Charlotte brought him up to date with their chat to Smithson and explained that John had been brought in to issue a new bulletin to the media. He would also try and find out some information about dark blue cars on the computer to see what matches he came up with.
“So how did you get on with this pervert guy?” she asked him as soon as John had left them.
Paulson shook his head. “The poor bugger seems to be frightened of his own shadow. I can’t believe that he’s got the guts or the resources to grab some passing twelve-year-old and imprison her somewhere. Greg’s absolutely sure of his guilt and thinks I should have arrested him on the spot.”
“I don’t have a lot of faith in Greg’s judgement.” Charlotte snorted. “I’m sure you did the right thing.”
“The only problem is that his sister can’t vouch for him in the period when Tracey disappeared because she was working as a cleaner at the Black Bear pub. And it appears that Sidney went and bought a paper while she was out, which was unusual for him.” He pulled a face.“I also suspect that he’s not revealing everything that he should be telling us. Apparently last Tuesday afternoon he took a three-hour walk. He says he was just going round the town, but that doesn’t ring true.”
“Nevertheless, that’s hardly enough to justify an arrest.”
Paulson changed the subject. “Did you find out anything when you talked to the kids at the school?”
Charlotte smiled. “Well, I can’t claim we came up with anything that immediately pointed us in the right direction. Bobbie’s been putting all the contact names and locations which they suggested on to the computer. One intriguing little thing is that Tracey apparently had a private chat with a nubile miss in the fourth form called Karen Tilt. It seemed an unlikely pairing because Tracey looks young for her age and the other girl appears to be fifteen going on twenty. When I questioned Karen she claimed the discussion was because Tracey had been seen with her boyfriend, but I’ve got to say that doesn’t ring true with me. And, from the look in her eyes, I would definitely say she was lying.” She shrugged. “However, like you and your pervert, I don’t know whether I’m justified in pursuing the matter further without some additional information.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I think we’re justified in waiting until tomorrow morning to see whether we can come up with any information about this car before we start the serious searches of the cliffs, woodlands and common areas in the region. Then we can begin to get the public involved.” Charlotte shook her head. “Meanwhile I don’t know what’s happened to that damned father of hers. He, of all people, ought to be getting involved.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah - you wouldn’t know about that. Tracey’s mother and father, Marion and Gary Bostock, were in the station making the complaint about her rape when the girl disappeared. Marion told me that she and her husband had a hell of a row when they got back home. Apparently he told her that she didn’t put up enough resistance to the rapist and he accused her of encouraging him.”
“Do you think that’s correct?”
“Hmph,” she snorted. “In some men’s minds, if a woman wears a revealing dress she’s asking to be raped.” She shook her head. “Anyway, he ended up stumping off and saying he wasn’t coming back and she hasn’t seen him since. Of course neither of them knew about their daughter’s disappearance at the time of the row. Marion doesn’t know where the father is. He hasn’t got a mobile with him, so he can’t be contacted.”
“Is that suspicious? If he had fallen out with his wife, do you think he might have made off with the girl to teach her a lesson?”
“No. That’s not possible. We know that Tracey had disappeared before her parents got home and had their row.”
Paulson shook his head. “They sound like a pretty dysfunctional family to me - the mother’s a barmaid in a sex club, the father’s a sailor spending most of his time on the other side of the world - no wonder the girl wants to get away from home.”
“I don’t think you’re being quite fair there, Stafford. My judgement of Marion is that she’s doing her best to bring up Tracey correctly without a lot of help from her husband.”
“Hmm. Her job at The Red Garter isn’t a very good example to her daughter.”
“But it’s not a sex club. I’ve checked the licence and they are only allowed music and dancing - no floor shows. I accept that the female staff wear titillating clothing but the place has a good reputation and there have been no previous complaints.”
“Well, I wouldn’t like my wife to work somewhere like that or to wear dresses like that.” He sniggered. “Mind you, she’s not exactly got the figure for that sort of thing.”
“Perhaps you don’t approve, but we mustn’t sit in judgement. A low-cut dress doesn’t give the clientele the right to rape the woman.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Paulson hastened to assure her. “I’m as keen as you are to bring this army man to justice. How did you get on with his mother?”
“The poor woman was devastated, especially when I told her I was taking her car in for forensic examination.”
“Do you expect that to yield anything of help?”
She shook her head. “Not a chance. The fellow gave it a thorough clean first thing on Monday morning. He’s taken all his clothing back to Germany for laundering and he even put his bedding in the washing machine before he left. It seems to me that we really haven’t got any useful evidence.”
“In other words you won’t get anywhere without a confession.”
“That’s right. I think I’ve convinced Mrs Fisher that she should contact her son and tell him that he must come back and submit himself for interview. I told her that it would look very bad if he had to be arrested by the Military Police and dragged back to the UK in handcuffs.”
“I doubt if he’ll come back,” said Paulson.
“Even if he does, he’ll probably say she agreed to it and the poor woman’s reputation will be dragged through the dirt.” Charlotte smiled bleakly. “It’s not a fair world.”
Paulson sat down. “I’m sorry, but that rape case sounds like a dead duck to me. Can we discuss Billiere for a few minutes?”
“Go ahead.”
“Well, I rang the guy this morning. He told me he doesn’t smoke and neither did his wife. He got quite stroppy when I told him we were looking into his wife’s death. Apparently he thinks the inquest should have been the end of the affair.”
“What about the missing boat?”
“That’s the interesting bit. He said he knew nothing about it at first and was properly indignant about someone taking it without his permission. But when I asked him about what happened to his wife’s keys to the boat, he suddenly went quiet. The next minute he said sorry, he had to go into an urgent meeting and couldn’t help me any more.”
“Suspicious?”
“I thought so.” He leaned forward. “I’d like to take up your suggestion of talking to that Richard Harris guy. I wonder if he’d be able to find if Billiere made any unusual payments round about the time of his wife’s death?”
“Go ahead and contact him while you’ve got the chance. I think he’ll be going back to London in the next few days.”
“Well.” Paulson grinned self-consciously. “I was going to ask if you’d do it. I think he may regard me as hostile to him. I hope he’ll respond better to you.”
Charlotte smiled. “All right. I’ll give him a ring. I’ve got his mobile number. In any case I could do with asking him if there’s been any progress on the Adams Trust investigation.” *
She sat at her desk and entered the data on her computer to bring up his details. In a couple of minutes she was through to him.
“Richard? It’s Charlotte Faraday. Are you still in Torquay?”
“I go back to London on Sunday.”
“Well, Richard, the purpose of ringing you is to see if you would be able to spare half an hour to come in and have a chat with Stafford Paulson and
me before you return to the big city.”
“May I ask what you want to talk about?”
“Of course. I was hoping for an update on the Adams Trust. However the main reason is that we would like to get your advice on how to find out as much as we can about another rich guy who we suspect of possibly paying someone to carry out a crime for him.”
“Really? Who is that?”
“It’s a man called Alfred de Billiere - an unusual name. Have you come across anybody with that name?”
“I can’t say I have.”
“Never mind. We only want guidance at this stage about how we try to find out some more. Can you spare us a little of your valuable time?”
She could hear his grin over the phone. “I don’t see why not. But Susannah and I are going to Plymouth for a celebration this evening, so I would prefer tomorrow morning. Do coppers work on Saturdays?”
“Just a minute.” She looked at Stafford. “Would you be happy with tomorrow morning?”
He nodded. “As early as possible.”
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes. Early would suit me too. How about nine o’clock? Do you want me to come to the station?”
Charlotte confirmed and rang off. She turned to Paulson. “OK let’s get everything set up ready to start these searches first thing tomorrow morning.”
The next few hours were busy.
As Charlotte was preparing to leave the phone rang. Paulson picked it up. He was silent, listening for a while. Then he said, “Yes, sir. She’s here, sir. I’ll just get her.”
He put his hand over the receiver. “It’s Lord Harry. Do you want to take it here or shall I get it transferred into one of the interview rooms?”
Lord Harry was the department’s nickname for the Deputy Chief Constable Harold Corbett, the big noise in Exeter.
“No. I’ll take it here.” Charlotte had a good idea of what it was about. She picked up her phone. Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening, my dear.” The DCC liked to keep up the fiction of one big happy family. “I haven’t had the opportunity to offer you my congratulations on clearing up the Cynthia Adams case so promptly.” *
“It was a team effort, sir.”
“I’m sure it was. Please pass on my congratulations to your colleagues.”
“I’ll certainly do that, sir. Thank you for taking the trouble to ring me.”
“Ah.” He struck a cautionary note. “I also have to talk to you about a less pleasant subject - the possibility of the death in custody of the suspect in that case. I expect you’ve been warned that Superintendent Lasham feels that needs to be investigated.”
“He did ring to say he intended to have my guts for garters, sir”
“Er - yes.” Corbett cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that I cannot allow myself to become involved in the detail of these matters.”
“I should have thought you have the authority to instruct Superintendent Lasham about the correct way to handle the matter, sir.”
“Unfortunately, Faraday, the superintendent had e-mailed the PCC before I became aware of what he was doing. I have told him of my feelings about that.”
In other words, thought Charlotte, he was tip-toeing carefully round the bullying Lasham.
“I can tell you, Faraday, that I find the whole business quite distasteful. Nevertheless, now the wheels have been set in motion, we must play the game to the end.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Good. I’m sure you do. Now, the PCC are sending down a Chief Superintendent Vanessa Bolt to look into the matter. The purpose of this call is to inform you she will be here on Monday and she would like to interview you at about eleven. Can you manage that?”
“Of course, sir.” As if she had any choice, thought Charlotte.
“Very well. I’ve told her she can use my office as I will be going out about that time. I’ll introduce you before I leave, so I’d be pleased if you’d be prompt.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Faraday. Goodbye.” The call was terminated.
“What was that about?”
She gave him the details and passed on the congratulations from Lord Harry before she left.
- 18 -
If Charlotte had been aware of the meeting which took place in the remote car park on Haldon about an hour after her telephone conversation with Lord Harry it is likely she would have been most displeased.
Greg Mallinson was already at the meeting point when Lasham drove in. He was leaning back against the bonnet of his car and smoking his second cigarette since he got off duty. The superintendent drove right up beside him and wound down his window.
“I hope this is worth my time coming here, Sergeant,” he said sternly. “I’m taking my wife to the pictures tonight and she doesn’t like to be late. Come on then. What’s happened in just over twenty-four hours since we last met that prompted your phone message.”
“You’ve heard about the missing girl?”
“Yeah. It was in this morning’s daily report and in all the local papers. Some teenager’s run off. I expect her boyfriend’s got her pregnant and she doesn’t want to tell her parents.”
“You’ll never guess what,” said Greg. “She’s actually the daughter of the woman who got herself raped last Sunday.”
“There you are then. Like mother, like daughter. I can tell you I’m closing down that rape case before we waste any more time on it. I had a word with a guy at the CPS and he said he doesn’t think there’s a chance of getting a conviction on the basis of the lack of evidence we have. As he said, the very fact that the woman took four days to report it, and she only did so when dragged along by her husband, would be seized on by the defence as an admission of consent.” He sneered. “In other words, she set herself up to get screwed and she can’t complain when it happened.”
Greg grinned. “Too right. That’s what I’ve said all along.”
“Now, what about this girl? Has the boyfriend disappeared as well?”
“No. There doesn’t seem to have been a boyfriend.”
Lasham sniffed. “Then it’ll have been an uncle or some other relative. Or maybe the father. Have they questioned the father?”
“He’s disappeared as well.”
“There you are then. It’s the father. The dirty buggers are holed up together in some seaside hotel. We should be able get him put away for at least five years for that.”
Mallinson scratched his chin. “I don’t think you’re right about that one, Super. The father’s a merchant seaman and he only got back from the Far East on Wednesday night. He was the one who dragged his wife into the station on Thursday morning early to complain about the alleged rape and his daughter went missing while they were in with DCI Faraday.” He took a quick breath. “No, I think I know who’s got her. It’s that pervert I told you about yesterday.”
“You said he’s only just arrived in Torquay.”
“That’s right. But everything points to him being the guilty party. He can’t offer an alibi for the time when she disappeared. In fact he was actually out on the streets, so say buying a paper, at the same time. He lives less than a mile from her house and he could easily have picked her up in the time he had available.”
“Has he been interviewed?”
“DI Paulson and I went to see him this morning. He was obviously shit-scared when we started questioning him. I reckon he knows all about it, although he wouldn’t admit it to us.”
“Hmm.” Lasham considered. “What did Stafford say after you’d talked to this character?”
“Well, I wanted to take him back to the station for serious interrogation but Stafford - er - DI Paulson said there wasn’t enough evidence and he didn’t think the bloke would have had the time to set up a snatch.”
“Yes. Well, the man has only been here a week.”
“I accept that,” Greg leaned forward enthusiastically, “but you know what a network these pervert buggers have, and th
e important thing is that his sister, who he’s staying with, admits that he also disappeared for over three hours on Tuesday afternoon. My belief is that he used those three hours to meet up with some of his oppos and line up a place where she could be put away so that they can practise their foul activities on her.”
Lasham was quiet as he considered the case Greg put forward, his hands gripping the steering wheel and his eyes staring unseeingly into the surrounding woodland.
At last he said, “Well, I suppose I could instruct Paulson to drag the bloke into the station and screw some sort of confession out of him.” He looked up at Mallinson. “But I can’t very well do that without letting on where my information came from and that would not be a good idea.”
“Too bloody right,” agreed the sergeant. “Er - sir.”
“I think I’ll have to pay a visit to the Torquay CID next week. Then I can find out for myself. But I can’t do it on Monday. I’ve got Faraday up in front of the PCC on Monday.”
“Tuesday then, sir?”
“Maybe. But meanwhile this little girl is suffering God-knows-what treatment from these perverts.” He leaned back. “I think there may be a case for a couple of rough-necks to go in there and beat the information out of him. Do you think you can arrange that without being directly involved?”
Mallinson felt the blood begin to course through his veins. “Yes. I think I can arrange that, sir.”
“In fact you need to turn up while it’s happening, see off the bovver-boys, and take the bugger in for his own protection - once you’ve got the necessary information of course. Then you can go and rescue the girl and you’ll be a bloody hero.” Lasham allowed himself a dry laugh.
Mallinson thought that sounded very nice. “All right, sir. I’ll see what I can do.”
“That should have the added advantage of getting the bugger - what’s his name?”
“Sidney Pullman.”
“Of getting Sidney Pullman off our patch. I can’t imagine he’d want to go back to live with his sister in a marked address when they let him out of hospital.” He smiled to himself. “You do that, Greg, and it’ll be a large tick in my personal box on you.”
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