Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [79]
‘In reality, I think of it as the last night of our marriage. I don’t mean that to sound melodramatic, but until Jo disappeared, we’d lived a charmed life: twenty-odd years of home and family, with nothing more serious happening than in every other household round here.
‘You lose a child and you do understand each other’s grief at first, but if you get out of step with each other, it’s all over. Suddenly each of you is alone; I’d have a good day and Annie would have a bad one. Then she would resent seeing me coping when she couldn’t. And vice versa.’
The next time he fell silent, nobody interrupted. Goodhew felt he ought to coax him into continuing, but the only thing he could think to ask Martin Reed was whether he was all right. And very clearly he wasn’t, so they just waited out the silence while more imaginary grime was scratched from the remote control.
Suddenly he spoke. ‘You can’t share any happy memories with your partner any more without feeling like you’re deliberately trying to cause them pain. I’d talked to everyone about Jo, pretty much non-stop sometimes – everyone except Annie. Between us, the mention of Jo became the biggest taboo.’
This time, Martin Reed seemed to have definitely finished, but Goodhew waited for a few seconds until he was sure it really was his turn to speak. If there had been a clock in the room, this was the point where it would have ticked loudly. ‘From your own point of view, how well has the investigation been handled?’
Reed drew a steady breath and leant back in his chair. He looked up at the ceiling for a while. ‘I’m not a bitter man,’ he said, ‘but I find it painful to accept that whoever is responsible for her death may never be caught. I’m not wishing I could blame anyone. In my heart of hearts, I believe she was dead well before the alarm was even raised. That’s because Tanya, her room-mate, rang us on a Wednesday, halfway through Morse, saying that Jo hadn’t been seen since the previous Friday.’
‘Why did she wait so long?’
‘Apparently Jo had spent several other nights away, and Tanya just assumed that Jo was seeing someone.’
‘But Jo herself never said so?’
‘No, but that would be typical. She was very guarded in that way.’
‘What about the police?’
‘They never found anyone significant. They asked us a few questions about her sex life.’ He shook his head, still feeling disbelief. ‘She was only twenty, and we were her parents. Do you think we wanted to talk about our child even having a sexual history, never mind any “kinky habits”, as one of them put it? Let’s just say, we weren’t surprised when that turned out to be a dead end.’
‘You never thought of anything that wasn’t followed up?’
‘No, we never felt left in the dark. Never. You may not be on Jo’s case this time, but I still appreciate your time. I don’t stop, you know.’
Goodhew wasn’t sure what Reed meant. ‘Thinking about her, you mean?’
‘No, I mean I don’t stop. I don’t like going out, I find it easier to stay in and keep busy. But a visit from you gives me hope, lets me unburden a bit too. Even visits like the last one, essentially nothing more than a courtesy call, but it let me know you hadn’t forgotten.’
Goodhew flicked open the file and scanned the most recent details. Martin Reed continued to talk, Goodhew kept listening, punctuating the gaps with an appropriate grunt or ‘hmm’. Finally, when he was certain that he wasn’t making a mistake, he said, ‘And the last visit was when exactly?’
They’d made phone calls, checked and double-checked. Whoever had visited Martin Reed had not been a police officer. Mr Reed was vague, remembering him only as a man in his late fifties. But no name, and he said he hadn’t asked for ID. But then, he hadn’t today either.
They drove away.
Marks shook his head. ‘Talking about it obviously helps him.’
‘Poor bloke. The best result he’s ever going to get will be bad news.’
‘You did well, though.’
‘Did I?’ Goodhew hadn’t thought so.
‘The mystery visitor was interesting.’
‘But possibly irrelevant?’
‘We’ll see.’ Marks pulled out, on to a busier road. ‘While I was on the