Magda returned to the kitchen, in spite of the tears more cheered than she'd thought possible half an hour before. Hooking up with Charlie Flint had been an unexpected bonus. She remembered something Charlie had said the other day and realised how right she'd been. Her mother had indeed had great taste in babysitters.
22
Thursday
One of the reasons Charlie had fallen in love with science in her teens was her need to find answers. It wasn't enough for her to learn textbooks by rote; she wanted the why and the wherefore. So she was never going to be satisfied by a text from Nick saying he'd drawn a blank on Jay Stewart's sat-phone. 'There's got to be a way,' Charlie muttered to herself. She stared at the computer screen, frowning at 24/7's home page.
Then it dawned on her. Ranged around the main content of the page were sponsored links to 24/7's partner sites. Bargain flight companies. Hotel booking sites. Car rental. And cheap international phone calls. She clicked through to doitnow.com and found similar links to their associate companies. 'They would have had a deal,' Charlie said. 'Of course they would.'
But that was only the first part of the answer. Knowing who 24/7's phone partner was in 2010 wasn't much help when it came to finding out who the preferred satellite phone company of doitnow.com had been ten years earlier. She could try calling doitnow.com, but she didn't rate her chances of finding anyone who'd been out of school at the turn of the millennium, never mind working for the company and paying attention to details like sat-phone deals.
She was pretty sure that what she needed didn't exist. When you wanted to know what the Daily Mirror looked like in 1900, never mind 2000, you could go and look at an archive copy. But all those early websites with their mad colour contrasts and ugly fonts had disappeared without trace. Hadn't they? Expecting nothing, Charlie Googled 'website archive' and was amazed to discover a site dedicated to preserving the digital equivalent of back numbers. Admittedly, it only went back as far as 2004, but it was impressive.
What was even more impressive was that they had doitnow.com's home page from August 2004. There was a link to a regular mobile phone company. And to her astonishment and delight, right down at the bottom left-hand corner of the page was a tiny sponsored ad. 'Going where they don't even have railway signals? You need a sat-phone. We supply the world's news organisations. Rent a holiday sat-phone from us.' Of course, when she tried to click on the site, she discovered it was deactivated. But at least this was a starting point.
She called Nick, forgetting he'd be at work. His phone went to voicemail. 'Nick, it's Charlie. Doitnow.com had a sat-phone partnership with Stratosphone back in 2004. Maybe they gave the boss a freebie? Worth checking, don't you think?' Donkey work, it was true, but he had offered to help. He couldn't start complaining now.
Next on Charlie's list was sorting out a trip to Skye. She'd been amazed to discover you couldn't fly to the island. It seemed counter-intuitive. You could fly to any Greek island that had enough level ground to squeeze a runway on, but you couldn't fly to one of the UK's tourist magnets. It was a five-hour drive or more from Glasgow, itself three and a half hours from Manchester. And she had a teaching session on Monday that she couldn't afford to miss. Getting back on Sunday would take most of the day, so it made sense to leave at the crack of dawn on Friday. To her surprise, Maria had announced over breakfast that she wanted to come along. 'I've always wanted to go to Skye,' she'd said. 'And I expect there really aren't very many midges around so early in the season. What do you say? You're not going to be sleuthing all the time, are you? We'll be able to see a bit of the place?'
'I expect so. And you can always go off on your own if I find a hot scent to sniff at. But what about your patients?'
Maria spread her toast and gave Charlie a wicked little smile. 'I'm always so bloody dutiful,' she said. 'Just for once, I feel like playing truant. Besides, I only ever book morning appointments on a Friday. It won't be the end of the world if I miss an afternoon's admin. I'll get Sharla to call my patients this morning. It won't kill them to rebook. There's nothing urgent, as far as I recall. What do you say? Shall I come? Shall we have a bit of fun?'
It had been hard to resist Maria's enthusiasm, even though a tiny corner of Charlie's mind had been playing with the dangerous notion of inviting Lisa to come to Skye with her. Much more sensible to go with Maria, she told herself. With a wry smile, she logged on to doitnow.com and set about arranging a short break on the Isle of Skye at even shorter notice.
That done, there was nothing to distract her from communicating with Lisa. She'd sent a quick text yesterday, just to say she'd had to go back to Manchester and had been too busy to see Lisa before she left. Charlie didn't know what was worse - going cold turkey on communication with Lisa or diving in at the deep end. For now, she was giving up giving up and getting back into the groove of weighing every word.
Hi, Lisa
Sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday. The day just ran away from me. I don't have to tell you how that goes.
I wish there had been the opportunity for us to spend more time together when I was in Oxford. As it turned out, there were more calls on my time than I anticipated. But I hope I'll have good reason for coming back to Oxford very soon. It's clear there are things we have to discuss, and I can't wait to see you again. I'm sorry I have brought complication to your life, but I can't help thinking that the complication carries the seed of something very positive.
In the meantime, I am off to the Isle of Skye, where Kathy Lipson died in the notorious 'cutting the rope' incident back in 2000. Maria's coming too, apparently she's always had a hankering to visit. We're staying at the same hotel where Jay and Kathy were based. Not that any of the staff will still be there. I expect there will be a Lithuanian receptionist, Polish barman and a Romanian breakfast waitress, like everywhere rural these days. The locals escape as soon as they can to cities with anonymous nightlife and better wages. Thank heavens for the Eastern Europeans or our leisure culture would collapse. I expect the mountain rescue team will still have most of the same guys, though.
Let me know if there are any days that are better for you next week. I can do any day except Wednesday.
Love, Charlie
She read it through twice, changed a couple of words, then sent it, knowing she would be checking her in-box every twenty minutes for the rest of the day. But to her surprise, when she came back from the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee, the new mail icon was flashing on her desktop. One click brought her mail box up, but the fresh message wasn't from Lisa. She couldn't help the pang of disappointment, only slightly tempered by the realisation it was from Nick.
With a sigh, Charlie opened it.
Charlie: Swedes are amazing. I got a number for Ulf Ingemarsson's gf, Liv Aronsson, from a journalist! Can you believe it? No warrant or threats necessary, he just handed it over. School's out 3.30 local time, so 2.30 here. This is a mobile, so any time after that I guess. I think she might talk more to you than to a cop.
Not so disappointing after all. Charlie glanced at the clock. Three hours to kill. It was strange. When she'd had a job, she'd always craved time to herself to read, to catch up with Radio 4 podcasts, to go swimming or just to lie on the sofa listening to music. Now she had the time, it hung heavy on her hands. She struggled to keep her mind occupied, and when her mind was at a loose end, either Lisa crept out of the corners and invaded her space or else she brooded endlessly and fruitlessly about her upcoming trials and tribulations. It was a toss-up which activity was the more pointless. Sometimes it seemed all she could think of was Lisa - her eyes, her smile, her playful humour, her emotional intelligence. There was something irresistible about her, some attraction so powerful it bled the brightness from Charlie's image of Maria. This wasn't what she wanted, but it was growing no easier to resist.
'Get over yourself, Charlie,' she said, abruptly switching to Google. She wanted to see whether she could track down the record of the Fatal Accident Inquiry relating to Kathy Lipson's
death. The more she could uncover before she went to Skye, the easier it would be.
The FAI report made riveting reading. There was a list of witnesses, a precis of all their evidence, a description of the background and circumstances of the incident as well as the cause of death - injuries to the head and internal organs as a result of a fall from Sgurr Dearg mountain on the Isle of Skye. The only critical note sounded in the Sheriff's conclusion was the suggestion that climbers should make sure their routes were within their capabilities and experience. By the time she'd finished reading and making notes about what she might ask the mountain rescue witnesses, it was almost three o'clock. Liv Aronsson should be free of small children by now, she reckoned.
Charlie plugged the phone into her digital recorder then dialled the number, still without a clear idea of how she was going to play it. She'd let Ms Aronsson take the lead and see where that got them. The phone rang out several times before a breathless voice answered. 'Tja?'
'Is that Liv Aronsson?' Charlie said.
A short pause, then the voice said, 'This is Liv. Who are you?'
'My name is Charlie Flint. Dr Charlie Flint. I wondered if I might speak to you about Ulf Ingemarsson.' Charlie was conscious of speaking distinctly and more slowly than usual while trying not to sound condescending.
'Are you a journalist?' Her English was clear, her accent imposing a sing-song rhythm.
'No. I'm a psychiatrist.' She checked that the recorder was working, then wondered if she should be recording herself in what was, at the very least, a deceptive role.
'A shrink?'
Charlie winced at the Americanism she hated. 'Kind of.'
'Why does a shrink want to talk about Ulf?'
'Your English is very good.'
'Ulf and I lived in California for a year when he was doing his masters degree. I am a little rusty, but I think I do OK. So, I ask you again. Why does a shrink want to talk about Ulf?'
'It's a bit complicated,' Charlie said. 'Is this a good time to talk?'
'Where are you calling from? Are you here in Stockholm?'
'No, I'm in England. I can phone you later if that's better for you.'
A long moment, then Liv said, 'This is good for me. But I don't understand why a shrink is interested in my dead boyfriend after all this time.'
'As well as being a therapist, I work with the police,' Charlie said, trying to come up with an explanation that was clear and didn't contain too many lies.
'The police in Spain? That seems strange to me.'
'No, not in Spain. Here in England.'
Liv Aronsson sniffed. 'So. I understand even less. Why are the police in England interested in a murder in Spain?'
'The starting point for this inquiry was not the murder but the theft that took place at the same time,' Charlie said. 'In the course of another investigation, the police were told that Ulf Ingemarsson's work had ended up in the hands of a British company. If this is true and we can find out how it came to be, then we might be able to help the Spanish police to solve the murder of your partner.'
'Well, of course it's true,' Liv snapped. 'I have said this from the beginning. This was not a Spanish burglar stealing from a holiday villa. This was an organised crime, for the benefit of his rival.'
'When you say "his rival" do you have anyone specific in mind?'
'Of course I do. The woman who has made herself rich on Ulf's work. Jay Macallan Stewart.'
It was what she'd hoped for, but hearing the words was the moment she always worked for in her patient interviews. It was never enough to assume that what you thought you were going to hear was what had been said. 'What makes you so definite about this?'
'Ulf had this idea about three years before he died. He thought it should be possible to make guides that fitted with what people were interested in. He was a geek, he had the skills to write the software that would make this idea work. But what he didn't have was the knowledge of how to sell it. And how to get the information to put on the site. And I knew nothing about this also. I am an elementary school teacher, I know seven-year-old children, that's all.'
'Not the most transferable skill when it comes to an online business.'
Liv gave a dry laugh. 'No, not at all. So, he knew he was going to have to find a partner who knew the other end of the business. He did some research and he found Jay Macallan Stewart. She had been away from commerce since she sold her first web business for a lot of money. But he thought she understood the travel business. More important, he thought she understood people's dreams and desires.'
Charlie thought that had been a very shrewd judgement for a geek. The more she found out about Jay, the more convinced she became that she had never met anyone with a clearer vision of her dreams and desires. Being able to translate that outwards empathetically was a rare talent. And one that was never in the armoury of a psychopathic killer. However, it wouldn't be the first time that such a person had been able to mask their reality. Ted Bundy was the classic example. But there had been others. 'He made contact with her, then?'
'He sent her an email. And she responded within a day or two.'
'Did he make contact with any other potential business partners?'
'No. I said he should speak to various people. To see who gave him the best offer. But he said he didn't want to get caught up in all that. Stressful shit, he called it. He wanted to find someone he could work with, that he trusted. That was the most important thing to him.' Liv sighed. 'He trusted the wrong one, as it turns out.'
'So what happened next?'
'They exchanged a few emails. It seemed like they might have a fit. So she came over here to Stockholm to meet Ulf. She was here for three or four days. She brought a software guy with her, somebody she had worked with before, I don't remember his name. We had dinner with them. I didn't like her, I'll be honest. Sometimes with little kids, they've not learned to cover what's really going on inside them and you get a glimpse of something a bit wild. A bit feral, is that the word?'
'That's the word, yes.'
'I thought she was like that. At one point Ulf started to sound a little cool about the whole idea, saying he wanted time to think his way through it. And there was this flash in her eyes, just a moment then gone. And I thought, I would not want to be your enemy.'
Charlie contemplated this dramatic statement and wondered how much it had been shaped by hindsight. 'What happened after that?' she asked, her tone mild.
'After she went back to the UK, she sent a proposal to Ulf. But he didn't think it was a fair agreement. They spoke on the phone a couple of times, and in the end he said he didn't think they would be working together.'
'I guess that was a disappointment for him.'
'More for her, I think. To get where Ulf was would have taken her years of software development and testing. But he could more easily find a partner who knew about online business. Anyway, he decided he would go away for a couple of weeks. We'd been there before and he knew he would have no distraction, so he could refine the program. The next thing, he was dead.'
'I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you,' Charlie said. 'Had you spoken to him while he was in Spain?'
'Just when he arrived, to let me know he was safe. But I told you, he didn't want any distraction, so he was planning to have his phone turned off. When he was in the middle of something, he was totally into it. But she knew where he was going. I heard him telling her on the phone before he left. She was interested in places off the beaten track, he said. Always looking for new places to send people.' Her voice was bitter. Charlie heard the unmistakable sound of a cigarette being lit. 'It's hard, talking about all this again.'
'I know. And I appreciate you being so frank with me. Did you tell the Spanish police about Jay Stewart?'
'Of course I did. I'm not stupid and I'm not afraid of her. As soon as they said there were no papers and no laptop, I knew this wasn't an ordinary burglar. Why would a burglar take notebooks and papers? The only person interested i
n that stuff is someone in the software business.'
'What did the police say?'
'They stuck to it being a simple burglary gone wrong. They weren't interested in anything more than that. And of course they didn't catch any burglar among their usual suspects. They thought I was a stupid hysterical girl. That's what the lawyer said. And I had no kind of evidence, so in the end I came home and tried to tell the police here what had happened. But they didn't want to get caught in the middle so they just played hide and seek with me. The trouble is, nobody in the police understands the process. When 24/7 launched less than a year after Ulf was killed I knew they must have his codes. They couldn't have developed this sophisticated software so much like Ulf's in less than a year.'
It was suggestive, Charlie thought. But hardly conclusive. 'Unless Jay Stewart was already working on a similar idea with her software guy.'
'If they were that far down the line, why would they need Ulf in the first place?' Liv said triumphantly.
'Maybe they wanted to buy him out because they didn't want the competition,' Charlie suggested.
'That's not how it was. He told me the software guy was really impressed with his work. No, what happened here is that Jay Stewart stole Ulf's work. I'm not accusing her of murder.' A harsh bark of laughter. 'I'm not so stupid. But I think she ordered the theft. And it all went wrong. So she is responsible, even if she didn't mean it to happen. I want her to pay for that.'
'But you've not been able to sue her?'
A long silence broken by a heavy exhale. 'My problem is I have no hard evidence. I have a little bit of Ulf's early work on the project on his old laptop. But nothing of the later work. If I had complete code, we could maybe force her to let some independent experts compare. But that's not possible. So, do you think the English police can prove anything?' It seemed finally to have sunk in that Charlie was offering a lifeline.