May
"What are you so happy about?" Jay asked, looking up from his newspaper.
I was humming to myself cheerfully as I made breakfast, shuffling my feet to the music in my head, simply unable to keep still. I was excited because today was the day that Terry Ilford was due to come around. It was something I'd been looking forward to for weeks, a chance to talk to someone who was a friend of Abby's. I could hardly explain that to Jay though.
"I'm just happy, that's all," I said, smiling sweetly as I straightened his tie, and pecked him on the cheek.
After breakfast, I changed into my running gear. I'd started a part-time job the week before, at a clothes shop in a nearby shopping mall but it wasn't open on Mondays and Tuesdays so I had the whole day to myself. Outside, it was a bright and breezy sort of day. I put my ear buds in, and set off down the hill towards the park, my trainers thudding on the tarmac.
Despite my earlier resolution, I'd read a lot more of the journal over the last few weeks, hungrily devouring page after page, then storing it back in my underwear drawer before Jay returned from work in the evening.
Yesterday, I'd read a section about Terry himself. Abby described how reliable he was, and how safe she felt with him. It was clearly more than a simple employer/employee relationship and I couldn't help wondering exactly how close they were. She certainly seemed very fond of him.
She even described falling asleep in his car, once after a particularly late night with one of her clients and waking up to find herself in his thick arms, her head against his chest, being carried up the stairs. She even confessed a faint sense of disappointment when he simply placed her on the bed, then left.
So I was truly excited to be meeting someone who'd actually known her, someone who might finally be able to answer the questions that crowded my mind whenever I thought about her.
It was on my way back from the park, struggling up the hill that I became aware of the car. At first, I thought the driver must be lost, perhaps crawling along the road as he searched for a house number, but as the low rumble of the engine continued to trail me, I stopped and pulled out my ear buds.
"Mrs Catesby, I hope I didn't startle you," Detective Crenshaw said, pulling alongside me, and leaning out of his car window.
"Ah Detective, no, no problem, glad to have a rest actually," I panted. How long had he been following me?
"I saw you running along the street there, and just thought I'd stop and say hello."
"So, uh, how's your missing person case going?"
"Not so good actually. I was kind of hoping you might have found something else," he said, his eyes flicking up and down my body, taking in my clingy pink vest top and grey Lycra shorts. Why did I always seem to be so under-dressed whenever he visited? At least, I was wearing a sports bra under my top this time!
"No sorry, I've cleared out the loft and the shed now and we've not found anything else."
"I see. And nobody's called or come around looking for her?"
"Nope, sorry."
"Listen," he said, looking up and down the street. "It's an ongoing investigation so I can't say too much, but Abby got mixed up in some serious business. So if anything does come up, you'll let me know, right? I wouldn't like to think of a nice lady like you getting into any trouble."
Was he threatening me? His expression was completely neutral, his steely grey eyes unreadable.
"No, I mean, yes I'll let you know," I muttered.
"So, if anything comes up you've got my card, right?"
"Right," I replied.
"Nice to see you again," he said, as he drove off.
Terry Ilford turned up exactly on time. I heard the low diesel rumble of his van pulling into our driveway, and made a quick diversion to the kitchen to switch the kettle on as I made my way to the front door.
"Hello, you must be Terry," I said, opening the door and inviting him in.
He was a tall, muscular man in his late thirties with short dark hair and a weathered face, rugged yet handsome despite a large, crooked nose. He was dressed in a grubby pair of jeans, work boots and a sleeveless padded jacket over a checked shirt.
"Thanks," he said, following me into the kitchen.
"I was just making myself a cup of tea, do you want one?"
"Lovely, just milk, no sugar please," he replied.
I smiled as I took two mugs from the recently reorganised cupboard. I was keen to make him some tea so I had an excuse to spend a little time chatting and find out what he knew about Abby.
"So, you've not been here very long?" he said, watching as I got the milk from the fridge.
"No, only a month or so. I hear you knew the lady that lived here before," I replied, impatiently getting straight to the point as I poured hot water into the mugs.
"Yes, Abby. I got to know her quite well."
"Did you do any work on the garden for her?" I said, as I handed him his tea.
