The Runaway. Ali Harper
‘Oh,’ she said. Her forehead creased and she paused for a moment. ‘You mean someone hired you? Someone hired you to find Matt?’
‘Is he in?’ I straightened my spine, adjusted the weight on my feet so I grew a couple of centimetres.
‘No. No, he’s not here. Haven’t seen him since last week. I don’t know where he is.’
‘Can I come in?’
She checked the time on her watch. ‘I’ve got lectures.’
Not at eight fifteen in the morning, she didn’t. I might not have spent that long in higher education, but long enough to learn the basics. I took a step forward. She held her ground and so we stood too close to each other, so close I could smell the mint of her toothpaste.
‘It won’t take long,’ I said.
She hesitated. I knew she didn’t want to talk to me but I guessed she was too polite to say. ‘I said we should have reported it,’ she said, ‘but Tuff thinks he’s holed up somewhere. He’s about to submit his dissertation.’
‘Tuff?’
‘No. I meant Matt’s about to submit his dissertation.’
I was having difficulty keeping up with the conversation. ‘Who’s Tuff?’
‘My flatmate. Matt’s best friend.’
I went for it, taking another bite out of the distance between us, and this time she stepped back which allowed me to move inside, into the hallway. I swung the backpack off my shoulders. ‘I’m going to need to take notes.’ I opened the drawstring and pulled out my notebook. ‘You got somewhere we could sit?’
‘I guess. Front room.’ She pointed to the first door on the right.
‘I’m Lee,’ I said again. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Someone’s hired you to find Matt?’ She emphasized the word hired, and I read it to mean paid.
‘Yeah.’ I followed her into the front room, which was neat and tidy by student standards. The coffee table had a pile of textbooks on it, a picture of a microscope on the front of the top one. I took a seat in the armchair and turned to a clean page in my notebook. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Who?’
‘What?’
‘Who hired you to find him?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s against—’
‘Nikki,’ she said. She shook her head and stared right at me. ‘I’m guessing the police told her to fuck off?’
‘I’m not at liberty—’
‘She’s nuts.’
I gestured at the chair opposite me, trying to indicate she should take a seat. She didn’t comply, choosing instead to stay standing by the door. ‘She’s nuts?’ I wrote the word nuts in my notebook, looked up at her again. ‘Like you mean she has a mental health issue?’
She stood with her back to the wall. ‘She’s nuts about Matt.’
‘Maybe she’s worried? I mean, you said yourself you don’t know where he is.’
She picked at her fingernail. ‘Matt has that effect on women.’
I saw where this one was going. I offered up my usual silent prayer of thanks that I’d put all that behind me. I’m not quite a virgin, but it’s been so long I might as well be. It’s better that way. Me and men, me and relationships, it’s just not my strong point. Play to your strengths, someone once told me. I tried to keep the knowing tone from my voice. ‘How long you lived with him?’
I failed.
She swiped her dark fringe back with one hand so that she could see to stare at me. ‘We share a house.’
‘Why don’t you take a seat?’
She pointed a finger at me. ‘I’ve never, ever thought about him that way. Which is probably why this houseshare thing works.’ She stepped forward and moved the pile of books out of my way so I could put my notebook on the coffee table. ‘This is our second year. They’re both all right, mostly.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Well, you know, I’ve had to break it to them that the cleaning fairy doesn’t exist. And Matt spends more time in the bathroom than any woman I’ve ever met, but apart from that, it’s OK.’
‘How old is Matt?’
‘Twenty-three.’
‘And he’s an MA student?’
‘MSc.’
‘And, sorry, I don’t know your name?’
‘Jan.’
I wrote that down. ‘When did you last see him, Jan?’
‘I’m sure Nikki’s told you.’
I opted for flattery. ‘It would be great to hear it from you. Just to make sure I’ve got my facts straight.’ I grinned at her. Aunt Edie’s always saying I’ve got a nice smile and I should use it more.
Jan took a breath, released it slowly. ‘I was away for the weekend. Went back home to see my parents.’
‘When?’
‘Last Friday.’
‘Where?’
‘York, well, just outside. All I know is Matt and Tuff went to a party – on Saturday night. These outdoor parties – you know?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ve heard of them but thought they’d got rid of them back in the nineties. They’re illegal now, right?’
‘I don’t know much about it.’ She finally lowered herself into the chair opposite me and rubbed at an imaginary spot on her jeans. ‘Sounds like a bunch of hippies, taking drugs and dancing till sunrise, but Nikki’s got them into it. Tuff came back on Sunday, about lunchtime, he said – I wasn’t back. He said Matt stayed.’
‘When did you get back?’
‘Teatime. I was hoping to get some work done. Fat chance. Nikki came round, twice, looking for Matt.’
‘Sunday evening?’
She nodded.
‘What did,’ I checked my notes, ‘Tuff say had happened to Matt?’
‘I didn’t see Tuff till Monday.’
‘He got back Sunday lunchtime, you said?’
‘Yes, but he’d gone out again by the time I got here. And I was in bed by the time he came home. I didn’t see him till Monday.’
‘And?’
‘And he said he came back Sunday lunchtime and Matt had decided to stay at the party.’
‘Did he say anything else?’
‘Not really. Nikki came round again, screaming that she’s going to call the police. Like I’m personally responsible for the fact that her boyfriend’s not here.’
‘Must be hard for her —’
‘Matt’s problem is he’s too pretty. He’s got too many options.’
‘You mean – there’s someone else?’
‘I wouldn’t blame him, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘You really don’t like Nikki.’ It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact. I probably sounded peeved. I hate women doing other women down, especially over a man.
‘I don’t not like her. I just