“Do you want to talk to him?” I say. “No, okay. You go back to Ade and I’ll get him on his way.
“Dave!” I shout when I put the phone down, even though he’s standing next to me. “He’s waking up!”
And he bursts into tears, big meaty hands over his eyes. “Sorry,” he sobs.
“Don’t be.” I push a tissue between his fingers. “You let it out. Do you want me or Liam to take you to the hospital?”
Dave shakes his head hard. “No. Sorry—look, I’m all right to drive. Will you lock up?”
“？’Course. You will let me know how he is, won’t you?”
* * *
—
He rings me an hour later, talking too fast. “Ade’s conscious and they’re starting to bring Tracy round, thank God. It’s early days but the doctors are hopeful there’ll be no lasting damage.”
“Oh, Dave, you must be so relieved. Is Ade talking?”
“About what?” Dave snaps.
“I just meant is he well enough to talk? That’s all.”
“Sorry, Dee. I’m all over the place. Yes, his first words were ‘Sorry, Mum.’ Doll was in floods. But we’ve been told not to tire him with questions. I just wanted to check if everything was okay when you left the pub?”
“Yes, fine. A woman police officer came as I was locking up. She said she’d catch up with you at the hospital. Have you seen her?”
“Er, no. What time was that? Look, I need to get back to the family.”
But I can’t let him go. I keep thinking about Liam. How he couldn’t look at me.
“Okay. But, Dave . . . can I ask you something? I know you’ve got a lot on your plate but I’m really worried about Liam—he’s been very stressed lately. Has he talked to you about anything?”
“No, no. Nothing. I’ve hardly seen him.”
“Oh. I thought you’d discussed some work at the pub?”
“Well, yeah, but nothing’s been settled. Got to go, Dee.”
“But how did he sound to you today?”
There was silence at the other end of the phone.
“Dave?”
“Liam? No idea. I haven’t spoken to him for days.”
Twelve
SATURDAY, AUGUST 24, 2019
Elise
Poor Charlie—no wonder he went off,” Ronnie said when they got back to the car. “I would too if I had the lovely Pauline and her needs to come home to.”
“And that house is costing a fortune he doesn’t appear to have,” Elise said, buckling up her seat belt. “He owes just shy of a hundred grand in unpaid loans, according to that letter—I wonder where he’s hoping to get the money to pay it off. I’d say there are plenty of reasons to disappear.”
If there’d been room in her ancient car, a lightbulb would have come on above Ronnie’s head. She turned to grin at Elise, her knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “Maybe Pauline’s hoping he turns up dead? She’d collect the life insurance and keep her house.”
“Whoa! Let’s not go overboard!” Elise said. “Eyes on the road, foot off the gas. Let’s put lurid theories to one side and I’ll have a quiet look at his background.”
“Roger,” her second-in-command chirped.
Oh, God, what have I started . . . ?
“And we need to keep what we’re doing to ourselves for the time being. Okay?” Elise added.
Ronnie fiddled with the radio.
“Ronnie . . . are we clear? Or I’ll have to leave you at home.”
“But it was my idea. And I’m the wheels!”
“Look, I’m on sick leave and my DCI might have something to say about me nosing around.”
“We could just pretend it’s me doing it?” And she actually tapped her nose with her finger.
“Right.” Elise tried not to smile. “Or we could just do it discreetly. Let’s go home and you can check on Ted and his facial hair while I crack on.”
Elise switched on an electric fan when she walked into the cottage and settled herself in front of it with a notebook and her laptop. She felt the crampy twinge of anticipation in her stomach she always got from a new investigation and took a bite of an apple before pressing “go” on the Police National Computer. But Charles Perry （DOB 09/09/1945） was not known to the authorities. She leaned back from the screen and removed a shred of peel from between her teeth. She’d been so sure there’d be something linked to the “silly misunderstanding.”