by Ann Bloxwich
‘Sounds great, we’ll be moved in by then. Where are we going?’
38
Jayne dropped the dirty cloth into the bucket, sat back on her heels and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. It might have been lunchtime, but she was ready for bed. Dave had been over and collected the washing machine, tumble dryer and fridge freezer that morning, and was busy installing them in the bungalow. Jayne had cleaned the kitchen windows, wall tiles, counter tops and woodwork, and all the cupboards inside and out. Now the floor was done she could relax for a while.
They hadn’t put the house on the market yet, but Jayne figured it was easier to clean each room as it was cleared, so she didn’t have to worry about it after Christmas. She glanced round the kitchen, empty now except for the few boxes containing her best china, which stood in the corner. Alex had been tasked with taking them over when he got home. They hadn’t moved out yet, but it already felt like they’d never lived here at all.
A car pulled up outside, signalling that Joel was home from his morning club. Jayne opened the front door and he drove his electric wheelchair into the house, climbed out and crawled along the narrow hallway towards his room. He stopped dead when he got to the kitchen.
‘Where’s the fridge?’ he asked, looking around. ‘I wanted a drink and a sandwich.’
‘It’s gone to the bungalow. Don’t worry, I made some sandwiches before it went and put them on your desk in your room. There’s a carton of juice as well. Uncle Dave will be here in an hour to take you to his place. Did you have a good time?’
‘It was good. Andy brought Trivial Pursuit in, so we played that. It was a Doctor Who version, but I didn’t win because I don’t watch that.’
‘Never mind, maybe you can take one of your games in next time. Now, go and eat your lunch, then pack what you want to take to Dave and Carol’s.’
‘What about you and Dad?’
‘We’re coming with you. We’re spending Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day at Dave and Carol’s too, remember. Dave took our bag over earlier when he picked up the kitchen stuff.’
‘Okay.’ Joel made his way through to his room, then shouted in annoyance. Jayne hurried through to see what the matter was, just as Jack ran out, a piece of ham hanging from his jaws. Jayne closed her eyes in disbelief. She’d forgotten about the cat.
‘I’m so sorry, son, I must have forgotten to close the door. I’ve got no more ham left but I can make you a jam sandwich instead,’ Jayne said, heading back towards the kitchen to get her phone. A plate whizzed past her, narrowly missing her head and smashing on the doorframe. A piece of the plate caught her cheek, drawing blood and she yelled in surprise and pain.
She turned and looked at Joel, who glared back at her. ‘I don’t want a jam sandwich, I wanted ham. I’m going to kill that fucking cat!’
Jayne picked up the broken pieces of crockery in silence and walked away, trying to ignore Joel’s angry screams echoing along behind her.
39
‘I’ve got good news and bad news,’ Les told Alex. ‘The good news is that Vicky Wilson’s phone was switched back on. The bad news is that it’s somewhere in Wombourne Woods.’ Les indicated the area on his computer screen.
‘That’s a massive search area! Can’t you narrow it down any more than that?’
‘I can try, but it won’t be by much.’ Les looked as fed up as Alex felt.
‘Print me off some copies of that map, I’m heading down to uniform for some spare bodies to assist in a search. We can divide the area up when we get there. Keep trying to narrow down the location and keep me informed. Gary, you’re with me.’ He headed to the door.
***
Wombourne Woods was a dense area with over fifty square miles of protected parkland, much-loved by dog-walkers, mountain-bikers and joggers alike. There were hiking trails clearly marked, and Alex wondered who was responsible for their upkeep. Usually peaceful and secluded, the woods were alive with the sound of volunteer police officers poking and prodding at the thick undergrowth, hampered by the deluge of rain that had begun shortly before they arrived.
So far, nothing that could be deemed of interest had been found, but Alex had to wonder why it was that there were always solo shoes in these places. No-one ever lost both shoes; it was always just the one. And why didn’t people come back and look for them? Surely, you’d notice your shoe coming off if you were outside? It was one of those things that had always baffled him. He remembered when he’d been in uniform, he’d found one in the cells, but no-one had ever claimed it, not even the person who’d been held there. He found it very bizarre.
‘Boss, over here!’ Alex jumped as his name was called from somewhere over to his left. He trampled his way through the sodden leaves and twigs to where PC Penny Griffiths was standing. She held a large, muddy object in her gloved hand.
‘I’ve found a handbag, sir,’ she said. ‘Not looked inside yet, I thought you might want to do that.’
Alex pulled on a pair of gloves and took it from her. ‘Well done. Let’s have a look, shall we?’
The bag was so badly caked in mud it was impossible to tell what colour it was. He tugged at the zip, but it was stuck fast. He looked at her in frustration and she smiled as she handed him a folding pocket-knife.
‘Here you go, sir, this was still in my pocket from the last time I went hiking.’
Alex took it and cut a long slit in the handbag. He handed the knife back and peered inside. There was a jumble of items, but no mobile phone. He passed the bag back to Penny and told her to log it as evidence. He pulled his own phone out to call Les, but the signal was very weak, and he couldn’t get a connection.
‘Penny, walk back up to the clearing and see if you can get through to DC Morris. Ask him to start ringing Vicky Wilson’s phone at one-minute intervals. With any luck, the sound will be on and we’ll be able to locate it.’
‘Yes, guv.’ She started up the incline towards the dirt path, slipping and sliding as she went. Alex scratched his head, adding more mud to what was already in his hair. Gary came and stood with him, equally as muddy and looking as fed up as Alex felt.
‘How’s it going, boss? We found a few bits and pieces that may or may not be relevant, a couple of items of clothing, a woman’s shoe and a hairbrush. I’ve logged it all in case it belongs to Vicky Wilson. What about you?’
‘PC Griffiths found a handbag, it’s too dirty to be certain of the colour but we know that Vicky’s handbag was missing, so it’s hopeful. No phone inside though. This rain and mud aren’t helping either.’
Gary jerked his head up, his hair flicking raindrops into Alex’s face. He cocked his head to one side, listening intently.
‘Can you hear that, boss?’
Alex concentrated hard. He could just make out a faint tinny noise. ‘It’s coming from down there,’ he said, pointing down the bank towards a large clump of bushes.
‘I’ll go.’ Gary was off before Alex could stop him, almost diving headfirst into the undergrowth. Within a few minutes he was back, covered in mud but grinning from ear to ear. He waved a small object in triumph.
‘Good man,’ Alex grinned, pulling a plastic evidence bag out of his pocket. ‘Let’s get back to the station.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘On second thoughts, I’ll take it, I’ll drop you off at yours on the way back. No point in you coming back to HQ, it’s almost 5 p.m. now and everyone else will either be heading home or thinking about it.’
‘Cheers boss.’ Gary found a crumpled tissue in his pocket and tried to wipe his face, but just made it even muddier. ‘Jo will be pleased I’m home; we’re having our presents tonight then going to her parents tomorrow. What are you doing?’
‘We’re at Dave and Carol’s, so it will be a laid-back affair. Carol and Jayne won’t let us men in the kitchen, so me, Dave and the boys will probably slob in front of the telly until after dinner, when we get the washing up. I’m not drinking just in case the
re are any incidents, but I’ll be making up for it when Charlie Baldwin is back off sick leave.’
Alex threw his car keys to Gary. ‘Go and start the car and sit in the warm. I’ll just finish up with everyone here. There should be some carrier bags in the back, spread them on the seats first before you sit down.’
40
‘We’re finally getting somewhere,’ Alex announced as he strode back into the office. ‘We’ve got Vicky Wilson’s phone and digital forensics are looking at it now. With any luck we should be able to pull some information off it. Well done Gary, you’re relieved from tea-making duty today. Les, put the kettle on.’
‘But I made the last one,’ Les protested.
‘Well, I wasn’t here then, so you can make me one now,’ Alex laughed, slapping him on the back as Les went off to boil the kettle.
‘Two sugars in mine please mate,’ Gary called after him. Les stuck his fingers up in reply.
‘Laura Morrison said that the bracelet was Vicky’s,’ Dawn said. ‘She recognised some of the charms on it.’
‘Okay, thanks Dawn.’
‘Wow, that’s a lot of mud,’ Mo remarked, glancing at Alex’s trousers. Alex looked down. His trousers had clods of mud clinging to them, some of it still wet. His shoes were in a state too.
‘Well, it was pretty bad out there, but it’ll wash off. We got the phone, which is the main thing. What are you up to?’
Mo looked up from her computer. ‘I’m going over the case so far and something doesn’t make sense.’
Alex perched on the edge of Mo’s desk. ‘I’m listening.’
Mo scrolled up to the top of the screen. ‘Helen Whittaker positively identified Vicky in the morgue, but when we spoke to Ray Diamond, he swore blind that Vicky was at his house on the Monday. We’ve all assumed that Ray was lying, but what if he wasn’t? The body was in a bad way, and her face was all but obliterated, yet Miss Whittaker said straightaway that it was her. What’s bothering me is how could she know, when she hardly glanced at her?’
Mo clicked on the photo of Vicky from Laura Morrison’s phone and put the post-mortem photo up next to it. She pointed at the screen. ‘I’d be hard-pressed to say that was the same woman, even with both photos side by side like this.’
‘You think she made a wrongful identification? Well, it does happen I suppose, but she seemed pretty certain at the time.’
Mo pushed her pen behind her ear, where it usually lived. ‘Call it another one of my famous hunches, but something seems hinky to me.’
Alex mulled it over for a minute. ‘Forensics are already running DNA, but whether they will ever get back to us is a mystery. Go over there Mo, tell them I’m on the warpath.’
Mo grabbed her jacket and left. Alex watched her go, hoping she was successful. He wanted to get the loose ends tied up before he went home, so he could concentrate on Christmas with his family. The way things were going he’d be hard-pressed to see them before New Year.
The phone on Mo’s desk rang, and Alex picked it up.
‘Finally!’ Faz’s cheery voice echoed in his ear. ‘I thought you were coming to see me?’
‘Sorry mate, we got a hit with Vicky’s phone, so rushed off to try and locate it – which we did,’ Alex said.
‘Did you? Well done. Now get yourself along to my office before I eat all the mince pies. I’ve got the full post-mortem and toxicology report for Miss Wilson, and I’m about to turn your world upside-down.’
‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’ He put the phone down.
‘Tea up, boss,’ Les called in a cheery voice, but Alex was already on his way out of the door.
‘Sorry Les, I need to go. You can have mine,’ and he was gone, leaving Les holding two mugs and cursing Alex under his breath.
41
Alex knocked loudly on the door before walking in. ‘You’d better have saved me one,’ he said, pointing to a tin on the desk.
Faz looked up, his phone pressed against one ear and his mouth full of food. He grinned and pointed to the far wall, covering the mouthpiece with his hand.
‘No chance, but there are some chocolate Hob Nobs left. I’ll be with you in a minute.’ He pointed to the record player on the sideboard to his far left. ‘Can you switch that off for me? Ta.’
The office was warm and inviting, the walls decorated with dark oak panelling on the lower sections, the upper sections painted sage green. Cream curtains hung at the window, and various certificates decorated the walls. A battered-looking brown leather sofa stood against the wall just inside the door, above which were Faz’s collection of vintage movie posters.
Alex walked over to the expensive-looking turntable, currently playing Motorhead’s Overkill album and carefully lifted the arm off the record. On the wall above the sideboard, Faz had hung a selection of family photographs. The photo in the centre showed Maisie with Luna, her Boxer dog. She had her arms wrapped tightly around Luna’s huge neck and the dog’s tongue lolled out of its mouth. Alex couldn’t decide which one of them had the biggest grin.
He dropped into the chair in front of the large oak desk, helped himself to a biscuit and waited as Faz finished his phone call.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘Just sorting out last-minute Christmas shopping. Bloody hell, you look like you’ve been mud wrestling. Please tell me it was with topless twins and you have photographs.’ Faz’s face took on a dreamy expression.
‘You wish. What have you got for me?’
Faz handed Alex the file he’d been looking at. ‘I’ve got a Christmas puzzle for you. Have a look at this and tell me what you see.’
‘I don’t need any more riddles, I’ve already got Mo questioning everything we’ve got so far,’ Alex said as he took the file and opened it.
‘Post-mortem results on Vicky Wilson – or are they?’ Faz teased. ‘You tell me,’ he said and sat back with his hands laced across his stomach, waiting patiently as Alex read the file.
Alex scanned the pages, then re-read them before looking up again. ‘Is this right? The skin under Vicky’s fingernails was her own? Are you saying that she scratched herself?’
Faz shook his head. ‘No, I’m not. My guest has no scratches at all.’
Alex looked at Faz, the penny finally dropping. ‘It’s not Vicky Wilson. Mo was right. She said something felt off and wondered if we’d got an incorrect ID. That means that Vicky Wilson must be alive.’
‘It looks that way to me,’ Faz said, taking a biscuit and eating it in one bite. ‘So, that leaves one question. Who is the young lady currently occupying my fridge?’
Alex closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.
Faz walked over to the door. ‘Go home Alex, spend some time with your family. The dead will wait for a day or so. You’ve got loads going on. If there’s anything to report, I’ll ring you at home. Merry Christmas, mate.’
‘Yeah, you too.’
Alex looked at his watch. It was already 7 p.m. He pulled his phone out, mentally preparing himself for a bollocking when he told Jayne it was going to be a late night.
42
Christmas Day passed without incident in the Peachey household, apart from Dave almost burning the house down when he put extra brandy on the Christmas pudding without telling Carol.
Dawn had phoned to say there had been no new developments, and for Alex to stop worrying, as she had everything in hand. With detectives from Charlie Baldwin’s team drafted in to cover those who were off, she seemed to be in her element running the show.
Much of Boxing Day had been taken up with Alex and Dave moving the last of the furniture into the new bungalow. They had taken Joel along on the first trip, so he could show them where he wanted his desk, bed and so on. He was delighted to have his own kitchen area. He didn’t have a cooker in case he burned himself, but he had a fridge and toaster so he could make his own breakfast and lunch.
&nbs
p; The following morning, Jayne, Carol and Joel had gone to the new house early in order to get as much done as possible before so that they could move in that day. They helped Joel unpack his many files and folders containing his family tree documents first, then left him to sort them alphabetically into his new filing cabinets while they concentrated on the rest of the house.
‘You’re finally in, chick.’ Carol said a couple of hours later as they took a break for a coffee. ‘I bet you can’t wait to sleep in your own bed again.’
‘I can’t,’ Jayne replied. ‘Alex and Dave worked so hard yesterday getting everything in its rightful place, which made it so much easier. Thanks for helping me to put the curtains up and make the beds, it’s a huge help.’
‘It was my pleasure. I’m looking forward to having you all as neighbours.’
Jayne pulled a face. ‘I’ll remind you of that next time Joel kicks off.’
‘Hopefully he’ll stop doing that now and you can all just relax.’ Carol drained her mug and put it in the sink. ‘Come on, we may as well unpack the rest of these boxes while we wait for your shopping to be delivered.’
She started pulling things out of boxes and stacking them on the counter for Jayne to put away.
Joel appeared in the doorway, gliding almost silently in his electric wheelchair. Carol looked up from her task. ‘Look at you! I bet it feels good to be able to use your chair indoors instead of being on your hands and knees.’
‘Yes, and I can attach a tray to this one so I can carry things,’ Joel said.
He looked at Jayne. ‘Mum, I’ve invited Tom over for tea so he can see the new house. Can you order us a Chinese takeaway please? He likes sweet and sour chicken.’
He drove away again without waiting for a reply.