Page 82 of She Saw What He Did

Sparrow read the newspaper with shaking hands. He couldn’t even pick up his mug of coffee without spilling it. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was happening? he thought, wiping coffee from his hand. He ought to phone the Miller woman. It was well over the hour.

The café was buzzing. It was lunchtime. There was a long queue for takeaways. No one noticed him but all the same he kept his sunglasses on.

The headlines screamed at him:

Husband and wife tortured in Cornwall.

Maria Blanca, a cleaner from Hungary and her husband, Kristof, a waiter at Pizza Hut were found dead at their home in Barton, Fernsea, last night, after an anonymous phone call alerted the police. Police say the couple had been tortured.

Sparrow wiped the sweat from his forehead. Why didn’t this place have air conditioning? Had Maria been the Miller’s cleaner?

‘Christ,’ he muttered.

Did the Millers still have the box? He pulled his phone from his pocket and cursed. The battery was dead. Sparrow wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. His head ached. He had the kid and the grandmother on his mind. He ought to get back and check on them. He’d had so much on his plate that he’d completely forgotten to charge the damn phone. Abby Miller would be waiting for his call. Damn it. He daren’t use the grandmother’s again. The police might have a trace on it. She’d become frantic if she didn’t hear. Supposing in her panic, she went to the police? He did think of calling her from a phone box but decided it was too risky. He’d need to get a charger for the car. He sighed. More money he’d need to spend.

*

‘Artem Taris was his real name,’ said Bill into the phone. ‘The passport is genuine.’

The call had jolted Weis. He’d been seriously close to dosing. He’d be glad to go home and sleep off his hangover.

‘You’ve got identification?’ he asked.

‘Yep, wasn’t difficult. Ukraine police had put out a missing persons alert a few days ago. His wife said he never came home from England where he went on business. Claimed not to be worried at first but when she couldn’t get him on his phone, she became anxious.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘He’s a self-employed software developer. Of course, it could be a cover for something else. The wife isn’t likely to know. We’re getting dental records, so we can get an official ID.’

‘I’ll contact Ellen. We can get the photo out. See if anyone on the islands remembers seeing him.’

It was nearly six o’clock. Ellen was unlikely to be at the office this late.

*

Ellen picked up her phone to call Weis when it rang, and his name flashed onto her screen.

‘I was about to phone you,’ she said.

‘Just call me Derren Brown,’ he laughed.

‘It doesn’t suit you,’ she said, smiling.

Scott raised his eyebrows.

‘I think you need to come to Porthaven,’ he said. ‘We’ve got an identification on the body.’

‘You have?’ Ellen said, looking over at Scott. ‘Who was he?’

‘A Ukrainian by the name of Artem Taris.’

‘Artem Taris,’ said Ellen, tasting the name on her tongue.

‘I’m emailing his photo. Once we get the dental records we’ll be able to officially ID him.’

‘I need to go to Fernsea,’ she said, and proceeded to tell him about the geocache.

‘I think you should bring an overnight bag,’ said Weis.

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