Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [63]
Although Goodhew found its new wine-bar guise about as dynamic as a house full of magnolia walls; he still felt a nostalgia for the building itself and tried to superimpose his memories of local bands like the Frigidaires and Jump, Bump and Boogie over the anaemic pop trickling from the new but gutless sound system.
Kincaide had arrived first and already sat near the door with a glass of red wine and a copy of the Cambridge News. Goodhew just bought himself a coffee.
He had managed to stay true to his word, and had contacted Marks with each new development as the day went along. His penultimate call, revealing the existence of Jackie Moran, had coincided with Kincaide ending his lengthy interview with Bryn, so it had been Kincaide who’d been assigned to visit her. Goodhew had been disappointed not to go with him, but then again, that had left him with time to see the charming Victoria Nugent.
Hmm.
As Goodhew reached his table, Kincaide held up the front page of the paper. ‘Have you seen it?’
Goodhew tilted his head to match the angle of the newspaper, but he didn’t really need to: there were only three short words in the headline, easy to read, even upside down: Who is Emma?
‘I’d like to know how they got it,’ Kincaide said and passed it across to him. Goodhew started reading even as he sat down. The story was simple: the paper had been tipped off about the message on Lorna’s palms, suggesting that the main line of the police investigation was a theory that Emma was someone known to both Lorna and her killer. Therefore, find Emma and find the murderer. ‘Marks went ballistic earlier. I think he wants to slaughter whoever leaked this.’
‘It might flush out the answer, though. I mean, if I were called Emma, I’d certainly stop and think about any connection I might have with Lorna Spence.’
‘You approve, then?’
‘No, I’m just saying that, with some luck, it may work to our advantage, that’s all. Any idea who did it?’
Kincaide shook his head. ‘Marks said there’s been too much anonymity already and it has to stop.’
‘Whatever that means.’
‘You know what that means. He’s going to be flushing out whoever posted him the evidence on the Airport Rapist, and probably demote or sack him over this.’
‘Oh, I think he’ll calm down.’ Goodhew slid the paper back to Kincaide. ‘How was Jackie Moran?’
‘Not at home, and neither were the immediate neighbours.’
‘But the house looked occupied?’
‘Oh, yes. And I also checked at the local paper shop. She has The Times delivered three times a week and she’s bang up to date with paying her bill. I couldn’t find out where she works, though, or even if she does. Did you ask Alice about that?’
‘Shit, I should have. We could go over now, though – to Jackie’s, I mean. More likely to catch her at home in the evening.’
Kincaide checked his watch. ‘Haven’t you got a life outside work? Tomorrow morning, first thing, will be good enough. We can both go. How was it with Victoria Nugent? Your mate Bryn called her feisty.’
‘He’s not my mate.’
‘OK. But that’s what he called her.’
‘Well, that’s one way to describe her. Personally, I think I’d go for scary. The dates of her falling out with Lorna just don’t add up – right in the middle of it they seemed to have patched things up enough for Bryn to think they were still close friends when they all went out together.’
‘Unless he’s lying.’
Goodhew screwed up his nose. ‘Why would he? No, that doesn’t make sense, because it means he would have to have concocted the story with Victoria.’
‘And?’
‘They don’t know each other that well.’
‘Or so they claim. And the only other two people who were supposedly there that evening are both dead. Then there’s this business of Victoria hating Lorna. No one else admits to hating her, but in Richard Moran’s own words, he felt jealous because she was a slapper.’
‘No, no, he didn’t actually say that.’
‘OK. He said she wanted a more .