Behind Dead Eyes (16 page)

‘You'll be there all day by the sound of it.'

‘There is one thing I would appreciate from you,' he told her.

‘Name it.'

‘I'm missing a bit of background on Frank Jarvis. There's a lot in the public domain but I could do with a little gossip.'

‘You mean dirt?' she asked.

‘Possibly,' admitted Tom, ‘if he's dirty; but his reputation says otherwise.'

‘And you believe that?'

‘He's a politician – so I'd say the odds are stacked heavily against him, wouldn't you?'

Helen watched him for a moment to see if he was serious. ‘Okay, I'll do some digging,' she said, ‘and don't worry, I'll be discreet.'

‘You know what, don't be,' he replied. ‘I wouldn't mind him knowing I've been asking after him.'

‘Why?'

‘Two reasons: one, it shows I'm doing my job properly.'

‘And two?'

‘I'd quite like to see if it rattles his cage.'

The
two Julies lived in a small student house with a couple of other girls. When Ian Bradshaw told them he was a police officer involved in the Sandra Jarvis investigation, Julie One, whose surname was actually Elliott, nervously invited the detective to sit at the kitchen table with them.

Julie Two, whose real name was Morrison, offered to make him a cup of tea.

‘Yes please,' he said and Julie One looked worried.

‘We've only got herbal tea left,' she admitted, as if confessing a serious felony.

‘Then I'll pass. I won't be long. This is just routine.' He didn't normally try to put people at their ease before questioning them but these two looked guilty and nervous in a way that only the entirely innocent can. Up until Sandra's sudden disappearance they had probably never had any dealings with the police.

‘We're not suspects or anything?' asked Julie Two.

‘Suspects?' he repeated.

‘In Sandra's disappearance?'

‘I don't know,' he asked amiably, ‘are you?'

‘God, no,' protested Julie One and she gave her friend an angry look, ‘we had nothing to do with that.'

‘Then you have nothing to fear. We haven't been able to locate Miss Jarvis and it has been some time since she went missing. When that happens we like to go over everything again, piece by piece, to see if there is anything we've missed
or if someone remembers something in the meantime they didn't mention previously. Okay?'

They both seemed visibly relieved at that.

‘You lived with Sandra Jarvis for how long?' asked Bradshaw, reaching for his notebook and pen. He wrote their full names at the top of the new page but from that point simply put ‘Julie 1' or ‘Julie 2' next to relevant comments they made.

‘From the beginning of the first term,' said Julie One.

‘Right up until …' Julie Two looked a little alarmed as if she might be about to say something incriminating.

‘She disappeared?' he offered helpfully.

‘Yes,' confirmed Julie One, ‘that was in reading week last year.'

‘Last year? I thought it was February of this year?'

‘She means the academic year,' said Julie Two.

‘Of course.' He let Julie One continue.

‘We went home to our families then but when we all came back to halls Sandra wasn't there.'

‘And you never saw her again?'

‘No,' said Julie Two.

‘Let's go back to when you first met. What did you think?'

‘Think?' asked Julie One, and Bradshaw couldn't help but wonder how these two had landed places at such an esteemed academic establishment as Durham University. Perhaps his DCI was right when he repeatedly told Bradshaw, ‘You can't learn everything from a textbook.'

‘What was your impression of her?' he clarified.

‘She was really nice,' said Julie Two quickly, as if defending the missing girl against an accusation from a third party, then she added, ‘at first.'

‘But she changed?' Bradshaw prompted.

‘After Christmas,' explained Julie One. ‘In the first term
we all got along great in our halls. The girls on our floor shared a kitchen and we went out in groups. She was as friendly as anyone else.'

‘But you noticed a change in her in the second term.'

‘It was very noticeable. I remember when she came back to halls after the Christmas break, she barely acknowledged anyone.'

‘Sandra stayed in her room all of the time,' said Julie Two, ‘and on the rare occasions we did see her she seemed really sad.'

‘Did anyone talk to her about this or did you just leave her to it?'

‘Of course not.' There was a defensiveness from Julie Two that might have indicated some guilt. Perhaps she felt they could have done more to help?

‘We tried to get her to come out with us like before. Every time we went into town or the union bar one of us would knock on her door.'

‘But she always refused?'

‘She'd make excuses at first; she had to work or study or was going to do something else instead, like her laundry or buying groceries. After a while she didn't even bother with excuses, just said she didn't want to go out. Some of the girls resented that.' She sounded as if she was one of them. ‘We gave up in the end. I mean there's only so many times you can ask, isn't there?'

‘There is,' Bradshaw agreed. ‘And she never gave any reason for the way she was feeling?'

The two Julies both agreed she had not. ‘Sandra just shut everyone out,' said Julie One.

‘Problems at home, boyfriend troubles, drugs?' he offered as explanations.

‘We got the impression she was happy at home. She didn't have a steady boyfriend. At least I never saw one and she never looked …' She was searching for the right word.

‘High,' offered Julie Two, ‘she never seemed like she was on something.'

‘So, no drugs, no boyfriend, no going out and she got on okay with her old man, even though he is a politician, which must have been a bit embarrassing for her.'

‘No, I think she approved of her father,' said Julie One. ‘One of the girls teased her about him once and she said, “At least he tries to make a difference.” '

‘So she's proud of the old man,' he conceded. ‘What do you think caused her to change then?'

‘I really don't know,' said Julie Two.

‘It must have been something that happened back in Newcastle,' said Julie One. ‘I mean, she was okay when she left at Christmas, but when she came back she was a different person entirely.'

‘Did she dress differently after the Christmas break,' he asked, ‘change her appearance in any way?'

Bradshaw had met victims of rape and sexual assault who dressed down afterwards. If Sandra Jarvis had taken to wearing shapeless, sexless clothes perhaps this would be a clue as to what had happened to her.

‘No,' said Julie One, looking confused, ‘why do you ask that?'

Bradshaw ignored her question. ‘Did she ever talk to anyone,' and when they looked blank, ‘or have a particular friend she was close to? We all need someone to confide in.'

The two Julies exchanged glances.

‘You could try Megan,' offered Julie One, ‘couldn't he?'

‘He could,' agreed Julie Two.

‘Yes,' said Bradshaw, ‘I could,' even though he didn't have the faintest clue who Megan was.

Freed from the need to be discreet, Helen went to her editor. ‘Who's the best person to dish the dirt on politicians in this city?' she asked. ‘Stuff that dates back a few years.'

‘That person is right here,' replied her editor. ‘No, not me. I mean he is in this building – or at least his desk is. Brian Hilton has been our political correspondent since … oh probably about 1920.' And he gave her that boyish grin again. ‘He actually started on the paper in the early sixties. He's your man.'

‘I don't think I've met him,' Helen admitted.

‘Not in the office that much, comes and goes as he pleases. I should object to that but he always provides good copy and it's on time so I cut him some slack. Brian is a bit of a grumpy bastard,' he conceded, ‘but we'd be lost without him and his contacts.'

‘Won't he mind the new girl tapping him for information?'

‘He might not,' said Graham, ‘if you follow the official procedure.'

‘Which is?'

‘Wait until his working day is over, then buy him a pint,' said her editor. ‘He likes the Crown Posada on the Quayside. You can usually set your watch by him.'

Tom was already standing outside a pub on the Quayside but he quickly realised his walk down here had been a complete waste of time. Sandra Jarvis had worked at the Highwayman before departing for college and returned there to do shifts during the Christmas holidays. Since her personality had changed entirely following that break between college
terms, there was a reasonable chance her time at the pub might have had something to do with it. He had gone over the possibilities in his mind as he made his way there: Sandra had been bullied, harassed or possibly even assaulted, she'd had a relationship that had suddenly turned sour leaving her depressed, or perhaps she had been enticed by drugs sold on the premises. None of this sounded entirely plausible to him, but then neither did her sudden disappearance.

Any hopes Tom may have had about getting a lead from the pub were instantly dashed, for the Highwayman was no more. Despite a prime spot on the north bank of the river a short walk from the Tyne Bridge, it had ceased trading. The door was locked and boarded up, the windows already pasted over with bill stickers advertising gigs. Tom peered through a gap and saw that all of the pub's furnishings were still there, including tables, chairs and even the beer pumps behind the bar. Whoever ran this place must have left it in a hurry.

Realising he was going to get nowhere standing outside the abandoned pub, Tom left and arrived very early for his prearranged appointment at police headquarters. They didn't seem to mind. A helpful junior detective handed him several thick folders. These were full of witness statements, background information on Sandra Jarvis's life and her movements plus a large number of reported sightings of the missing girl from all over the country, many of which could probably be classed as wishful thinking or mischief making.

He was allowed the use of a small room to examine the files in private and they even brought him a mug of tea. It had been some time since he had experienced that level of
cooperation from the police and he had to admit he was glad of it. They left him to it and he began to read.

The pub in the market place wasn't a typical student watering hole. It was an old-school, local boozers' pub and, when she was not attending lectures, Megan Aitken worked behind the bar there.

Bradshaw showed her his warrant card and asked her if she had a minute. ‘No,' she told him in a granite-hard Glaswegian accent, while eying him suspiciously, ‘I've lunches to get out.' There were less than a dozen customers in the pub and none of them looked like they were there for the food.

‘I'm sure this strapping young man here can cope without you.' Bradshaw stopped a rake-thin barman as he passed by and said, ‘You can manage on your own for five minutes while Megan helps me with an important police matter.'

The youth didn't seem to know if this was a question or an order so he simply mumbled, ‘Sure,' while Bradshaw indicated Megan should follow him to a table in a far corner.

When he told her why he was there, she said, ‘Well I didn't think it was cos I hadnae paid my council tax but I've already had the polis asking me about Sandra, and her disappearance had bugger all to do with me.'

‘And we are going over old ground so we don't miss anything.'

‘Good luck with that,' Megan said sarcastically. ‘Who sent you my way.'

‘Some girls that knew both of you. They said you might be able to shed some light on the reasons for Sandra Jarvis's disappearance.'

‘Was it Tweedledum and Tweedledee?' Though he was poker-faced in response Bradshaw knew she was referring
to the two Julies. ‘I bet it was. Why the hell would I know anything about it?'

‘They thought Sandra may have confided in you, since you were such good friends.'

‘Did they now? Well she didn't and we weren't that close.'

‘Why did they think you were then?'

‘No idea – except they probably thought we were bestest buddies because we were the only two girls on our course who weren't posh and minted.'

‘Really?'

‘Well, I don't see anyone else doing bar work to survive. There are girls here who spend five hundred a month just on clothes.'

‘That must be annoying.'

‘It is what it is,' Megan said as if she didn't care but she evidently did.

‘Did Sandra work here too?'

‘We did some shifts together at weekends during term time. She worked in a place in Newcastle during the holidays,' she thought for a second, ‘the Pirate?'

‘The Highwayman.'

‘Aye, that was it.'

‘Did she like bar work?'

‘There are worse ways to get by but you only do it for the money. I'd rather be on this side of the bar but there you go. Sandra felt the same.'

‘And when you did these shifts together, when you had a drink afterwards or went for a fag break, she never told you anything about herself?'

‘Not really. Certainly nothing that would make me understand why she suddenly disappeared like that,' said Megan. ‘
If
she disappeared.'

‘What do you mean by that?'

‘I mean, if she had just upped and left wouldn't someone have found her by now?'

‘Not if she didn't want to be found. You think something happened to her? Someone hurt her, maybe?'

‘Well it seems likely, doesn't it?'

‘It's certainly a possibility but who would want to harm Sandra?'

‘How should I know?'

Bradshaw was beginning to seriously question the wisdom of interviewing Sandra's college friends. It seemed the missing girl hadn't bothered to open up to anyone.

‘I don't suppose there's anyone you can think of who might know something about Sandra that nobody else does.' He was clutching at straws.

Megan shook her head. ‘You'll have already spoken to her room-mate,' she said, as if that was obvious.

‘She had a room-mate?' The case files hadn't made that clear.

‘She shared a room in halls with Olivia Barrington but that only lasted for the first term.'

‘Why? Did they have a falling-out?'

Megan shook her head. ‘Olivia wasn't used to sharing things, was she, so she kicked up a fuss until they moved her and she got her own room.'

‘I see,' said Bradshaw, ‘so where does this Olivia Barrington live now?'