“And when did you last see Mr. Janssen?” Clements asks.
Fiona hesitates and sighs. “This morning.” Clements allows the pause. Gives it power and space. “I wanted to check it was definitely him and to see how he was doing, I suppose. I certainly wasn’t looking for a hookup. I—I—” Fiona stumbles. Clements waits patiently. “Obviously, I now realize I hardly know the man. I mean, I thought he would be devastated since his wife has gone missing. I thought maybe he’d talk to me about it and I’d glean something because he doesn’t know that I know he’s married, let alone that I’m his wife’s best friend.”
“And was he?”
“Was he what?”
“Devastated.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Fiona admits. The silence sits between them again, this time scratching, burrowing at what needs to be said. “I mean, he seemed pleased to see me.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what? Glean anything?”
“Did you hook up?”
“Is that really a police matter?” Fiona asks indignantly.
“You don’t have to answer. You called me. I’m just trying to understand the man. I want to help your friend. That’s what you care about, right?”
“Of course it is. That’s why I’m calling.”
“You are, I suppose, saying that you don’t trust him now you realize he was not faithful? Is not faithful?”
“I’m not saying anything about anyone. I’m just giving you the facts,” Fiona snaps.
“I’m sorry if this is awkward for you, Fiona, and I’m not taking a formal statement—anything you say is completely voluntary but if you can answer the question it might help me. Did you have sexual relations with Daan Janssen when you last encountered him?”
“Yes,” Fiona whispers. “I went to his place, I stopped over. I know that makes me sound pathetic, or heartless, or just plain stupid, but I did, yes.”
“And yet you are ringing me now to say you don’t trust him?”
“I am.”
“Why? What went wrong?”
“Nothing went wrong as such. I’m just trying to be honest. I’d had a glass or two of wine last night; it’s been a very trying time. I wasn’t thinking straight but now, in the cold light of day, I’m trying to do the right thing. I assume you do meet some people who are still keen to do the right thing, Officer?”
“A few.”
“Well, I’m one of them. Daan and I were—well, it was a casual thing. We had a few dates in London. He once came to my cottage on the coast for a weekend, but I’ve known Leigh for twenty-three years. I love her. I’m furious with her for lying to me but at the same time I’m really sad that she had no one she thought she could confide in. I could have helped her. Or at least comforted her. We’re best friends. I’m scared for her. Why didn’t she turn to me?” Clements doesn’t have an answer to that either. Fiona adds, “I asked Daan if he is married.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said he was. Past tense. And, it’s just, well, that building. It’s so quiet and empty, right? Big parts of it are deserted. Someone could be hidden in it relatively easily, don’t you think?”
“We’d need a warrant to search it.”
“Well, get a warrant.” Fiona sounds frustrated, indignant.
She probably thinks the police are working too slowly on the case. It’s a common misconception of the general public that the police can always be doing more and doing it faster. The truth is investigation is a laborious business, all about perspiration and perseverance. Even the rare bright spots of inspiration need to be backed up with evidence which is inevitably slow to surface.
“We need evidence to place Mr. Janssen under suspicion and to justify a search warrant.”
Fiona sighs. “Well, get evidence then.” She hangs up.
Clements relays the call to Tanner; he looks jubilant. Clements reins him in. “Fiona’s information does not place Daan in the frame for Kylie’s disappearance.”
“No, not exactly, but it certainly casts a new light on the situation. Or perhaps more accurately the same light but simply with a higher wattage.”
“I have been wondering about the fact that the texts that were supposed to be from Kai to Daan dried up as soon as the bigamy came to light. This leads me to believe that Kai never sent the texts, just as Daan claimed.”
“Because how would she know the game was up and when to stop pretending she was with her sick mother?”
“Exactly. Why wouldn’t she continue to try to keep up the pretense? It bothers me that the texts stopped at the same time as both men were made aware of her bigamy.”
“So the question is, who had the phone? Was it the hot dad and was he buying time before her absence was revealed by texting the he-man? Or was it the he-man and he was creating an e-trail alibi by pretending to be in touch with her?”
Clements nods. “Stopping the texts was a mistake. Who made the mistake?”
Clements hadn’t liked the way Daan Janssen was able to turn his emotions off like a tap. One minute, he was all passionate concern, demanding they find his beloved wife; the next he was the epitome of icy indifference, as he shrugged off all association. Clements had almost understood the vacillation when she thought he was deeply in love and hurt, but if he is shagging around （and there is no reason to believe Fiona is the only woman he’s having extramarital sex with） then he is not such a clear-cut candidate for husband-of-the-year award. If he isn’t heartbroken, then his plunge from impassioned to indifferent simply seems unstable. Clements needs to unpick this, ponder it. However, she doesn’t have time right away because her phone buzzes again.
“Detective Constable Clements.”
“It’s Paula Cook here. I am Mark Fletcher’s sister-in-law. The sister of his late wife.”
“Hello.”
“My nephew had your card.”
Clements gave her card to both of the Fletcher boys but takes a guess, “Oli?”
“Yes. Look, I don’t know how this can possibly be relevant to you. But I thought I had to mention it.” Her voice is loud but quivering; a contradiction. Almost aggressive with assertion and yet the sort of aggression that comes from a sense of anxiety or apprehension.
“I’m listening.”
“You know my brother-in-law and I are close. He’s a good man. A great father.”
“Okay.” Clements is curious as to where this might be going. It sounds exactly like a sentence leading up to a “but.”
“And you need to know I’m not close or anything with Leigh, or Kai or whatever the hell her name is.”
“Right.”
“But that’s natural, since I’m Frances’s sister, I think. Leigh came along very soon after my sister’s death. I just don’t think I was ready for her.”
“Okay.”
“Oli and Seb are here at mine right now and they’ve been telling me all about you, and the investigation, the things you asked them. Oli mentioned that Mark had told you Frances died of cancer.”