The line went dead, and Murphy smiled as he put the phone away.
Until the previous day, it had been a quiet couple of months for the team he worked on – E Division, headed by DCI Stephens. Lately they’d been tasked with investigating the increase in gang activity around the city centre, but that was proving to be long, difficult work. No one wanted to talk, there were no high-profile murders of youngsters to shake up the city. Just a lot of illegal activity that everyone would rather turn a blind eye to.
It beat murder though. He took another bite out of the slice of his toast. Nice balanced breakfast. Always important.
Murphy had been a DI for over five years, so he’d seen more than his fair share of murders and manslaughter charges. Most of the time, solving a case came down to one thing.
Luck.
The psychology of it wasn’t something which interested him really. He’d seen the newcomers come into the force, mostly university graduates thinking they could apply some of their attained knowledge to police work. Sure, sometimes they could come up with a fresh angle on some things. But mostly, Murphy stuck to what he knew. Investigate everything, and if nothing turned up, hope to get lucky.
Murphy finished eating and switched off the radio, the Chi-Lites snapping into silence mid-song. Good old-fashioned songs, from the sixties, like his mum used to play. There was even a radio station dedicated to playing that era of music now. Jess had bought him a digital radio at Christmas, and he’d not switched off the station since.
Bear. Jess still refusing to let that nickname die a death. His groomed beard was beginning to show some grey, and his short hair, that matched his beard length, receding backwards. He was washing more and more of his face every day. He wore his nickname well, his size being the main reason for it. It fit. Never caught on at work though.
He locked the house up and got into his three-year-old Citroën C5. Red. Extravagant really for what he actually needed. He’d grown up on a council estate in south Liverpool, but got out as soon as he could. Working and living over there as a PC, in Speke where he’d lived most of his life, had caused a few problems. So he’d lived out in Dingle, until recently. His parents hadn’t moved though. Worked all their lives, been together since school. Thatcher had enabled them to buy their council house in the eighties, although their opinion on her didn’t change because of that, saved for a long happy retirement together, with no money worries and plenty of day trips on coaches.
And they were both dead at fifty-eight years old.
Murphy was an only child, so everything went to him. Which meant he had a nice sum of money in the bank, no mortgage, no kids, no worries.
And no excitement away from the occasional bad marriage or tough case.
Apart from the odd holiday he planned and never took, he had no idea how to spend it. His dad had been frugal, always saving for a rainy day, and Murphy guessed he’d picked up the same habits. He smiled as he started the car, remembering his dad explaining to him that he could do without a new iron, as the old one still heated up occasionally.
Murphy checked his watch, waiting for the apartment door to open. Looked around and raised an eyebrow at Rossi, who shrugged in reply. Bass heavy music came from behind another door in the corridor.
‘Taking their time.’
‘Students for you.’
The door opened a few seconds later, revealing a couple seemingly clinging to each other for dear life.
Murphy cleared his throat. ‘I’m Detective Inspector David Murphy, this is DS Laura Rossi. I’m told you knew we were coming?’
‘Yes,’ the woman answered from behind a damp tissue. She looked frighteningly young to Murphy’s eyes. Dainty features, small in stature, with just socks covering her feet. The long cardigan she was wearing seemed at least two sizes too big for her, the sleeves balled up in her hands. ‘Do you want to come in?’
Murphy shifted on the balls of his feet. Rossi took over. ‘It looks like it could get a bit crowded if we’re all inside. Is there somewhere else we can go, somewhere a little private?’
‘There’s a communal kitchen downstairs that no one really uses. We could go there?’
‘Perfect.’ Murphy replied.
Five minutes later, they were led down to the kitchen. The young woman had introduced herself as Rebecca and her boyfriend as Will. A small breakfast bar with three stools took up most of the space, with Murphy electing to stand to the side as Rossi sat opposite the couple.
‘So when was the last time you saw Donna?’
Rebecca had gained controlled of her sobbing. ‘Last Monday evening, around six. We had a Maccies and then she said she needed to go up to uni to do some revision. She’s done all-nighters before, so I wasn’t too bothered when she wasn’t back when I went to bed.’
‘Where does she usually go to study?’ Rossi said, her eyes not lifting from her notepad.
‘The library. It’s open twenty-four hours, so she usually goes there. I think it was probably to get out of the flat, bit more space and that.’
Murphy studied the boyfriend, looking for any sign that he knew more than his silence was letting on. Tried boring a hole into his head using just his eyes. Got nowhere other than a sharp pain in his own head from overstraining.
‘Okay,’ Rossi continued. ‘So what happened next?’
‘Well, the next morning she still hadn’t come home, so I texted her. Usually she replies really quickly, but I didn’t get anything back. I was worried, but thought she’d just crashed out somewhere. I went up to uni and checked the library to see if she was still there, but she wasn’t. I left it a few hours longer, and then started ringing around. No one had heard from her. I tried ringing and texting all day but got nowhere. So, I called the police that evening. We’ve been waiting for news for almost a week.’
‘We’re sorry it wasn’t better news,’ Rossi replied. ‘Was Donna worried about anything? Concerned about someone following her perhaps?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘She was just normal. Stressed a bit because of her exams, but nothing out of the ordinary.’
Murphy shifted forward. ‘Where were you that night, Will?’
Will lifted his head at the sound of Murphy’s voice. ‘I was out with mates, and got back to the flat around twelve. Wasn’t I, Bec?’
Murphy watched as Will turned to Rebecca, something flitting across her eyes, which was followed by a quiet nod. ‘I’m going to need the names of your mates.’
Will turned back to Murphy. ‘You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?’
‘Not saying anything yet,’ Murphy replied, keeping eye contact with him. ‘I’m just covering all bases. Nothing to worry about I’d imagine.’
Will seemed to accept this with a nod. He gave Rossi a few names and took out his phone to provide her with numbers.
Murphy turned his attention to Rebecca. ‘What was Donna studying?’
Rebecca had watched the exchange between Murphy and her boyfriend open-mouthed, and took a few seconds to respond. Murphy tapped his foot, waiting. ‘History,’ she said eventually.
‘We’ll need a list of anyone else she was friends with, anyone she had arguments with, or fallen out with lately. Don’t leave anyone out. Understand?’
Rebecca nodded, before breaking down and crying once more.
Murphy rolled his eyes
‘Don’t you think that was a little harsh?’
Murphy grunted at Rossi in reply. Bloody students, he thought, which was about as far as his sympathy went for the couple they’d just left. He was driving