by Sally Rigby
He pulled out his phone from his pocket and gave Rob a call.
‘Clifford, what the hell are you doing phoning again? You disappear without a trace for ages and then, all of a sudden, I’m being inundated with calls,’ Rob said, giving a deep belly laugh.
‘I urgently need your help.’
‘What is it?’ Rob’s voice immediately became serious.
‘The investigation I’m undertaking, the one I told you about concerning Donald Witherspoon, has turned nasty and I thought you could help me. I need to know the full name and address of Andrea Wood’s driver. He also does other work for her, security, I think. All I know is his first name is Aaron, and he’s around six foot tall, well built, shaved head, with a tattoo of a bird on his left hand.’
‘What do you mean by turned nasty?’
‘Briefly, I got badly beaten up on Saturday night in Market Harborough, and I believe that one of my attackers was her driver. I only just discovered it was him when I was in Andrea’s car a moment ago and saw his hand, showing the tattoo, on the steering wheel.’
‘What were you doing in her car?’
‘I’d waited outside the studio for her, so I could ask more questions about Witherspoon, because we suspect he might have been blackmailing her. She’d only talk to me in her car. What I don’t know is whether her intention had been to get me in the car so she could get rid of me, or whether or it was genuine that she wanted to talk. As soon as I spotted the driver was my attacker, I jumped out at some traffic lights and made a run for it.’
‘What the fuck, Clifford? Why are you still handling this? Turn it over to the police, for God’s sake, before it anything else happens to you. You should know better.’
He was right but Seb still wanted to make absolutely sure the evidence stacked up before he gave up the case. It was now a matter of principle.
‘I will do, but first I want to find out who he is and where he lives. Will you do that for me?’
‘I suppose so. But I’m not happy about it.’
‘Noted. Your help is appreciated.’
‘Leave it with me and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Don’t hold your breath, though. I might not be able to get anything.’
Seb ended the call and headed down the street in search of a café so he could wait for Rob to get back to him. He stopped at the first one he came to and ordered a triple shot espresso. He sat at the back facing the door so he could see who was coming in and out, as he wasn’t going to take any further risks. Though he doubted they’d find him.
He took out his phone and called Birdie.
‘DC Bird,’ she answered, sounding very formal.
‘It’s me.’
‘I know. I’m at work, so this conversation might be a little bit one-sided if anyone gets too close to me and can overhear. How did the meeting with Andrea go?’
He’d have to play it down, or she’d start getting onto him and her colleagues would soon realise that she wasn’t on normal police business.
‘First of all, you’re not to react to what I’m going to tell you. However much you want to shout and scream in my ear, unless you don’t mind everyone in the office realising that there’s something wrong.’
‘What?’ she hissed.
‘I wanted to warn you, so you weren’t taken by surprise.’
‘For fuck’s sake just tell me.’
Clearly his plan to calm her first wasn’t working.
‘Okay. One of the men who beat me up was Andrea Wood’s driver, Aaron, I saw his tattoo. Do you remember him, he stood by the window staring at us when we interviewed her, until she sent him away.’
She gasped. ‘Him? How do you know?’
‘I was in her car and spotted the tattoo on his hand. He saw me looking, but I’m not sure if he realised I’d identified him. I couldn’t take the risk so I jumped out of the car at some traffic lights.’
‘Jumped? What the hell were you thinking? Did you hurt yourself?’
‘It was a tricky move because I waited until a moment before the lights turned to green. I didn’t quite land right and ended up rolling a bit.’
‘Bloody hell, Seb. Are you okay?’
‘A few more bruises, that’s all,’ he said, forcing a laugh.
‘Did you ask Andrea whether she was being blackmailed?’
‘I mentioned it to her when we were standing in the street waiting for Aaron, but she wanted to speak about it in private, which is how I ended up in her car.’
‘Or she engineered it and had planned to kidnap you, and do God knows what to you. What the fuck were you thinking when you agreed to get into the car?’ Her voice was low and expressionless, but he could sense her annoyance.
‘I didn’t know about the driver until we were moving. He could’ve put the child locks on the back doors and then I’d have been in trouble. But thankfully he didn’t. I’ve already got Rob onto it. I’ve asked him to find out the full name of this Aaron and where he lives so I can stake it out and see what else I can discover.’
‘What if he sees you?’
‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t.’
‘Because you’re so small and inconspicuous that you’ll easily blend into the scenery. I seriously think you’ve lost the plot.’
‘Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I have no intention of doing anything to endanger myself. As soon as I’ve got something I’ll come back. At least now we’re getting somewhere.’
‘At what expense? You getting beaten up and still putting yourself in harm’s way. If I’d have known you were this stupid, I’d have insisted on going with you. How you ever got promoted to DI at the Met is totally beyond me.’
‘Stop overreacting. I’m going to be fine. London’s a busy place and no one will be able to walk off with me. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back at the house which should be this evening.’
‘Just keep in touch.’
He ended the call and picked up a magazine on the table and flicked through it, except he wasn’t taking anything in. He was now one hundred per cent convinced that Sarah was right. Donald’s suicide had been staged to hide his murder and it was most likely to do with the blackmail. What was Andrea Wood being blackmailed over? He sensed that was the key to all of this. But how was he going to find out? He strummed his fingers on the table deliberating.
His phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. It was Rob.
‘What have you got for me?’ he said, not bothering to say hello.
‘I’ve found your man. He’s Aaron Dunkley and he’s been working for Andrea two years.’
‘Thanks. Where does he live?’
‘If I tell you I don’t want you going there alone to accost him. That’s not going to help.’
‘I don’t intend to approach him. I want to watch and see what he does. I’ll also take a few photos. Did you check whether he has a record’?
‘I didn’t have time. You’ll have to do that yourself.’
‘How did you find out who he was?’
‘The same way as I got you in to see Andrea Wood in the first place. I used my contact. And, no, I’m not going to tell you who they are.’
He hadn’t intended asking. Rob didn’t want to divulge his contact before, so he was hardly likely to do so now.
‘I understand. Thanks for your help, I really appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome. He lives in the flats at 104 Lee High Road in Lewisham. Let me know how you get on.’
‘I will.’
‘After this is over, we’ll get together for a drink. No excuses.’
‘It’s a deal.’
Seb took the train to Blackheath and positioned himself on the opposite side of the road to where Dunkley lived, so he had a view of the car park. He waited for over an hour and finally saw the Mercedes driving in. He crossed the road until he could see Dunkley get out of the car. After taking out his phone, he zoomed in and took several photos. The man went into the back entrance of the flats. Seb checked he’d got a good set of
photos and then decided he’d leave. He didn’t want to be spotted.
He hailed a taxi to take him to St Pancras. The way he was feeling, there was no way he could face walking the couple of miles back to Blackheath. On the way he texted Birdie with Dunkley’s full name and address and asked her to find out what she could about him.
Birdie stared at the unopened email in her inbox. It had arrived fifteen minutes ago, and she’d been doing everything other than open it. It was from the Adoption Contact Register.
What were they going to say?
Did they have her mum on the database?
Were they going to tell her where she lived?
Or were they emailing to say they had no record of her? People only go on the register if they want to be found. That’s if they even know it exists. Birdie had been researching the adoption process when she came across it. She’d never heard of it before.
‘Are you okay?’ Twiggy said, coming up beside her.
‘Yeah, fine. Just preoccupied.’
‘By what? Not this suicide investigation still? Have you got anywhere with it?’
She couldn’t tell him, or he’d wonder why it wasn’t now a case with CID.’
‘It’s still progressing,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Nothing to report yet.’
‘If you do have anything, you need to tell Sarge.’
‘What made you say that?’ He wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘You’ve been talking to him, haven’t you? I bet he told you to check up on me.’ Twiggy still didn’t speak. ‘I knew it. He doesn’t trust me. And now you, Mr Suck Up, are spying on me for him.’
‘Hey. That’s not fair. I admit he did mention it to me, but I haven’t been reporting back to him. Not that there’s anything to report that I can see.’
She could see the hurt expression in his eyes and guilt flooded through her. It wasn’t his fault that she was walking a tightrope.
‘Sorry. I’m preoccupied with a family issue. It’s nothing to do with Clifford and his cousin’s dead husband.’
‘Want to talk about it? You know you can, and I won’t say anything to anyone.’
‘Thanks, Twiggy, you’re a good mate. But no, it’s nothing I want to share with anyone. Not yet.’
Except she already had done with Seb.
‘Okay, no pressure. Want anything to eat? I’m going to grab a muffin. I need something to fill me up as my stomach’s been rumbling like a train for ages. Hardly surprising after the miniscule bowl of Bran Flakes I was allowed for breakfast. Evie reckons I’m not losing enough weight and she’s planning on some fucking detox thing that she’s seen on the internet. The woman will kill me at this rate.’
Birdie laughed. ‘Whose fault is that? If you stopped cheating on your diet, then you’d lose all those extra pounds you’re carrying around.’ She patted him on the stomach. ‘She’s got your best interests at heart.’
‘Yeah, if you say so. I just think she likes seeing me suffer.’
He walked away and Birdie returned her attention to the unopened email. Her hand hovered over the mouse beside her keyboard. She sucked in a breath and clicked on it.
Dear Miss Bird,
Thank you for your application to join the Adoption Contact Register. According to our records, the mother listed on your birth certificate has written to us requesting that she isn’t to be contacted. We understand this may be distressing for you, however, we are duty-bound to keep her information confidential. We will keep your registration on record in case there is any change.
Kind regards
Birdie stared at the words dancing in front of her eyes. All the time she’d thought about getting in touch with her birth mother, never once had the scenario gone through her mind of her actually requesting not to be contacted. Birdie had thought she might not be on the register, which meant that the register couldn’t help. But she’d actually contacted them to say there was to be no contact …
Tears stung her eyes, and a single one rolled down her cheek, which she brushed away with the back of her hand. What was she going to do? Giving up wasn’t an option. There could be a genuine reason for her not wanting Birdie to contact her. Would the registrar tell her the date when her mother had contacted them? Surely that wasn’t a breach of confidentiality.
Her phone pinged and she glanced at the screen. It was Seb. She opened it.
Found anything on Dunkley yet?
No. Because she hadn’t even started to look. She’d been sidetracked by the email from the Adoption Contact Register.
I’m on it at the moment.
She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t done anything yet. After what had happened to Seb she owed it to him to give the case one hundred per cent attention. It would do her good to take her mind of her birth mother. She’d revisit everything once the case was over, and she could fully focus on it. She’d lasted twenty-six years without knowing her mother, a little while longer wasn’t going to make any difference.
Chapter 35
20 May
Seb opened one eye and winced as he moved and caught one of his bruises on the edge of the pillow. He checked the time on the small travelling alarm clock he kept next to the bed. Ten o’clock. Shit. How on earth had he managed to sleep in so late? Then he remembered. He’d put his phone on silent late last night not wanting to be disturbed.
Had anyone tried to contact him? He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table and looked.
There were five texts, and a voice mail from Birdie that had been sent over an hour ago. He sighed. She wouldn’t be happy. He pressed to listen.
Where are you? Are you okay? Why aren’t you answering your phone? If I don’t hear from you soon, I’m coming over.
He hurriedly texted her back, expecting to hear the front door being kicked in at any moment. Sorry, phone on silent. I’m at home. Taking Elsa for a walk soon.
His phone pinged only seconds later. I’ll be over in an hour. I’ll take your statement while I’m there, as we still haven’t done it.
A Birdie hour most likely meant an hour and a half, but he couldn’t risk it. He eased himself out of bed and hobbled to the shower, then went downstairs to see Elsa. He grabbed her collar and took her in the car for a walk down by the river. Once they’d returned, he fed her and then put on the kettle.
A few minutes before eleven-thirty there was a knock at the door. He’d been right about the ninety minutes. He’d left the door on the latch and he heard it open. Birdie walked in carrying a tray with two coffees and a bag of what smelt like doughnuts. His stomach rumbled.
‘Have you had breakfast?’ she asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘Neither have I. So here we are, coffee and doughnuts, and then we can discuss what happened yesterday and what we’re going to do next.’
She placed everything on the table, and he pulled out a couple of plates from the cupboard.
‘This isn’t what I usually have for breakfast,’ he said.
‘You can always have a bowl of muesli, or some toast if you’d prefer. But I’m eating these.’ She took a doughnut out of the bag and took a large bite, catching the oozing jam with her finger before it landed on her shirt.
‘How could I resist,’ he said, reaching in the bag and pulling one out, the smell causing his stomach to grumble again.
‘I was worried about you,’ she said, between bites.
‘Sorry. I thought you knew I was okay because I’d emailed with my attacker’s name and address while I was on the way to the station to catch the train back here,’
‘Well, I’m not a mind reader. You didn’t say where you were, or where you were going. For all I knew, you could have approached this Dunkley chap at his house and he’d locked you up somewhere.’
‘I’m not that stupid. What did you find out about him?’
‘Nothing, other than a couple of parking tickets. No record. No nothing. I was surprised, considering what he did to you.’
‘I’m not convinced that he doesn’t have a record.’ He helpe
d himself to a second doughnut. Birdie was right, these made a much better breakfast than his usual cereal. ‘I’ve got an idea. I know someone who may be able to help with some more digging.’
‘Who? I have access to the police databases and can usually find stuff.’
‘I’m sure you can, but there’s a DC who works at the Lenchester force, whose skills are extraordinary. I’ve no idea how she does it, but if there’s anything to find on Dunkley she’ll find it.’
‘Well, ask her then. What are you waiting for?’
‘It’s not that simple. I can’t contact her directly, I’ll have to speak to her DCI first, but it shouldn’t be a problem.’
Birdie shook her head, disappointment shining in her eyes. ‘And you reckon this DCI will let you use her DC? I’d put money on her saying no, especially as you’re no longer a DI and this isn’t an official police investigation yet. Note the emphasis on the word yet as we’re at the stage of passing it on.’
‘Don’t waste your hard-earned cash, I see no reason for her refusing to help.’
‘Are you friends?’
‘No.’ He grinned.
‘What then, and why are you making this so mysterious?’
‘We worked together on a case before I left the force. You’d get on with her, there are certain similarities between the two of you. She’s not your average DCI.’
‘I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or what?’
‘I’ll leave that for you to work out.’
He pulled out his phone and pressed DCI Whitney Walker’s number which he still had on speed dial, even though they hadn’t spoken since he’d left Lenchester rather abruptly.
‘Walker.’
‘It’s DI Clifford. I mean ex-DI Clifford.’
‘Seb, how are you? I was only talking about you the other day to George, wondering how it turned out for you. You said ex, so now I know.’
‘You didn’t follow it in the media?’
‘I did, but everything reported was about the squad generally. Nowhere was there anything published about you specifically.’