Behind Closed Doors

by Susan Lewis

  ‘That’s what’s being said. I don’t know the details of it yet, only that the police have been asking everyone if they saw her last Sunday night.’

  ‘And did you see her?’

  ‘Not that I can remember, but the cabaret room was full so she could have been around without me noticing.’

  Closing the front door, Kasia started along the hall, pushing shut the understairs cupboard as she went. ‘Is that the last time anyone saw her? Eight days ago?’

  ‘I think so. Glyn reckons she had some kind of bust-up with her parents and now she’s paying them back by hiding out somewhere.’ Glyn was Olenka’s live-in partner and head chef at Blue Ocean Park.

  ‘That’s terrible if it’s true,’ Kasia murmured. ‘It’s terrible anyway. Heidi and Gavin must be so worried. Have you seen them?’

  ‘Not today. Ewan the deputy manager was running things, as usual.’

  As she entered the narrow kitchen Kasia dropped her bag on a worktop and cast a quick look through the mail. ‘I wonder if I should call Heidi,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do, but I want her to know that we care.’

  ‘I expect all her friends are calling,’ Tomasz replied, ‘but I’m going back there later. If I see her, or Gavin, I’ll make sure they know we’ll be happy to help if we can.’

  ‘OK. Please do that. Now, what time should we expect you home?’

  ‘Probably around seven. Are the children in this evening?’

  Kasia consulted the whiteboard that dominated the wall over the small table they used for breakfast. It charted everyone’s commitments for the week, though as school was out it wasn’t as cluttered as usual. ‘Ania’s got dance at six and Anton’s starting his karate lessons at seven.’

  ‘Of course, and I promised to be home in time to take him. OK, I should ring off now, I’m just turning into Seaview Park.’

  ‘Did you remember to call your mother today?’

  He laughed. ‘Do you think I would dare to forget her birthday? She was happy to tell me what a terrible son I am and she said thank you for the perfume and chocolates.’

  Knowing the thanks would have been only for him, since his mother was a devout Catholic who disapproved of her only son’s relationship with a married woman, Kasia said, ‘I’m glad they arrived in time.’

  ‘They did. Now I really must go. Call if you need anything, otherwise I’ll see you before seven.’

  After ringing off Kasia poured herself a cold drink and ran upstairs to slip out of her uniform before taking a shower. Olenka, whose shift at the care home didn’t start until eight this evening, was minding the children, and since she wasn’t due to bring them home for another half an hour there would hopefully be time to check emails before chaos broke out.

  However, when Kasia went into the spare room where Tomasz had set up their computer she found, to her confusion, that it wasn’t there.

  ‘Our computer has disappeared,’ she told Tomasz when she got through to his mobile.

  ‘What?’ he cried. Then, seeming to connect with her words, he laughed. ‘Sorry, I forgot to tell you. I took it in this morning to get everything transferred on to a new laptop. I thought it was time we upgraded.’

  Having no argument with that since they’d been discussing it for weeks, she said, ‘So when do we get the new one?’

  ‘Hopefully today. I’ll call into Curry’s on my way home to see if it’s ready.’

  ‘OK. I hope you’re in the mood for zrazy tonight?’

  His sigh was all pleasure. ‘Kochanie, I am always in the mood for zrazy – with kasha on the side?’

  Since it sounded very like her name, she murmured teasingly, ‘You are making this sound very indecent.’

  Laughing, he said, ‘I will save my reply for when we are alone.’

  Kasia was still smiling to herself a few minutes later when Olenka let herself in downstairs with the children.

  After dishing out kisses, admiring Ania’s new hairslide, cowering from Anton’s scary dinosaur and cuddling her eighteen-month-old nephew, Felix, Kasia opened the back door for them to go and build castles in the sandbox Tomasz had created next to the playhouse.

  As they settled she turned to her sister, and speaking in Polish, said, ‘Did you hear about Sophie Monroe?’

  Glancing up from the tea she was making, Olenka said, ‘You mean that she’s disappeared?’ At five foot four Olenka was taller, plumper and darker than Kasia, and being three years older and two longer in Britain she considered herself more sophisticated and streetwise. ‘I reckon Glyn’s right, she’s hiding out somewhere to try and scare her parents.’

  Sighing, Kasia said, ‘It would be a cruel thing to do, but let’s hope that’s all it is.’

  Slicing through a lemon, Olenka dropped a wedge into each mug and handed one to Kasia. ‘It’s Heidi I feel sorry for,’ she commented. ‘She’s never done anything to deserve all the crap that girl gives her.’

  Since she knew very little about the family, Kasia merely shook her head sadly.

  ‘From what I hear,’ Olenka continued, ‘she’s been throwing herself at half the blokes who come to the camp. It doesn’t matter whether they work there or are just visiting . . . Some of the campers have complained, apparently. Wouldn’t you if she was coming on to your husband or son?’

  Accepting that she wouldn’t like it very much, Kasia said, ‘She’s still quite young and probably doesn’t understand half of what she’s doing. We didn’t when we were her age.’

  Olenka cast her a look.

  ‘Well, we didn’t,’ Kasia insisted. ‘OK, we lived in a very different world to Sophie’s, but you must remember what it was like when the hormones started to change, and how mad we suddenly were about boys.’

  ‘That might be true, but we didn’t do anything about it, unless you’re telling me you did.’

  ‘Of course not. I’m just saying that girls Sophie’s age aren’t always aware of how they’re coming across. Anyway, let’s change the subject – would you and Glyn like to eat with us this evening? There’s plenty here.’

  Olenka watched her unwrapping the steaks. ‘If you’re making zrazy it always tastes better the next day,’ she commented.

  ‘I know, but I’m serving it tonight.’

  ‘I see you have the best cuts.’

  Reaching for a rolling pin, Kasia said, ‘Would you like to bash them, help get rid of some of whatever’s eating you?’

  Olenka had to smile. ‘OK, I’m jealous. Not that I’d swap Glyn for Tomasz, or maybe I would . . . No, no, I’m not serious, it’s just the way Tomasz has got in with the Poynters . . . You’re living like royalty, you two.’

  Kasia gasped a laugh. ‘I hardly think a terraced house in Waverley compares to Buckingham Palace, and it’s not even as if we own it. We pay rent, the same as you, and the reason Tomasz earns more than Glyn is because he has more than one job. You should get Glyn to turn himself into a cabaret act as well.’

  Olenka’s eyes danced. ‘I promise you, he wouldn’t be allowed to demonstrate his other skills in public, and may the good Lord save us from his singing.’

  Giving her a playful nudge, Kasia gestured for her to get started on the pounding as she reached for the phone.

  ‘Hi, it’s me,’ Tomasz told her. ‘I’ve just had a call from Curry’s; apparently the computer won’t be ready until tomorrow, and the kitchen at Seaview’s lost power. I’ve no idea how long it’ll take to sort, but I don’t think I’m going to be home by seven. Is Anton there so I can speak to him?’

  Used to the unscheduled demands on his time, Kasia called out to her son. ‘Any more news on Sophie Monroe?’ she asked as they waited for the boy to amble up the garden.

  ‘I don’t know, I’m not at Blue Ocean, but Jimmy Poynter rang just now. He’s worried about what it’ll do for business if she doesn’t show up soon, especially if it goes public. The campers won’t like having the police crawling all over the place.’

  Kasia’s eyebrows ro
se. ‘I think they’d like it a lot less if they found out something had happened to the girl and no one had bothered to look for her. Anyway, here’s Anton,’ and planting a kiss on her son’s unruly dark hair she passed him the phone.

  ‘Sorry, Andee, it just can’t happen.’

  Detective Inspector Terence Gould was shaking his head with a regret that Andee understood, but was still finding hard to accept. ‘You know as well as I do that we don’t have the resources to start running a wild goose chase for a fourteen-year-old who took money, a computer, mobile phone . . .’

  ‘Which hasn’t been used since last Wednesday,’ Andee interrupted.

  ‘But it has been used, to tell her father she’s with friends . . .’

  ‘Who she failed to name. What if someone’s forced her to send those messages?’

  His frown deepened. ‘Is there any evidence of that?’

  ‘No, but frankly I find it odd that she’s suddenly cut contact.’

  ‘With her parents, maybe, but you haven’t spoken to the best friend yet.’

  ‘We’ve checked with the service provider. The phone hasn’t been used at all since last Wednesday.’

  ‘So she’s got herself a pay as you go. You know how savvy kids are these days.’

  ‘She hasn’t been on any of the social media sites either, or not that we’ve found so far, and she was a regular Facebook user up to a week ago.’

  His eyes held hers in a level gaze. ‘Has she threatened suicide in any of her postings? Is there any suggestion of stalking, bullying, trolling, grooming?’

  ‘OK, none of the above, but that doesn’t mean we should rule them out.’

  ‘You need to speak to the best friend. What’s her name?’

  ‘Estelle Morris, and Barry Britten’s already spoken to her on the phone. She swears she doesn’t know where Sophie is.’

  His eyebrows rose incredulously. ‘And you’re taking her word for it?’

  Andee stared at him hard, knowing it was a reasonable point. ‘Let me tell you why this case should be categorised as high risk,’ she said forcefully. ‘It’s extremely likely she’s sexually active. At fourteen that makes her . . .’

  ‘Andee, you know what it makes her, a bloody nuisance, exactly like half the other fourteen-year-old girls out there . . .’

  ‘Who haven’t been missing from home for over a week. What if she went off with someone who was staying at the campsite and now he’s holding her somewhere?’

  ‘Unless you tell me differently there’s nothing to say that’s happened.’

  ‘Nothing yet.’

  ‘When there is, we’ll review the situation, until then let uniform deal with it, while you get back to the burglaries on Wermers Road. We’ve got Wickes on the list now, Debenhams, Curry’s . . .’

  ‘How can stolen electricals be more important than a missing girl?’ Andee cried angrily.

  His jaw tightened, reminding her that he didn’t appreciate insubordination, even from her. ‘We need to know how the hell anyone’s getting this stuff out of the stores undetected,’ he continued, as if the offence hadn’t occurred. ‘It’s looking very like we have a crime syndicate operating on our patch, and if we have we need to let them know they’re not welcome. So now, do me a favour, make them a priority and leave the missing girl to the boys in blue.’

  Andee held her ground. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do that,’ she stated boldly.

  His face darkened. ‘That wasn’t a request.’

  ‘I realise that, but, sir, there’s more to this . . .’

  ‘Andee, you’re forcing me to say things I’d really rather not.’ Ignoring her challenging look, he went on, ‘OK, we both know you can’t see straight where missing girls are concerned.’

  Though her face tightened she said nothing. He continued, not unkindly, ‘You’re letting your own experiences colour your judgement, but no matter what shade you paint it, Andee, finding that girl isn’t going to bring your sister back.’

  Andee’s heart caught on a beat. He was right, of course, but that wasn’t what this was about.

  ‘Burglaries,’ he said quietly. ‘Make some arrests. Show us country bumpkins what you girls from the Met are made of.’

  Though she knew it was meant to be a self-deprecating joke to defuse the moment, she couldn’t quite manage a smile as she left his office and returned to her desk.

  ‘I get the feeling it didn’t go well,’ Leo Johnson commented, looking up from his computer. He was a striking young man with a shock of wiry red hair, a wrestler’s physique and an enthusiasm for his job that could be as entertaining as it was sometimes annoying. However, he was certainly the DC she preferred to work with, along with Jemma Payne, a newer recruit, though she had to admit she was privileged to be part of the entire Kesterly CID team. They watched each other’s backs in a way she hadn’t experienced with the Met, willingly weighed in on cases when further help was needed, and stood together whenever the proverbial hit the fan.

  Sinking into her chair, she sighed heavily.

  ‘For what it’s worth, I’m backing your instincts,’ Leo told her.

  Groaning in frustration she let her head fall into her hands.

  Since it was the end of the day most desks in the main office were empty. There were just a couple of other DCs poring over a map spread out between them, and an admin assistant talking to someone on the phone.

  She turned to Leo. ‘Do you know about my sister?’ she asked bluntly.

  His hands stopped on the keyboard.

  Of course he did. It had no doubt been the first bite of gossip to be chewed over when news had reached Kesterly CID that Andee Lawrence was being appointed as one of the new detective sergeants. And the reason they’d know her name was, in part, because her father’s family were from Kesterly, though he’d been a detective chief superintendent with the Met at the time Penny had disappeared. Those terrible days of searching, praying, constantly fearing the worst might have been pre-email, pre-computers as they knew them now, but stories of that time, and what had happened to her father as a result, had spread round the force as fast as any virus without cyber assistance.

  And like a grisly sort of heirloom they reverberated down the years.

  ‘Anything from social services?’ Andee asked, returning to the Sophie Monroe case.

  ‘Still waiting,’ Leo replied.

  Unsurprised by that, since social services were rarely speedy, she got to her feet. ‘OK, talk to CAIT,’ she said, referring to the Child Abuse Investigation Team, ‘find out if they’ve had any dealings with the Monroe family. I’m going home,’ and grabbing her bag and phone she swept out of the office.

  ‘On my way,’ she told her mother’s voicemail as she steered her car from the station car park on to the leafy quadrant where Kesterly Police HQ was located. A drink at the Melvilles’ might be just what she needed this evening. Better still would be a drink with Graeme, and a whole night with him would be best of all, but that wasn’t going to happen until Wednesday at the earliest.

  Would she really go through with it? She’d never slept with anyone but Martin.

  Slowing up behind the tourist train on Kesterly seafront, she found herself wondering what her father would advise were she able to discuss the Sophie Monroe case with him. In a way she was glad she couldn’t, since she knew only too well how deeply the subject would distress him. It was having much the same effect on her with all the memories it was bringing back, though this wasn’t the first time she’d been involved in a misper since joining the force. She could handle it, she felt sure of that, even though this was the first case of a missing fourteen-year-old girl to come her way.

  Penny had been only thirteen the first time she’d taken off without a word. They’d been living in Chiswick then, where they’d always lived from the time Andee was born, though not in the same house. They’d moved to the four-bedroomed semi, just off the high street, a year after her father’s promotion to DCS, which was about a year before all the proble
ms began.

  Andee understood, now it was too late, that her sister had started to suffer from depression almost as soon as she’d hit puberty. The trouble was, as a family they were always so busy – her father with his job, her mother with her small estate agency, Andee, who was two years older, with studying, boys, socialising, all the usual mid-teen stuff – that Penny’s change of behaviour, if it was noticed at all, was invariably put down to ‘a phase she was going through’.

  Andee’s memories of Penny back then were always darkened by the way she, Andee, used to yell at her for crashing into her room without knocking, or for her constant complaining and whining.

  ‘What do you mean you’re not pretty?’ she used to snap at her. ‘Just because you’ve got a few spots doesn’t mean you’re ugly. Get over yourself, will you, and go and annoy someone else.’

  Penny would return to her room, but then she’d come back again, saying something like, ‘I wish I was as clever as you. I’ll never be good enough to go to uni.’ Or, ‘Mum and Dad love you the best, I can tell.’ Or, ‘I don’t have any friends. Nobody likes me.’

  And Andee would shoot back with, ‘Stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself and grow up.’ Or, ‘I don’t have time for all your crap, so get out of my way.’

  Andee’s insides still churned with shame when she recalled how cruel and impatient she’d been with her sister, and the pain of it had burned deeper with time. She’d never stopped tormenting herself with the private tears Penny must have shed over the way no one would listen to her. Her fragile young heart must have fractured into thousands of pieces under the strain of longing to be understood. There was nothing Andee wouldn’t give for the chance to make it up to her, to be able to tell her how pretty, intelligent, loved and popular she was, to make her the very centre of her world, but fate, God, whatever it was, had never allowed it.

  The first time Penny stayed out all night, causing her parents to frantically ring around all her friends, even to go out searching the streets into the early hours, she’d shown up again the next morning saying she’d been at Mia’s, a recent arrival at the school whom she was getting to know. The second time, a few weeks later, there was less of a fuss and afterwards it hadn’t taken the family long to get caught up in their hectic lives again. Eventually they’d stopped worrying when Penny went off in ‘one of her funks’. They assumed she was at Mandy’s, or Kelly’s, or Mia’s, and because she always came back after a night or two no one ever checked.