“You didn’t stay long, Sergeant — get what you needed?”
“Nothing to get — wait for forensics then take another look.” He shrugged and looked at Long, who was staring at Calladine quizzically.
“You back, Tom? Does that mean the doc’s given you the all clear? You’re not still on a sick note are you?”
He’d forgotten about that little bit of red tape. Now he’d have to get an appointment and waste yet more time.
“I’m seeing him in the morning,” he lied. “He’ll give me the all clear — I’m fine.”
Calladine saw Long’s expression lighten. He wouldn’t care one way or the other. Sick note or no sick note, he’d just be glad to have someone else do the grafting.
“What are you up to?”
“We’re looking into the Tariq Ahmed murder. Ruth and I are off to the city hospital, to meet with his colleagues. Get a feel for what the man was like.”
“Thorpe — you going with them?” Long asked.
“I’ve still got work on the Prideau case to get through.” Thorpe was chewing gum and had his hands in his pockets.
“Fine with me.” Calladine was only too pleased to have him off his back.
“So you’ll take this one on?” Long asked him.
“Yep. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Occupational Health will want a chat. Don’t forget to sort things out with them. Like it or not, eventually I’ll have to deal with the paperwork.”
Occupational Health! Calladine usually did his best to stay away from that lot. What could they possibly know about the job he did and whether he was up to it or not. Office-bound pen pushers the lot of them.
“You set to go, Ruth?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered reaching for her coat. “Rocco’s been on, he’s found some CCTV, so he’s bringing it in. Want to wait around for him or what?”
“No — we’ll see what he’s got when we get back. Imogen, what do you know about the Prideau case?” He hadn’t asked when Long mentioned it but if Thorpe was on the job then perhaps he should keep an eye out.
“We’ve got a missing child, sir: Isla Prideau. Thorpe took the case on. He did some initial investigations but got nowhere. I did some background on that one, but he didn’t want to listen to my theories.” She shrugged. “So I had no choice but to leave him to it.”
“What theories?”
He watched as Imogen brought up some information on her screen. “There are two kids missing, sir — the Prideau girl from Hopecross and another one, Leah Cassidy from Oldston. I think the two are linked. Thorpe doesn’t, and he wouldn’t even look at what I’d got. Both girls are the same age, both just starting school and their mothers had social media accounts. They’d posted photos of the little girls online, both in their school uniforms, and within hours they were both missing. I thought that, and the fact that there’s only eight miles between Hopecross and Oldston, too much of a coincidence.”
“So do I. What about Long? Wasn’t he interested?”
“He didn’t seem to be. I think he’s leaving it up to Thorpe.”
Bloody idiot! Two kids missing and, effectively, no one was doing anything about it. Tariq Ahmed or not, Calladine would have to give it some consideration — and fast.
“Get all the stuff you’ve got on the case together and I’ll take it and give it the once-over tonight,” he told her. “We’d better go. You’ll have to drive,” he told Ruth. “I’ve not got mine — remember?”
“I suppose that means I’ll be taking you home too. Deliver you safely back to Lydia once we’re done.”
The two detectives made their way out to the car park. Ruth had a smile on her face, Calladine noted. “Pleased to have me back then?”
“Well, you’re a refreshing change from Thorpe. This new case — I couldn’t have taken it on with him. Why he ever came into police work is a mystery. He does his level best to avoid doing anything constructive.”
“So you’ve got me and a juicy case to get stuck into. Couldn’t be better.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. Working with you has its downside, believe me.”
“You can cut the backchat, Sergeant.”
“It’s not backchat, it’s the truth. It’s no picnic, you know, sorting out your family problems. Not to mention your love life.”
“It’s not my fault. Things happen; people happen.”
“Where you’re concerned, don’t they just!”
“Is that why I didn’t see much of you while I was laid up?”
“No — too busy. Long’s team has no idea. Take the missing children — all they’ve done is run around in circles. You see, one of the girls is from Oldston, so Long was only too happy to let them take the lead. Thankfully they’ve got some new DI there and he’s good, so I’m told. Also I took a holiday — well, if you can call keeping watch on a peregrine falcon nest in central Manchester a holiday.” She grinned.
“Each to their own. I wouldn’t have thought birds like that would go for city life.”
“Plenty of food. All those dopey pigeons.”
He hadn’t thought about it like that. But they were predators, and would go wherever the food was on tap. A bit like their child snatcher, if that’s what he was. Social media had a lot to answer for. Calladine sighed. There’d been a missing girl on the last case he worked on before he was shot — Cassie Rigby. That had turned out okay. But this was different, this was two little girls.
* * *
Once they were underway, with Ruth driving, he gave her a searching look. “You’ve changed,” he declared. “And don’t say it’s my imagination because I know when things are different.”
“It’s the same me, Tom. Probably I look different because we’ve not worked together in a while.”
“No it’s not that, there’s a change in you. You’ve grown your hair, and it’s several shades lighter, and that skirt’s rather short by your standards.”
He’d never realised it before but Ruth had a really good pair of legs. The rest of her was shaping up rather well these days too.
“I’ve got a man in my life,” she laughed. “And anyway, I’ve decided it’s a good thing to make the most of myself.”
“You two sorted out your differences?”
“More than that, we’ve decided to make a go of things. It took some doing though. I spent some time with the birding group and he went to see his parents in Whitby. The time apart did us good, made us both realise what’s important. You see it wasn’t Jake that was the problem back then, it was the commitment stuff that terrified me.”
“Well, you look good on it — it suits you.”
“A compliment, I’m honoured.” She grinned. “Wish I could say something nice about the way you look too, boss, but to be truthful, you’re still looking a bit rough. Not too much for you, this jumping straight back into the hot seat?”
“Charming. Been going to flattery school or what?” he joked. “But don’t worry about me. I’m fine. This is just what I need.”
“You’ve missed us, then — us and the cut and thrust of the job? I know we’ve all missed you.”
“I’ve been living in a sort of limbo land. I wanted to come back but I got stuck in a rut. Life on the sofa, in front of the telly and having Lydia run herself stupid to keep me fed.”
“I’m surprised you want to give that up — given how you feel about her.”
“Lydia or not, I’ve still got to work. The bills and the boredom don’t go away you know. I’ve decided to chalk what happened down to sheer bad luck and get on with things. But I’m still surprised I didn’t see more of you. You kept your distance, you and the team.”
“Well, it’s difficult, isn’t it? Lydia is still pressing and she’s always on the hunt for a story,” she explained. “If any of us said anything about work she’d be on it straight away and then there’s the other thing. I could hardly talk about that — could I?”
“What other thing?”
“Pandora.”
“What do you mean? Pandora who?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m talking about the shock in the box — the box I’m keeping for you, the one your mother left you, the one with your past in it.”
He shut his eyes. Why now? Oh why did she have to bring that up now? He’d put it right out of his mind and as far as he was concerned, that’s where it could stay. He hadn’t been ready to deal with what he’d found out then and he was no nearer now. He sighed deeply. Life had once been so simple. He used to know exactly who he was, where he’d come from, who his family members were. He used to have a history, with names and faces. Now all he had was a gaping hole where his mother should have been. Well, not a hole exactly, there was a name — Eve Walker.
“I know we’ve not talked much these last few weeks, since that day — you know, the day you got shot, but that’s not because I didn’t want to. I didn’t know where to start. But don’t think that I’ve forgotten, because I’ve been dying to ask. Have you done anything about finding her, your birth mother?”
Of course he bloody hadn’t. He’d been in no fit state. When his mother had died she’d left him a few hundred quid and the revelation that he was the product of an affair his father had had fifty-two years ago with some woman he’d never heard of.
“I haven’t even told my daughter yet, and certainly not Lydia.” He watched her expression change — from incredulity that he could keep something so big to himself, to disappointment.
“Why not? I’d have thought your Zoe had a right to know. She is your daughter. This affects her too,” she told him sharply.
“She doesn’t need to know anything, not until I decide. Come on — how do I tell her that her granny was a fake? That her real granny is some woman I don’t even know, that I’ve never even met? What’s she going to think about my dad? Come to think about it what am I supposed to think about him? So don’t you go saying anything either.”
“She wasn’t a fake. Freda Calladine was your mother; she brought you up, and that made her Zoe’s gran. Despite all the bad feelings you have, you’ve got to be curious, surely?”
“Look, for now the box stays with you, away from prying eyes, and I don’t want to take things any further — not just yet.”
“But she’s your mother — well, your birth mother. For all you know, this Eve Walker might still live locally, you might even know her already!”
“If I drag all that up it’ll have repercussions. Lydia only stays with me because Fallon’s my cousin. A cousin on Freda’s side, I might remind you — my pretend mother,” he emphasised with annoyance. “If she finds out he’s not — then I doubt she’d be so keen.”
“Is she really that shallow? You need to make your mind up. Do you want rid of Fallon, and to get your career back on track, or Lydia?”
“You did try to warn me — how shallow she is, weeks ago, remember?”
“Fallon’s in prison awaiting trial. It can’t matter to her now what he is to you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, because it does matter. She’s still after a story and Fallon has agreed to see her, to talk. So for the time being I’d prefer to keep things as they are.”
“I’d have thought you’d be dead keen to tell the world Fallon’s no kin of yours. He was one of Manchester’s biggest crime barons. You should be jumping for joy. There are times when I really don’t understand you, Tom Calladine!”
“Yes, alright, don’t rub it in. Fact is I like having Lydia around, so I don’t want the boat rocking — not yet.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Well, it’s my mistake to make, so leave it.”
“You know, you can be a most irritating man when you choose to be. Anyway — it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“To leave it. I’ve already looked her up.”
Ruth hunched over the steering wheel waiting for his angry reaction, but there wasn’t one.
Chapter 3
After an irritating five minutes of silent crawling around the hospital car park, Ruth eventually found a space. Calladine had said nothing and that wasn’t good. He was most likely seething inside because of what she’d done, and any second she’d get a tongue-lashing. They sat for a moment, both facing forward.
“So,” he said at last. “What did you find out?”
So that was his game. Feign lack of interest. Let her do all the donkey work and then sit back and get the information anyway.
She looked at him. His voice had been surprisingly even, and his expression had hardly changed.
“You’re not angry, then?” She was incredulous. “I’ve been dreading telling you, but I was too curious not to do something.”
“Too bloody nosy, you mean. I can’t pretend, Ruth. I might not show it but I’m damned annoyed.”
Here it comes. He might look okay but he was actually sitting there quietly seething.
“I don’t see why. She’s your mother for goodness sake. You’re just not brave enough to do anything about it yourself.”
“I wanted it left for a reason.” He ran his hand through his short hair. “This whole thing will cause too much upset. I was even considering just letting it lie, doing nothing — ever.”
Ruth shook her head. She didn’t understand his attitude, why this should upset him so much. His face was ashen. Had she gone too far? Taken liberties? No — he needed to do this; otherwise it would eat a hole in him.
“Don’t be such a wimp,” she retorted. “That idea is ludicrous. You need to do this, find her, speak to her and get her side of things. Don’t you want to know why she gave you up, what she’s like?”
“No, not really. She gave me away because she didn’t want me, that much is obvious. My dad will have made it easy for her. So she jumped at the chance to get her life back.”
“Bollocks! It’ll be nothing like that. You’re scared, Tom Calladine, and I’m disappointed in you.”
Ruth Bayliss got out of the car, swung her bag over her shoulder and walked off towards the main entrance of the hospital.
“Wait up! I’ve been injured, remember?”
“Coward!” she threw back at him.
“Mind your cheek, Sergeant. I’m still your boss — remember that.”
Ruth flashed him one of her unimpressed looks, tossed back her hair and carried on, as he lagged behind her.
“Suits you!” he shouted after her. “The change of look I mean.”
Ruth smiled to herself. He’d come round. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she was right.
“Okay — I give in. You’re going to tell me — so later. We’ll get a coffee and you can give me the lowdown,” he panted, catching her up. “No good arguing — you’re going to get your own way, so why fight it?”
Ruth had known she’d win him round. He couldn’t kid her. Deep down he was every bit as curious about Eve Walker as she was. How could he not be? He was a detective and the woman was his mother.
Ruth gave him a conspiratorial smile as she presented her badge to the woman in the reception area and asked to see Doctor Ahmed’s secretary.
* * *
Celia Downs was middle-aged, wore her hair in a tight bun on the top of her head and had round-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She looked older than she probably was, and she didn’t smile much either.
“DI Calladine and DS Bayliss from Leesworth CID.” Calladine introduced them. “I’m not sure if you are aware but Doctor Ahmed was found dead earlier today. Murdered in his own home.”
Her distinctly pinched expression didn’t change. She simply moved her birdlike eyes from Ruth to Calladine.
“Yes, I know. It’s been on the news. So what are you doing about it?”
Calladine knew that there’d been no press release yet, and he wondered how they had got hold of the story so fast.
“We’re investigating, Mrs Downs, that’s what we’re doing. First we need to get a feel for what the doctor was like. I need to know about hi
s family, his friends, if there was anybody giving him a hard time. In short, I need as much information as you can give me about him.”
“It’s Ms,” she corrected.
Now why didn’t that surprise him?
“He didn’t have any family. He never married, had no children and he was an only child, I believe. He had an elderly mother in Pakistan, but I imagine she’s dead by now.”
“Had anyone given him any grief recently? Were there any arguments or other altercations with staff or patients? Did the doctor have any enemies that you know of?
“No, of course not.” She frowned at them. “Doctor Ahmed was an eminent oncologist, first class in his field. He’ll be greatly missed by the profession.”
“An all-round nice guy then?” Ruth chipped in.
“Nice . . .” Celia Downs thought for a moment then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so — that’s not the adjective I’d use to describe him. He might not have had enemies, but Doctor Ahmed wasn’t easy to get on with, not easy at all. He was a hard man. He could deliver the worst possible news to his patients without any emotion at all. The man was completely lacking in empathy, you see.”
“And there’d be a lot of bad news, I take it?” Calladine surmised.
“Greater Manchester has a large number of cancer patients and the fact of the matter is that they don’t get diagnosed soon enough and so they die,” she told him soberly. “Doctor Ahmed worked hard, he did what he could — whatever was possible for all his patients, but, I’m afraid, the personal touch was absent.”
“Any of his patients take the bad news particularly hard lately?” Ruth asked.
“As his secretary, it’s difficult to say. You’ll need to talk to his clinical staff.”
“I intend to,” Calladine confirmed. “Back to the question about friends; as his secretary you must have had to arrange things for him from time to time. He had no wife to do it.”
“He had little social life to speak of, Inspector. Drinks at Christmas with the staff, and then only the one, and I’ve no idea about anything else.”
Bayliss & Calladine Box Set Page 38