“It just seems like such a risky place to make her vanish,” said Kate. “Joanna lived in Upton Pyne, which is so tiny and out in the sticks. She had to drive across all that countryside to get to work. If I was going to make someone vanish, I wouldn’t do it in the middle of Exeter with its busy one-way system and part-pedestrianized high street. I’d grab her in the countryside. Force her car off the road. We hardly saw any other cars when we drove into Exeter from Upton Pyne, and that road was probably even quieter back in 2002.”
“There were no CCTV cameras facing the exit or entrance ramp of the multistory car park, were there?” asked Tristan.
“No. Just the camera that caught this last picture of Joanna. The next CCTV camera is up by the Corn Exchange around the corner.”
“There are plenty of other side roads you could turn off before you get to the Corn Exchange.”
They were now leaving the town center and heading back toward Ashdean. There was so much paperwork in the case file, and Kate wanted to have another look at it all. It was taking time to absorb all the details.
“I want to track down her colleagues at the West Country News,” said Kate. “And her editor. I don’t think DCI Featherstone pushed him enough to talk about what Joanna was investigating when she went missing. As far as I can see from the case file interviews, they never talked to him again . . . What was his name?”
“Ashley Harris,” said Tristan.
“Yes, and we need to talk to Jo’s friend Marnie. And Famke. She could give us more insight into the state of Fred and Joanna’s marriage, and Fred’s alibi is a bit of a patchwork.”
Tristan looked at Kate. “You really think Fred could have done it?”
“At this stage I want to keep an open mind.” Kate indicated the photo, still in Tristan’s lap. “The case files say that Joanna logged out of her work computer at five thirty p.m. The time stamp on that photo is five forty-one. What if Fred came to pick her up in his car? She got in willingly . . . He managed to drop her phone without her noticing . . . Okay, that part’s still unclear. But if she got into a car willingly with him, there’s six miles of lonely countryside where he could have dumped her body, come back home. It’s not a long journey from Upton Pyne to Exeter.”
“The neighbor said Fred’s car didn’t move until seven thirty that night, when he left and went searching for Joanna,” said Tristan.
“Shit. Yes. That’s right. Let’s get something to eat and go back to the case files again.”
8
Tristan arrived home at seven that evening. He’d worked through the afternoon with Kate, putting together a timeline of Joanna’s last day. They couldn’t find contact details for Famke, but they’d managed to track down the doctor who Famke had worked for as an au pair. He now had a surgery in Surrey, and they’d emailed him.
Tristan’s flat was on the ground floor of the esplanade on Ashdean seafront. He loved the location and being able to cross the road and walk on the beach, but he was still trying to adjust to having a roommate.
Glenn was already in the kitchen stirring a steaming stir-fry in a wok on the stove. Glenn was a tall, beefy bloke with a Desperate Dan face; thick, bushy eyebrows; and a permanent five-o’clock shadow. In repose, his face was menacing, but he broke into a grin when he saw Tristan and suddenly looked like a big cuddly teddy bear.
“Yerite, mate? I’m almost done here,” he said.
“What are you having?” asked Tristan. The smell of spices and meat made his mouth water.
“It’s Delia Smith.”
“You’ve managed to chop her up very small.”
“No, it’s her hung shao pork with stir-fry greens,” said Glenn, not getting the joke. “I think I could make it stretch to two.”
“No. Thank you. I’m heading back out and meeting a friend for a drink.”
Glenn had moved in a month ago but worked shifts as a prison warden, and with Tristan juggling his two jobs with the agency and the university, he hadn’t had time to get to know him.
Tristan went for a shower, and when he came back downstairs ten minutes later, the kitchen was empty, the dishwasher running, and the counters were wiped down. Glenn was the fastest eater Tristan had ever seen. He almost swallowed his food whole.
Checking he had his phone and wallet, Tristan called out, “Bye,” up the stairs as he left but didn’t hear a response.
Ashdean was a student town, and even though it was the students’ end-of-year exams, the seafront was busy with people. It wouldn’t get dark for a couple of hours, but there was already a group of students building a fire on the beach from driftwood.