In fact, Maes had now served sixteen years for the double murder of Reata and her daughter. His photograph showed an angry-looking man with an underbite, heavy eyebrows and a grubby-looking face due to heavy stubble; in fact, he was a most plausible-looking double murderer.
Beneath his mugshot were more photos. On the left were genuine pictures of Reata, on the right, pictures purporting to show her in various locations on the continent following her supposed death.
Spotted Ossendorf bar, June 1999. Hair dyed obviously but note eyebrow shape, one higher than the other. Ossendorf 1 hour drive from Liège!!!!!!
September 2001 lobby Dortmund hotel – Lindvall about to get in lift, hair re-bleached.
April 25th 2002 has gained a LOT of weight and cut hair, but right profile EXACT MATCH.
There was also a photo showing Jolanda at about three years old, dark where her mother was fair, sitting on Reata’s lap. Both looked serious, intent, their gaze fixed in the same direction. The absence of smiles on both subjects’ faces was taken as damning evidence of Reata’s indifference to her child by whoever had captioned the picture:
The last few photos had been selected to ‘prove’ how much happier Reata was in Jolanda’s absence. One showed Reata wearing a mini dress and dancing to a live band in a crowded, cavern-like venue in Liège, her blonde hair flying.
Robin clicked away from the website and returned to that of the missing persons’ charity where she’d first discovered Sapphire Neagle. The girl still hadn’t been found.
With a sigh, Robin went to fetch herself coffee and biscuits. She felt the need of sustenance if she was going to spend days trying to work out whether any of the hundreds of users on Truth About Freemasons and Abused and Accused might connect, however remotely, to one of their candidates for William Wright.
107
Robert Browning
The readjustment of Robin’s work schedule would have made it extremely difficult to cover the agency’s current jobs, had they not resolved Two-Times. Strike had asked Wardle to prioritise finding out anything he could about Green Jacket, also known as Wade King, and in the meantime, Strike was postponing taking the next client off the waiting list, a man who feared his wife, a high-ranking civil servant, was cheating.
‘We should try workin’ smarter, not harder,’ asked Barclay, when his and Strike’s paths crossed at the office on Thursday.
‘Like that’s ever fucking worked,’ growled Strike.
On Friday afternoon Strike returned to his attic flat after several hours’ surveillance of Plug, who was still, infuriatingly, at large, to change into a suit for dinner with Lord Oliver Branfoot. While knotting his tie, he reminded himself that he’d have to act better than he’d ever acted in his life when Robin told him she was engaged.
‘Congratulations,’ he muttered aloud, while looking into his bathroom mirror, which was the only one he had. His reflection looked as though it was announcing a death.
Wardle phoned Strike while the latter was heading down the metal staircase towards the street.
‘Got you a bit on Wade King.’
‘Excellent. Go on.’
‘Thirty-six, was a long-distance lorry driver until a few months back, currently unemployed, lives with a girlfriend in Rainham, one kid. A neighbour suspects him of domestic abuse – the girlfriend wears dark glasses a lot.’
‘Any previous?’
‘Aggravated assault when he was twenty-five. Nothing since. Never been inside.’
‘Any idea how he lost his job?’
‘No,’ said Wardle, ‘but he worked for the company for five years before they fired him.’
‘Interesting,’ said Strike.