Cruelty Has A Human Heart: A DCI Will Blake Novel (DCI Will Blake Crime Mystery Thrillers Book 4)

by J. E. Mayhew

  *****

  Although Alex Manikas had served in uniform breaking up riots, Birkenhead Park School felt like a jungle to him. Huge gangs of school children seemed to roam the corridors, the noise bouncing off walls, floor and ceiling. A teacher would appear, stand firm against the tide of pupils and suddenly they fell into single file. Some of them even smiled and greeted the teacher with a wave or a ‘awright Miss?” Alex looked at Vikki and widened his eyes. “I could never be a teacher,” he said. “Not without pepper spray and a baton.”

  Vikki laughed. “I guess it might be fun. I don’t suppose it’s all crowd control and discipline.”

  They sat in the foyer of the school waiting for the chance to see the two boys who were in the park when Dockley lost the child. The school was a brick-built establishment built in the 1920s. Fifty years ago, it was a grammar school but had, since then catered for a full range of children from the local area. Alex thought it felt very much like the school he attended over in Liverpool.

  A smart woman in a business suit strode up the corridor accompanied by two young lads. She looked about Alex’s age with masses of curly red hair tied back in a bunch. Alex looked at the boys. They were chalk and cheese; one was a big lad with a short back and sides, the top long and greased down. He reminded Alex of Billy Bunter. The other was small and dark haired, with narrow, suspicious eyes. The teacher stopped and shook hands with Vikki and Alex. “I’m Miss Zander. This is Olly and Aiden,” she said. “They’re in isolation at the moment while we decide what to do with them. I’ve booked an interview room. Can I get either of you a tea or coffee?”

  “No thanks, miss,” Olly said, grinning at Aiden.

  Miss Zander raised her eyebrows and Olly’s grin fell. “Quite the comedian, Olly Jones,” she said. “A bit of respect in front of our visitors, if you please. I think you’ve let the school down enough. Let’s see if you can redeem yourself.”

  “No, thanks, anyway,” Vikki said.

  Olly stared down at his shoes. Miss Zander gave Alex and Vikki a secret glance and Alex couldn’t help but smile. She led them to a small room set out with a table that almost filled it. They squeezed into the chairs that sat around it.

  “Okay, Olly, Aiden,” Vikki said, “I’m Detective Sergeant Vikki Chinn and this is Detective Constable Alex Manikas. We understand that you were in Birkenhead Park when the little girl went missing…”

  “We don’t know nothing about it, honest,” Olly said. “We were just hiding from school. We get bullied here. It’s not our fault.”

  Aiden, the dark lad stared at Olly in disbelief. “Bloody hell, Olly. A little kid’s gone missing. Some paedo’s probably snatched her and you’re making up stuff about getting bullied. Behave.”

  Miss Zander raised one eyebrow but was professional enough to know that Aiden had just given Olly a better telling off than she ever could. Olly reddened and swayed his head. “Sorry, mate,” he said.

  “We were in the woods by the gate,” Aiden said. “We were bunking off. Couldn’t be arsed…I mean, didn’t want to go to assembly. We got a text from one of our mates saying there’d been a fire alarm and we were about to leg it to school. Then we heard all this screaming.”

  “And who was screaming?” Vikki said.

  “That fella in the duffle coat. He said his little girl was missing. Then the policewoman came and grabbed us. That’s all we saw. Honest.”

  “So you were in the trees by the gate to Ashville Road? Can you show me on a map?” Alex said, pulling one from his jacket. Aiden pointed to the place on the map. “And you’re certain that’s where you were?”

  “Yeah,” Olly said, glancing at Miss Zander. “We always hide there. It’s kind of far enough away from school not to get caught but near enough to get back quick if we need to. See what I mean?”

  Alex nodded. “Did you see the girl? Did she run past you?”

  Both lads shrugged and shook their heads. “Didn’t see nobody except the fella shouting his head off,” Olly said.

  “There was that bloke by the playground. By the swings,” Aiden muttered.

  “What bloke?” Vikki said, leaning forward.

  “White-haired bloke,” Aiden said. “Had a kind of saggy face. Wore a suit with a flower in his lapel. Looked like he was going to a wedding.”

  “Looked like a right nob head,” Olly said and then bit his lip and glanced at Miss Zander.

  “What was he doing?” Vikki asked.

  “Just hanging around by the swings,” Aiden said. “He looked a bit dodgy if you ask me. There were no kids or anyone around then, just us but, you know, he looked like a paedo to me…”

  “Aiden, I know you’re in trouble with school about bunking off and we’re grateful for your help, but we need to be certain that you’re telling the truth. You don’t have to give us false information just to get in our good books.”

  Aiden’s eyes widened. “I’m not lying! Honest. There was this guy hanging around the swings. Tell ‘em, Olly. You saw him, too, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I saw him, too,” Olly said. “But we didn’t hang around there, cos it’s the first place teachers look. Like we’d be playing on the swings at our age!” He gave Miss Zander a look of reproach.

  “Could you give us a detailed description of this man?”

  “Too right,” Aiden said.

  “I saw him too,” Olly added. “Do we have to go to the station?”

  *****

  Brendan Dockley sat with his head in his hands. Blake leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together. “You didn’t seem to like my mention of a criminal background check, Brendan,” he said. “Is there something you aren’t telling us?”

  “No,” Brendan said. “I’m just tired. It’s been a stressful day and I’m worried about Flossy. I know it sounds bad that I haven’t got those qualifications, but the Percivals were happy with me, so what’s the big deal?”

  “There are employment laws and safeguarding rules that mean you have to have those qualifications, Brendan whether the Percivals like you or not. Anyway, as I said, I think there’s more. All I have to do is make a phone call, Brendan and I can find out if you have a criminal record or not.”

  “Paul Percival will kill me…”

  “Even if we find Florence safe and sound, which I pray to God we do, d’you think he’s going to give you a pay rise? You’ll be lucky if you ever work again! So. Come clean. What are you holding back?”

  “I was just a kid. It wasn’t my fault,” Brendan said.

  “What wasn’t, Brendan?”

  Brendan looked up, his face tear streaked. “I killed my best friend.”

  Chapter 10

  Andrew Kinnear shook his head and absent-mindedly slid another biscuit from the plate as he stared at the CCTV footage from Ashville Road. It was grainy but he couldn’t see any sign of Florence popping out of the gate into the road. The camera covered the gate perfectly. Even in black and white, her anorak, dress and wellies combo would have made her obvious along with the fact that she was alone. She would have stuck out like a sore thumb. It didn’t make sense. He watched the small gangs of children walking along to school mixed with dog walkers and some mums and dads with pushchairs. There were no lone toddlers there at any point.

  “What am I missing, here?” Kinnear muttered to himself. He ran the tape again and watched as the crowds thinned. He saw the two boys vanish into the woods, pushing and shoving each other in some kind of play fight. Then Dockley ran out of the park, shouting and waving his arms around. He ran out in front of a car, slamming his hands on the bonnet as it screeched to a halt. Then he stumbled back into the park. It was like watching a film. Then the street was calm again until a police officer hurried through the gate in response to Brendan Dockley’s cries for help.

  The phone rang and Kinnear picked it up. It was PC Guyler from Merseyside transport police. “We’ve found the BMW you put an alert out on earlier,” said the officer. “It’s in Broadgreen station carpark. Loo
ks like it’s been there a couple of days from CCTV footage.”

  “That’s great,” Kinnear said. “I’ll get CSI to have a look as soon as possible. Can you keep an eye on it?” he hung up and quickly warned Blake that Samantha Percival was in the area.

  “Right,” Blake said. “She’s got to be a possible suspect.”

  “Thing is, sir, I can’t find any CCTV evidence of Florence being on Ashville Road this morning. Not where we’d expect her anyway.”

  “Okay. We can pull other coverage higher up the road, but she would have to have run like the clappers to be that far away.”

  Kinnear looked down at the file on Samantha. “Should I have a word with Samantha’s parents, sir? It could cast some light on where she might be hiding.”

  “Good thinking, Kinnear. She may well have gone to ground there. Go and have a word but be careful. She’s hurt someone already.”

  Kinnear made a note of the address and headed out of the office.

  *****

  “I was only ten,” Brendan Dockley said. “I lived over in Tuebrook with my parents. My best friend was a lad called Stevie. We were thick as thieves, did everything together and were never apart. But we fell in with a gang of lads who were older than us. They were up to all kinds of stuff. Shoplifting, drugs, they’d do anything, really just for kicks. None of them needed money, it was almost like it was something to do. They used to take the piss out of us because we were much younger.”

  “So what happened?”

  Dockley lowered his head. “They stole a car one night. An old Ford Fiesta. Blue it was. And we wanted to prove ourselves. Well, I say, ‘we,’ what I mean is I wanted to prove myself. Stevie didn’t want to go near the car. He was getting fed up of chasing after these lads and almost getting caught when they left us behind. But I said I could drive the car.”

  “And could you?”

  “I knew the basics. My dad had shown me on holiday once. I drove round a field with dad helping with the steering. I could hardly reach the pedals. Anyway, the lads dared us to drive the car across the park. Not this one another one over by my house…”

  “It didn’t go well, I take it.”

  “No. It was okay at first. A bit of a laugh. We skidded round on the grass, tearing the ground up and roaring the engine but then I got cocky and went onto the road. I remember seeing the looks on the lads faces as we left them behind. I was laughing but Stevie was crying. He said he wanted to go home.”

  “But you didn’t stop.”

  “I wish I had. We went along Townsend Lane. Do you know it? Stevie was just saying to stop and let him out but I just laughed. Then we came to Queens Drive and this mad junction and I didn’t know what to do. I think I went through a red light and had to swerve round a bus and I lost control.”

  “Go on,” Blake said.

  “It was just a lamp post. It looked dead thin. When we hit it, I thought we’d just knock it over and carry on but we stopped. Dead. It was like being punched, only really hard in the chest. It was the seat belt. There was glass everywhere. It only had an airbag on the driver’s side. I remember thinking that the car would explode. You know like in the films? But there was just this crunch and then a hissing sound. Stevie was all slumped on the dashboard. He was staring at me and I knew he was dead. There was a bit of blood on his cheek but his eyes were just… empty.”

  “That must have been hard,” Tasha Cook said. “You were just a child, though…”

  “It stays with you,” Dockley said, giving a shuddering sigh. “As if the guilt and nightmares aren’t enough. If the Percivals did a criminal record check then it would show up. It’s happened to me before. I just can’t get a job that requires one.”

  “So why did you even apply for this job?”

  “I knew Roland and Xanthe Percival,” Dockley said, with a shrug. “We were all in the Mersey Marigolds Amateur Dramatics together. They’ve known me since I was a kid. Since before Stevie…”

  “And you thought they might overlook the whole car theft episode.”

  “They knew who I was and what I was like. I hoped they’d give me a chance. They did and didn’t even tell their son about it. But now, I’ve blown it.” Dockley buried his head in his hands.

  “One thing that’s troubling me. Brendan,” Blake said. “DC Kinnear just called, and he can’t find any sign of Florence on the CCTV footage for Ashville Road at the time you said she ran away.”

  Dockley looked up. “Really? But she must have run that way. It would be the most obvious exit and, as you said, she couldn’t have got that far. Oh God, she was keen to see the ducks. Could she have run the other way, towards the lake?”

  “You were some distance from the lake,” Blake said. “Surely you would have seen her across the park.”

  “Unless someone snatched her and dragged her into the bushes,” Dockley said. “Have you found her mother yet?”

  “We’ve located the car,” Blake said. “It looks very much like she is in the area but we don’t know that she has taken Florence.”

  “There’s something else,” Dockley said, looking troubled. “It hadn’t occurred to me but I’ve been thinking. There was a man…”

  “A man? Where? When?”

  “I’ve noticed him over the last couple of weeks, hanging around the park and the street outside our house. I didn’t think much of it but maybe he was up to no good. God I hope not.”

  “What did he look like?”

  Dockley shrugged. “White, frizzy hair, short, glasses. Had a sort of hang-dog face, if you know what I mean. He wore a blue walking jacket, one of them Goretex things.”

  “We’ll need a fuller description,” Blake said, barely disguising his frustration. “Why didn’t you mention this character before?”

  “Like I said, I didn’t think much of it before. I just thought Flossy had run off on one of her missions.”

  “Let’s just hope it turns out to be a false lead. I’d rather find Florence wandering lost than in the clutches of some unfriendly stranger,” Blake muttered.

  Chapter 11

  The contrast between Samantha’s parents’ house and Paul Percival’s was stark. Andrew Kinnear wound his way through the council estate in Leasowe to Caveney Drive, a small cul-de-sac created by three blocks of terraced houses. Some had clipped privet hedges and tidy lawns, others had old fridges and armchairs thrown out into the front. Samantha’s parents front was a square of concrete occupied by three motorbikes in various states of dismemberment. Kinnear picked his way through a maze of engine parts, tyres and cans of oil to get to the front door. The house itself looked in good repair. Kinnear knocked on the front door and waited. A dog barked inside. It sounded shrill and yappy. Finally a groggy-looking man opened the door. He towered over Kinnear and filled the doorway. His head was bald and a long, grey beard spread across his chest. He clutched a small Yorkshire terrier in the crook of his arm and it yapped at Kinnear.

  “Yeah?” the man said, frowning through bleary eyes. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and jogging pants but he looked like he’d been asleep rather than exercising.

  “Mr Hughes? I’m DC Kinnear from Merseyside Police…”

  “Is it about Florence? Have you heard anything?”

  “If I could come in, Mr Hughes, it might be more private.”

  Mr Hughes backed away and let Kinnear into the narrow hall. The house smelt of coffee and dogs which, Kinnear thought, wasn’t too bad. Hughes led Kinnear into the small living room which was filled by a huge television and two giant lazy-boy armchairs. A large fish tank dominated one wall and Kinnear could see brightly coloured fish darting about in the green murk.

  Mr Hughes plonked himself down in an armchair. “So, what’s the news?” he said.

  “I’m afraid we haven’t found her yet, Mr Hughes but we’re still searching. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? About Samantha?”

  “Our Sam?” Hughes looked perplexed. “Yeah, sure.”

  “You’re aware that she ran
away from the clinic up in Scotland after assaulting a member of staff? She stole a car too.”

  Mr Hughes scratched his beard with a huge hand. “I didn’t know. That’s not good is it? Why would she do something like that?”

  “I’m not sure, Mr Hughes. I thought you might have more of an insight into how Sam ticks, to be honest.”

  Mr Hughes looked up at Kinnear. “She’s not a violent kid, I can’t imagine her harming anyone unless she had to.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “Dunno. It was months ago. Before she went up to that clinic place. I don’t even know why she agreed to go up there to be honest.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Hughes pulled a face. “All that scab-picking and wondering why you aren’t happy. I’d be bloody miserable stuck in a house with that streak of piss.”

  “Sorry, who do you mean?”

  “Paul. He’s enough to put anyone on the happy pills. We told her to leave him and bring Flos with her but she wouldn’t.”

  “So Paul and Sam weren’t happy together?”

  “Paul doesn’t know what happiness is. He’s a funny fella. Everything has to be in its place and he gets twitchy if it’s not. Know what I mean. Have you met him?”

  “We’re having trouble locating him at the moment,” Kinnear said. “Any idea where he might be?”

  Hughes shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. So you’re telling me that he’s not around at a time like this?”

  “As soon as we find him, we can let him know. I’m sure he’ll be upset.”

  “Yeah, right. He’s a cold fish, that one, trust me.”

  “But Sam did have mental health problems, yes?”

  “Not until she met the bloomin’ Percivals. They have a way of making you feel not good enough. It’s not just looking down their noses at you but it’s the little things they say, the snide remarks. And the wealth. They think money can solve every problem. Like I say, she’d be fine if she got clear of that lot.”