by Martina Cole
Natasha drew deeply on her cigarette once more.
‘When was the last time you saw DI Barker then?’ Both women watched as Tash’s face blanched.
‘What you on about? I ain’t seen him in years.’ Bravado was back in the voice now.
‘That’s not true and you know it.’
‘If Bateman has been spinning you a line then you better watch out. Always had it in for me, him. Fucking big poof he is. Mincing round the place as if his shit don’t stink and all!’
‘What made you put Bateman’s name up over Barker? Where is the connection?’
She shook her head as if they were stupid. ‘Everyone knows Bateman hates him. They knew one another years ago. Bateman’s like you, thinks everyone’s a nonce.’
Jenny laughed. ‘You mean you’re not nonces - is that what you are saying? You gave your kids to a strange bird who put make-up on them and dressed them up as little women for photos and you see nothing noncey in that? Am I missing something here? Please explain to me the logic that you seem to live by.’
Natasha shook her head at the apparent skulduggery of the two women before her. ‘You ain’t putting words in my mouth.’ She pointed a smoking hand at them, waving the cigarette around as she spoke. ‘You two will have to get up very early in the morning to catch me.’
‘Depends what you call early. From your social worker’s notes that means us getting up before bloody lunchtime, love. Not too difficult, eh?’
Jenny laughed at Kate’s exclamation and Natasha shook her head again, her ridiculous hair flying around her face.
‘You will get nothing from me. I don’t care what you say or what you threaten. I ain’t seen Barker for years and I know nothing about him. Now I want a fucking brief.’
‘What about Suzy Harrington?’ Jenny rapped out. ‘I heard she is involved in all this. Still mates with Barker, is she?’
‘Suzy who?’ Natasha’s voice was full of wonderment as if the name was completely alien to her. ‘Sorry, ladies, you’ve lost me. Never heard of her.’
‘You are a liar and you know it.’
The girl shrugged. ‘Sticks and stones, darlin’, never hurt no one.’ She was playing with them.
‘Now, as I said before, I am entitled to legal representation,’ she burst out. ‘It’s in the fucking Magna Carta or somewhere, innit? So until I have a brief I am going to shut me bleeding trap - OK? I stand by what I said. A bird I didn’t know asked to borrow me kids. It’s no different to a burglar saying he bought a video or a telly in a pub off a geezer. You can’t prove otherwise. If you could I would have been properly nicked and you two could go home and scratch your bleeding fannies.’
What she said was true and it hurt hearing it.
Jenny stood up and looked down at the smiling girl.
The blow took them all by surprise.
As Natasha was knocked from her chair to the floor she burned herself with her cigarette. She sat on the floor sucking on the burn, the smile still on her face. She looked into Kate’s eyes.
‘You two can’t scare me,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Bear that in mind - you can’t scare me. I will stand by what I said. I made a mistake and I am paying for it. I let me kids go off with an unknown woman and I will pay for that piece of stupidity. But that is as far as it goes. You can’t prove fuck all.’
Jenny moved towards her and Kate pulled her back. A good hiding was exactly what Natasha wanted, and as much as she would like to oblige, she knew it would be madness.
Barbara Epstein knocked on the door loudly. Then, kneeling down, she opened the letterbox. A strange smell assailed her nostrils and she jerked her head back quickly. It was a sweet smell, like rotting leaves.
She stood up and looked around the lobby of the flats. Then, walking down the stairs, she knocked at a red front door with a well-polished brass knocker.
An elderly woman answered her knock.
‘Have you seen Sharon from upstairs?’ Barbara asked her anxiously. ‘Sharon Pallister?’
The woman seemed to be in her seventies and her hair was a startling blue, her lips smeared with orange-coloured lipstick. She shook her head.
‘I assume she’s away. You normally hear that bleeding kid, but it’s been quiet. So I think she has gone to her mum’s. She does that sometimes.’
Barbara looked worried. ‘I am her mum. I can’t get her on the phone.’
‘Oh, it’s you phoning all hours of the day and night, is it? I can hear that bleeding phone as if it’s in my own flat.’
The woman’s voice was a relentless moan and, closing her eyes, Barbara interrupted her.
‘I’ve travelled down from Edinburgh to try and see what has happened to my daughter. Do you know anyone who might have news of her?’
The woman shook her alarming head once more.
‘Try one of the other unmarried mothers. Like a bleeding club round here it is, None of them married . . . it’s a disgrace.’
The door slammed in Barbara’s face. She turned to the one opposite then, taking a deep breath and knocking gently. It was opened by a small boy with fair hair and startling green eyes. He looked to be all of four.
‘Me mum says she ain’t in.’
Barbara nearly smiled then. ‘Tell your mum, it’s Sharon’s mummy. Sharon from upstairs.’
A girl walked out into the small hallway. She had black hair in a long plait over one shoulder and even greener eyes than the child.
‘Oh, hello. I thought you was the tally man come for his money, and I’m boracic at the moment. Come in, love.’
Her voice was harsh but friendly and Barbara walked in gratefully, even though the flat was hot and had a strange smell. As she entered the lounge she realised the smell came from a mixture of dirt and fresh paint. The kitchen, a shambles of boxes and tins, was in the process of being painted bright yellow. But the girl was so pleasant and Barbara was so tired from her journey that she accepted the offer of a cup of tea gratefully.
‘How is Sharon?’ the girl asked.
Barbara looked at her fearfully. ‘I’ve just travelled from Scotland to see her. I can’t get her on the phone and I’m really worried.’
The girl frowned. ‘I assumed she had gone to see you again. Keeps herself to herself she does. Not a bad judge round here, I can tell you. Perhaps Suzy knows where she is, I know they’re mates.’
‘Where does this Suzy live?’
‘Drink up and I’ll take you over there, all right?’
Barbara nodded. ‘Look, have you seen my Sharon in the last few days?’
‘I ain’t seen her for about a week, now you mention it. I ain’t heard little Trevor neither. And he is one noisy little sod.’ She was chuckling. ‘He’s a case him, ain’t he?’
Barbara nodded but a terrible feeling was taking hold inside her. Opening her bag, she took out a mobile phone.
‘I am going to phone the police,’ she said shakily. ‘I think my daughter has met with an accident or something. It’s not like her to disappear like this.’
The girl shrugged and picked up a baby with a dirty nappy and a gummy smile. ‘Round here, love, anything can happen to you . . .’ She regretted the words when she saw Barbara’s worried countenance.
‘Yeah, you phone the Old Bill if it will make you feel better,’ she said kindly. ‘At least that way you’ll feel like you’re doing something, eh?’
Barbara nodded, but the fear was growing stronger now and as she looked around the cramped flat and smelt that strange smell she was reminded of the one from her daughter’s home.
It was sweetly rotten, like something had died. Oh Christ. She could feel hysteria mounting inside her. Sharon had been a difficult girl but never a bad one and she knew how much her mother worried about her. Whatever arguments they had had over the years, and they had been legion, Barbara knew that her daughter would not leave her all this time without getting in touch, because she knew she would be worrying.
As the girl got out a cold bottle of milk from the frid
ge to feed her baby Barbara was talking to the police. Turning off her phone she said quietly, ‘They’re on their way.’
Now that she had rung them she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know what was in her daughter’s flat. She had a bad feeling about it. Had done for the last forty-eight hours.
She sipped tea from a grubby mug and watched the baby suck its milk with relish. It took her mind off what she was thinking at the back of her mind. Sharon was dead, and so was her grandson.
It wasn’t a conscious thought, but it was there nonetheless.
Barbara was mentally preparing herself without actually admitting the fact that deep in her guts she knew it to be true.
Suzy Harrington sat on her leather sofa and raised one eyebrow as DC Golding told her she was under arrest.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘We have reason to believe that you are using children from this estate for the purposes of immoral and degrading literature. You have the right to remain silent . . .’
She laughed scornfully. ‘Fuck off.’
Getting up, she went into her bedroom and slipped on an expensive suede coat. Then she said snidely, ‘I just have to make a call, OK?’
She dialled a number and after a few seconds said: ‘I am on my way to Grantley Police Station, accused of child pornography.’ Then she replaced the phone quickly.
She did not say another word all afternoon.
Kate took a call from her mother and relaxed slightly. Patrick was over the worst. All they could do now was wait, apparently. As she sat at her desk, face lined with tiredness and hands trembling, she received a summons to Ratchette’s office. Her mind on Patrick, she assumed the Chief Inspector would want an update on his progress.
Instead he was standing by his window stiff-backed. He didn’t turn to face her as she waited in his office like a schoolgirl in trouble with the headmaster.
‘I’ve had a call from Above and they have told me that you are to let Suzy Harrington go without further discussion.’
Kate thought for a few seconds that the lack of sleep had affected her hearing. ‘I beg your pardon?’
He sighed heavily. ‘You heard me, Burrows. She is to be released without charge.’
Kate had to press her hands against his desk to control a desperate urge to slap him round the back of his practically hairless head.
‘On what grounds?’ she demanded. ‘If this woman is part of an ongoing investigation then we want to know what it entails.’
He said loudly, ‘I do not have to explain anything to you! I have issued an order and you will carry it out without further comment.’
His face was pale and his eyes were shifting about as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I need to know why we have got to release someone who is central to our investigation of abused, missing and murdered children. I can’t convict without her, she’s the linchpin of what we have been investigating, and I want to know what authority is stopping me from carrying out the job I am so badly paid for.’
Her voice was heavy with sarcasm and disgust. ‘This stinks, Mr Ratchette. It stinks to high heaven.’
He seemed to deflate before her eyes.
‘Listen, Kate, if you value your career, let this go. You must! This has come from the top and I can’t do anything to help. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
She shook her head.
‘By Christ, how the mighty have fallen. You honestly think that I’m going to lie down and swallow this? After all the snide remarks and the bloody innuendo I have had to endure from you over the last few years, you have the brass bloody neck to stand there and talk to me about my career. Practically threaten me, then expect me to tug my forelock and say “Yes, sir”!’
For the first time ever she saw Ratchette frightened. He was begging for her understanding.
‘Look, Kate, I’m as upset about this as you are. But I have to follow orders too, you know, and this one came from the highest source, believe me. If it hadn’t I’d have told them to take a flying fuck myself. I have the newspapers on my back, too, don’t forget. This is a high-profile case and we need results fast. So I can understand what you are saying. But I can’t go against direct orders and neither can you.’
Kate laughed. ‘We’ll bloody well see about that,’ she said angrily. ‘Can you imagine what my team will say when I present them with this little gem? Great work, guys, but we can’t actually convict Suzy as she seems to have friends in high places. But, hey, you did a good job anyway.’
‘I never said that, Kate. I never said she had any friends . . .’
Kate laughed again, this time loud enough to attract glances from beyond the glass walls. She and Ratchette were now the focus of interest for the whole team.
‘You didn’t have to,’ she said tersely. ‘Right - I want to know where this came from and I want to know now. Who is the culprit, sir?’
Ratchette sighed and sat at his desk. He suddenly looked old.
‘I cannot divulge that information, but if it makes you feel any better I went above him and was told the same thing. To let it go.’
There was a finality about his voice that spoke volumes.
‘You have enough to convict the others, Kate - just leave Suzy out of it. Those were my orders and now they are yours.’
‘And if I don’t do what you ask?’
He sighed and raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Then I’m afraid I can’t help you and this conversation never took place.’
He softened. ‘Come on, love, it’s not like it’s the first time something like this has happened, is it? It’s how the whole world works. I scratch your back and you scratch mine.’
‘Bollocks, sir. If I ever had to rely on you to scratch my back I’d know that I’d hit rock bottom.’
Inside she was sorry for him. He was weak and he was stupid. But what else was new?
‘This is about Barker, isn’t it?’ she raged. ‘He’s in this little lot up to his neck. I can’t get a statement from anyone in all this. Some big guns are involved and you know who they are.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t even believe I am hearing any of this! I knew you were bent, knew you ducked and dived with Pat, but I never had you down as a nonce-lover. Well, Mr Ratchette, as soon as I have enough evidence, Suzy is nicked and so is Barker. He’s like a bad smell turning up when you least expect him. I will have them both and I will do it in such a way that the DPP himself will have to issue the arrest warrants.’
She turned and walked from the room, slamming the door behind her so hard it rattled in its frame. She could taste her own anger. It was burning her mouth and her chest like vicious bile. Her hands were shaking so much that when she got back to her own office she had trouble opening the door.
Jenny listened in amazement as Kate related what she had just been told. Then they both watched helplessly as Suzy came walking cockily past, a wide smile on her over made-up face.
She wiggled her fingers at them in a parody of a wave as she said happily, ‘ ’Bye, ladies.’
Boris was listening to all that was being said in the basement of his house. He knew that Willy Gabney would probably kill the two other men but didn’t care. In fact it would save his men a job and he liked to think the troublesome duo were being paid back. They had caused him a lot of problems over the last few months and he was sick of them. Men like Gunner and Partridge were basically ten a penny. Hard nuts in their own little manor, normally a small estate of some kind, but nothing when they were mixing with the big boys like himself. He could replace them in minutes if he needed to and so he was quite happy to give them to Willy.
He still liked the big man, respected him. Most men, his own included, would have broken long ago. But Willy had taken what they had dished out and had still kept silent, only reiterating that his boss had known nothing of the club’s other activities and that his trust had been abused by so-called mates.
He had also pointed out tha
t Patrick Kelly had more than enough money of his own without needing to take what wasn’t his. Not unless he was bankrolling an armed robbery - which he hadn’t done for years because he had turned semi-respectable to keep his woman happy, the woman in question being a police inspector whom he loved like nobody’s business.
Boris had to admit that it sounded plausible enough, and guessed that if he put Jacky and Joey in with the big man then he would get the exact truth.
Which he had.
He had also found out that Patrick’s woman was bent when need be. Something else that interested him. Everyone needed bent police on their side and she seemed like the perfect candidate for what he had in mind.
All in all it had been a good few weeks.
Barbara Epstein stood on the landing outside her daughter’s flat and listened to the commotion inside. The police had broken open the door and the smell had hit them all at full force. She could feel her heart beating a tattoo in her chest.
She heard one of the policemen say, ‘We have the body of a female, dead maybe a week.’ Waited until he walked out to her then said in a frightened voice, ‘My grandson . . . little Trevor. Is he in there?’
The policeman shook his head.
‘Then where the hell is he?’
Her voice was rising hysterically and she felt as if she was filling up with hot air. As she fainted the young man caught her clumsily and tried to lay her on the floor as best he could, then arranged her in the recovery position.
Then he went back inside and called out to his team, ‘Looks like another missing kid. Better get in touch with CID, tell them a child is missing and we have a murder victim.’