The Hiding Place

by Helen Phifer

  Morgan knocked on his door and opened it a little.

  ‘Morning. Would you like a brew?’

  He raised his mug in her direction. ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  She smiled and closed his door. A voice in his head whispered: What are you doing? This is way too far and it’s none of your business. She’s your friend; it is your business. You’re only looking out for her best interests.

  His phone rang and he picked it up.

  ‘Matthews.’

  ‘Oh, you sound grumpy today.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Morning, Declan.’

  ‘That’s better. The undigested stomach contents were confirmed as the remains of ham and pineapple pizza. Did you find out what Charlie’s last meal was?’

  ‘Yes, Mum confirmed she ate pizza when she got in from school: ham and pineapple was the only kind she would eat.’

  ‘So, that means whoever killed her did so within two hours of her consuming it.’

  ‘Mum left the house to go to her friend’s around fifty minutes after Charlie came home, and said she wasn’t in the street and she thought that Dad had changed his mind and picked her up. So that means Charlie was with the killer at this point then, and either she died straight away or within the next hour.’

  ‘Did you ask her about the scratch on Charlie’s arm? We’ve had nothing come back from it, unfortunately there was no DNA that could have led to our killer.’

  ‘She couldn’t remember seeing it when she came home from school.’

  ‘Interesting, she might have got it from overgrown brambles maybe or a cat? It’s very fine and you know how temperamental cats can be, we used to have one that would let you stroke it then out of the blue claw your hand to pieces. Have you checked all the gardens? What are they like? Are they well-kept or messy? I don’t know the area where she lives. I don’t think she was that far from home, Ben.’

  ‘Declan, you are a bloody genius. Thank you.’

  ‘Just doing my job. I want you to catch the bastard and find the other missing girl alive. We owe it to Charlie to do our best. I have to go, someone is calling on the office phone. If Susie is ringing in sick, I will probably cry.’

  He hung up, leaving Ben smiling. At least they had something to focus on. He went into the office where Morgan, Des and Amy were waiting for him to brief them. The door opened and in walked a windblown, flustered-looking Claire Williams. Everyone stared at her, even Ben; he had expected a phone call, maybe even a Teams meeting but not her to come in person.

  ‘Morning, sorry I’m late. It was a bastard driving over Shap in this weather; I thought the wind was going to blow the hire car over the side. How are you all? Am I interrupting?’

  Ben was still staring at her as if she’d walked in with three heads and not the one. Morgan stood up.

  ‘Would you like a coffee, ma’am, warm you up a bit?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, please, Morgan. That would be amazing.’

  Morgan stood up and exited the room to go and make the coffee, and Ben found his voice.

  ‘No, sorry, you’re not. Interrupting I mean. Thank you for coming; it’s very much appreciated. I have the policy book in my office for you to go through.’

  He wasn’t sure if it was. Did he want her sticking her nose in and telling him what a crap job he’d done up to now? Not really, but he also wasn’t selfish enough not to accept her help; if it meant they had an extra pair of hands to bring Macy home safe that was all that mattered.

  Twenty-Nine

  Morgan searched the kitchen cupboard for a mug that wasn’t chipped or tea-stained and found one at the back. She gave it a scrub, rinsed it and took the coffee back to Claire, who was now at the back of the room leaning against a radiator. She was wearing a two-piece trouser suit similar to what Morgan had on yesterday and had almost frozen to death in. She hoped she wasn’t going to be leaving the office much or she was going to freeze. The wind and rain had been cold enough yesterday; today it was much worse. The rain as it began to fall against the glass was thick with sleet. Morgan was glad she’d put on a thermal vest, thick black polo neck jumper and fur-lined leggings to keep her warm. She’d bought them in the sale at Primark last summer and wondered if she’d ever find a use for them. After a long night with Fin, she’d finally fallen into a deep sleep, expecting to wake up and find him sitting there at the end of her bed, but he’d left early and for that she’d been grateful. She’d been a little too drunk last night and it had shown. She wouldn’t normally invite someone into her bed who she barely knew and felt more than a little embarrassed that she had. Not that she was complaining; the company and warmth had been nice, which was more than she could say about the sex. She didn’t have the luxury of a string of lovers to compare Fin to, but it hadn’t been at all what she’d expected; in fact, if anything, it had been quite dull.

  ‘Morgan, if you could go with Amy and do that.’

  She looked across at Ben, not even realising he’d been talking to her, and she felt her cheeks redden. A sharp kick under the desk from Amy and she nodded emphatically, no idea what she was nodding for but it seemed the right thing to do. Claire smiled at her, and she smiled back. Morgan liked Claire. She was nice, but very thorough and determined. Amy stood up, and Morgan followed her. Grabbing her thick waterproof coat from the back of her chair, she followed Amy out into the corridor.

  ‘Earth to Morgan, Christ, where did you go? I thought your brain had been stolen out of your mind.’

  ‘I was thinking.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘About last night.’

  ‘Oh, what about last night? Please give me something to keep me going, some nice piece of gossip that will see me through for the next couple of days. Did you and Fin…?’

  ‘It’s none of your business what I get up to.’

  ‘Tell me you didn’t sleep with the journo? Not that I’d say no, because he’s good looking and that car is enough to make me throw myself at him without a second thought.’

  She shrugged. ‘That’s really shallow, you know, it’s only a car.’

  ‘Only a car? That car means he has plenty of cash.’ She rubbed her fingers together. ‘Cash means you get nice presents, go to nice restaurants, do nice things.’

  ‘I’d rather have a picnic by the side of a lake with someone who wasn’t as dull as dishwater, than all the money in the world.’

  Amy laughed. ‘God, he must have been crap in the bedroom then if the money means nothing.’

  ‘Of course, money is nice, you’d have to be a fool not to think that. But there’s more to life than that. I’d rather spend time with someone who—’ She stopped talking. Who was she going to say? She had thought that Fin would be a distraction, take her mind off everything, but in fact she wasn’t sure if it had made it worse.

  The street where Charlie lived was no longer sealed off, but there were PCSOs parked in cars either end keeping an eye on it. Morgan waved to them as they drove past and parked a little further down. The ground was covered in big wet puddles, and she was glad to have a pair of boots on and extra thick socks. They got out of the car and both looked across at Charlie’s house, which looked like a florists had opened in the scruffy front garden. There were flowers, teddy bears and balloons covering the grass.

  Amy muttered, ‘That’s nice, not sure if I’d want everyone traipsing in my front garden, though, to lay a tribute. I couldn’t be arsed.’

  ‘It’s sad. From what I can gather, no one bothered with Charlie when she was alive and out all weather, alone.’

  ‘Guilty conscience, maybe the neighbours didn’t know what else to do.’

  ‘I’ll take this side, you do Charlie’s side. We’re looking for what?’

  Amy smiled. ‘God, you weren’t listening at all, were you? We are looking for anything sharp that could have caused a scratch on Charlie’s arm that’s within walking distance of her house. An overgrown garden with brambles, wild roses maybe.’ Morgan nodded. ‘Declan mentioned it could ha
ve been caused by a cat so we’re looking for a neighbourhood cat as well.’ Amy was staring at Charlie’s front garden. ‘It’s a bit of a long shot, I know, but we’ve got to try.’

  ‘Yes, we do, what else is there?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Morgan began to walk along studying the front gardens, to see if there were any that were messy. Along this side they were all perfectly landscaped, apart from one: Eleanor Fleming’s house. Clipped hedges, mowed lawns, paved paths with neat flower beds and not a bramble in sight. Morgan squeezed through the gate and began to look closely for anything that could have caused the scratch. There were no roses or brambles. The door opened a crack, and she turned at the sound of the voice.

  ‘Have you lost something? Can I help you?’

  She glanced across the road. Amy was strolling along the opposite side doing the same. Staring into the front gardens from the pavement, she realised she might have gone a little too far.

  ‘Morning, sorry, I was looking for a piece of paper which blew out of my hand.’

  ‘Oh, let me help you. It gets really windy along this part of the street for some strange reason. Hang on, I’ll put my shoes on.’

  She felt bad, she was crap at lying, but she didn’t want him to think she’d singled out his garden because it wasn’t as tidy as the others. Smiling at him and carried on looking around, and he joined her. After a minute he stopped.

  ‘Sorry, Morgan, it’s not here. Have you tried next door?’

  ‘Yes, no worries. Thanks for helping.’

  He smiled at her and went back into the house, about to shut the door.

  ‘Can I just ask a little more about Eleanor?’

  He froze on the spot, and she realised that he didn’t like to talk about it. Even after all this time, it was still painful for him.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Oh, you know: who her friends were, the name of the officers who were dealing with it, did she have a boyfriend? Oh, actually, sorry, I forgot she had a boyfriend who moved away, didn’t she? Do you think she followed him? Was there a chance she was glad to escape? Did she have any reason to leave the family home?’

  ‘That’s an awful lot of questions.’

  It was and she realised this, but it was bothering her and she was itching to dig out all the files on her as soon as she got a minute.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry to keep dragging it up and upsetting you. I just don’t like how no one bothered too much that she’d gone.’

  ‘You don’t think she ran away?’

  Morgan shook her head. ‘I’m not fully convinced. Truthfully, are you?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m not a detective, I’m not anything or anyone with knowledge of such things.’ He stepped back outside, closing the door, and lowered his voice.

  ‘My mother didn’t think so, but she didn’t want to think anything bad had happened either, so she went along with it, with what the police told her. It broke her. She was always such a strong woman. She brought us up on her own, in this house, and took very good care of us. She was strict with us, but no more than we deserved I suppose. After Eleanor left she turned to God, devoting her time to Him. I was old enough to look after myself, so it didn’t matter to me what she did. I wanted to move away too, but I couldn’t leave her in the end. She stopped eating properly and the only time she left the house was to go to church. It left her, both of us, a mess, but we believed what we were told. Who were we to question the police? Now, she’s not well at all and spends most of her days in bed. Eleanor’s running off might have given her the life she wanted, but it ruined ours and for that I can’t forgive her.’

  ‘I’d really like to speak to your mother. Could you ask her if I can come back at a time that suits her?’

  A look of pain – or was it annoyance – flashed across his face. ‘I’ll ask her, but I can’t promise you she will be interested. How can I get in touch? She’s sleeping now and I can’t disturb her; we had a very unsettled night.’

  ‘Of course, thank you.’ She tugged a card out of her pocket. ‘This is my work number; if it goes to voicemail then you can ring my personal number. Hang on.’ Taking a pen she wrote her phone number down and her house phone, just in case he didn’t like to phone mobiles. He was a bit old-fashioned, not that there was anything wrong with that, she just wanted him to be able to get hold of her if his mother decided to talk to her.

  He took it from her. ‘Thank you, I’ll ask. Oh, the detective who dealt with it was a Mr Peterson. I don’t think he’ll still be working now: he was getting on when he took it on.’

  ‘Was he good?’

  ‘Compared to you, Morgan, probably not. He liked to drink, I think; his breath always smelt of stale alcohol.’

  ‘Thank you for your help.’

  He smiled at her. This time he did go inside and shut the heavy wooden front door behind him.

  Amy was walking towards her on this side of the street, and Morgan went out of the garden to meet her.

  ‘Now what?’ asked Amy.

  ‘We carry on. Let’s head in the direction of Macy’s house. It’s not that far away. What was Vince’s garden like?’

  Amy shook her head. ‘Neat and tidy, not an overgrown bramble in sight.’

  ‘Hmm, that’s a shame. Imagine if he’d had a huge tangle of them spilling onto the road – it could have been case closed, bye Vince, enjoy the rest of your life inside.’

  ‘If only it were that simple. It would have been on Luther or Vera; they seem to get nice clues handed to them on a plate.’

  Morgan smiled. ‘I wouldn’t mind being handed to Luther on a plate.’

  Amy sighed. ‘Me either, now I would understand you fawning over the boss if he looked like him.’

  Morgan knew then that she had to snap out of it. If it was so obvious to Amy that she liked Ben then the whole station might know. She decided to make more of an effort with Fin. They’d consumed two bottles of wine and eaten a huge amount of pizza before going to bed. It would hamper anyone’s passion.

  ‘Right then, let’s find us an overgrown garden. We haven’t got all day. The clock might be ticking for Macy.’

  ‘God, I hope that kid is safe. I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about her.’

  This took Morgan by surprise. She hadn’t realised that Amy had a soft heart underneath her tough exterior. ‘Yes, let’s hope so.’

  As they began walking along Bay Fell Grove, they were too immersed in looking into people’s front gardens to notice the man watching them from a distance. She had got out of a white Ford Focus, which had been left unlocked, along with a much taller woman. For coppers they weren’t very security conscious. He peered through the window and spotted a small, black handbag on the passenger seat floor. Opening the door just enough to reach inside, he grabbed the bag and felt inside it; there was a small purse, a notebook and a letter inside it. He wasn’t interested in anything except the letter. Tugging it out of the bag, he stuffed it into his pocket, put the bag back on the floor and closed the door. He looked around, no one seemed to be paying him any attention, so he continued his slow stroll. Obviously, the investigation was still focused around this area, which was a bit of a worry for him. He walked past the house with a sea of fresh flowers outside, along with balloons and teddy bears, a wave of sadness washing over him. A woman wearing police uniform got out of a car at the end of the street and he almost had a heart attack: had she watched him steal from the handbag in the car he’d just been looking inside? Picking up his pace, he carried on walking towards her. She glanced his way but then began to cross the road. As he got near, he called out, ‘Morning, officer.’

  She turned to him and smiled. ‘Morning.’ Then turned away as her radio began to ring like a phone. He didn’t stay to see anything else. He needed to get away from here. That had been close, too close for his liking.

  Thirty

  Ben, Claire and Tom were in the small office which had been turned into an incident room to deal with Charlie’s murder
and Macy’s disappearance. A Gold command meeting had been called with the chiefs at headquarters, and Ben had the policy book in which he’d written down everything the team had done since the initial call came in; every procedure and investigation was there ready for anyone who needed to see what had been done so far. Initially, Tom had decided not to use the HOLMES 2 computer system, but now he had drafted in some staff from the Intel unit and had them frantically inputting everything into the system. The only problem for Ben with HOLMES was that it wasn’t as fast as he’d have liked it to be; he much preferred to do the thinking himself. They’d only ever had to use it once before and that was for the Riverside Rapist enquiry. Claire finished going through the book and passed it back to him.