Read Online Kissed a Sad Goodbye by Deborah Crombie - Free Book Online
Authors: Deborah Crombie
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telling you?”
Mortimer shook his head, stirring the lock of hair that fell forward on his brow. “It wasn’t like that. We were together last night. We’d been to a party in Greenwich, at her sister Jo’s. But Annabelle wanted to leave—”
“What time was this, Mr. Mortimer?”
“Half past nine-ish, I think, but—”
“A bit early for leaving a party, wasn’t it?” Kincaid raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“Annabelle wasn’t... wasn’t feeling well,” Mortimer said, reaching for his tea. It would be cold and scummy by now, Gemma thought, only appealing as a distraction.
“Mr. Mortimer.” She chose her words carefully. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps Annabelle made an excuse, because she had other plans?”
“I’m sure she didn’t.” He met her eyes, “We were going for a drink, after. We started back through the foot tunnel— we’d walked to her sister’s—when... Well, it was all very odd....” He faltered.
With a glance at Kincaid, Gemma continued the questioning. “What was odd, Mr. Mortimer?”
Frowning, he rubbed his palms against his knees. “The lifts were closed, so we took the stairs down to the tunnel level. She was fine then; it was only when we started down the slope of the tunnel itself that she went very quiet— have you ever been in the tunnel?” He looked at Gemma as he spoke and she shook her head. “It is a bit creepy,” he continued. “Cold, and the sound echoes everywhere—but Annabelle never seemed to mind before. But her steps got slower and slower, until after a few yards she stopped and told me to go on, she’d meet me at the Ferry House for a drink in a few minutes.”
“And you left her there?” Kincaid asked. “At the edge of the tunnel?”
Mortimer flushed. “There’s never any point arguing with Annabelle when she makes her mind up about something. But I did try. She said she was all right, she just needed a few minutes on her own. So after a bit I went on. The funny thing is... when I was halfway up the other side I looked back, and I could have sworn I saw her talking to the street musician.”
“There was a busker in the foot tunnel?” Gemma asked, surprised. It seemed an odd place, but then she’d seen them often enough in the tube station tunnels.
“There usually is, in the center of the flat stretch. But I don’t remember seeing this chap before.”
Kincaid uncrossed his ankles and leaned forward a bit, a signal to Gemma that his attention was fully engaged. “Did you go back, then?”
Mortimer wrapped his hands round his cold cup as if for comfort and shook his head. “I wish I had, now.”
“Did you see her again?”
“I waited at the pub for an hour, then I waited outside her flat.”
“You don’t have a key?” Kincaid’s tone indicated skepticism.
“No. Annabelle is adamant about her privacy,” Mortimer answered without defensiveness. “I went back to the tunnel, but there was no sign of either of them. Then I tried the flat again, and rang her from my mobile.”
“And then?”
“I went home. I started phoning again at first light, and I’ve been round to her flat and to the office—we work together—periodically all today. This afternoon I rang her sister, but she hadn’t heard from her, either.”
“Does Miss Hammond make a habit of going off like that?” Kincaid asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Mortimer said dryly. “And she’s certainly never done anything like this before. You think she’s gone off with some bloke for a dirty weekend, and I’m having a fit of the vapors over it, don’t you?” he added, his voice rising.
“Not at all,” said Kincaid. “We’re very interested in what you’ve told us.”
Reg Mortimer’s eyes widened and Gemma heard the quick intake of his breath before he said, “What is it? What’s happened?”
“Just bear with us a bit longer, Mr. Mortimer,” Gemma said gently, in an effort to put him at ease. “We don’t know that anything has
Mortimer shook his head, stirring the lock of hair that fell forward on his brow. “It wasn’t like that. We were together last night. We’d been to a party in Greenwich, at her sister Jo’s. But Annabelle wanted to leave—”
“What time was this, Mr. Mortimer?”
“Half past nine-ish, I think, but—”
“A bit early for leaving a party, wasn’t it?” Kincaid raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“Annabelle wasn’t... wasn’t feeling well,” Mortimer said, reaching for his tea. It would be cold and scummy by now, Gemma thought, only appealing as a distraction.
“Mr. Mortimer.” She chose her words carefully. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps Annabelle made an excuse, because she had other plans?”
“I’m sure she didn’t.” He met her eyes, “We were going for a drink, after. We started back through the foot tunnel— we’d walked to her sister’s—when... Well, it was all very odd....” He faltered.
With a glance at Kincaid, Gemma continued the questioning. “What was odd, Mr. Mortimer?”
Frowning, he rubbed his palms against his knees. “The lifts were closed, so we took the stairs down to the tunnel level. She was fine then; it was only when we started down the slope of the tunnel itself that she went very quiet— have you ever been in the tunnel?” He looked at Gemma as he spoke and she shook her head. “It is a bit creepy,” he continued. “Cold, and the sound echoes everywhere—but Annabelle never seemed to mind before. But her steps got slower and slower, until after a few yards she stopped and told me to go on, she’d meet me at the Ferry House for a drink in a few minutes.”
“And you left her there?” Kincaid asked. “At the edge of the tunnel?”
Mortimer flushed. “There’s never any point arguing with Annabelle when she makes her mind up about something. But I did try. She said she was all right, she just needed a few minutes on her own. So after a bit I went on. The funny thing is... when I was halfway up the other side I looked back, and I could have sworn I saw her talking to the street musician.”
“There was a busker in the foot tunnel?” Gemma asked, surprised. It seemed an odd place, but then she’d seen them often enough in the tube station tunnels.
“There usually is, in the center of the flat stretch. But I don’t remember seeing this chap before.”
Kincaid uncrossed his ankles and leaned forward a bit, a signal to Gemma that his attention was fully engaged. “Did you go back, then?”
Mortimer wrapped his hands round his cold cup as if for comfort and shook his head. “I wish I had, now.”
“Did you see her again?”
“I waited at the pub for an hour, then I waited outside her flat.”
“You don’t have a key?” Kincaid’s tone indicated skepticism.
“No. Annabelle is adamant about her privacy,” Mortimer answered without defensiveness. “I went back to the tunnel, but there was no sign of either of them. Then I tried the flat again, and rang her from my mobile.”
“And then?”
“I went home. I started phoning again at first light, and I’ve been round to her flat and to the office—we work together—periodically all today. This afternoon I rang her sister, but she hadn’t heard from her, either.”
“Does Miss Hammond make a habit of going off like that?” Kincaid asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Mortimer said dryly. “And she’s certainly never done anything like this before. You think she’s gone off with some bloke for a dirty weekend, and I’m having a fit of the vapors over it, don’t you?” he added, his voice rising.
“Not at all,” said Kincaid. “We’re very interested in what you’ve told us.”
Reg Mortimer’s eyes widened and Gemma heard the quick intake of his breath before he said, “What is it? What’s happened?”
“Just bear with us a bit longer, Mr. Mortimer,” Gemma said gently, in an effort to put him at ease. “We don’t know that anything has
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