On Laughton Moor

by On Laughton Moor (epub)

  Chapter 32

  Knight made his way to his office, sat behind his desk and sighed. His team were all experienced police officers and he knew they would have seen his speech for the hope and hot air it really was. There was nothing else he could say. They had to follow every lead, go through every statement, chase up every Nick and Dave in the system in the hope that some luck would come their way, because he knew so far they had nothing. Craig Pollard’s mother was right, the journalist from the local paper, Helen Bridges, was right, Kendrick was certainly right. Knight had to admit that after the fascination and fast pace, the horror and heartbreak of London, he’d expected, hoped, that Lincolnshire would be a place where he could take stock and work out whether he wanted to leave the police force altogether. He would do his job and no more. After the lucky, almost miraculous escape he’d had, there would be no more playing outside the rules, no more heroics. Knight was ready for the quiet life, but Lincolnshire obviously didn’t agree. As Caitlin had said last time they’d spoken, people were the same wherever you went, from the most primitive conditions to the wealthiest homes. The circumstances may be different, the cultures and lifestyles, but in the end, the basic urges and instincts were the same the world over, as they had always been. Knight knew he’d been a fool to expect an easier ride. Wishful thinking perhaps, but not the mindset of a man happy in his work. Knight thought again of Caitlin, of the baby she carried, and took out his mobile.

  She answered immediately, though he could hardly hear her through the background noise. It sounded as though she was at some kind of celebration, though surely even Caitlin wouldn’t be at a party at eight thirty in the morning.

  ‘Jonathan? Hold on, just let me…’ A door closed, footsteps, another door and silence. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here. How are you?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Knight. ‘I’ve never been pregnant.’

  Caitlin made a small sound, not quite a laugh, more of a sniff. ‘Me neither. It’s very strange, I can tell you.’

  ‘Strange? How do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. The thought of a little creature growing inside as you go about your day, listening to what you’re doing, changing and developing. Weird, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d say weird, though it probably would take some getting used to. Does it kick? Can you feel it moving around?’

  ‘Careful, Jonathan, you almost sound interested.’

  ‘Of course I’m interested.’

  ‘You didn’t sound it last time we spoke.’

  ‘Well, what did you expect? You phone me out of the blue to tell me you’re pregnant, that the baby might or might not be mine? It’s not the sort of conversation you have every day, is it?’

  ‘I suppose not, and I did say I was sorry. To answer your questions, I haven’t felt the baby move or kick yet; that’s normal, but it should happen any time. Do you want to see a copy of the scan I had?’

  Knight swallowed. ‘Yes, if you want me to see it. Can you see if it’s a boy or a girl?’

  ‘No, and I don’t want to know until the birth anyway.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘I’ll email it over now. I’m at my desk.’

  ‘I thought you were out somewhere.’

  ‘No, just a very noisy meeting. What’s your email address?’

  Knight gave it, then waited. Caitlin stayed on the line – he could hear her breathing, but she didn’t speak. The email arrived, and Knight hesitated, then opened it.

  ‘Have you got it?’ Caitlin asked. Knight imagined her filing her nails, the receiver held under her chin.

  ‘Yes, I’m looking at it.’ Ghostly white shapes against a dark background. ‘It’s amazing. I didn’t know you could email them.’

  ‘One of the IT people saved it onto my computer. I didn’t ask how. Can you see the head?’

  Knight leant forward, peering at the screen, his throat suddenly tight. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Looks like an alien, doesn’t it?’ She laughed softly.

  ‘Has Jed seen this?’

  ‘Of course he has. He came with me; he saw it on the screen.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Don’t be like that. Jed’s my partner, of course he wanted to be there.’

  ‘But the baby might not be his?’

  ‘No, but even if he’s not the biological father, he’ll be part of the child’s life.’

  Knight grimaced. ‘I suppose so. And the baby’s healthy, normal?’

  ‘Yes, fine so far.’

  ‘Okay, that’s good.’ Knight glanced up as Catherine peered through the glass window in his office door, then tapped on it. ‘I’m going to have to go, but can we keep in touch?’

  ‘That was the idea.’

  ‘I’ll speak to you soon then, and Caitlin?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Take care of yourselves, won’t you?’ He hung up on her surprised laughter. ‘Come in,’ he called to Catherine. She sat down in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. ‘Okay, Catherine?’

  Catherine shook her head. ‘Not really.’

  She held out a sheet of paper. It was creased, had obviously been folded several times. Her hand shook slightly. Knight frowned. It was another printout of a photograph, the front door of a house, a blurred figure approaching it.

  ‘Is this you?’

  ‘Yes. Arrived here in this morning’s post. I stayed with my ex the night before last, when I didn’t come back to your house. I heard running feet behind me as I walked down her street, rushed up to the door as he passed. I didn’t get a look at him, but he must have been following me. I remember a flash of light; that’ll be when he took the picture. Now he knows where Louise lives. I’ll have to warn her.’

  ‘I don’t think she’ll be in danger; it sounds as if he could have attacked you when he took this, but he didn’t. All the same, we need to be careful. Are you sure you want to keep working on this? You can always go to a safe house too until we catch him.’

  ‘And play Scrabble with Milica Zukic? I want to find him, sir.’ Catherine hoped she sounded surer of that than she felt.

  ‘Right. We’ll keep this to ourselves for now, but we need to be vigilant.’ Knight didn’t like it, but he also didn’t want to lose Catherine from his team. The DCI wouldn’t like it, but…

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Milica Zukic should be arriving any minute. I want her to have a look at that house you and DC Varcoe were at, find out if it’s where she was held. I want to find out as much as we can about Woffenden, Ivona, all of them, plus who’s really in charge. Did we find out who owns the house?’

  ‘No, but Anna’s still on it. She came in early to get on. She knows it could be crucial.’

  ‘I wish we knew where Woffenden’s gone; he hasn’t left the country but that’s as far as we know. He seems to be the key. He could lead us to the people that run the whole operation. I’ve started some discreet enquiries about Zukic’s uncle too, but I’m not sure how far we’ll get with them. We can’t be too obvious, especially since they’ve flown the nest once already.’

  ‘That was only one property though. There must be more.’

  ‘No doubt, but I don’t want to cause any panic, or put Milica Zukic in any more danger than she is already.’ He deliberately tried to keep his voice casual. ‘What do you know about Dougie Hughes?’

  Catherine blinked, confused. ‘Dougie Hughes? I told you, sir, he more or less runs the area.’

  ‘What about personally?’

  ‘Personally? I’m not sure what you mean?’

  Knight shook his head in exasperation. ‘Neither am I really. As I said, Hughes is a name I heard in London, more than once, and I thought there could be a connection.’

  ‘Personal… Well, Hughes’ wife is called Bernice and she runs a hairdressing salon, as I told you before. Lots of hair, red nails and lipstick, high heels and tight leopard-skin clothes make up most of her wa
rdrobe. Just how you’d expect a gangster’s wife to be. Looks like a character in a film, or a soap opera. They’ve got a son, Richie, good looking but stupid, spent most of his life wondering which way everyone else went, I think.’

  Knight leant back. ‘Ever heard of Paul or Malcolm Hughes?’

  Catherine frowned. ‘No, but what—’

  Knight stood up. ‘It’s probably nothing. If you haven’t heard of them, don’t worry about it. That’s what I wanted you to say.’

  Catherine followed him out of the office, puzzled. ‘But if they’re linked to the case…?’

  ‘They’re not, at least I don’t think so. If they are, you’ll be the first to know.’ Knight strode ahead, leaving Catherine to follow, feeling slightly annoyed. How could she work with him if he kept secrets from her? Talk about dangling a carrot, fishing to see what she knew and then shutting up shop. It wasn’t fair, and she didn’t think it very professional either. However, she trusted Knight without quite knowing why. She hurried forward into the small room where Milica Zukic, PC Roberts and Knight were already waiting. Zukic smiled shyly.

  ‘Hello, Miss Zukic,’ Catherine said, with a polite smile, not expecting a response, and was startled to hear the reply.

  ‘Good morning.’

  Knight grinned at her, and Roberts beamed proudly.

  ‘I’ve been giving Milica a quick English lesson,’ she explained. ‘Just a few phrases that might help her.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Catherine. ‘I’m impressed. You don’t speak Serbian, though, Nat?’

  Roberts shook her head. ‘No, but there’s no need to. It’s surprising how much you can say with mimes and drawing, pointing, that sort of thing.’

  They were interrupted by the arrival of Dr Whelan, the interpreter, who came bustling in, greeting them all loudly and complaining about the weather, reminding them it wasn’t long until Christmas, and wasn’t the price of petrol scandalous?

  Knight politely interrupted him and explained what they were going to do, then stood back while Whelan told Milica, who listened intently. Catherine noticed her clothes were new: jeans and a red hooded sweatshirt with a white T-shirt underneath, black leather boots. She sidled up to Roberts, who explained that she’d been instructed to take Milica somewhere for some new clothes, been given the money to do so. They’d bought toiletries too, all from the nearest supermarket, and Catherine and Roberts agreed Milica’s appearance was much improved. Milica had spoken to her parents and also her sister, which had calmed her. Roberts also said Milica seemed much happier, less frightened than she had been yesterday, and she looked less pale, more confident, smiling at Knight as he opened the door and led them out to the car. Catherine drove them to the address, and Milica peered cautiously through the window. She nodded firmly; this was the place. Catherine drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She didn’t understand what Knight had hoped to gain from this. Yes, they now knew this was definitely where Milica had been held, if they understood her correctly, but did that knowledge move the case forward? Not that she could see. Had they really needed Whelan? Knight seemed pleased, though, smiling at Zukic and Roberts. They headed back to the station. Catherine parked the car and went back up to the CID offices, still slightly bemused. Varcoe called her over.

  ‘I think I might be getting somewhere, Sarge.’

  Catherine hurried over. ‘Really? Show me.’

  Varcoe pointed to her computer screen. ‘The house is owned by a company, Central City Solutions. Another company owns that company, which is again owned by another – you get the picture. Anyway, long story short, the company behind all of them is R & D Maintenance.’

  ‘Sounds like two odd-job men.’

  ‘I doubt they’ve ever done any odd jobs in their lives, just dodgy ones. The R is Richie Hughes, the D his mate Damien Spencer. I bet it’s just a sham company, set up to hide whatever else they’re involved in, and we all know what that’s likely to be.’

  Catherine’s face lit up. ‘So Dougie Hughes is involved. I bloody knew it.’

  ‘It was a dead cert really, but you can bet we won’t be able to prove it.’

  ‘And Richie Hughes and Spencer will say they’d no idea what the place was being used for; they just let to a company who let it to another one and so on.’

  ‘Same old story, but it’s a start.’

  ‘You better tell DI Knight what you’ve told me. I think he’s in his office. Great work Anna. I know this must have been really tedious.’

  Varcoe smiled and went off to find Knight. Catherine glanced at the clock on the wall; if she was quick, she could have a sneaky cup of tea and a doughnut.

  * * *

  The canteen was quiet. Catherine sat at a corner table, sank her teeth into the doughnut and closed her eyes. She restrained herself from moaning out loud, but the temptation was there.

  ‘You look as though you’re enjoying that,’ a voice said.

  Catherine opened her eyes, mouth still full. Claire Weyton stood in front of her, mug in hand, grinning mischievously. Catherine attempted to smile back, couldn’t, and had to make do with a lopsided leer.

  ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

  The mouthful of doughnut finally disappeared, and Catherine was able to speak.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind, why should I mind?’ Calm down, she said to herself.

  Claire sat opposite, took a sip of her drink. ‘I still haven’t found any more details about the people you were asking about. I think DI Foster has been in touch?’

  Catherine snorted. ‘Yeah, for what it was worth.’

  Claire smiled uncertainly.

  ‘I didn’t mean… sorry. I just meant that you’ve been much more helpful,’ Catherine backpedalled. Mentally, she kicked herself. Very smooth, she thought. There was a short pause.

  ‘You look tired,’ Claire said.

  ‘Thanks.’ Catherine smiled at her.

  ‘No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’ Claire blushed, fidgeting with the handle of her cup.

  ‘It’s okay. I must look tired. I definitely feel it.’

  ‘We always feel guilty, you know, going home at five thirty when all of you are still hard at work.’

  ‘There’s no need to. We signed up for this job knowing it would mean long hours, weekends. You get used to it.’

  ‘It must cause problems in your personal life, though.’

  Another snort from Catherine. ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Have you… do you have a partner?’

  Claire sounded hesitant, almost shy, not confident and knowing as she had before.

  ‘To be honest, it’s a bit complicated,’ Catherine said. ‘I did have. We lived together, but she moved out around six months ago. Then, the other night, she sent me a text. I went to see her, and she was talking about us trying again, getting back together. The thing is, she moved out because of my job, couldn’t handle the hours I had to work, like we’ve just talked about. She’s a teacher, so fairly regular hours, work she can do at home…’

  Claire nodded in understanding. ‘Regular holidays…’

  ‘Exactly. She was fine at first, but she got more and more fed up with it and in the end she more or less said it was the job or her. I hesitated, and she took that to mean I was choosing the job.’

  ‘And were you?’

  ‘I didn’t think someone who loved me would ask me to choose. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’ Catherine shook her head.

  ‘Because I asked. I just…I thought maybe we could have a drink or something, when you’re not as busy of course, but if you’re getting back together with your ex…’

  ‘I don’t know if I am, or even if I want to. I’m still in the same job, after all, and I don’t intend on leaving it. The same problems will be there as far as I can see.’

  ‘Maybe you could work through them?’

  ‘We did try. I think Louise just lost patience and so did I, if I’m honest. In the end, I just thought if we were right for each
other, we’d have worked harder to save the relationship.’

  ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘I would like to go out for a drink, if you still want to after what I’ve told you, of course.’ She sounded hesitant, even to her own ears, though it was the last thing she felt. Claire emptied her mug and pushed back her chair, her eyes never leaving Catherine’s.

  ‘I definitely still want to.’

  Catherine gazed back, felt her stomach dissolve. ‘You know the hours I’m working at the moment though…’

  ‘I can wait.’ Claire smiled. ‘I need to get back, but I’ll email you my mobile number. Take care, Catherine.’

  ‘You too.’ Catherine watched Claire take her cup over to the counter and exchange a few words with Sally, who was working on the till, both ending up laughing. She’s bloody gorgeous, Catherine thought, shaking her head, not quite able to believe what had just happened. She had forgotten all about her doughnut and had a pleasant surprise when she realised most of it was still waiting on her plate. She saw Chris Rogers at the counter, loading his tray with a plate of lasagne and chips, a mug of coffee and a chocolate cookie. He spotted Catherine and headed towards her.

  ‘I’ve just seen Claire Weyton. Was she in here with you?’

  ‘She was in here, yes.’

  ‘With you?’

  ‘It’s a big room, Chris, with plenty of chairs.’

  Rogers speared a few chips, pushed them into his mouth. ‘Ha. She was then. Bugger, I owe Simon a tenner now.’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ Catherine retorted, unable to fully suppress a grin.

  ‘We just want to see you happy, Sarge, that’s all.’

  ‘That doughnut’s made me very happy. See you later.’

  Chapter 33

  Back in the CID room, Knight was standing with Simon Sullivan, studying a piece of paper. Knight beckoned Catherine over.

  ‘We’ve narrowed down the list of local Nicks and Daves to these. DC Sullivan and DC Rogers are taking half the list, DC Varcoe and DC Lancaster the other half. Hopefully by the end of the day we’ll have found our men, or at least have more of an idea who we can discount.’