Chapter 3

He got back to Ian and told him what he had found. They decided that Dearden should be interviewed, smartish. They asked colleagues at Coventry to start with a preliminary interview, if he could be found at the university.

He was located there, so the local police went and pulled him out of his class, and invited him, with some pressure, to the station for a recorded interview. He looked more puzzled than worried, at the start, but they refused to speak to him about possible accusations until they got to the police station. Once there, the questions began.

"So, Derek, what can you tell us about Miss Gemma Deacon?"

"Oh, she is a girl I go out with from time to time."

"And Miss Grace Robertson?"

"Ah." He paused, then admitted, "She is a girl I go out with from time to time."

The interrogating policeman stared at him for a little, before asking, "And would you happen to know where either of these girls are at this moment?"

"No, of course not. They are probably at their classes, where I should be!"

"Could you explain why these two girls have gone missing in the last 24 hours, and the only link between them is YOU?"

"Missing? How do you mean, missing?"

"Missing, as, they have disappeared, vanished, lost to sight, and otherwise gone MISSING, Mr Derek Dearden. Would you happen to have had something to do with that, as we can find no link between them except for you, sir?"

"NO!"

"I see, sir. Well, to move on, let's try to jog your memory again: Miss Marjory Phelan? Went missing a few days ago?"

"Ah. Well, she left of her own accord; wanted to get away. She got pregnant, you see."

"Got pregnant? Would you have anything to do with that, sir?" Getting a positive on that, from the blush on Dearden's face, he continued, "Is that a reason to go missing, sir?"

"She is not missing! I spoke to her on the phone; yesterday, I think."

"Do your girlfriends make a habit of going missing, Derek? Do they make a habit of getting pregnant?"

"Oh, God!" He put his head in his hands. "I don't know what is going on."

"Well, neither do we, sir. You are the only lead we have, and it is looking bad for you, Derek, unless you can help us a lot more."

"Dammit, Marjory left because I said I couldn't marry her, because I loved my other girls." He took a deep breath, and added, "But I phoned her and asked her to marry me. I couldn't live without her."

"She has not turned up at home, Derek. When is she coming back, so we can remove her from your list of vict ... ah ... missing friends." His tone implied that he had not really made an error, just in being too early to make the accusation.

Derek was becoming frantic. "I don't know where she is, but she answered her phone and seemed all right."

"So you can give me her phone number, and we can have a word with her, Derek?"

"I suppose so. Her number is in my phone THAT YOU TOOK FROM ME!" he added, "And you haven't allowed me to contact my lawyer!"

"You have a lawyer, Derek? We find it is highly unusual for a student to have a lawyer. Why would you have a lawyer, Derek?"

"My father is a lawyer. He would get one for me, I am sure."

"Oh." There was a subtle shift on tone as the policemen started thinking about legal niceties. "Well, Derek, at the moment, this is just preliminary enquiries. As and when we want to investigate your movements further, a lawyer would be advisable from that point. Do you think your situation is about to get worse, sir, to the point where you need the assistance of a lawyer to avoid making admissions?"

"You are just trying to confuse me. Phone Marjory and speak to her!"

Having extracted the phone number, the questioner went out to the front desk, and there met the two policemen from Liverpool coming in the door. They said who they were, and asked about Derek Dearden.

"He is claiming to know nothing, but has claimed that his third girlfriend, Marjory Phelan was speaking to him on the phone yesterday. I have her phone number, that I got from him. You want to make the call, or will we do it together?"

Peter said, "I'll come with you, and we'll do it. Ian wants to see this amorous Derek lover boy."

Marjory's phone rang. She was not expecting a call, so assumed it would be a scam or something. She answered, stating only her number. A strange voice asked, "Is that Miss Marjory Phelan?"

Cautiously, she replied, "I am sorry, who is that?"

"Miss Marjory Phelan."

"No, I meant, who is that calling?"

"This is the Coventry and Liverpool police, ma'am."

"Coventry AND Liverpool police? Has there been an amalgamation?"

"No. There are two of us here, one from each force: Merseyside and West Midlands."

"And you are looking for this Marjory Phelan?"

"Yes."

"Why? You do know that this phone is in Rehome Colony, on another planet?"

"It is? On another planet? ... I mean, are you Marjory Phelan?"

"I am afraid I can neither confirm nor deny that without more information about the reason for your enquiry."

"Very well. We are investigating the disappearance of two young women, and Mr Derek Dearden gave us this number to contact a Marjory Phelan, who was also reported missing."

"I see. Mr Dearden must be shitting his pants by now, I expect."

"I could not possibly comment on that scenario, ma'am. Is there enough information there for you to confirm your identity?" The speaker found a scribbled note pushed in from of him by Peter: "Marjory Phelan reported on Rehome (database)".

"My name is indeed Marjory Phelan, constable. It sounds like Mr Dearden has been a naughty boy. May I speak to him?"

The policeman covered the mouthpiece, saying to Peter with a nasty grin, and a query with his eyebrows, "She wants to speak to him!"

Peter gestured with his hand, side to side, indicating no preference. The other spoke again. "I shall see what we can do, ma'am."

The pair went back to the interview room, and handed the phone to Dearden, after switching it to speaker phone setting. "Speak."

"Marjory? Is that you? Listen, Gemma and Grace have disappeared, and the police think I had something to do with it!"

"Disappeared, Derek? I don't think so. I was chatting to them a few minutes ago, in this very room. I TOLD you I wanted to talk with them. Were you not listening?"

"Oh, my God! So they are not missing? They are on Rehome? Apparently they vanished, and they were reported missing."

"Vanished? They simply agreed to come and have a chat with me, Derek. We have had to sort out a few things about your behaviour, and what we can do about it. Are you willing to come to Rehome and face the music?"

"Oh, my God! Anything would be better than this? They suspected me of making you girls vanish, and worse ... I had visions of trouble, trying to prove my innocence!"

"Innocence? You, Derek? Such an idea! Please tell the nice policemen that all three of us are here, discussing what to do about you. Do you think they will allow you to leave Earth?"

Peter gestured to Derek to hand over the phone. He did so, and Peter announced. "Ma'am, we can't simply take your word for it. Can you ask the two ladies to phone someone who knows their voice, and who can confirm to us that they are alive and well? A flatmate or landlady would be preferable. This will allow us to release Mr Dearden. What happens then is up to him, ma'am, though I do agree that he needs a talking-to."

"Thank you, constable. We shall do that shortly. We can't have Derek hanging around in a police cell for too long, can we? Please recommend that he comes to Rehome at his earliest convenience, Constable."

Derek was uptight about this demand. He questioned his questioner, "How the hell am I supposed to get from here to another planet? She didn't give me a bloody clue! The girl may be just sixteen, but she acts like my mother."

The policeman, smiling at Derek's discomfiture, handed him back his phone.

"You could try calling her again, sir."

He soon heard her phone ringing at the other end. She picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Marjory, my love? How do you expect me to get to Rehome? I don't have a flight ticket or anything!"

"Derek, you get here courtesy of The Personalia. You have to ask them for help, and see when they can fit you in. They bring new colonists almost every day."

"Colonists? You expect me to remain there, in the colony?"

"That is one of the questions we have to ask you, Derek."

At that moment another voice broke into the conversation.

"Derek Dearden?"

"Yeah. Who is that? How come you can break into my call?"

"We Personalia can do a lot of things to be of assistance to you, Derek, but some things you have to do for yourself. Your transport can be made available tonight at one a.m., if you can get yourself to Liverpool. Your collection point is the same as for Gemma and Grace: where Queens Wharf meets Kings Parade, near the bus stop. The ship will come to the shoreline to pick you up. Can you make that appointment?"

"Let me think ... yes, I suppose I can, if certain policemen can be cooperative for a change. Hang on." He switched his attention to the police from Liverpool. "Gentlemen, can you give me a lift to Liverpool, if you are going back there today?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, I think we can do that, if it gets you out of our hair. The further away you take yourself in the future, the better, from our point of view."

Derek returned to his phone. "Yes. I will make that appointment. What do I bring with me?"

"Hand luggage only – a suitcase or rucksack; that sort of thing."

Derek responded, "Okay. Will do. Bye."

Turning to the policemen again, he said, "We need to visit my digs in Coventry, to collect my bags for the trip. This will definitely get me far, far, away from you shortly."

"As long as you are quick, Mr. Dearden. We still have real crime to pursue."

As Derek stepped out of the Landership and down the aircraft steps to the waiting official, he glanced around at his surroundings. The Landership had settled on a beach, and immediately behind the beach had to be a road, the first step into an alien city in the background, for a few vehicles were in sight, up there. The parked ones were probably gawkers at the spacecraft. Closest on the road stood a bus-type vehicle, with a number of females standing around it. As there were more than three, he concluded that his 'welcoming' committee must include the 'ladies' that had been referred to – whoever they were.

He dutifully answered truthfully to the official who confronted him with a barrage of questions about banned items, and was soon free, with a temporary visa inserted into his phone's memory.

He made his way up the unhelpful, indeed, impeding dry sand towards the road and the vehicle. His subconscious noted the lack of much damp sand on the beach, indicating either high water, or almost no tides. Could be either, he thought. This was another planet, after all.

He suddenly twigged that among these ladies was a man, about ten years older than himself. He looked careful at the man, and noted that he had a woman on each arm, hugging him possessively. Derek found himself relieved that neither of the women was one of his own girls, as he thought of them.

It was a revelation to him that he was thinking in this way. His mind viewed all three girls as HIS girls, without reservation. He was suddenly saddened, at the thought that he would have to choose one to be his wife, and say farewell to the others. It was what he MUST do, if he was going to be a true married man. His days of sharing himself were over, he had come to realise. He could not risk going through the kinds of pressure he had endured in the last 24 hours.

He was already half-inclined to choose Marjory. Not just because she was carrying his son or daughter, and that being much younger might be more malleable; but because she was showing such initiative in the last few weeks. This girl was getting under his skin, and could be a fascinating wife to have. She would continually surprise him, he adjudged. Life with her would be interesting, in a nice way.

He reached the top of the beach, and stepped on to the pavement bordering the road. The women stood beside the vehicle, waiting for him to come to them, quite logically. He came forward to meet them as a group, and spread his arms wide, in a greeting gesture.

"Hello, girls! I have responded to your summons, and am at your mercy. I bid the other ladies good day, too. I gather you local residents have been instrumental in encouraging this tete-a-tete meeting. I thank you for it. This has been one of the most interesting and exciting days of my life."

Gemma snorted, "Silver-tongued as always, Derek. You know how to sweep a girl off her feet. Just remember that now we are all standing on our own feet, quite steady and secure."

"I acknowledge that, my sweet. I come prepared to listen, rather than to talk, if you have something worth listening to – which I hope you have."

Ruth intervened, "Can it, you two. Stop acting like an old married couple. Let's get everyone aboard, then we can get on our way to Tom's house."

The name Tom meant nothing to Derek, then as he saw the quiet man getting into the driving seat, he wondered if this was the Tom referred to earlier; and what had Tom to do with anything? Perhaps he was a lawyer, here to draw up a formal agreement of some unknown nature, not beneficial to himself? We would see, he told himself.

Derek came over to the unusual vehicle, and stepped in as directed by one of the older women. He found himself sitting between two of them, and on a different row from the girls. He felt segregated, then his attention became distracted by all the alien buildings the bus was passing. They were weird, but a nice weird. In fact, in many ways they were easier to watch than some human architecture at home.

Eventually the bus drew up outside a house. First to exit was Jeannette. She seemed very familiar with the place, walking straight in the front door and calling, "Charlie? We are back!"

Another woman of similar age appeared from a side room. "Welcome back, Jeannette. If I have got things right, the lounge is ready for the crowd, I think. You just need to find out what everyone wants to drink. I have things laid out in the kitchen."

Jeannette turned and gestured for everyone to come in, pointing out the door they should enter for the lounge. "Let me know what you want – tea, coffee, or the local wine. Snacks should be on the table."

Derek twigged that this woman, Jeannette, must live here. She was too familiar for it to be otherwise. He filed that fact in his memory. He opted for coffee, as the safe bet, and chose a seat as far as possible from his girls, so as not to appear too involved.