by Martina Cole
One of the first things Kate noticed was that the house was decorated in superb taste. Not what she expected at all. She looked around, impressed despite herself. Obviously Kelly’s money ran to interior designers. She followed Kelly into the drawing room and took a seat on the chesterfield. The room was beautiful, with the original ceiling roses and cornices; the walls were lined with books, everything from leather-bound volumes to garish paper-backs. It was predominantly silver grey with dusky pink carpets and curtains. It was a room designed by a woman, Kate was certain. It had a woman’s feel for colour and space. Men tended to put things in the first place available and just leave them there. Women thought a room out, knew how a room would look at its best. Women, Kate had observed, took time with details. Small details that could make a room like this.
Despite its immense size, it was a homely room and obviously well lived in. A sleek black cat lay asleep before the fire. Her eyes rested on Kevin Cosgrove, who sat whitefaced and subdued. Kate guessed, rightly, that he was the boyfriend, and that he had been having a hard time from Kelly.
She took the Scotch Kelly offered and sipped it gratefully. This was the last thing she had wanted tonight. Even with Dan, the long lost father’s return, this was still not what she needed. The Scotch was good and she savoured it for a second before she looked at Kelly directly.
‘What makes you think that your daughter’s gone missing? She could be at a friend’s, anything.’
Patrick stared at Kate as if seeing her for the first time.
‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Detective Inspector Burrows.’
Kelly put his tongue between his lips and stared at her for a long moment as if committing her to memory. The action and the tone of voice were not lost on Kate and she felt her temper rising. He was trying to tell her she was here at Flowers’s express command and she had better take this seriously. Kate fought down the urge to confront him. Instead she broke his gaze by putting her drink on the small occasional table beside her and rooting around in her bag for her notebook and cigarettes. It was going to be a long evening.
As she put a cigarette in her mouth, Kevin Cosgrove gave her a light, his hands shaking. Kate put her hand over his and held her cigarette to the flame. His eyes held a warning and he shook his head imperceptibly.
Kate breathed in the cigarette smoke and sat back, crossing her legs.
Kelly watched her from his chair and approved of her. She had a bit of spunk and he liked that. Providing she didn’t ‘come it’ with him, she was a woman he’d want in his corner if the time came. He looked into her eyes as she spoke.
‘Why are you so worried about your daughter, Mr Kelly?’ As she spoke, Kate realised that the man really was worried. This was not an over-anxious father throwing his weight around, this was a genuinely worried man.
‘This prat here was supposed to pick my daughter up at eight.’ He flicked his head at Kevin, who kept his eyes firmly on the carpet. ‘He had her motor, her car. He went to pick her up and she wasn’t there. I’ve rung her mates, her aunt, the fucking manageress of the shop where she works, I’ve rung everyone in Grantley and I can’t find her. This is no girlish prank, Ms Burrows. My baby is definitely on the missing list. Now then, what are you going to do about it?’
Kate took another drag on her cigarette and met the dark blue eyes full on.
‘Has Mandy ever gone missing like this before?’
Kelly shook his head. ‘Nope. Never. Me and Mandy are like that.’ He crossed two of his fingers together. He licked his lips and took a large gulp of brandy.
Kate pushed her hair off her face and watched Kelly. He was handsome all right. In other circumstances she would have given him a second glance. This was the first time she had seen him in person. Oh, she’d seen pictures of him, everyone had. But in the flesh, he had a presence. He was a man who was all there, was alive. He crackled with energy and vitality. Now, seeing his concern for his daughter, Kate felt a stirring of pity for him.
‘Have you and Mandy had an argument, Kevin?’ She looked at the boy; his face was ashen and he still stared at the carpet as he shook his head dismally. With one bound, Kelly was out of his chair and had dragged the unfortunate boy from his seat. Holding him up by the hair he pushed him towards Kate and shouted.
‘Tell her anything she wants to know, boy, I’m warning you. If Mandy turns up here and her story differs from yours I’ll snap your bastard neck for you.’
Kate jumped up and separated the two men.
‘Mr Kelly, please! This is not doing anyone any good. Now calm down, will you? Can’t you see you’re frightening the life out of him? How can you expect him to tell you the truth when he’s so obviously terrified of you?’
Her words crept into Patrick’s brain. It was after eleven now and Mandy had still not been in touch. He could feel a panic inside him like the day Renée died. When she hadn’t been home at five thirty, he had known, deep in his gut, that she’d never walk in again. He felt the same now. He forced down the panic and went back to his seat. His haunted expression tore at Kate’s heart. If it was her Lizzy, so soon after the murder of Geraldine O’Leary . . . she shuddered.
Kevin Cosgrove was crying silently. Kate led him back to his chair and, without asking, poured them all another drink. Patrick took the glass from her and drained it, his handsome face haggard.
‘You don’t know my Mandy, she wouldn’t stay out without letting me know. No way.’ The last was said with the finality of a father who knows his child.
Kate glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece; it was nearly eleven thirty.
Patrick saw her looking and exploded again.
‘Want to get home, do you? Am I boring you or something?’
As he opened his mouth to speak again, Kate held up her hand for silence.
‘No, Mr Kelly, you’re not boring me, you’re annoying me. Until you calm down and speak rationally, we will get nowhere. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you some simple questions. If you could just bring yourself to answer them, we might start getting somewhere.’
Kelly’s eyes were like slits. The cheeky mare, she was talking to him as if he was a naughty little kid. He felt a surge of annoyance and something else as well. Admiration. She was not intimidated by him and he was glad. If his Mandy had gone missing, then this woman would find her. The cold fear that had engulfed his body for the last two hours gradually let go its hold.
‘I’m sorry, Ms Burrows.’ He emphasised the Ms.
Kate looked at him and smiled slightly. ‘That’s all right, Mr Kelly. I have a daughter too. I can imagine what you’re going through.’
‘Can you?’ It was a question they both knew she could not answer.
‘Right, Kevin, what were your exact arrangements with Mandy?’
As Kate questioned the boy, Kelly watched her from his seat. Even in his agitated state he could see she was an attractive woman. What he really liked about her though, was her sass. He did like a woman with a bit of spunk in her. Mandy’s mother had had that. She was as quiet as a church mouse till you set her off, then you’d better watch out. This Ms Burrows was interesting. She was taking his mind off his child for a few minutes and for that, he was grateful.
Kate felt his attention and shrugged it off. She wanted to get her job done and get back home. This house was too fraught for her liking.
‘Listen you.’ Caroline’s voice had a smile in it. ‘I am not having it off in an old shed.’
Barry laughed with her.
‘Well, there’s one thing for certain, girl. My wife and your husband ain’t gonna let us use their beds, so it’s the back of the motor, or the shed. I’ve got a sleeping bag in me boot. We’ll be as snug as two bugs in a rug!’
Caroline screeched with laughter again.
‘What’s the time?’
Barry stared bleary-eyed at his watch.
‘Half-past twelve.’
‘My old man ain’t expecting me in till after two.
He thinks I’m doing an extra shift.’
‘So what’s it to be then? Out here in the motor or in the shed?’
‘You’ve done this before, ain’t you?’
Barry nodded.
‘Yeah. I’ve got a sleeping bag, a bottle of wine and a couple of plastic glasses. All waiting for you, my darling.’
‘Oh . . . go on then. But you’re sure no one comes round this way at night, ain’t ya?’
‘Yes! Now help me lug all the stuff in.’
They got out of the car. Caroline carried the wine and the glasses. Barry carried a large sleeping bag. Caroline pushed open the shed door. As she walked in she stumbled over something and screamed with fright.
‘Here, hold up, girl. You’ll have the Old Bill here if you’re not careful.’
Dumping the sleeping bag on to the floor, Barry flicked his lighter into life.
He heard the real scream that came from Caroline this time and was hard pressed not to follow it with one of his own.
On the floor in a pool of blood lay a young girl. She was nearly naked.
The lighter burnt his fingers and he pulled his thumb off the fuel button. In the darkness Caroline began to panic and Barry pulled her from the shed. He held her to him tightly.
‘Calm down . . . Calm down!’
He could hear her teeth chattering and guessed she was in shock.
He took her back to his car, turned the engine on and put on the heater. Then, taking his torch from the glove compartment, he went back to the shed. His mind was in a turmoil. He stepped gingerly inside and shone the torch on to the girl’s body. Her head was stuck to the floor where the blood had dried on to her hair and the dirt. He knelt down beside the body and put his fingers to the main artery in her neck.
She was alive! Surely not?
He felt again with trembling fingers. He was positive there was a faint heartbeat. He jumped up quickly and, opening the sleeping bag, covered her with it. Must keep her warm. Must keep her warm. Don’t move her. Bless her little heart. Let her live, God. Oh, let her live!
Running from the shed, he jumped into his car and drove as fast as he could to a phone box.
Within fifteen minutes Mandy Kelly was on her way to Grantley Hospital and Caroline and Barry were explaining their embarrassing story to the police, who promised that neither of their spouses would be informed of the circumstances that heralded the finding of the girl.
In the pocket of the sheepskin the police found a purse. It contained Mandy Kelly’s credit cards.
A positive ID had been established.
Kate was listening to Kelly talk about his wife and daughter. Kevin had gone upstairs to lie down and, without his presence, Kelly seemed to relax a little. Kate knew that he was blaming the boy for whatever had happened to Mandy. Kate still thought there was a good chance Mandy would turn up any minute. She’d probably had an argument with Kevin and stormed off, possibly because he’d taken her car again. Kate could not begin to comprehend the wealth that enabled a man to give his daughter a fifty thousand pound car for her twenty-first birthday. She thought of the sovereign earrings she had bought Lizzy for Christmas, the struggle she had had to find the money for them, and shook her head. The funny thing was that Kelly, back to his old self now, was an interesting and articulate man. He spoke of his wife and child with a love that was almost tangible. He was telling her a story now about his first months of fatherhood.
‘Anyway, there I was, all on me own with Mandy, a baby like.’ He smiled. ‘Well, she wanted her dinner. She was crying her eyes out. Do you remember those big glass bottles in the sixties? I picked one up out of the hot water to check it on me arm and I dropped it. It shattered all over the kitchen floor. Well, that was it then. We only had the one bottle and I was beginning to panic when I saw the sauce bottle on the table. I put Mandy in her pram, she slept in a pram then, because we couldn’t afford a cot, see. And I washed out the sauce bottle and sterilised it with boiling water, then I made a feed up and put the teat on the top and fed her.’
Kate laughed with him, picturing the scene in her mind.
‘Well, Renée came home like, laden down with the shopping, took one look and went through the roof.’
It was the sort of thing she could see him doing. He was resourceful. She had been on the point of leaving when he had persuaded her to have another drink. She had guessed that he was frightened of being alone at this time, that he needed another human being. She had stayed out of pity and now she was glad. He was a good talker, a great storyteller and even though she knew what he was capable of, she liked him. She trusted him, too, though why this should be so after his earlier performance she had no idea. Kelly was a hard man, but he had an Achilles heel. Mandy Kelly.
Already, Kate felt as if she knew the girl. And if all her father said was true, she was most definitely not a girl to go off without letting him know. Kelly was the kind of father who would demand to know his daughter’s whereabouts. It was as much a part of him as his swearing.
‘I’m sorry about carrying on earlier, but I’ve been out of me mind.’ His voice was low. Kate knew it had taken a lot for him to give her an apology.
‘I understand, Mr Kelly.’
As if of one mind, they both looked at the clock; it was just after half past twelve.
‘Where the hell can she be? When she walks in, I’ll slap her from one end of this room to the other, I take oath on that. I’ve never raised me hand to her before but I will tonight, by Christ.’
Kate put her hand over his. ‘Calm down, hitting her won’t solve anything.’
‘No, but it might make me feel better.’
The phone rang and Kelly rushed to answer it.
‘Mandy?’
Kate saw his face dissolve from hope to fear in the space of seconds. He held the phone out towards her and said, ‘It’s for you.’
‘Burrows here.’
Patrick Kelly watched her face blanch and in that moment he knew that something had happened to his only child. He clenched his fists so tightly the nails dug into the skin of his palms, drawing blood.
Kate put down the phone and looked at him fully.
‘We’ve found your daughter, Mr Kelly. It seems she’s been attacked.’
Kelly stared at the woman in front of him, confusion and pain flitting across his face.
‘Attacked? My Mandy?’
His voice sounded like a little boy’s, full of hurt and disbelief.
Kate nodded. ‘She’s in Grantley Hospital and they’re operating on her. She’s in a bad way.’
Patrick Kelly felt the wetness in his eyes and did not care. He felt as if his world had just come to an end. He swallowed hard. When he finally spoke it was in a low croak.
‘Is she gonna die?’
Kate put her hand on his arm gently.
‘I think we’d better go to the hospital, don’t you?’
As she sat beside him on the way, Kate felt that she had received an insight into Patrick Kelly. He had his Achilles heel, just like everyone else.
All her problems seemed small in comparison to what the man beside her was going through.
They drove in silence.
George was still sitting in his lounge. It was just past one. He could hear the regular thud-thud of the music from a party a few houses down. He took a long drink of his Ovaltine. It was stone cold and he grimaced.
Elaine had gone to bed earlier and he had told her he was feeling overtired. She knew that when he got like that he could not sleep. She had been happy to leave him downstairs.
He smiled to himself ruefully, laid his head back on the chair and savoured once more the events of earlier in the evening.
She was a very silly girl. Well, he had shown her. Oh, yes, he had shown her all right. The little slut! Hanging around at night, in deserted streets. Well, he had put a stop to her gallop. Oh, yes. It might just make a few of the women of Grantley sit up and take notice of him.
They’d all be talking about him ag
ain tomorrow. Oh, he knew what would be said. Elaine, the hungry hippo, would fill him in on all the local gossip. He smiled to himself at the comparision.
In his mind’s eye he saw the girl as she had been when he had left her. Legs akimbo. He grinned. He knew all her secret places now. She had seen his face. That was a mistake, he realised it now. He should have put on the mask first.
He wondered vaguely if the girl had been found yet. Mandy . . . He liked that name very much.
The party was in full swing now and George could hear one of the records blaring out.
He liked people to enjoy themselves.
As the strains of ‘Blue Velvet’ wafted towards him he smiled again. In his mind he saw all the young girls dancing with men. He pictured tight dresses and straining busts against white silk.
Oh, they were all the same. Every last one of them.
It would be Christmas Day soon. He was glad, because he needed a holiday. It had been a hectic few months.
As they reached the hospital Kelly asked Kate to tell him all she knew. She explained that Mandy had been found with horrific head injuries and that they were operating on her. She did not elaborate. It was not the right time.
Together, they walked into Grantley Casualty Department and Kate explained who they were to the receptionist. Like most hospital receptionists, this one was a breed apart. She pulled her glasses down an almost non-existent nose and surveyed Kelly and Kate over the top of them. Her thin hair was scraped back from her face in a bun so tight her eyes had taken on a Chinese appearance. Kate could see her in a kaftan and clogs and had to stifle a bubble of laughter.
‘Name of patient again please.’
‘Mandy Kelly. I am Detective Insp . . .’
The woman held up a chubby finger in reproof. ‘One question at a time please.’
Patrick watched the performance with a darkening face. The woman was tapping Mandy’s name laboriously into her computer.
‘And how was she brought here?’