Nora (Part 2)

She repeated the cycle again: cracking her knuckles, rubbing her hands together and running her fingers through her hair. All the while she stared out into the room before her, that moment still playing on repeat in her mind. The blurred silhouette, the car, her daughter. She had begun to make up details now as the scene sunk further out of memory. The man’s malicious grin. The look of desperation on Nora’s face. What little sleep Muriel had managed to get last night was plagued by her daughter calling out for her.

            Who was that man?

            Dave entered the room. He sat beside her on the dusty sofa and wrapped a thick arm around her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, love. The police’ll find her. They know what they’re doing.’

            Muriel didn’t look up as she replied. ‘It’s been twenty-five hours now. Twenty-five. You know, they say you can be anywhere in the world in twenty-four.’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘She’s only eleven years old! Just my baby.’

            ‘I know, I know.’

            The whole incident had shifted Muriel. She should have been relieved to have such a strong, caring husband by her side. He had yet to cry. He spent his whole time reassuring her that all would be fine. And yet she couldn’t shift the anger she felt towards him. Towards herself. She shuddered. And that man.

            She darted round to face Dave. ‘Where were you yesterday? I phoned the office. They said you left for an hour.’

            Dave looked genuinely shocked. His mouth opened and closed several times. ‘Yeah, for lunch. A man’s got to eat, love.’ His brow fell and his eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t go accusing me of things, now. We’re a unit. We need to stick together.’

            She sighed. ‘Okay, okay. I just keep thinking about the questioning yesterday. Do you think I told the police enough?’

            ‘You told them everything you know, pet.’

*

Two hours. Two hours without knowing where her daughter was. Muriel greeted the officers, leading them to the dining room table.

            ‘Sorry about the mess,’ she said bleakly.

            ‘That’s no worry,’ said the woman. She was smiling sympathetically. Her face was round and doughy with two grey eyes protruding out like marbles. Her voice was thin but deep, stuck at a sombre pitch. ‘Where’s your husband?’

            ‘On his way. Traffic.’ She wiped under her nose. ‘Cuppa tea?’

            ‘No thanks,’ said the man. His voice was gruff. He clasped his large, hairy hands and placed them on the table. ‘We’ll get right to it, if that’s alright.’

            Muriel nodded slightly and pulled out a chair.

            ‘Mrs. Buckard,’ began the female. ‘I’m D.I. Dresdon and this is D.I. Whittin.’ She opened a small notebook to a clean page. ‘Please tell us everything that happened this afternoon.’

            Muriel began hesitantly, justifying her forcing Nora to see the torch. However, once she began she couldn’t stop. She described everyone that was there, the floats, the weather. The bad mood Nora was in due to Muriel’s own unfair and selfish wish to watch the parade. She described the car and the man in as much detail as she could, wary not to add anything she wasn’t sure of.

            D.I. Whittin smiled slightly, displaying yellowing teeth. ‘Thank you, Mrs. Buckard. Now, please can you show me the note?’

            It had been there when Muriel had eventually arrived home, sitting in the porch like a bomb waiting to explode. Scrawled across the front of the envelope in red pen were the words, To the unfortunate Mrs. Buckard.

            ‘I see,’ said the officer, folding up the paper and putting it into his inside blazer pocket. ‘So it seems to me that this is a crime committed by someone Nora knew.’

            D.I. Dresdon leaned over the table. ‘Can you think of anyone that might want to distress you or your daughter, Mrs. Buckard?’

            Muriel stared at her for a moment. She hadn’t said harm, no one was harming her daughter. Not yet. Not for certain. She sighed. ‘No, not really.’ The male officer looked slightly disappointed, even annoyed. Muriel cleared her throat. ‘Her uncle, erm- Dave’s brother. John. Me and him have never really gotten on.’

Muriel regretted her words as soon as she said them. Dave would be surprisingly calm about this betrayal later on. D.I. Dresdon began scribbling hurriedly. Muriel continued. ‘Our neighbour: Paul. He’s a bit of an odd one. Nora calls him Beardy Weirdy.’

            D.I. Dresdon looked up and gave a little laugh. Whittin looked stern. ‘Thank you, Mrs. Buckard.’

*

D.I. Whittin opened up the scrap of paper again as the officers exited the house. The whiteness of it shone under the sun’s intensity.

            Nora is safe, for now. Lovely little Nora. Clock’s ticking Muriel.