Fine Lines - SA (16 page)

I inclined my head. "Obviously you know him best. But try and look at it objectively. I know it's hard, but if you look at the bare facts, forgetting for the moment who's involved, then they do seem to suggest something like that. Marty spends two days on his own, and the day before you arrive back he disappears with a packed suitcase and his passport."

"You mean he might have gone to America without me?" I had not actual y meant that, but it seemed a useful idea. I gave a helpless shrug. Anna was silent as she considered this new possibility.

"No, he wouldn't do that," she said after a while. But she seemed less certain than before. "Not without saying something. And most of his things are stil here. He must be planning to come back. He could have just taken his passport because ... because ..." I said nothing. She smiled sadly. "I can't get away from that, can I? Why has he taken his passport unless he was planning to use it?"

"I'm sure there could be any number of reasons," I said. But I did not attempt to give any.

Anna stared into space. "I just hope he gets in touch soon." I patted her arm. "I'm sure he wil ." A sort of tense calm settled over the next few days. Anna was quiet and withdrawn.

She contacted the police regularly, as much to make sure they were actual y trying to find Marty as anything else. They claimed to be doing everything they could, but Anna was not convinced.

And her own helplessness weighed on her almost as much as Marty's disappearance. She declined my offer of time off. "I'd rather work than just sit at home and wait," she said.

I began to feel cautiously optimistic. I had given Zeppo an indefinite holiday, tel ing him I would be in touch when he was needed again.

There was a tacit agreement that the original bargain, to seduce Anna, stil stood. Whether this was because Zeppo himself saw this as unfinished business, or simply because it never occurred to him to question it, I have no idea. I was only glad he seemed to take it for granted. In any event, I had not expected to cal on him again for weeks. I could not see Anna welcoming another man's attentions so soon after Marty's disappearance. But what with the apparent lack of police concern, and her growing acceptance that Marty had left of his own accord, I began to think Zeppo might be able to resume his campaign sooner than planned.

Unfortunately, my optimism was premature. Interference was about to come from an unexpected quarter.

Since Anna was unable to contact Marty's parents, I had assumed it was safe to disregard them. From what I had heard, they had not been particularly close to their son, and so it seemed reasonable to suppose they would remain ignorant of his disappearance, at least for the forseeable future.

However, some things are simply unpredictable. When Anna walked into the gal ery, a week after Marty had disappeared, I could see at once that she was upset.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She made an attempt to sound normal. "Marty's father phoned last night."

"His father?" I searched for a suitable response. "Has he heard from him?"

"No. That's why he cal ed. It was Marty's mother's birthday two days ago, and he didn't send a card or phone. His father was going to tel him off for forgetting." Anna looked young and frightened. "It's the first time he's not been in touch on a birthday." I tried not to let my irritation at the news show. Things had been going so wel . "Anna, people forget birthdays al the time. It doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"But Marty's always thoughtful about anything like that. And his father said he's never forgotten before." I could think of no way to convincingly defend Marty's lapse of memory.

"What did you tel him?" She shrugged. "What could I tel him, except that Marty had disappeared about a week ago, and I hadn't a clue where he was? He wanted to know why I hadn't let him know straight away. I said I couldn't because I hadn't got his number, but I could tel he didn't believe me."

"He didn't actual y say that, surely?"

"No, but he let me know that's what he thought. He asked why Marty had left, and when I said I'd no idea, he said. "Wel , have you at least done anything to find him?" As if I'd just not bother!" She angrily brushed tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm.

"Come on. Sit down." I took hold of her arm and led her to a chair.

My fingers retained a tactile memory of the contact. I poured us both a coffee and sat down opposite her. "Did you tel him you'd been to the police?" She nodded. "Yes, but when I told him what they were doing, he said,

"So in actual fact, they're doing nothing." Then he wanted to know what else I'd done, and when it actual y came to saying it, it sounded like nothing at al . He made me feel like a cal ous bitch."

"You're hardly that."

"No, but he just ... oh, you know, made me feel like I wasn't even trying to find Marty. I could tel he thought I knew more than I was tel ing him. He obviously thought I must have done something to make him leave." I felt outraged for her. "That's nonsense!"

"I don't know, I'm starting to wonder." Her voice was on the edge of breaking. She held her coffee cup in both hands, as though she were trying to warm herself from it. She looked very vulnerable.

"Wel , you shouldn't! Don't let him upset you, he was probably just hitting out at you because you were there. Didn't you say that Marty didn't get on with him?" She nodded. "Wel , then, there you are! Now you know why. If he jumps to conclusions like that, he's obviously completely unreasonable!" I was prepared to dislike the man already.

"I know, you're probably right," Anna said, a little calmer. "But he stil made me realise that I'm not doing anything. Marty's missing, and I'm just sitting and waiting for him to come back. That's not enough."

"You've done everything you can. Did Marty's father suggest what else you could have done, or offer to do anything himself? Or was he just content to criticise you?" She sighed, tiredly. "He's going to go to the American embassy, to see what they can do, so I said I'l go to the embassy here as wel ." She shook her head. "I should have thought of that myself."

So, perhaps, should I. "Wil they be able to help?"

"I don't know. They might be able to put some pressure on the police to try a bit harder." She did not sound too hopeful. "Something needs to. I cal ed them last night to tel them what Marty's father had said. I thought it might make them take it more seriously, but I might as wel not have bothered." Her mouth tightened at the memory. "I spoke to this ..." she struggled for a suitable description, '.. .

this pig of a sergeant, who just said he'd make a note of it. So I asked what else they were going to do, and he said that Marty was already listed as a missing person, and they'd carry on keeping an eye out for him." Her agitation was growing as she re-lived the conversation. She put her coffee down, angrily. A little slopped into the saucer. Anna did not notice.

"I told him that "keeping an eye out" wasn't enough! I mean, Marty's disappeared, for God's sake! You'd think they'd at least make an attempt to find him! Especial y now, when even his parents are getting worried! But he just got al stroppy, and said he was sorry my "young man" had left me, but they weren't a detective agency, and can't be expected to find everyone who decides to leave home." She paused, making an obvious attempt to calm down. "God, I was just so angry. I didn't bother saying anything else. If I had I'd only have regretted it. What with him and Marty's father, I just felt like

... like screaming." She drew in a long breath. "I just hope to God the embassy does something. I can't stand sitting around like this much longer, not knowing anything. If I don't do something soon I'm going to go mad!" Reluctantly, I realised that Anna was no longer going to passively resign herself to Marty's absence. There and then, I decided to change my tactics.

"AH right," I said briskly. "Let's try and think what you can do.

You've already done everything you can as far as the police are concerned. Now what about the embassy? Have you spoken to them yet?"

"I phoned them last night, as wel , but the person I need to speak to wasn't there. They told me to cal back this morning." She looked at her watch. "He's probably there by now."

"Wel , you give him a ring and make an appointment to see

him. Insist that it's urgent, and that it must be this morning. Don't take no for an answer." I doubted that she would have anyway. "I'l take you over whenever you have to go."

"There's no need to do that. I'l be al right."

"I'm sure you wil , but I can stil give you moral support. And while we're about it, what paper does Marty read?" She looked puzzled. "The Guardian. Why?"

"We can put an advert in the personal columns. Appealing for him to get in touch." Anna was brightening visibly now she had something to do. "I don't think he general y reads the personals, but it can't hurt, can it?" I smiled reassuringly. "Not at al ." It was after lunch before Anna was able to see anyone at the American embassy. I overruled her protests about closing the gal ery, but al owed her to persuade me that she would rather be seen alone. "I'l look less like a hysterical girlfriend who needs looking after that way," she said.

I waited for her in the reception area. The room was white wal ed and plain. A few paintings decorated it, but they were drab and uninspiring. I picked up one of the less dog-eared magazines from the low table and tried to find something interesting in it. The chain ran around the wal s of the room, facing the centre. After a while another man, grey-haired and quite distinguished looking, came in and sat down, shoes squeaking on the parquet floor. We ignored each other. The room was very quiet, except for when one of us cleared our throat or turned a page. I had just found an article on Landseer when there was a loud, ripping noise from where he was sitting. I looked over. He was reading his own magazine as though he had heard nothing. Puzzled, I went back to my article, not believing it could have been what it sounded liked. A moment later, my nostrils twitched, and I realised with a shock that it was. The man had passed wind.

I stared at him with disgust as the filthy smel became more apparent.

He glanced up at me once, in curiously and went back to his reading. I wondered if I should object, or simply get up and leave. But the man's equanimity was daunting. I was stil wondering what to do when I heard a door open further down the corridor.

A middle-aged man held it open as Anna came out. "Please get in touch if there are any further developments," he said. Tight-lipped, she walked down the corridor without answering him. I stood up and went towards her, anxious to be away from the smel in case she thought I was responsible. I gave her a questioning look as she reached me.

"They're very sorry, but they can't interfere in "domestic" affairs," she said. Her tone was bitingly caustic a side of her I had not previously seen. "He said that if the police have already listed him as missing, there's nothing more they can do about it. Since his visa's not expired, and everything indicates that he left of his own free wil , apparently there's no reason for the embassy to become involved. The fact that no one's seen him, and that he's just abandoned yean of research work, doesn't matter." She walked so fast I had to hurry to keep up with her. "What does it take, for Christ's sake?" I hid my satisfaction. "I real y don't know what to suggest, Anna. But at least you've tried everything you can. We'l just have to hope he responds to the advert in the Guardian." She said nothing. We went outside. It was cold and drizzling, already growing dark although it was stil only mid-afternoon. Anna was quiet on the way back to the car. I respected her silence. We were driving away before she spoke again.

"I've been thinking about what that policeman said. About them not being a detective agency." There was a determined look about her. "If they won't try to find Marty, I'l hire someone who wil ." This was unexpected. "You mean a private detective?" She nodded. "I should have thought of it before."

"Isn't that ... wel ..." I stumbled for words. "Do you think that would do any good?"

"I don't know. But I don't have many options, do I? It's either hiring a detective or doing nothing. No one else is going to look for him." I tried to hide my reluctance behind practical objections. A car pul ed out in front of me, and I only just managed to avoid bumping into it. I forced myself to concentrate on the road. I had already caused myself enough trouble through one accident. "How would you get hold of a private detective?" I asked.

"I don't know. Yel ow Pages, I suppose."

"But how would you know if he was reputable or not? I've always had the impression that some of these people operate on the fringe of the law. You could just be paying someone to do nothing."

"Wel , I've got to try."

"Have you any idea how much someone like that would charge?"

"No, but the money hardly matters, does it?" There was a note of censure in her voice. I retreated from it. "Of course not! I was only meaning that you might not be able to afford it."

"I can use the money I've saved for America." My objections had ant agonised her. I hurriedly tried to repair the damage. "There's no need for that," I said. "Al I was trying to say was that I'd be only too pleased to pay for someone. If you'd let me." She quickly looked at me. "Oh, no, I couldn't do that!"

"Why ever not?"

"Because I just couldn't! You've done enough already!"

"My dear Anna, I've done nothing at al , except act as a chauffeur. I couldn't possibly let you spend your hard-earned savings. There's not much I can do to help, but at least let me do this."

"No, real y, Donald. Thank you, but there's no need." I was warming to my theme, enjoying the opportunity to be generous. "I know there's no need, but I would like to. Cal it an indefinite loan, if you'd rather."

"Thanks, but I couldn't. Real y."

"If you don't I'l be offended." Anna looked uncertain. "Please?" She hesitated a moment longer, then gave in. "Okay. I … wel .