financials across. ‘I’ve not been at university for thirty years, so it didn’t really strike me at first.’
Noble began to thumb through the papers. ‘I’ve not been to university at all.’
‘Well don’t feel hard done by,’ said Brook. ‘I’ve got a long list of things I’d like to unlearn.’
‘So you could be thick like me, you mean?’
‘Exactly,’ said Brook, ignoring Noble’s jibe. ‘I was struck by Caitlin’s parsimony.’
‘And in English for dummies?’
‘She didn’t spend very much for an inexperienced girl, far from home, unused to managing a budget.’
Noble turned a page. ‘Actually, I did notice that. She’s got all the big stuff coming out of her current account – rent and bills – but apart from small cash withdrawals, there aren’t many . . .’ He clicked a finger for the right word, darting a glance at Brook for help.
‘Incidentals.’
Noble pointed an approving digit at Brook. ‘Not many of those for someone her age let loose on the world. Her credit card is clean, and after her loan went in, she was never close to an overdraft again.’
‘No,’ said Brook. ‘Could she have had another account we don’t know about?’
‘Possible. But why wouldn’t she keep the statements with her other financials?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Maybe she had a part-time job,’ said Noble. ‘Cash in hand. Though Laurie said not.’ Brook grunted. ‘Problem?’
‘It worries me how much we rely on Laurie for what we know about Caitlin.’
‘You think there’s something she’s not telling us?’
‘She didn’t mention the pregnancy at first.’
‘An innocent mistake, surely.’
‘I’m not saying she’s a liar; just that there may be things about Caitlin that Laurie doesn’t know.’
‘They’re best friends.’
‘According to Laurie,’ said Brook. ‘But reading between the lines, I got the impression Caitlin kept her at arm’s length on some things.’
‘What things?’
‘I don’t know. What are young women usually secretive about?’
‘Boyfriends,’ suggested Noble.
Brook thought of Terri and her abusive stepfather. ‘Boyfriends,’ he repeated. ‘And what passes between them.’
‘That’s why we should descend on campus, talk to everyone Caitlin knew or had contact with,’ said Noble. ‘See if we can get a different spin on things.’
‘If we do, we’ll be working it without back-up.’
‘Would you rather be examining manhole covers at the scrapyard?’ argued Noble.
Brook looked at his watch. ‘You’ve got a list of Caitlin’s courses?’
‘Lecturers, tutors, campus doctor, the works.’
‘It’ll be a slog,’ said Brook.
‘You mean you might have to take your own notes,’ teased Noble.
‘I mean we don’t want to repeat it. So let’s kill two birds with one stone. Tell me about the Italian girl Interpol mislaid – the one who was also at the university.’
Seven
‘Please,’ said the girl, searching for the English inflection as she shook the rain from her flimsy coat. The receptionist ignored her. The girl waited, holding her emotions in check, knowing a repetition would harm her cause. This was a familiar routine for Kassia Proch – interacting with resentful locals minded to communicate their disdain of the immigrant in their midst by making her wait. And those were the well-mannered ones.
The receptionist looked up from her computer screen a second later than was polite in case the pale girl standing before her had miscalculated the balance of power in their relationship. She blinked myopically at Kassia, raising spectacles to her face for a proper examination.
‘Can I help you?’
‘I come see Dr Fleming.’
‘Are you a private patient?’
‘Please?’
The receptionist’s expression hardened, her conclusion already drawn. ‘Are you pri-vate or N-H-S?’ she said, sounding out the words.
‘No, not private.’
‘NHS then,’ she said, tapping at her keyboard. ‘Name, please.’
‘I
Noble began to thumb through the papers. ‘I’ve not been to university at all.’
‘Well don’t feel hard done by,’ said Brook. ‘I’ve got a long list of things I’d like to unlearn.’
‘So you could be thick like me, you mean?’
‘Exactly,’ said Brook, ignoring Noble’s jibe. ‘I was struck by Caitlin’s parsimony.’
‘And in English for dummies?’
‘She didn’t spend very much for an inexperienced girl, far from home, unused to managing a budget.’
Noble turned a page. ‘Actually, I did notice that. She’s got all the big stuff coming out of her current account – rent and bills – but apart from small cash withdrawals, there aren’t many . . .’ He clicked a finger for the right word, darting a glance at Brook for help.
‘Incidentals.’
Noble pointed an approving digit at Brook. ‘Not many of those for someone her age let loose on the world. Her credit card is clean, and after her loan went in, she was never close to an overdraft again.’
‘No,’ said Brook. ‘Could she have had another account we don’t know about?’
‘Possible. But why wouldn’t she keep the statements with her other financials?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Maybe she had a part-time job,’ said Noble. ‘Cash in hand. Though Laurie said not.’ Brook grunted. ‘Problem?’
‘It worries me how much we rely on Laurie for what we know about Caitlin.’
‘You think there’s something she’s not telling us?’
‘She didn’t mention the pregnancy at first.’
‘An innocent mistake, surely.’
‘I’m not saying she’s a liar; just that there may be things about Caitlin that Laurie doesn’t know.’
‘They’re best friends.’
‘According to Laurie,’ said Brook. ‘But reading between the lines, I got the impression Caitlin kept her at arm’s length on some things.’
‘What things?’
‘I don’t know. What are young women usually secretive about?’
‘Boyfriends,’ suggested Noble.
Brook thought of Terri and her abusive stepfather. ‘Boyfriends,’ he repeated. ‘And what passes between them.’
‘That’s why we should descend on campus, talk to everyone Caitlin knew or had contact with,’ said Noble. ‘See if we can get a different spin on things.’
‘If we do, we’ll be working it without back-up.’
‘Would you rather be examining manhole covers at the scrapyard?’ argued Noble.
Brook looked at his watch. ‘You’ve got a list of Caitlin’s courses?’
‘Lecturers, tutors, campus doctor, the works.’
‘It’ll be a slog,’ said Brook.
‘You mean you might have to take your own notes,’ teased Noble.
‘I mean we don’t want to repeat it. So let’s kill two birds with one stone. Tell me about the Italian girl Interpol mislaid – the one who was also at the university.’
Seven
‘Please,’ said the girl, searching for the English inflection as she shook the rain from her flimsy coat. The receptionist ignored her. The girl waited, holding her emotions in check, knowing a repetition would harm her cause. This was a familiar routine for Kassia Proch – interacting with resentful locals minded to communicate their disdain of the immigrant in their midst by making her wait. And those were the well-mannered ones.
The receptionist looked up from her computer screen a second later than was polite in case the pale girl standing before her had miscalculated the balance of power in their relationship. She blinked myopically at Kassia, raising spectacles to her face for a proper examination.
‘Can I help you?’
‘I come see Dr Fleming.’
‘Are you a private patient?’
‘Please?’
The receptionist’s expression hardened, her conclusion already drawn. ‘Are you pri-vate or N-H-S?’ she said, sounding out the words.
‘No, not private.’
‘NHS then,’ she said, tapping at her keyboard. ‘Name, please.’
‘I
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