Dorothy, Stephanie and the security guards Glenn and Pete. Shadow thought back to Stephanie’s conversation that he’d overheard in the pub the previous evening. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice Jimmy had arrived in the incident room.
“Morning, Chief, how did the Zoom meeting with Camilla Dunnington go?” he asked.
“I’m seriously considering handing the case over to her. She’ll probably have more success than us,” grumbled Shadow. He paused for a moment and sniffed. “Why can I smell chocolate?”
Jimmy self-consciously raised the sleeve of his jacket to his nose.
“Um I think it’s me, Chief. I called into the shop on Swinegate and they were in the middle of making a batch of truffles,” he replied.
“How many chocolates do you think Sophie can eat?” asked Shadow.
Jimmy looked a little flustered and quickly changed the subject. “So, what did Camilla say?”
“It turns out she and Genevieve Knott are old school friends. She was adamant that nobody she employed at the museum could be involved in the theft.” He turned his attention back to the whiteboards. “But despite her assurances, it doesn’t change the fact that when Stephanie and Dunnington were on what must have been a long honeymoon if they went to Australia, Dorothy would have been left in charge of the museum. Which reminds me—” he picked up a marker pen and added Stephanie and Tim’s names to the board for the missing Chinese girls along with Genevieve’s and Le Vel’s “—these four have all visited Shanghai or Hong Kong recently,” he said ignoring the heavy sigh coming from Jimmy’s direction.
