by J. E. Mayhew
Mrs Dockley patted her husband’s hand. “But he looked so happy at first, an acting role, they said it was…”
“An acting role?” Kinnear said, frowning.
“Yeah. He was meant to be doing some kind of acting in a promotional video for the Percivals or their son or something. Brendan wasn’t very clear what it was,” Mr Dockley said.
“But he ended up looking after their grandkiddie. I mean, she was lovely and everything, he brought her over here a few times. But our Brendan? A childminder? And now look what’s happened. I tell you, those Percivals have a lot to answer for.”
*****
Something was wrong, that was certain. A suitcase lay open in front of Laura’s front door and Charlie was yapping himself hoarse inside. Blake recognised some of the clothes that spilled out. Worse than that there was blood on the floor and some splattered on the walls. Blake made a call and then paused. He wasn’t sure what had gone on here, but he felt sure there was some connection with the mysterious vanishing Kyle Quinlan. It went against the grain, but Blake had to ring DCI Matty Cavanagh.
Cavanagh was a thorn in Blake’s side. A young, up-and-coming-at-you DCI, who dressed sharp and seemed adept at making friends and influencing people. His back-up was the almost cube-shaped DS Bobby Dirkin who looked like he’d been hit in the face with a shovel but had a mind as sharp as Cavanagh’s trouser creases. In Blake’s mind they were like a kind of scouse Jeeves and Wooster, with Dirkin pulling Cavanagh’s fat out of the fire innumerable times. Cavanagh was a scouser to the core as well, never missing an opportunity to wind Blake up about his Woolly Wirral roots. Cavanagh had ruffled Laura’s feathers by looking into the Quinlan disappearance and just falling short of accusing her of murder. So he wasn’t Blake’s favourite person but he was in charge of the investigation and there had to be a link.
“Right, Blakey? You okay?” Cavanagh said. “You found that missing kiddy yet, or are you asking for some help?”
“Just… shut up and listen,” Blake hissed. “I got some information today, about Kyle Quinlan. Apparently, he stole a large amount of money from someone nasty on the Wirral. My money is on Harry Thorpe, given that Quinlan used to work for him.”
“Right. So far, so theoretical and nothing we hadn’t considered before. Carry on.”
Blake gritted his teeth. He hated saying the next words. “My contact thinks that Thorpe has got it into his head that Laura was somehow involved and is after her. I’m standing outside her flat, there’s a suitcase on the floor, and blood, too. The dog’s inside going mental.”
“Wait, you’re outside Laura’s flat?” Cavanagh said.
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m just round the corner. At the house she used to like watching from her window, had its patio dug up in the middle of the night. Something was taken but we aren’t sure what. Funny coincidence, that. Should I come to you, or you to me?”
“Get CSI round here and I’ll try and get into the flat,” Blake snapped and ended the call.
*****
The atmosphere in the Incident Room was tense as Superintendent Martin strode between desks muttering Blake’s name as though he might find him hiding underneath one. “Where the bloody hell are you?” he held a phone in one hand.
“Sir,” Kath Cryer said. “Do you want me to stand in for him?”
Martin scowled at her and for a second, Kath wondered if she’d said the right thing. “It’s not like Will. If he had a problem, he would have let us know. Thanks, Kath. Yes, let’s get on with it.” They headed down to the press conference and Kath suppressed a smile. This was good experience and if she did it well, she might just impress Martin. Never a bad thing if you’re planning on promotion.
There was confusion amongst the reporters as they looked from Martin to Kath. Cameras flashed and whirred.
Martin held up his hands. “I’m afraid DCI Blake has been detained with the investigation. I hope you’ll forgive us for not being celebrities, but this is DI Kath Cryer who is also working on the case.”
The assembled journalists chuckled and Kath tried not to smirk at the jibe about Searchlight. She knew it rankled with the Superintendent as much as any mention of it annoyed Blake but for different reasons. She felt a little disloyal towards Blake but launched into the statement.
“Today, we are charging a Wirral man for the abduction of Florence Percival after DNA evidence and personal effects of Florence’s were found at his house. As yet, we have not found Florence, but we won’t rest until we do. In addition, a body that was found in Birkenhead Park has been identified as Brendan Dockley, Florence’s nanny. As yet we have not established the cause of death, but we are treating it as suspicious…”
Hands shot up and questions followed, quick-fire and multi-part but nothing that Kath couldn’t handle. It went in a flash and Kath kept her best poker face but inside she felt like she was winning Who Wants to be a Millionaire.
“Nicely done, Kath,” Martin said. “It’s a relief not to be in a press conference that ends in drama for once.”
“Thank you, sir,” Kath said. “I’m just glad we nailed Hill.”
“As for Blake. If you speak to him before I do, tell him I need a word, urgently. If he can fit me in.”
Chapter 30
Laura’s landlord was a scruffy-looking man in a stained grey sweatshirt and matching jogging bottoms. He had a halo of nicotine blond hair frizzed around his head and a week’s stubble on his chin. After some extensive questioning, Blake and Cavanagh had established that he lived in the bottom floor flat but waking him had been another story all together. Now the man stood scratching his beer belly, thoughtfully.
“I generally have a no-pets rule,” he said scowling at the front door.
“If you let us in, we’ll take it away and find out where Miss Vexley has gone,” Cavanagh said, the detectives united for a moment against this smelly, obtuse man.
“Okay, okay, no need fly off the handle. Have you got a warrant?”
“No but the dog is going to crap all over the floor in there if it hasn’t already and if we go now, you’ll have to deal with it,” Blake said.
The man’s eyes widened and he fumbled with the keys. A cannonball of white and tan exploded from inside, almost knocking Cavanagh and the landlord over. Barking and yapping it almost ran up Blake’s leg and somehow, he ended up holding Charlie as he licked, furiously at his face.
“Right,” Cavanagh said as two officers in white coveralls appeared at the top of the stairs. “This is a crime scene now, so, off you pop.”
“Yer what?” the Landlord began.
“You heard me, I hope we don’t find too much of your DNA here. Could be incriminating. We’ll let you know when we’re done.” Cavanagh turned and winked at Blake, who held a wriggling Charlie at arm’s length. The young detective’s grin slipped as Charlie’s excitement got the better of him and an arc of urine cut through the air towards him.
“Bloody hell, Will, watch where you’re pointing that thing!”
Charlie stopped and Blake cradled him in his arms. “Sorry, Matty. He’s a bit of a force of nature.”
“It looks like she was getting ready to leave,” Cavanagh said, peering into the bedroom and the empty wardrobe with its gaping doors.
“Jeez, Matty,” Blake said, looking out of the window. “She must have seen your team working on the patio across the back there and panicked…”
“I hate to say it, Will but that kind of implies she knew what was under the paving slabs in what was her old house.”
Blake wrestled with the logic of the statement, trying to find an excuse or some kind of way out. “Unless she just thought that you’d put two and two together…”
“Oh, come on, Will. You and I might not always see eye-to-eye but you’re a good copper. If this wasn’t Laura, what would you say?”
“I don’t know, Matty. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
“Okay. Suit yourself but I’m telling you, she knew something
about that garden.”
“What was under the patio?” Blake asked, hoping against hope.
“Not a body, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nah. Judging by the hole they dug, whatever was under there was removed but it was in a rectangular box, like a flight case or that suitcase size, maximum. Could be the money you were saying was missing.”
“Could be,” Blake said.
“Have you got any of Laura’s DNA?”
“Oh, yeah, Matty, sure. I carry a locket with some of her saliva in it, just for sentimental reasons. Jeez.”
“We’ve got to establish if that blood on the landing belongs to her or not. It’s very possible she’s been taken, if what your contact told us is true. I’m worried about her, too, you know.”
“Are you two going to contaminate my crime scene all night or can you bugger off, so I get some work done?” The Crime Scene Investigator snapped from beneath her mask. “And keep that dog still!” Charlie wriggled in Blake’s grasp, threatening to leap onto the Investigator and lick her to death.
“I’ll get you her toothbrush from my house,” Blake said. “But I’m going to have a word with Thorpe first.” He turned and strode out of the flat, still carrying Charlie.
“Walk on the bloody stepping plates!” The CSI called after him.
“Will! Will! Don’t do anything stupid, Will!” Cavanagh called after him, but Blake wasn’t listening.
*****
The day had gone from bad to worse to even worse for Laura. Sitting in the Trafalgar pub, she had contemplated screaming and running from the man but as he leaned forward, she glimpsed a pistol under his jacket.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said.
“Oh no?” Laura said, her voice shaking. “I suppose your friend just wanted to give me a hug when he grabbed me from behind…”
“He wasn’t my friend, I swear. Anyway, you got away from him easily enough, didn’t you? You made quite a mess of him.”
Laura narrowed her eyes. “You went up there? What about the man in the car?”
The man shrugged his huge shoulders. “He was having a nap, when I entered the building. Let’s just say that both those men have gone home rubbing sore heads and wondering what happened to them. I’m here to take you to my boss.” He held up his hands. “Don’t worry. We won’t harm you. We just need to talk to you.”
“Who are you?”
“Just a rival business to the one that seems to want to hurt you. Now at the very least that should be in our favour, right? My enemy’s enemy is my friend. Yeah? Now, my name is Nick. I have a car in the carpark. If you don’t want to accompany me, that’s fine. You can take your chances on your own and I think you’ll do okay for a while.”
“For a while?”
“Those men will come back, Laura with their friends, and soon,” Nick said. He glanced around. “If they aren’t here already.”
Laura glanced over at the lad behind the bar, catching his eye as he lowered the phone. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Nick stood up. Laura was tall but Nick towered over her. He was taller than Will and wider. His shaved head glistened in the dim light of the pub. They walked out into the cold night and Nick paused in the shadows. “Just wait here.”
Laura shivered and pressed herself into the corner of the porch that covered the door. Traffic rumbled around them and a plane flew overhead. Nick had vanished and suddenly, she felt alone. She wondered whether the lad at the bar was really phoning someone about her or if she had imagined it. Maybe she should just go to Will but what would he think? And how much could she tell him? When Cavanagh had revealed that she had been married to Kyle Quinlan, she couldn’t bear the look of betrayal in Will’s eye.
A car rolled up and Laura caught her breath, releasing it as she saw Nick in the driving seat. He leaned over and opened the passenger door. “You can sit in the back if you want.”
“No,” she said. “Front is fine. Actually, I’ll drive if it’s all the same to you.”
Nick thought for a second, then a smile spread across his face. “Sure, if it makes you feel safer, no problem, as long as you look after the car and follow my directions.”
He slid over awkwardly, obviously wary of actually getting out of the car when she was so near the driver’s side. “You’ll forgive me, but I’d look a right idiot having to go back to my boss to explain that not only did I fail to persuade you to come but you stole the car.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, he’d probably quite like that. Come on then. Out the carpark and turn right.”
*****
It was only when Blake got to the car that he realised he was carrying a small Jack Russell puppy. He paused. Was it safe to put it in the back of his car? What if he stopped suddenly? “You’ll have to sit in the footwell but don’t crap in there,” he muttered to Charlie. The dog just kept trying to lick his face. “Great.”
It was late but he knew his first port of call would be Jeff. He needed to be sure that it was Harry Thorpe he’d spoken to. He remembered that Jeff was house sitting in Bebington for a friend of a friend and, not for the first time, wondered where he got his stuffy luck from. If that had been Will, he’d have found himself in the most expensive and yet the most dilapidated bedsit in some horrible corner of town. Maybe it was because he was more of a people person than Will. He actually knew more than three people. Will hardly knew anyone outside of his work.
The house was an innocuous semi-detached in a quiet road not far from Port Sunlight station. Blake knocked on the door, Charlie under his arm. Nothing stirred at first, so Blake knocked again. A curtain rippled and he could see his brother peering nervously out. A moment later, the front door opened and Jeff let Will in.
“He won’t chew anything will he?” Jeff said looking at the dog.
“He’ll chew your balls off if you don’t tell me who took Laura today,” Blake snapped. “I’m not in the mood for playing games, Jeff. She’s been snatched. There’s blood outside her flat and a suitcase…”
“She was leaving?”
“I don’t know but I’m going to find her. So tell me. Was it Harry Thorpe you spoke to?”
“I can’t say, Will. He’ll…”
“I don’t have time, Jeff, was it Thorpe?”
Jeff looked at Will and then at the puppy which wagged its tail eagerly and gave a high-pitched yelp that obviously frayed Jeff’s nerves. “Okay, okay!” He said. “It was Thorpe. But I don’t know where he was…”
“Don’t worry, I think I know where to find him.”
Chapter 31
Kath Cryer sat in the interview room. It was very late, and her wrist ached under its splint. She should have gone home to Theo, her partner, hours ago. Leonard Hill looked equally drained. His brief sat, dispassionate and silent having advised him to say nothing.
“So you’ve been charged, Leonard. You may as well come clean and tell us where Florence is,” Kath said. “That poor little girl, all on her own somewhere, frightened and cold. Is she cold, Leonard?”
“I don’t know,” Leonard said, his voice flat and tired. “Because I’ve never met her.”
“Come on, Leonard, look at us. We’re like two prize-fighters who won’t throw in the towel, up against the ropes. We’re both exhausted. Let’s finish this. Where is she? Help me out, here.”
“I wish I could help you,” Leonard said. “Honestly, I do. If there was some way I could point you to her, I would but I don’t know because I don’t even know what the girl looks like.”
“We know she must be somewhere between the park and your house. It’s unlikely that you had any chance to put her anywhere else. There just wasn’t the time before you got back for your sick little romp with Geri Sharpe…”
Leonard blushed and looked down at the table. Then he looked up. “Talk to Tanya Ellman.”
“Who is she and why would that do any good?”
“Read your notes, I’ve already told Mr Blake all about it. Talk to Tanya Ellman. Then go and talk to G
eri Sharpe again. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”
“Where’s Florence, Leonard?”
“No comment.”
*****
It was very late by the time Blake pulled up outside Harry Thorpe’s house. He lived in a converted farm in Thurstaston on the Dee side of the Wirral. Rows of converted barns and workshops surrounded a large, gravelled courtyard. He imagined that at one time, it had been a busy place with chickens scratching in the yard, cattle lowing under open sheds and maybe a couple of tractors parked alongside the barns. Now there was no sign of any livestock and the tractors had been replaced with sleek Mercedes and BMWs. The security lights clicked on the moment he drove into the yard, but Blake wasn’t trying to sneak into Harry Thorpe’s house.
He pulled up his car and slammed his door noisily. He looked back to see Charlie curled up asleep in the passenger footwell. The place was silent and Blake assumed everyone was in bed. He wished he was home himself, with Laura by his side. The main farmhouse stood in one corner of the yard. Blake hammered on the shiny black front door and rang the bell a few times.
Eventually, a man with a plaster over his nose and two black eyes answered the door. He was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants and had obviously just got out of bed. “What d’you want?”
“What happened to you? You didn’t meet a woman you didn’t agree with, did you?”
The man flinched at the comment but kept his cool. “I said, what do you want?”
“I need to talk to Harry,” Blake said, flashing his warrant card. “Go and get him.”
“He’s asleep…”
“I’m not in the mood to argue. Just go and get him or I’ll arrest you for obstruction.” Blake was talking rubbish, but he was counting on the bruised goon not realising that. The man hovered indecisively at the door for a second then nodded Blake in.
“I’ll see if he’s awake, but he won’t be happy at all. Wait here.”