Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3) Read online

  “What about someone...casual?” Chris asked.

  “Like someone he picked up in a public loo?” This time I couldn’t stop myself snapping. “Nick doesn’t do that. Neither do I. Not all gay men are into that. Don’t make assumptions based on his sexuality.”

  Chris held his hands up. “Sorry. Anton, I know this is painful, but something’s happened. Often the something in these cases is a shock to the family. You need to be prepared to learn things you might not be happy about.”

  “I just want him home. You’re talking about him as if he’s dead.”

  “Not at all. There’s no indication of that. This is a missing person’s enquiry, nothing more at this stage. He could walk in five minutes from now.”

  Chris was trying to keep me positive, but I wasn’t exactly naïve on police matters, not after living with Nick and listening to him talk about cases, and listening to him ripping apart police procedurals on TV on the rare occasions when I could persuade him to watch one. “What happens now? Should I contact his parents?”

  “If you feel that you can, it’s a good idea, and anyone you think who might be able to offer any suggestions. If you don’t feel comfortable approaching them, we can do that for you. We may need to search your house.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “For evidence of what might have caused him to disappear, or lose contact. You’re certain relations between you were good?”

  “As certain as I can be.”

  “And did he mention any hostile interactions with anyone?”

  “Other than his boss? No. There’s nothing, Chris. We were going away to Sweden in two weeks’ time, to celebrate our anniversary.”

  “How many years?” his colleague asked.

  “Three. The worst argument we’ve had in all that time has been over a legal point on New Tricks.”

  She smiled a little. “I can’t watch crime shows. They drive me barmy.”

  “They drive Nick barmy too, but I love them. Please, find him. Bring him home. Or...at least, ask him to tell me where he is.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Chris said. “Do you have a photo we can use? Something informal, a close up? We’ll have his official ID of course.”

  I agreed to email one to him, and they left, bearing Nick’s laptop and passwords.

  The house was quiet when they left, and despite the warm day, I shivered. The cold came from within, from fear. I knew Nick. I knew him. If something had come up that he had to attend to without telling me first, there was no way he wouldn’t have contacted me. That meant something or someone was stopping him doing so. Did Chris understand that? Did Andy? What did they suspect that they couldn’t say out loud?

  I shook myself. Sitting here working myself up wouldn’t help. I had people to call and email. And maybe Nick would turn up in five minutes just like Chris said.

  Chapter 3

  He didn’t turn up. Not in five minutes, not in five hours. I spent that time making phone calls, a task I didn’t feel up to, and one which left me wrung out and desperate by the end of it.

  The first call had to be to Nick’s parents. Fortunately I reached his father at the first try because I dreaded breaking this to his somewhat volatile mother. Robert listened in silence to my carefully undramatic explanation that Nick had skipped work and that people were a little worried about him. The silence continued when I finished.

  “Robert? I just need you to ask Nick to get in touch if he contacts you.”

  “Aye, I got that, lad. But what’s going on with him? Are you two fighting?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then I can’t understand why he would do this. He’s a steady man, responsible. And he loves you. He wouldn’t do this to you.”

  “I, um...look, it could just be a miscommunication. He and his boss aren’t exactly in synch.”

  “I see. Are you all right, Anton?”

  I swallowed. “I’m worried,” I said as mildly as I could. “But I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

  “Of course he will. Look, I’ll hold off telling his mother for now. No need to worry her. But you keep me informed.”

  “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry to bring somewhat worrying news.”

  “Don’t worry about us, lad. Now you call me if you need someone to talk to.”

  “Thank you, Robert. And I’ll tell you if we hear anything. Or if he turns up. Which he will.”

  “Yes, he will.”

  That had gone as easily as such a conversation could, I felt, but I still felt like crying when I hung up.

  Then it was Harry, Charlotte, other mutual friends, and my parents, with whom Nick was close. It was just barely possible that if he was going through some emotional crisis, he might contact them for help.

  He hadn’t, though it was good to talk to Mum and let out my real fears without having to censor them as I had for Nick’s dad. She had no suggestions I hadn’t already come up with, but she wanted me to consider coming to their place if Nick hadn’t turned up in twenty-four hours.

  “I don’t know, Mum. I want to be here if he turns up.”

  “Yes, I know. But you have to look after yourself as well. Have you eaten today?”

  I’d had coffee and toast for breakfast, and no lunch. She guessed from my lack of reply. “Go and eat something, Anton, and have a drink. Food first. You can’t think on an empty stomach.”

  She was right, of course. I felt calmer after a quick meal of frozen pasta and a big glass of the left over Shiraz from my special night with Nick. When Chris called again to say the police would be over in the morning to conduct a search, I was able to talk to him without collapsing.

  It was time to call Karl. Not because I thought he would have any information about Nick, but because Karl was and is my oldest, best friend. He had known about Nick since my first encounter with him. He’d been my best man at our wedding, just as Andy had been Nick’s. When I told him what was going on, he only wanted to know how he could help.

  “Do you trust the police to do this right, Anton?”

  “They’ve barely started. For now, I trust them. What’s the alternative?”

  “Private detectives, for one. Publicity in the newspapers for another.”

  God, the press. I couldn’t bear the idea. “Let’s see how they go. I don’t think I can talk about anything else right now.”

  “I can imagine. Anton, he’ll come back.”

  “One way or another.”

  “If he’s still alive, and I’m sure he is, he’ll come back to you.”

  “Chances are—”

  “Don’t think like that. Something’s happened, sure. But there’s nothing to indicate he’s dead.”

  “You mean other than the fact he’s missing and no one knows why?”

  “Yes. Focus on the known facts, not on baseless assumptions. Scientific method and all that, Dr Marber.”

  I smiled for the first time in hours. “True. But I’m worried, Karl.”

  “I know. If you want to come up here....”

  “Mum’s ordered me to their place.”

  “Good idea. Don’t do this on your own, brother. I’ll be cranky if you do.”

  “I’m getting the impression the whole family will be.”

  “Yes, they will. Anton, you can call me anytime, day or night.”

  “I know. Thanks, Karl.”

  “Call me tomorrow after the police have been. And if there’s anything—”

  “I’ll ask, I promise.”

  “Try to sleep. Do you have anything to help?”

  “Might do.” Between Nick and me, we’d accumulated a variety of medications. I thought I remembered some sleeping pills prescribed for me during the last of Nick’s hospital stays.

  “Then take them. You’re not alone, Anton.”

  No, but I wasn’t with the man I loved either. “I’ll call tomorrow. ‘Night, Karl.”

  It wasn’t even seven. I checked my laptop again to see if Nick had emailed, and my mobile to see if I’d mis
sed a text or call. Nothing. This wasn’t remotely like Nick. Though not an effusive man, he was lovely the way he would send me a quick text a couple of times of day, or email me a link to something particularly interesting, or just to bitch about work. He’d tried not to dump too much of his anger over Thorpe onto me, but he hadn’t been reticent about it, and if there was something more serious going on, he would have told me.

  Unless that something was something I wouldn’t want to know about, like a lover. But Nick hated infidelity and cheaters. He’d taken long enough to forgive Harry for it and he hadn’t even been in love with the guy.

  No, he hadn’t run away with anyone. I was so sure about that, it wasn’t even the faintest possibility in my mind.

  But it was more of a comfort than what was a more distinct possibility. Nick had come across those wanting to do him harm before. What if...?

  I had to stop myself going down that track, so I went to the kitchen for more wine. I thought about calling Andy and asking him for reassurance on that point, but it was hardly fair to do that. If Andy’s thoughts were the same as mine, he’d have to lie, and he was hardly going to speculate, given my fears.

  I called Nick’s number again, and left a voicemail. Listening to his precise instructions made my eyes fill. I had to stop myself calling back just to hear his voice again.

  I found the sleeping tablets, and took them. I still had trouble staying asleep, and spent too much of the night staring at the ceiling, waiting for either of the phones to beep or ring, or my incoming mail tone to sound. By the time daylight came through the curtains, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do as Mum had suggested. I couldn’t leave our home until Nick came back to it.

  Chris Stevens called at nine o’clock to let me know that so far there had been no luck tracing Nick’s mobile phone, and that his credit card appeared not to have been used. Just as I hung up, a panda car turned up outside, and my heart leapt a little.

  Unfortunately, it was just the promised search team.

  I showed them our bedroom and Nick’s pitifully small collection of belongings. “Does he not live here all the time?” the female officer asked.

  “Yes. He just doesn’t own much. He was the same when we weren’t married.”

  A sneer from her companion at the word ‘married’ told me that I wasn’t dealing with one of the more enlightened members of the Met, but I didn’t react. He was looking through Nick’s file of personal documents. “No passport?”

  “Yes, he has one. He keeps it in there.” I went through the file, and then through the others. “It’s missing. I know it was there a month back because I used it to book our flights.”

  “Would he have taken it to work?”

  “I can’t imagine why. He’d need it in a couple of weeks as we’re travelling to Sweden.”

  The male officer grunted in acknowledgement. “Any break-in recently? Any visitors?”

  “No and no. I suppose he might have taken it to work for some reason.”

  “Perhaps he needed it for travel,” the officer said. “Let’s see the rest of his belongings.”

  I showed them what was there, and the booking for our trip. They wanted to see his credit card statements, and took down details of his bank accounts. “Joint accounts only?”

  “We have both kinds,” I said. “Here are the recent statements for them if you want them.”

  “Have there been any letters which aroused your suspicion?” the woman asked. “I mean from banks you didn’t recognise?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “What about friends he could use as a mailbox?”

  “No one. Oh. Well, there’s Charlotte Madsen. Dr Madsen. She lives around the corner, more or less. He used to share a flat with her. But he wouldn’t use her for that.”

  “We’ll need her details,” the man said, writing in his notebook. I sensed that he felt an important connection had been made.

  “Look, Charlotte’s a good friend. She wouldn't participate in anything sordid. She’s a respectable medical specialist.”

  “We need to follow up all lines of enquiries, Mr Marber,” he said.

  “Dr Marber,” I snapped. The man’s condescension had got to me.

  “Sorry. Dr Marber.” The sneer was back. In my frayed mood, I felt like punching the man. I could imagine how much that wouldn’t help the situation. “Is there anything else you want to tell us?”

  “No. I want to find him. If I had any ideas, I’d have told you. What are you implying, constable?”

  “Nothing, Dr Marber. We’re done here. Senior Constable Stevens will be in touch.”

  The woman officer gave me a sympathetic look as they left. I felt dirty for having them in the house. Did they really imagine I had done something to Nick?

  They probably did. After all, to their minds, my doing away with Nick and covering it up with fake concern was just as likely as any other scenario. They’d probably heard every variation of protestations of innocence too. I was wasting my time trying to tell them I had nothing to do with Nick’s disappearance.

  A knock on the door had me flying to open it. I’m afraid I didn’t hide my disappointment as much as politeness demanded. “Oh, Charlotte. Hi.”

  “Hello, Anton.” She held up a Marks & Spencer bag. “I can’t cook but I can buy cake like nobody’s business. I thought you might like a bit of company and carbohydrate.”

  “Uh...thank you. Come in.”

  “I saw the police car,” she said as she stepped inside. “No news?”

  “No. They’ll be in touch with you to see if you’re helping Nick conceal a secret bank account or lover though.”

  “What? I wouldn’t!”

  I indicated the sofa and took the bag off her. “I know. I told them. We’re all suspects unfortunately. Let me get plates and a knife.”

  When I returned from the kitchen she peered up at me with concerned eyes. “Suspects in what? Do they think...oh god, Anton, Nick’s not...not....”

  “No, he’s not. I won’t think about it, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I set the plates down. After a little bit she took the knife and forks from me, then enclosed my hand in hers. “This is just horrible, Anton. I couldn’t sleep last night, worrying about the two of you.”

  I wiped my eyes on my arm. “Yes. Everyone thinks he must have run off with someone. I’d rather he had than...well, the other.”

  “Nick hasn’t run off with anyone. He wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “But if he hasn’t, where is he?”

  “I don’t know, hon.” She squeezed my hand. “Cake? What about tea?”

  Charlotte wasn’t particularly maternal as a rule, and she had a busy work life. As I boiled the kettle, I realised she’d taken the day off just to come over to help. The thought made me teary again.

  “Anton?” She’d followed me into the kitchen.

  I sniffled and smiled at her. “I’m okay.”

  “You look it.” She took the kettle off me and rooted around for the tea. I let her fuss. I’d used up all my determination and positive outlook for the morning.

  I didn’t buy cake often—Nick couldn’t eat most commercial versions, and I could take sweets or leave them—so there was a slightly guilty pleasure in indulging.

  “I can’t do this for myself,” she said. “I have a running battle with my weight as it is. Beth can’t keep it on. Not fair.”

  Her girlfriend of six months was a researcher at UCL, and built like a greyhound. A very small greyhound. “Nick has the same problem.”

  “I don’t want to stay thin the way he did. Does.” She stopped. “Does.”

  “Yes. You don’t need to look at me as if I’m about to explode, Charlotte.”

  “Sorry. I’ve never been in this situation before.”

  “Me neither. I—”

  We both froze as my mobile made the ‘incoming text’ sound. I picked it up. “It’s Nick.”

  “Thank God,” she said, hand over her heart. “What
does he say?”

  I read the message. Time stood still. I think my heart actually stopped beating.

  “Anton? Anton, are you all right?” She touched my arm.

  I passed my phone to her without a word. She looked at the screen, and then at me. “That makes no sense.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  She stared at me. “Of course it doesn’t.”

  “But isn’t this exactly what the police suspected? Excuse me, I have to call someone.”

  I went up to the bedroom to call Andy.

  “Anton, I was just about to ring you. We just had a hit on Nick’s passport using Eurotunnel to Calais departing an hour ago.”

  “He just sent a text.”

  “Great! What did he say?”

  “‘Sorry, I can’t do this any more. Have met someone else.’”

  “Oh.” Andy paused. I imagined he was momentarily dumbstruck. But he quickly collected himself. “Okay. I’ll check the mobile’s location.”

  “Nick didn’t send it. It came from his phone, but he didn’t send it.”

  “Anton, I know what you’re saying, but—”

  “Nick didn’t send that message. Or if he did, he was made to.”

  “His passport is gone, I heard. I know this is hard to accept, but—”

  “He’s still missing. Until you find him, I don’t have to accept a damn thing.”

  “He’s allowed to go to France, Anton. He hasn’t broken any law, though he’ll probably be fired.”

  “Andy, listen to me. Nick didn’t send that text. You know the man. You’ve known him longer than I have. Does this sound like something he would do?”

  “No, but people do atypical things all the time, especially when it comes to affairs. I don’t like this any more than you do—”

  “Nick. Didn’t. Send. That. Message.”

  “All right. But for the moment, there’s not much more I can do. I can ask French police to make contact with him but if there’s no criminal investigation, they won’t exactly prioritise it. I’m sorry, Anton.”

  “I understand. Sorry to bother you. Let me know...if you hear any more.” I pressed the ‘end call’ button, and crushed my phone hard in my hand. Anyone with Nick’s mobile could have sent that message. All they needed was the SIM card.