Murder Comes Calling by C. S. Challinor

daughter appeared to favour,” Rex supplied to make sure they were talking about the same property.
    “Ernest Blackwell, deceased.”
    “Right. Naturally, I’m even more concerned for my daughter’s safety now.” Rex watched anxiously as Lea screwed up her eyes once more and scanned the screen.
    “There’s no John and Mary Jones anywhere here,” she said. “They could have just walked in off the street without making an appointment. There’s a note here saying Mr. Blackwell called to say a couple were interested in his home and he’d referred them to Chris. He hadn’t managed to get their number and the name he gave was Juan and Maria Garcia.”
    “John and Mary in Spanish,” Malcolm said. “And another common surname.”
    “Who entered that information on the prospect into your system?” Rex asked.
    “Chris Walker. The entry is dated the fourth of November. That’s right before the murders. There’s no follow-up. Not much Chris could do without any contact information. Why would your daughter and her boyfriend use a false name and pose as a married couple?”
    “We pray they’re not married,” Malcolm said, with feeling. “Presumably they’re using aliases because they don’t want to be found.”
    “They’d need to use their legal names to enter into a valid house contract,” Rex said. “Maybe they weren’t as interested as they said.”
    “They’d do better renting if they want to stay anonymous,” Lea remarked. “I’m sorry I can’t help you further. I only met a few of these couples, and none of them were young, exactly. How old is your daughter?”
    “Thirty,” Rex lied. That was the approximate age Charlotte Spelling had given, though it seemed a bit old for a father to be chasing after his errant daughter. “She’s very naïve and impressionable,” he added.
    “You must have had her young,” Lea noted, contemplating him with compassion. “No, these other couples were older. Forties, fifties, at least.” She sat back in her swivel chair with an air of defeat. “I wish I could’ve been of more help. I do hope you find her.”
    “Thank you,” Rex said. “And I really appreciate your time.” He produced his card from his wallet and handed it to her. “In case you remember anything more …”
    “Oh, you’re a QC.” Lea was clearly impressed. “Not that it would do Chris any good since you’re a Scottish barrister.”
    “Has Mr. Walker sought counsel?” Rex asked, seeing an opening for information on the suspect.
    “I don’t know. But it probably doesn’t matter how good his representation is, since he doesn’t have much of a defence. He admitted to being at Mr. Blackwell’s house the day of the murders. No point in denying it. His car was parked outside for the whole street to see. What’s more,” Lea added, leaning forward in her chair, “he was charged with a drunk and disorderly when he was at university. I know that much because my nephew’s with the Bedfordshire Police. And,” she emphasized, looking behind her to make sure she wasn’t overheard, “Chris’s ex-wife took out a restraining order against him—said he was verbally abusive and attacked her on one occasion. But’s she’s a right little madam. Once he started making money in this business, she was always demanding more.”
    It occurred to Rex that Lea seemed to know a lot about Chris Walker’s personal life, though whether more from her nephew or Walker’s own mouth he could only speculate. Significantly, however, not once had she referred to him as Mr. Walker.
    “Have you spoken to your employer since he was taken in for questioning?” he asked.
    “I haven’t. And that’s a bad sign. Ever since the murders, he’s been busy trying to save the business and going out of his mind with stress, and not getting any sleep. He looked like death warmed up even before the police were interested in him as a suspect.” Lea closed her blue lids and shook her head. “I dread to think