Creeping Ivy by Natasha Cooper Page A

bad?’
    ‘No. Could you give me the name of the swimming teacher, sir? And the address of the pool.’
    ‘He’s called Mike. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his surname. But the pool’s easy. Hang on, it’ll be in my Psion.’ He pulled the little computer from his pocket, pressed a few keys and then dictated the postal address and the telephone number of the pool. ‘No. No record of young Mike’s surname, though. But they’ll be able to tell you at the pool.’
    ‘Presumably, sir. Now, is there anyone who can confirm exactly where you were yesterday afternoon?’
    ‘Why?’ The sharp features twitched. It was a moment before Blake realised that Robert was laughing at him. ‘Don’t you believe I was working? That’s a bloody good joke under the circumstances.’
    ‘Why’s that, sir?’ Blake resented the way Robert kept trying to make him feel like the dullest, thickest plod on the beat.
    ‘Because we had an almighty screaming match that could probably have been heard streets away. The whole cast is upstairs now. You’d better come up and meet them. You’ll get to see the boardroom after all. Lucky old you. And lucky them. They’ll be thrilled to know I’m being accused of child murder now.’
    If he had been talking to the man in his private capacity, Blake thought he might have hit him at that point.
    ‘May I remind you, sir,’ he said, putting all the suppressed violence into his voice, ‘that we’re not asking these questions for fun. We’re trying to find Charlotte before harm – or more harm – comes to her. It’s no laughing matter.’
    ‘Except that the idea that I could have done something to her is ludicrous. About as ludicrous as some of the things the dear colleagues accused me of yesterday. They’ll love you. And you them, probably. Well, come on if you’re coming. I haven’t any more time to waste.’
    Blake was coming to the conclusion that Robert was one of the most unpleasantly self-important, twisted little pricks he’d seen in years.
    ‘Before we go up, sir, can you tell me why, if your crisis was so important, you chose yesterday for one of your irregular visits to the swimming pool?’
    Robert stopped with one foot on the bottom stair. After a second, he turned back. Only the anger was left in his face. All traces of nervousness seemed to have been wiped away.
    ‘You really have got it in for me, haven’t you? Who’s been winding you up?’
    ‘No one, sir. Would you just answer the question?’
    ‘If you must know, my fucking fellow directors couldn’t get their arses in gear in time to meet in the morning. Since that would have been a hell of a lot more convenient for me, I happen to think they must have done it on purpose to get me on edge. They want me out, but I’m not going without a bloody good fight. It’s my ideas that have kept this place afloat so far. And if they’d done as I said and stayed in our old offices instead of committing themselves to this expensive monstrosity, we wouldn’t be in the shit now. Every time they look at me they’re reminded of how stupid they’ve been and so they detest me. That’s why they’ll love the idea that you think I’m a child murderer. Satisfied?’
    ‘Very good, sir,’ said Blake, wanting to kick him all the way upstairs and down again. He was beginning to feel even sorrier for Antonia Weblock. ‘Let’s get on with it. Will you lead the way?’

Chapter Five
    Two other officers were walking up a short flight of steps outside a large red-brick Victorian house in Clapham at much the same time. They were pleased but a little surprised to find that there were no journalists hanging about there. As Sergeant Lacie knocked on the peeling black-painted door there was a barrage of frenzied barking from inside.
    ‘Perhaps that’s why the ratpack’s not here. They hate big dogs as much as I do,’ she said to her colleague. ‘What about you, Sam? Are you scared?’
    ‘ ’Course not, Sarge.’
    ‘Great –