you can think of one.”
“Oh yeah.” He said, as if he suddenly remembered a name, “Tracy.”
“Tracy?” Hazel said.
“Tracy Smith.” Which was as likely a name as Richard Softwood. But Hazel noticed Price wrote it down.
“Anyone else?”
Yeah.” He was on a roll now, “Julie Brown.” He said, “Helen Taylor.” He seemed very pleased with himself. “How’s that, Sergeant Vernon?”
He’d just given her three very common names and no addresses. It would keep the police busy for a week trying to find these women, if they existed.
They probably did exist in large numbers and, Hazel suspected, none of them knew Charlie Harris.
“You wouldn’t know where any of them live, of course.”
“Sorry.” He said, not sounding sorry at all.
Been nice to meet you, Mr Softwood.”
“I enjoyed meeting you as well, Sergeant Vernon.” He said. He continued to smile until they had left his office and them the mask slipped and he became very serious, reaching for the smart phone and scrolling through the numbers. He pressed one and waited a moment as it rang. Then he picked up the landline type phone and pressed the call button, “Have the detectives left the premises? Good. Thanks.” He closed down the call and turned his attention to the smartphone. “Eddie, I just had the police here.”
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