44
Anderson rang the contact number on the data entry sheet detailing the missing person’s report for Dawn Davis. As Anderson talked to the police in Birmingham, Crane pulled the sheet towards him and studied it again. Dawn had gone missing a mere week ago, last seen at the Dr Barnardos Home where she was temporarily living. The alarm had been raised when she’d failed to turn up for tea one day. A search of the building had confirmed that she was missing and the police had been informed.
By the time Crane had got to the end of the report, Anderson had finished on the phone.
“Are we going to brief the team now?” Crane asked.
“Not just yet, I want to speak to the person in charge at the Dr Barnardos home first.”
Once Anderson had got the correct person, he put the call on speaker.
“Mr Lowe, you’re on speaker with DI Anderson and Tom Crane from Aldershot CID. I wonder if you could talk to us about Dawn Davis, please.”
“Oh, yes, very unfortunate that,” said Mr Lowe. “Have you found her? Is that why you’re ringing?”
Crane thought it was more than unfortunate that Dawn had gone missing, but kept that thought to himself.
“Let’s just say we’re looking at a new angle on the case. I take it you haven’t found Dawn?” Clearly Anderson’s brusque tone meant that he wasn’t impressed with the supervisor either.
“No I’m afraid not. She’s still missing.”
“Has she run away before?”
“Oh dear no. She’s a lovely girl, comes from a nice family.”
“So why was she with you?” Crane butted in.
“Her father is in the Navy and away on exercise at the moment. As her mum is having post natal depression problems after having a little boy, Dawn is…was… here for a few weeks while mum sorted herself out.”
“Did she seem okay with that arrangement?”
“Absolutely, she knew it was just temporary while mum was ill.”
“How come you lost her?” Crane couldn’t help himself.
“This isn’t a prison. The children are allowed out at times. But when she went missing it wasn’t one of those allotted times. But if a child really was determined to get out, well then she could. The children’s favourite place to go is the nearby park. We think she could have gone there. Look, we’re all very worried about her, do you know what happened to her?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve not got any more information at the moment. Thank you for your help and I’m sure someone will be in touch when we have more news.”
Derek cleared the call.
“It looks like we’ve got her then,” said Crane. He’d pulled a picture of the dead girl in the morgue to him and was looking at the two photos side by side and pushed them over to Anderson. “What are you going to do now?”
“Brief the team.”
“What about our rogue policeman? We still don’t know who he or she is.”
“We’ll just have to take the chance that whoever it is won’t interfere in this part of the investigation.”
“And meanwhile we’ll keep a close eye on them all.”
“Absolutely, come on, let’s go. I need to get Douglas to print out the file that Birmingham are sending over and the rest of them need to get on the phones and ring any witnesses who were in the nearby park that day. Someone, somewhere knows something, it’s just that they don’t realise it yet. Birmingham CID are going to tell the parents. Christ knows what it will do to her mum, especially as she’s already mentally unstable.”
45
DC Douglas loved his job. He was still very much on probation, he knew that, and he also knew that he was still having difficulties getting on with everyone. Well, getting on with DS Bullock actually. Everyone else seemed alright. Anyway, he guessed what mattered was whether the Guvnor liked him and DI Anderson seemed to so far.
Tasked with going through a pile of witness statements from Birmingham and feeling like an erstwhile Indiana Jones, he dived in. His brain was his hat, which he set at a jaunty angle. His eyes his whip, which he flicked back and forth over the words. His satchel was his notebook, where he jotted down things of interest taken from the statements. He was just waiting until he found that kernel of gold. The one piece of information that could crack the case wide open.
Realising he was spending too much time fantasising and none actually reading the statements in front of him, Douglas chided himself for his over-active imagination and bent to the task.
The office was quiet, with only the occasional ringing of the telephone to disturb it. Everyone was concentrating on their allotted tasks and Douglas felt the weight of the team’s tension and anticipation on his shoulders. A huff of annoyance came from DS Bullock, whose desk was opposite Douglas’.
“Anything, boss?” Douglas asked him, sitting up and arching his back to stretch it.
“Nah, bloody waste of time this is. Just loads of people who say absolutely nothing. “
“Well, you never know. Someone could have seen something relevant. Don’t you find it exciting?”
“Exciting?”
“Yeah, you know, I bet one of us will find something that could really help the case. Make a difference, you know?”
“I can tell you’ve not been in this job very long,” grumbled Bullock. “You haven’t yet realised that most police work is boring, laborious, and totally pointless, not to mention irrelevant.”
“Surely not.”
“Definitely.” Bullock pushed his chair away from the desk. “Fuck it, I’m off for a fag and a coffee.”
Douglas looked at Bullock’s retreating back wondering when the man had become so cynical and hoped that he would never end up like his DS. He doubted he would. He was a glass half full kind of person and Bullock was clearly a glass half empty; the difference between being a pessimist and being an optimist.
Douglas turned back to the statement on his desk. It was from a woman who had been identified as being in the park on the day that Dawn had disappeared. She was a regular visitor who walked her dog there most days. Douglas wondered if she’d seen Dawn.
- I was walking in the park that afternoon as I usually do, but I can’t remember ever having seen the child you are looking for.
Oh well, maybe this one didn’t hold the nugget of gold. He nearly dismissed the rest of the statement when his eye caught the words – ice cream van. Pulling the paper back towards him, he read on.
- The only thing I can remember seeing that was different that day, was the ice cream van. It wasn’t the usual one. I know it was different because the usual one has blue writing on it and this one was red. It had some sort of Italian name and it rang the tune, you know the one that they all ring….
Douglas read the words again. Bloody hell. An ice cream van. And not only that, but an ice cream van that was different. An ice cream van that shouldn’t have been there. Douglas sat for a moment, savouring his find, then realised what he was doing. Wasting precious time. This could break the case open. He stood up so suddenly that his chair fell over, but he ignored it and ran towards DI Anderson’s office. On the way he barrelled into Bullock who was returning to his desk.
“Hey, can you be a bit more careful? Where’s the fire?”
“Sorry, boss. But I’ve only bloody found it. Got to see the DI,” he threw over his shoulder and skidded into Anderson’s office.
“Yes, DC Douglas?” Anderson didn’t seem particularly happy at being interrupted.
“Have you forgotten that it’s usual to knock before entering the office?” Jesus, Crane wasn’t very happy with him either. Never mind, they’d love him soon.
“I’ve found it, guv.” Douglas held up the witness statement.
“Found what?”
“A clue. The clue. The nugget of gold.”
“God save me from young police detectives,” Anderson glanced upwards at the ceiling. Looking back at Douglas, he said, “Now sit down, lad, take a deep breath and tell me what the hell is going on.”
Anderson quickly realised that what was going on was potentially a break in the case, but he curbed his own enthusiasm in order to bring his young DC down from the ecstatic state he seemed to be in.
“Well done, lad,” he said. “But it’s only the start of something, not the end.”
“Eh?”
“Explain it to him, Crane, would you?” Anderson said as he turned away and started rummaging in the bottom drawer of his desk. He was sure he had something nice to nibble on somewhere in the midst of the detritus that he always seemed to collect and never seemed to sort out.
“You’ve got a lead, son,” said Crane. “What is more important than the information you’ve gleaned so far, is what you do with it now.”
“Ah, okay, so now I need to find the van.”
“Exactly,” said Anderson, his voice muffled by the desk. “And how are you going to do that?” he finished as he straightened in his chair and put two Waggon Wheel chocolate biscuits on his desk with some satisfaction.
“Um, call every ice cream firm that operates in that area until I find one with red sign writing?”
Crane said, “Precisely. As it seems our witness saw a working van, find any vans with Italian sounding names and see if they had a van working in that area on the day Dawn disappeared and at about the time our witness saw it.”
DC Douglas made to leave, but Anderson called him back. “You can do that after you’ve made us a cup of tea to go with these chocolate biscuits.”
DC Douglas hesitated, as though not sure if Anderson was being serious.
“I take two sugars,” said Crane.
“Right, yes, um,” and Douglas disappeared as Anderson and Crane tried not to laugh out loud.
“Getting him to make a cup of tea first wasn’t nice,” commented Crane.
“I needed a way of bringing him down from his euphoria. Otherwise he’ll not do the research properly in his haste and he could miss something vital.”
“Nice lad though.”
“Oh definitely, I reckon he’ll go far.”
“Is he part of this graduate recruitment scheme?”
Anderson nodded. “It means he’ll be fast tracked through the ranks if his results are good.”
“So that’s why you let him follow up the ice cream van lead, rather than getting someone more senior to do it, such as DS Bullock.”
Anderson cringed at the mention of his new DS’ name. “I’m still not sure about that bloke. You know, I trust young Douglas more than I do Bullock. There’s just something about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
46
DS Bullock was scowling at DC Douglas. Douglas could feel his eyes on the top of his head and was determined not to look up. Bullock appeared to want to disrupt Douglas’ task and he wasn’t sure why.
“So this woman says she saw an ice cream van near the park?” Bullock asked.
Douglas sighed and raised his head. “Yes, I’ve told you that already.”
“But she doesn’t know what the name of it was.”
“No. So I’ve got to try and find it, if you’ll leave me alone.”
“Could be a waste of time.”
“Why?” Douglas tried not to sigh and lifted his eyes from his monitor.
“Because witnesses can’t be trusted. You’ll learn that with experience.”
“And that’s your experience is it?”
“Yes. So I wouldn’t get too excited. As I said it’ll probably be a big waste of time.”
“Well, waste of time or not, I’ve been asked by the DI to investigate so…”
Douglas was saved from being rude to his superior officer by Bullock’s phone ringing. He didn’t know who was calling the DS, but heard him hiss into the phone, something like, “I keep telling you not to call me…” but the rest was lost as Bullock barged out of the office. Relieved, Douglas picked up his own phone. He couldn’t for the life of him figure his DS out. One minute he was fine, the next cynical, then angry; it was making Douglas’ head spin.
Looking at his search results for ice cream vans in the Birmingham area, he found one called Galletto’s, whose logo included their name in bright red letters, written in a script style. Douglas knew he really should start at the top of the list, not half way down, but he just had a feeling about the name and the logo. Grabbing his phone he called the number.
“Galletto’s,” a female voice answered. “How may I help you today?” A bit too American for Douglas’ taste, but what the hell. At least she was polite.
“Hello, I’m DC Douglas from Aldershot Police. Could I speak to the proprietor please?”
“Police?” the voice squeaked, all pretence at efficiency and customer service gone.
“Yes, from Aldershot in Hampshire.”
“Oh, well you want me dad, but he’s, he’ll be here in a minute. Can you hang on?”
“Sure,” he said. “But this is a matter of some urgency.”
Douglas was unsure if she’d heard that last bit as the phone clattered down on her desk, which was a pity as he was rather pleased with that phrase, he’d have to use that again.
“Hello,” a male voice said.
“Ah, Mr, er, Mr Galletto?”
“No, that’s just the company name.”
“Oh, right, sorry.”
“The name’s Walton. What can I do for you?”
“It’s about an ice cream van that was seen in the vicinity of Trinity Park in Edgbaston on Thursday 10th March.”
“Really? That’s not one of my patches. Sorry I can’t help you.”
Douglas wasn’t about to let Walton, or Galletto, or whatever his name was, get away that easily. He said, “Oh, it’s just that someone identified the name on an ice cream van seen there as one of yours,” Douglas stretched the truth just a little bit. “Can you explain that?”
“Um…”
“Is there any way it’s possible that one of your vans was operating outside your patch?”
“Ah, well,” Walton hesitated.
“This is a matter of some urgency,” Douglas said. “But if you’re not prepared to answer my questions, then I’ll have to get the local police to call in and see you. Perhaps they can persuade you to help us.”
“No, wait… I had a van stolen.”
“Stolen?”
“Yes, a couple of months ago now.”
“But I didn’t find a report of any stolen vans,” said Douglas.
“Well no you wouldn’t do, as I didn’t report it.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because of the insurance. It was an old one that I wasn’t really supposed to use on account of the insurance having expired, so I never claimed. I didn’t want to get into any trouble, get people thinking I’d been using vans with no insurance, like. So I swallowed the loss.”
“In that case I need the full details of the van that was stolen and a picture of it if I can. I need to know when and from where it was stolen, registration number, vin number, you name it, I need it,” finished Douglas having run out of ideas for questions.
“Alright,” said Walton, “just hang on and I’ll get the file.”
Walton was as good as his word and gave Douglas all the information he needed. When he took it to the SIO, Anderson told him to put in a request for any automated registration number sightings of the van over the past two months. The information was promised for first thing the next morning, enabling Douglas to leave on time that afternoon and down a few well deserved pints in his local pub by way of celebration.
47
There were three people who were definitely not celebrating later that day. Crane and Anderson stood in the viewing room of the morgue at Frimley Park Hospital and looked at the man who was with them. Able Seaman Davis was a young man in his late 20’s, straight of back and short of hair, and who was turning his cap over and over in his hand. He was in naval uniform, having come to the hospital straight from his ship.
“You’ve been given compassionate leave?” Crane asked him
.
Davis managed a nod and kept fiddling with his cap. He was squeezing it, crushing the fabric between two meaty hands.
“How is your wife?” Anderson asked. Davis turned to look at him with hollowed eyes.
“Not good. She wasn’t good before, but now the doctors are recommending she goes into the local psychiatric hospital. Instead of getting help, she’s insisting on staying home. She’s terrified of letting the baby out of her sight. Convinced he’s going to be abducted, just like Dawn was.”
Crane had a modicum of understanding of how both Davis and his wife must be feeling. Tina had suffered with post-natal depression after the birth of Daniel and it had taken months of tablets, doctor’s visits and the help of the Garrison community to get her well again. If anything had happened to Daniel during that awful time, neither Tina nor he would have forgiven themselves. It would have blighted the rest of their lives.
“We thought she’d be safe at Dr Barnardos,” Davis mumbled to the floor. “I had to stay with my ship and Dawn’s parents are dead. We didn’t know what else to do.”
Anderson gently touched Davis on the arm. “Are you ready?”
“No. But let’s do it. I have to get this over with.”
Anderson pressed a discreet button by the side of the window and the curtains opened. The eyes of all three of them were drawn to Dawn’s lifeless face. She had been a pretty little thing with a small nose sporting a sprinkling of freckles. The sound of someone choking prompted Crane to look back at Davis, who was buckling at the knees, grunts and groans coming from deep within him. Grabbing the man’s arm, Crane signalled to Anderson to close the curtain and then they held Davis up as they moved to the seats pushed up against the back wall.
Davis was having trouble breathing and was swaying in his seat, so Crane pushed the man’s head between his legs and encouraged him to take slow, deep breaths.
Rules of the Earth: A dark gripping detective thriller (Crane and Anderson Book 1) Page 13