The City & the City - China Mieville [65]
“What about Rodriguez?” He looked at me and signalled confusion. “Yolanda? One of your students? Have you seen her?”
“She’s not one of my three, Inspector. I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you. Have we … Is she missing?”
“She is. What do you know about her?”
“Oh my God. She’s missing? I don’t know anything about her. Mahalia Geary I knew by reputation of course, but we had literally never exchanged words other than at a welcome-new-students party a few months ago.”
“A lot longer than that,” Dhatt said. Rochambeaux stared at him.
“There you go—it’s impossible to keep track of time. Is it really? I can tell you about her all the things you already know. Her supervisor’s the one who can really help you. Have you met Isabelle?”
He had his secretary print a list of staff and students. I did not tell him we had one already. When Dhatt did not offer it to me I took it. Judging by the names, and in accordance with law, two of the archaeologists detailed were Ul Qoman.
“He’s got an alibi for Geary,” Dhatt said when we left. “He’s one of the very few who does. Most of them, you know, it was late in the night, no one can vouch, so alibi-wise at least they’re all fucked. He was on a conference call to a colleague in an uncongenial time zone roundabout the time she was killed. We checked it.”
We were looking for Isabelle Nancy’s office when someone called my name. A trim man in his early sixties, grey beard, glasses, hurrying between temporary rooms towards us. “Is it Inspector Borlú?” He glanced at Dhatt, but seeing the Ul Qoman insignia looked back at me. “I heard you might be coming. I’m glad to coincide with you. I’m David Bowden.”
“Professor Bowden.” I shook his hand. “I’m enjoying your book.”
He was visibly taken aback. He shook his head. “I take it you mean my first one. No one ever means the second one.” He dropped my hand. “That’ll get you arrested, Inspector.” Dhatt was looking at me in surprise.
“Where’s your office, Professor? I’m Senior Detective Dhatt. I’d like to talk to you.”
“I don’t have one, SD Dhatt. I’m only in here a day a week. And it’s not professor. Plain doctor. Or David is fine.”
“How long will you be here this morning, Doctor?” I said. “Could we grab a word with you?”
“I … of course, if you’d like, Inspector, but as I say, I’ve no office. Normally I meet students at my flat.” He gave me a card and when Dhatt raised an eyebrow he gave Dhatt one too. “My number’s on that. I’ll wait around if you’d like; we can probably find a place to talk.”
“Did you not come in to see us, then?” I said.
“No, this is chance. I wouldn’t normally be in today at all, but my supervisee didn’t turn up yesterday and I thought I might find her here.”
“Your supervisee?” Dhatt said.
“Yes, they only trust me with the one.” He smiled. “Hence no office.”
“Who is it you’re looking for?”
“Her name’s Yolanda, SD. Yolanda Rodriguez.”
He was horrified when we told him that she was unreachable. He stammered for something to say.
“She’s gone? After what happened to Mahalia, now Yolanda? Oh my God, Officers, do you—”
“We’re looking into it,” Dhatt said. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Bowden looked stricken. We had similar reactions from his colleagues. One by one we went through the four academics we could find on-site, including Thau’ti, the senior of the two Ul Qomans, a young taciturn man. Only Isabelle Nancy, a tall well-dressed woman with two pairs of glasses of different prescriptions on chains around her neck, was aware that Yolanda had disappeared.
“It’s good to meet you, Inspector, Senior Detective.” She shook our hands. I had read her statement. She claimed she had been at home when Mahalia was murdered but could not prove it. “Anything I can do to help,” she