by J. E. Mayhew
*****
Jeff sat at a table in the coffee shop, twirling a mug round and staring into the black liquid, when Will found him. He squashed down a flash of anger at his younger brother. In many ways they were like two sides of the same coin. Will had been athletic at school whilst Jeff had been more artistic. Will was a one-woman man and loyal, but Jeff was a butterfly who flitted from one flower to the next, never really settling. He’d judged Jeff harshly as far as money matters were concerned and overlooked quite how much Jeff had cared for their parents when they needed it, even to the detriment of his own writing career. Meanwhile, Will had been preening himself on television and selling photoshoots of his so-called ‘perfect life’ to Hello magazine. He’d only really gone back home when all that crumbled to dust and his daughter died. Besides, if Jeff was worried enough to drag Will out of work, then it was probably worth hearing. He pulled a chair up to Jeff’s table.
“You look terrible,” Will said. “What have you been up to?”
Jeff scrubbed his hands down his stubbly cheeks. “I told you, I had an interesting night. Does the name Kyle Quinlan mean anything to you?”
“This is Gambles’ doing isn’t it?” Will said, preparing to leave. “I told you, Jeff, you can work with that madman if you want but don’t expect any help from me. Or any sympathy when it all blows up in your face.”
“Wait,” Jeff said, grabbing Blake’s arm. “Yes, it is Gambles but I’m worried about Laura. And you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You obviously know something about Quinlan or you wouldn’t have linked the name to Gambles,” Jeff said.
Will couldn’t help but be impressed. “Okay, so we might make a detective of you yet. Quinlan and Laura were married. He gave Laura a dog’s life and then disappeared about six years ago. She divorced him. Never saw him again. Gambles dredged up his name, trying to cause trouble for Laura and me. So, what’s new?”
“I heard a slightly different story, Will,” Jeff said, sipping his coffee. “From a different source. I can’t say who but the story they told me was of a huge stash of money being stolen and the two thieves vanishing. Laura was one of them and very much involved in Quinlan’s business.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “Who told you that?”
“I can’t say but he didn’t know Laura was back on the Wirral. He wants his money back. I’m worried about Laura, Will but I’m worried about you, too. What if Laura isn’t telling you the truth? What if she’s stringing you along?”
“Look, I know that Laura wasn’t an angel in her youth, but she’s changed. You only have to spend some time with her to know that she’s a good person. But if she’s in danger, I need to know who poses that threat.”
Jeff looked pained. “Sorry, Will. A few hours ago, I was tied to a chair with a bag over my head. I don’t want to end up back in that position.”
“So, you’d rather see Laura in your place, would you?”
“No. Just tell her to be careful, that’s all. Maybe she can point you in the direction of whoever might want to hurt her. Maybe she should have done that already.” Jeff got up and Will grabbed his arm.
“If anything happens to her, Jeff, I swear…”
Jeff pulled his arm away. “Talk to Laura, Will. She needs to be honest with you.”
Will watched him stalk out of the coffee shop and then took his phone from his pocket.
Chapter 26
There were police officers in the back garden behind Laura Vexley’s flat. She clutched Charlie and watched them, her heart thumping against her ribs. Laura lived in a converted townhouse in Wallasey on the top floor. It was an old building with high ceilings and sash windows. The back garden of the flats was overgrown with feral shrubs and brambles, even a few saplings who had seen their chance and were making a headlong dash to full adult trees. Beyond that jungle, on the other side of a fence, was a proper garden. One Laura knew well. She spent a lot of time looking into it, especially before she met Will.
The garden was beautiful, with neat borders, a well-mown lawn and a patio dotted with planters full of flowers. The house that it belonged to was similarly immaculate and often Laura would watch the happy family who lived there with a spark of jealousy. But now she just felt panic.
It looked like slabs in the patio in the back of the house had been lifted and a hole dug. Laura covered her hand with her mouth. For a moment, she froze, uncertain what to do, then her phone vibrated. It was Will. She stared at the name on the screen for a second as it buzzed, then she threw the phone down onto the table and hurried into the bedroom.
Charlie watched, wagging his tail and skipping from paw to paw as she loaded the contents of her drawers into a suitcase. Opening her wardrobe, she dragged what she could out and crushed those into the case too. Toothbrush, toothpaste and some deodorant were swept out of the cabinet into a bag.
She looked down at the eager little puppy. “I’m sorry, Charlie, but you can’t come with me.” In the living room, she could still hear her phone buzzing away as Will tried to get in touch with her. But he mustn’t. She just had to get away.
Lugging her case to the front door, she turned and looked out at the garden again. It was only ever a matter of time, she thought. She’d been fooling herself that she could have a normal life. Besides, Will would never forgive her.
Pushing Charlie back, she closed the door behind her. She could hear him yapping. Will would find him. He’d be okay. Right now, she needed to be as far away from here as possible. Laura froze. A creak of wood sounded below her. Someone was creeping up the stairs. She turned and stifled a scream, scrabbling at the lock to get back inside the flat. The steps grew heavier and more urgent then firm hands grasped her wrists.
*****
Kinnear and Manikas stood with Paul Percival in his kitchen, looking out across the back garden. “We really wanted a quick word with Brendan Dockley, Mr Percival.”
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday. He brought the shopping in and we had a chat about Florence and how much we missed her. Brendan feels so wretched about everything. I told him that it wouldn’t bring Florence back.”
Kinnear glanced at Manikas. “That’s very understanding, Mr Percival.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Percival muttered, shaking his head. “As soon as this is all over, I’m taking civil action against him. I’m going to ruin him for everything he’s put me through. I haven’t forgiven him.”
“I think our priority is finding Florence, though,” Manikas said. “Have you any idea where Mr Dockley might have gone?”
Percival shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe his parents,” he said and then looked keenly at Kinnear. “Do you think it may be more than carelessness?”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. Why do you suddenly need to find Dockley? Do you think he might have planned Florence’s disappearance?”
“We’re just following lines of enquiry, Mr Percival. Often we just have to double check certain facts and details. All very routine,” Kinnear said, hoping his poker face held.
“Only I was thinking along the same lines. I mean, if a random stranger had taken Florence, then fair enough but Leonard Hill? That’s just too much of a coincidence. Dockley must have had some kind of arrangement with him.”
“We haven’t charged Mr Hill, yet, Mr Percival and it’s dangerous to make connections that might not be there,” Kinnear said. Manikas’ phone rang and they all paused while he took the call.
“Can we use your garden gate to get to the park, Mr Percival?” Manikas said, when he’d ended the call. He glanced at Kinnear. “A body has been found at the side of the lake.”
“Oh my God, is it Florence?” Percival whispered.
“An adult male,” Manikas replied, looking into the garden. “Can we?”
“Certainly,” Percival said. “I don’t think it’s locked. If Brendan turns up. I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”
“Thank you,” Kinnear said. He f
ollowed Manikas out of the kitchen, through the conservatory and into the garden. As soon as they were outside and out of hearing, Kinnear blew out a long breath. “Is it just me or does that bloke seem more concerned about himself than about poor Florence?”
“I know what you mean,” Manikas agreed. “Interesting that he’d come to the same conclusion as us though, right? He’s not stupid.”
“No,” Kinnear said. Across the park, they could see flashing blue lights and uniformed officers setting up a cordon. “Come on, let’s check this out and then go and see if Dockley is at his parents’ house.”
*****
Paul Percival watched the two policemen make their way out of the garden and smiled to himself. He was quite pleased with his performance, then. Especially the little bit at the end about letting Dockley know they were looking for him. Well, they were going to find him now, that was certain. He’d been quite nervous when they’d first arrived, a little bit disappointed, too. He’d hoped that Dockley wouldn’t be found for a couple of days at least, so that any evidence would be degraded by the water. At least Dockley was dead and wouldn’t be blabbing off to the police, so that was one thing.
“Still,” he muttered to himself, “we are where we are.” The coppers would be back soon and he had a few hours to get his story straight. To learn his lines.
*****
Blake stared at his phone. He’d been calling Laura on and off for over an hour with no success. That didn’t mean there was a problem. Often she didn’t respond because she was in the middle of work and the phone had been left in the car. She was an animal psychologist and fixed problem behaviours in pets. She always said that there was nothing worse than making a breakthrough with a problem dog only for the phone to ring and send the poor animal loopy. All the same, he was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
If what Jeff said was true, then Blake had a good idea where the threat came from. Laura had told him that Kyle Quinlan used to work for Harry Thorpe. Blake had met Thorpe before on a recent case and knew the man was crooked from the moment he set eyes on him. Thorpe had been the centre of a complaint against Merseyside police after a detective had gone too far and tried to frame him. If Quinlan had stolen money from anyone, it was likely to be Thorpe.
Florence Percival was out there somewhere, alive or dead, Blake didn’t know, and she was relying on his team to find her. He couldn’t just rush over the water to Wallasey and check up on Laura.
“Will? Are you with me?” Superintendent Martin said, startling Blake from his thoughts. “So where are we with this poor girl?”
“Sorry, sir,” Blake said. “It’s a troubling one. We’ve arrested Leonard Hill, a known paedophile who has a history with the family. He’s been positively identified as being at the park when Florence Percival went missing and items belonging to the girl have been found at his house. Underwear with traces of Leonard Hill’s semen on them and a lock of Florence’s hair. Some tissues with Florence’s blood on them too…”
“Seems like a slam-dunk, Will. What’s the problem?”
“We haven’t actually found Florence, sir and, yes, all the evidence points to Hill but he’s adamant that he knows nothing about it. He says he can’t tell us where she is because he doesn’t know.”
“One of those, eh? Well the only thing you can do is charge him and press on with the search. We should let the press know that we’re charging him and get the public searching for Florence.”
“Yes, sir,” Blake said. “It’s just…”
“Go on.”
“I feel like we’re being led by the nose on this one.”
“What’s that meant to mean? If the evidence is there, what can we do?”
“That’s what I mean. It was there, easy to find. In a jiffy bag. All neatly gift-wrapped for us. And Paul Percival… he’s a piece of work, if ever I met one…”
“Come on, Will, don’t do this to me. Please. You always look too deeply into these things, finding conspiracies where there aren’t any. Sometimes people just aren’t too bright. They don’t know how hard we look for evidence…”
“But Hill has been convicted before…”
“There you go,” Martin said. “Not very smart then. Let’s get a press conference booked in and break the news. Keep it simple, Will. We made an arrest in record time, took a dangerous predator off the streets. All we need to do is find the girl.”
“I meant more that Hill has learnt to be wary. Why would he just stuff a package of incriminating evidence under his mattress?”
“I long ago gave up trying to understand what went on in the minds of people like that, Will. Let’s focus on bringing Florence Percival home,” Martin said before returning to his paperwork.
“Right, sir,” Blake muttered. His phoned buzzed. Martin lifted his scowling face from the desk. “It’s Brendan Dockley, sir. He’s just been found dead in the park. Maybe things aren’t quite as straightforward as they seem.”
Chapter 27
Once again, Birkenhead Park was full of officers and detetctives. Blake stood by the lake with Malachy O’Hare, the Crime Scene Manager at his side. O’Hare looked as miserable as ever but that was just the way his face had set one day, Blake assumed. He wasn’t miserable by nature.
“What is it with this place?” O’Hare said. “Do they have to go killing and kidnapping each other? Can’t they just have a walk around, feed the ducks and maybe have a go on the swings?”
“I think that’s generally what happens, Malachy,” Blake said. “Any clue as to what happened to him?”
“Not really. The pathologist will have more of an idea but it’s an odd one, I’ll grant you that. A wound on the back of the head and he’s all curled up like a baby. Rigor mortis has set in. He was bobbing in the water like a beachball. They’re going to have fun straightening him out, for sure.”
“How the hell would that happen?”
“I dunno, do I?” Malachy said, waggling his bushy white eyebrows. “But my guess is he didn’t die here. If he was on his own, fell back and hit his head, he’d be sprawled out on the grass, right? If he’d been brained at the side of the lake, there’d be signs of a struggle. But there’s nothing, just a few snapped twigs and some crushed grass. He looks to me like he’s been bound up after he died.”
“Could he have been injured and crawled in there? Maybe fell into the water?”
“Like I say, leave that to the pathologist. Mr Lah-de-dah Kenning can hold forth on such matters better than me but there’s no sign he crawled.”
“Brilliant,” Blake sighed. “Anything on him?”
“Phone, knackered by the lake water. No wallet. That’s it.”
Blake looked across the park. “I’ve had enough of this,” he muttered.
“What are you on about now?”
“Unless Dockley is just incredibly unlucky and met a mugger in the park, somebody killed him to shut him up. Hill couldn’t have taken the kid without Dockley’s help. But I think there’s something else going on…”
“What’re you going to do?” Malachy said.
“I’m going to give Paul Percival an earbashing for a start. That man should be a basket case, worried sick about that little girl, but he’s more concerned about himself.”
“Be careful, Will. Don’t do anything stupid,” Malachy said, but Blake had already set off across the park.
Blake wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say but he was sick of pussyfooting around the likes of Paul Percival. If Leonard Hill was telling the truth then Paul had killed once already in his lifetime and if he could kill his little sister, why not his own daughter? And her nanny, especially if Dockley knew something about Florence and Paul.
The back gate was open, so Blake went through and banged on the conservatory door. He glanced around the garden, it looked orderly and tidy. Someone had been pushing a barrow across the patio, though, Blake could see faint tyre tracks.
Paul Percival appeared at the door. “Mr Blake…”
“Can
I come in, please, Paul?” Blake said, barely waiting for Paul Percival to step back from the door.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“We’ve found a body in the lake. It’s Brendan Dockley.”
Percival put a hand to his mouth and sank into a chair. “Oh my God,” he said. “How? What happened to him?”
“We don’t know yet, but the crime scene investigators don’t believe he died there. Rigor mortis has well and truly set in which means he died some time ago. Also, he’s curled up suggesting he was tied up or put in a confined space shortly after death. When did you last see Mr Dockley?”
“Yesterday afternoon. He brought some shopping home and then went up to his room. I heard him go out about four o’clock and he didn’t come back. Why are you grilling me like this?”
“Where did he say he was going?”
“He didn’t. We had words. I was angry with him for losing Florence and I told him. I think he got upset.” Percival put a hand to his mouth again. “Oh my God, I hope he didn’t harm himself…”
“Unless he hit himself in the back of the head, and then hid himself under a bush in the lake, I’d say that’s very unlikely. So what exactly did you say to Dockley?”
“I-I can’t remember… something like, if he’d kept his eyes open and not been staring at his phone then Florence would still be with us…”
“Go on.”
“I said I’d be suing him for negligence and he’d better get himself a good lawyer because I was going to ruin him.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know. He kept saying sorry. Saying it wasn’t his fault… what’s your problem, Blake?”
“My problem? It’s you, Paul. You’ve been nothing but calm since I met you. You’re so self-absorbed. Even when your daughter is missing, you’re more concerned about suing Dockley than finding her. If it was my child, I’d be out on the streets searching for her.”
“Very laudable, Mr Blake and would that be effective?”
“Did you kill your sister, Paul? Did it get too much? Did you resent the attention she got from your parents?”