‘Excited, hundred per cent. She was really looking forward to seeing her friends. Said she hadn’t been out in a long time, that it was their last hurrah before the season starts again.’
Nodding, Tomek continued to scribble in his notebook.
‘And when did you notice something was wrong? Presumably when she didn’t show up for work this morning?’
‘Correct.’
‘Has she ever done anything like this before? Has she ever called in sick, turned up late?’
For the past few minutes, Tomek had been directing his questions at Rose, completely ignoring Angelica’s parents as though they weren’t even there, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roy bristle with deep frustration.
‘Our little angel is a very respectable, prompt, and agreeable individual. She would not have just called in sick or done a runner without genuine reason for it. It’s not like she’s having a lie-in – we’ve checked her house, and she’s not been there. No, something has happened to her and we demand to know what. We need your help to find her.’
That had answered one of Tomek’s next questions: whether anyone had been to her place of residence to verify she wasn’t there. But that still didn’t answer his original question. He turned to Rose, waited for her to respond.
‘She’s… sorry, Roy… she’s been late a couple of times, from when she’s gone for nights out, but it’s never been too bad – twenty, thirty minutes here and there. Forty-five tops. She’s never taken the piss like this. Never given me any reason to worry about where she might be. This morning I think I must have tried her mobile about fifty times, and there was no answer. She’s usually glued to the bloody thing. That was when I knew something was wrong, as Roy said. That’s why we’re here.’
‘I get it,’ Tomek said. ‘So would you say this is uncommon for her?’
‘Yes.’
‘What type of person is she on a night out? Or in general?’
‘Why’s that important?’ Daphne asked.
‘Well…’ Tomek paused a beat. ‘If she’s gone out to a nightclub with friends, and she’s got talking to someone at the bar, then she might have gone back with them.’
‘Oh, no. No, no, no. Not our Angelica. She’s the life and soul of the party, yes. Very outgoing, always talking to people, always wearing a smile on her face – it’s a part of the job, it gets ingrained into you – but she’s not easy.’
‘Nobody’s implying she is, Mrs Whitaker.’
Daphne slapped her husband on the arm. ‘Tell him, Roy. He’s got it wrong about our Angelica.’
Roy looked down at his lap, spun the plane cufflink a handful of times, sending it into a downward spiral, before replying. ‘Absolutely,’ he said, though the intonation in his voice belied his choice of words. ‘Our daughter was a saint… she was an angel.’
‘You wait until Johnny’s back,’ Daphne added, as she began wagging her finger at Tomek, as if he was the one she should be pointing her anger and frustration towards. ‘He’ll be able to tell you all about what she’s like. He’ll tell you the same thing as we have.’
‘Who’s Johnny?’ Tomek asked with a shrug. His patience was beginning to run a little thin.
‘Angelica’s brother, my husband,’ answered Rose.
‘Where is he now?’
‘Away for work. Dublin. He’s on his way back this afternoon. He managed to get an early flight back to Southend Airport after I told him what’s happened.’
Tomek offered her a thankful smile. Of the three of them, she was the one who most wanted to help, who was prepared to be honest about Angelica and what might have happened to her. Whereas her parents were blinded by their own relationship with their daughter. Tomek knew which of the family members he would lean on for information going forward. At the end of the meeting, he informed them of the next steps: that they would send a team out to her home; that they would monitor her phone; and that they would speak with her friends and anyone from the night before. But more importantly, he told them he’d keep them in the loop. They would be on a need-to-know basis, and as SIO, only he would choose what information they needed to know.
CHAPTER TEN
Tomek took the mug of coffee with thanks and set it on his knee delicately. He wasn’t in the mood for it, but had just accepted it out of politeness. Out of the two of them, it was the person he’d come to meet that needed it more. Elodie Locket’s first words to him had been, “Fuck me, I’m so hungover.” And she looked it with the haggard face, the burst blood vessels in her eyes from lack of sleep, the messy hair, the colour that had washed out of her face thanks to the dehydration. If that wasn’t enough, then there was still last night’s make-up on the twenty-nine-year-old’s face, clumpy and streaked. He didn’t want to know what her pillow looked like, though in the background, he heard the sound of a washing machine mid-cycle and presumed she was already one step ahead of him.
Elodie was dressed in a pair of fancy, strawberry and banana-emblazoned Primark pyjamas, with a knitted shawl wrapped around her. She lived in a house share with two other girls and a man, all of whom had let them use the living room for their discussion. The place gave Tomek student house vibes, with the scuff marks on the walls, the yellow recycling crate filled with empty vodka and beer bottles, and the mould in the corners and on walls that none of them had been arsed to do anything about. The house was a state, but Elodie, on the other hand, wasn’t. Beneath the hangover and clumpy make-up, she looked well put together, and from the way she was perched on the edge of the sofa, and wrapped the shawl around herself, was trying to come into contact with as little of the furniture and atmosphere as possible. Tomek got the impression she didn’t want to be there any more than he did. And he was willing to bet money that hers was the cleanest room of the lot.
‘I’m here to speak with you regarding your friend, Angelica Whitaker,’ he started, setting the coffee down on the floor. As he pulled out his pen and notebook, he saw an insect crawl towards the mug from beneath the sofa, like one of the toys from Toy Story, lurking in the shadows.
‘Angelica? What’s happened to her?’
‘She hasn’t turned up to work at her sister-in-law’s this morning. Her family has reported her missing. I just want to ask you a few questions about last night, and about your relationship with Angelica. Plus anything you can tell me that you think might be important.’
As he spoke, Elodie’s hand flew to her mouth, and she began to breathe heavily, her small frame heaving with each breath.
‘Oh, my God. She’s missing?’
‘We’re trying not to jump to any conclusions,’ he answered. ‘In most scenarios like this, the person in question usually turns up at some point, unharmed and safe, if not a bit confused.’
‘But you don’t think that about Angelica, do you?’
Right now, Tomek didn’t know what to think.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because you’re speaking to me. Because of last night. You think something might have…’ And then she broke down in a flood of tears, her body shuddering and convulsing – and not because the heating was off in the house. Tomek leapt off the sofa and hurried to the bathroom, immediately wishing he hadn’t. He yanked the toilet roll from the holder and hurried back, passing it to her, apologising for not knowing where the real tissues were.
‘There aren’t any,’ she said, sniffling.
A minute or two passed as Elodie cried into the tissues, smearing the tears and make-up across her face. When she was finished, she looked like a female version of the Joker; black smudges the size of oranges surrounded her eyes, and traces of lipstick he hadn’t noticed before smeared her cheeks. He was starting to have doubts whether she was as put together as he’d originally believed. When she finally calmed down, she leant forward, resting her elbows on her knees, staring into the toilet paper in her hands, playing with it, tearing it apart in her fingers.
‘Tell me about last night,’ Tomek said gently. ‘Take as much time as you need.’
