The Missing Party-Girl: A Rags-to-Riches Cozy Mystery Romance, Nhys Glover [best inspirational books .txt] 📗

the ticket. She would’ve told the cops more about the mysterious boyfriend she thought Georgie’d gone off with. She could have said exactly where in the country he lived. And if he’s got money he shouldn’t have been hard to find.”

Adie nodded her agreement enthusiastically. “Exactly. She must never have worn the coat. And Roland was his name. That was all Minerva knew about him. That and that he had a country house in Sussex somewhere.”

Cage shook his head. “There was no mention of him in the file at all.”

“Can we ring the guy at New Scotland Yard?” Adie asked uncomfortably.

Cage shrugged. “We’ll hardly be welcome, but why not?”

Chapter 11

“I think it might be too late. It’s after six,” Cage said as they headed down to the kitchen, with Jig racing on ahead of them.

“If he’s gone for the day you can ring again tomorrow,” Adie said.

“I can? What about you? Isn’t this your mystery to solve?” His tone was cheeky.

“I could, but it would be better coming from my PI,” Adie said, batting her eyelashes at him.

Cage chuckled. “All right, just this once…”

Adie beamed. Just once had already turned into way more than once. Adie had no idea how she could have handled the investigation without Cage doing all the talking.

“It’s his cell number. He’s bound to have it with him, even if he’s already left work for the night,” Cage said, noting the number on the business card.

While Adie started dicing vegetables for their dinner of curried chicken and veg, Cage rang the detective’s direct number. Sure enough, the man himself picked up on the second ring.

Adie watched Cage, hoping to make sense out of the one-sided conversation. Instead, Cage put his phone on speaker so she didn’t have to struggle.

After names and greetings were exchanged, Cage got straight to business.

“Sorry to call so late, but we have a question. In the reports Minerva and Tansy, Wyatt’s flatmates, said they thought Georgie had gone off with her boyfriend. A rich character from Sussex. But there was no mention of that information being followed up.”

“Sussex was out of our region,” the detective said, his voice tired and a little grumpy. “You have to understand that back in the 60s the country’s police force was fractured, with little information being exchanged between the country stations, regions and London Met. People rarely moved around back then, so a criminal would usually turn up in the area they committed their crime. Policing tended to be parochial and steeped in political posturing. Different branches were being shifted from one controlling body to the next, as a means of streamlining the force as a whole.”

“So, what you’re saying is that, for missing person’s cases they only looked into local culprits. Sussex was too far away,” Cage said, keeping his tone neutral.

“Unless there was very good reason to do so, the detectives would have focused on leads here in London.”

“Thanks. That’s good to know. Have a good night.”

 When the line went dead, Cage looked a question at Adie.

“Sounds like a principal lead was never followed up due to jurisdictional issues,” Adie said softly, trying to fathom a world where information wasn’t freely exchanged.

“It’s amazing how things have changed, here and at home. The Information Age is in full swing, and we take information sharing for granted now,” Cage answered, going to the fridge to get the leftover chicken they’d cooked the day before.

“I was just thinking that. It must have been so frustrating. All it took for criminals to get away with murder was to cross state or county lines. Now cops can even get information in other countries with a click of a mouse.”

Cage laughed. “I doubt it’s that easy. But yeah, there’s been great leaps where information sharing is concerned. Terrorism and globalization have helped that along exponentially.”

The conversation shifted to milder topics as they settled in to prep their meal. The easy camaraderie they’d established never ceased to amaze Adie. Only a few months ago she would have shook in her boots if someone like Cage even spoke to her. Now, she exchanged banter and teasing as a matter of course.

Well, that was true, except for those few days after they came back from London. But now those moody days were gone, and they were back to their easy ways.

After their meal, Cage suggested a walk, as the rain had cleared away to reveal a star-filled night sky. As long as they stuck to paved roads they’d be fine.

With Jig walking perfectly at Adie’s side, the three began their wander toward the village. The weather was mild and the light from an almost full moon made finding their way easy enough.

As they drew close to the pub they heard loud music. A guitarist was accompanying a male singer, who was belting out an 80s power ballad.

“Can we go in?” Adie asked, looking from Cage to Jig and back again.

“Jig used to come here all the time with Rory. I can’t see them minding him making an appearance with us.”

Adie wasn’t sure how she felt about entering a place that might hold a lot of people in close quarters. People who would all know about her. But if socializing was on her agenda, then this was as good a place as any to meet more of the locals.

The heat inside the barroom was heavy, but thankfully free of smoke. The lights were low and the noise level high. People were trying to talk and laugh over the musician, who was doing his best to drown them all out in turn. He was good, but if he was supposed to be providing background ambience he had it all wrong.

A familiar rotund man at the ancient bar turned in their direction, calling a welcome. Dave, the electrician.