Page 76 of The Rising Tide

‘Thank you. I’m sorry I was so brief on the phone. Perhaps you could tell me again exactly what you believe you saw.’

Bibi shakes her head. ‘I’ll tell you what Isaw, Detective Inspector. Not what IbelieveI saw.’ With that she puts down her cup. ‘It was Friday morning, ten past eleven. I was taking Marjorie to Soundsett.’

‘Marjorie?’

‘Her anal glands needed expressing and it’s not a job I relish.’

‘Marjorie’s a dog?’

‘Well, she’s not a parishioner. If you drove here via Skentel, you’ll have passed the lay-by I told you about. That’s where I saw them. A large grey Volvo – looked like it might be a four-by-four – and parked behind it a black car, much smaller.

‘A girl was standing beside the Volvo, talking to the driver through the window. Blonde hair, black shorts. I remember thinking it was a very cold day for bare legs. There was someone on the other side of the Volvo wearing a grey top with the hood pulled down. When I passed by an hour later, the black car was there on its own, no one else around.’

‘Forgive me,’ Abraham says. ‘That’s a remarkable amount of detail.’

‘You’re a detective.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sure, therefore, you pay close attention to your surroundings, and that which happens around you.’

‘Of course. But most people don’t.’

‘I,’ says Bibi Trixibelle Carter, ‘am not one of those people.’

Abraham nods, chastened. He takes a sip of tea. It’s excellent, just as he expected.

‘We’ve faced terrible problems with fly-tipping lately,’ Bibi continues. ‘I slowed right down because I wanted to see what they were doing. The one in grey ducked out of sight as I passed, but they didn’t seem to be unloading anything and I could hardly get out and ask. I’m not abusybody. Instead I did what I always do and memorized part of the Volvo’s registration plate: BLK.’

‘BLK? You remember that?’

Bibi stares at him, her eyes narrowing. ‘Bibi Likes Kibble.’

‘I see. Did you recognize the make or model of the second car?’

‘I didn’t pay it as much attention. If they were fly-tipping, it made sense they’d be doing it from the Volvo. But I can tell you it was a hatchback. Not a Ford – possibly Japanese.’

‘And it was definitely …’Black?Abraham almost asks, and stops himself. He clears his throat. ‘This figure in grey, on the far side of the Volvo. What else can you tell me?’

‘Not much more than I have. As I said, he ducked down as I passed.’

‘You saw a face?’

‘No. Like I told you – his hood was pulled down too low.’

‘I’m just wondering why you’re saying “he”.’

Bibi blinks. She turns her head to the wall. Then her gaze returns to Abraham. ‘You’re quite right to challenge me. In hindsight, nothing I saw suggested it was a man.’

‘It could have been a woman?’

‘It could quite easily have been a woman.’

Abraham takes another sip of tea. He sits in silence, mulling what he’s heard.BLKforms part of Daniel Locke’s number plate. The timing also fits – Locke left the school at eleven and arrived in Skentel twenty minutes later.

Opening a folder, he withdraws a photograph and hands it over.

Bibi takes it, squints. ‘This looks … Yes. This looks very much like the girl I saw talking to the driver. And actually, I do recall a mark on her leg that could easily have been a tattoo. Is this …’

---