Pinpoint

by Sheila Mary Taylor

  ‘You’ve got it.’

  ‘Any other debris?’

  ‘Not much. Empty Paracetamol pack. Empty plastic water bottle. Must be some good prints on that. I’m waiting for a result any moment.’

  Paul’s eyes darted from left to right. ‘Paracetamol? I wonder why. Nothing else?’

  ‘Nothing much. Oh yes. A dead rat with its legs missing.’ He glanced up at Paul, then flipped through the sheaf of papers in his hand. ‘But the woman saw him messing around with a white car in Castle Street. And guess what? A white Fiesta was reported stolen in that exact area early Saturday morning.’

  ‘Well, it’s not much but it’s better than nothing. Let me know as soon as possible about the prints.’

  As the door closed Paul sank into his chair. He was exhausted and frustrated. Smith was no nearer arrest than the day he escaped from the police van. There was something that should be giving him a message, but what was it? Paracetamol . . . A dead rat with no legs . . .

  He was also frustrated because he hadn’t seen Julia since their weekend at White Pool Farm. When he’d phoned yesterday she’d been too busy to talk. She’d even refused his dinner invitation. As he reached for his phone, it rang.

  ‘What’s up, Kev?’

  ‘Result, boss. Prints on the bottle are Smith’s. And you know what. Sagoe’s too.’

  Paul made a fist with his right hand and thumped it into the air. ‘I knew it. Good work. He’s obviously getting careless. Not like him. Wonder why. Keep me posted on the stolen Fiesta. And I want prints from any abandoned vehicles that were reported stolen from anywhere, not just those in the hot area around Dukes Bar.’

  ‘Yes, boss. Anything else?’

  ‘I’m putting firearms on full alert. With Sagoe dead and Smith holing up in that building it means he has no other place to go. Probably no money. He’ll be desperate. Put your thinking cap on, Kev. Where d’you think he’d go now?’

  ‘I wish I knew, Chief. Maybe out on the moors . . .’

  Paul pressed the off button, waited a moment, then dialled Julia’s number at Lloyd Grant.

  ‘We don’t expect her in the office at all today, certainly not until late afternoon,’ her PA said. ‘She’s duty solicitor at Manchester Magistrates’. You could try her mobile, though it’s usually switched off in court. Do you have her numbers, Mr Moxon?’

  ‘I have them. Thanks.’

  Paul swivelled round and gazed at the hazy panorama of Manchester city, remembering guiltily that last night he’d left his Anschutz rifle and his pistol in the boot of the Honda. He shook his head. No matter how tired he was, that must never happen again. He smiled as he recalled the unexpected “poss” he’d had. When Julia couldn’t make it for dinner it had been a spur of the moment visit to the rifle club after his stint at the TV Studio. He seldom went these days, but still got one hell of a kick from a perfect score of one hundred.

  - 100 -

  Ben was relieved to find a parking spot right next to Crown Square. He locked the car then positioned himself strategically so that he would see Julia coming down the steps of the Magistrates’ Court. She’d have to walk right past him. He had to talk to her, had to find out what was wrong. She had a frightened, hunted look about her, as though she was desperate for help but had nobody she could confide in. He had never known her like this before and apart from anything else, as her business partner it was up to him to do something about it. Just a quiet little chat away from the office would be best. The office would be out of the question. In that setting she would just revert to her normal crisp business-like attitude with him. What was needed was a strong yet gentle manful approach that would make her feel both protected and cared for, and which at the same time would sew the seeds for her eventual realisation that he was the man to fill the gap in her life, not Paul bloody Moxon.

  His luck was in. Only fifteen minutes later she appeared at the top of the steps. She stood like a lost soul in a pose so dejected that he longed more than ever to take her in his arms and comfort her, though this was certainly not on today’s agenda. He had learned his lesson and his approach would be far more subtle this time. He watched her hesitate, as though she had been expecting to meet someone who hadn’t turned up. She took out her mobile phone and dialled. Less than a minute later she put the phone back in her pocket and walked down the steps, her movements cautious and alert. At the bottom she stopped, as though not certain where to go next. Then, without any apparent purpose, she began walking across the square.

  When she was almost opposite Ben, he moved swiftly towards her.

  ‘Julia.’

  He was shocked to see the look of fear in her eyes. She carried on walking as though she hadn’t even recognised him, almost like a sleepwalker who’d been disturbed, he thought, as he ran after her.

  He held her arm. ‘Julia, I’ll give you a lift. There’s something I want to discuss with you.’

  ‘Tomorrow, Ben. I’m in a hurry now.’

  ‘Please, Julia.’

  ‘Sorry. I must go.’

  This time he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Holding her arm gently but firmly, he guided her towards the car. ‘This is terribly important. It’ll only take a few minutes.’

  She climbed into the car, sighing deeply as though she was too tired to argue. As they swung into Bridge Street she gripped the edge of the seat.

  ‘But this isn’t the way to the office,’ she said.

  - 101 -

  Wendy looked at her watch, cursing the traffic as she finally turned off Cheadle High Street.

  Twenty to six. ‘Oh no.’

  A young woman she hadn’t seen before came to the studio door.

  ‘Oh, I was just locking up,’ she said.

  Wendy’s heart beat faster. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Dominique. Sonya’s new assistant.’

  ‘I’ve come for Nicky.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid all the children have gone.’

  ‘No. They can’t have. I’m picking Nicky up. Her mother’s in court all day.’

  ‘Oh, you mean Nicola. Well, don’t worry. Her uncle fetched her a few minutes ago.’

  ‘Her uncle?’

  Nicky had never mentioned an uncle. Neither had Julia. She’d never heard of any relatives at all. And why did this girl call her Nicola?

  ‘What did he look like?’

  Dominique shrugged and cocked her head to one side. ‘Tall. Fair. Slim. Didn’t look well.’ She smiled. ‘Said he’d been abroad for a few years and was giving his niece a surprise.’

  Wendy’s insides churned.

  ‘Look, I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Nicola was thrilled to see him. They’ll be home by the time you get there. Said they were going to play hide-and-seek.’

  Wendy raced down the pathway and threw herself into the Mini. Double parking outside the post office she ran to the phone booth and dialled the Hillside House number. When there was no reply she dug for her little red address book and looked up Julia’s office number.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Julia’s personal assistant. ‘She won’t be in the office till tomorrow. She’s not on call tonight but you could try her mobile.’

  Wendy shoved more small change into the slot. She dialled. An automated voice told her the phone was switched off but if she left a message her call would be returned. Damn.

  Back in her car she swung into Cheadle High Street. She looked at the empty seat next to her, as though willing Nicky to materialise.

  Uncle? Nicky must have known who he was to have gone with him. Wendy thought she knew everything about the Grant family. There must be family members she’d not heard about. She was worrying for nothing. When she got home they’d be playing hide-and-seek on the front lawn, waiting for someone to unlock the front door.

  But Hillside House looked ominously deserted. She glanced at the house opposite. She’d been surprised when Julia had told her only this morning that it was full of armed police trying to combat the recent spate of local burglaries. Bu
t they were nowhere to be seen now. She parked in the driveway and hurried to the front door.

  ‘Nicky?’ She heard a whine from Duchess, but nothing else. She ran out into the garden. ‘Nicky . . . Nicky?’

  Back inside she re-dialled Julia’s mobile number.

  The phone was still switched off. She would have to keep trying until Julia answered.

  What now? The police?

  But what would she say? That Nicky’s uncle had picked her up. That Nicky’ had been thrilled to see him. She’d look a fool if they turned up a few minutes later, having stopped off at Macdonald’s for a treat.

  ‘Please come home soon,’ she said aloud, looking up at the walls.

  Duchess shoved a wet nose against her leg. She picked up the puppy and held it close, stroking its soft little head as though it needed comforting. She would just have to sit here and wait. Keep on trying Julia’s mobile every few minutes.

  And pray.

  - 102 -

  Ben had to think quickly. Julia’s unusual mental state was really alarming him, but in this traffic there wasn’t much hope of having the kind of intimate one-to-one conversation that was needed. His apartment, only a few minutes away at Salford Quays, would be the perfect place.

  As the car swept past the Mark Addy, Julia took her mobile from her pocket. ‘Damn,’ she muttered, ‘I must have switched it off after my last call. Ben, will you please tell me where we’re going?’ she said, as she keyed in the code.

  ‘My apartment’s only five minutes from here. Much more relaxing than the office.’

  Getting no response he laughed awkwardly and glanced at her. She was gawping at him and he realised she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. ‘Sit back, Julia, and stop looking so terrified. I’m not going to touch you.’

  Just then her phone rang. She pressed the button.

  ‘What?’ she whispered. ‘Wendy? What did you say?’

  Ben turned and looked at her. Julia’s face seemed to crumple as she held the phone away from her ear. He pulled in to the curb.

  ‘Julia, for God’s sake, speak.’

  ‘She’s . . . ’

  Ignoring the barrage of hooting cars he turned off the ignition and held her shoulders. ‘What’s happened?’

  With an inner strength that over the years Ben had learned to respect, she seemed to energise herself. Wrenching herself free she spoke into the phone again. ‘Don’t do anything, Wendy. Just sit tight and I’ll be there as soon as I can. No. Don’t phone anyone. But if it rings take a message.’

  Releasing her seat belt Julia threw herself at the door. ‘I’ve got to get home, Ben. Let me out.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘My daughter. She needs me. Please release the locks so I can get out of here.’

  She was like a wild cat, fur standing up, teeth bared, ready to kill if she had to.

  Clunk went the locks. ‘Don’t go, Julia.’ He tried to catch her arm. ‘Whatever it is, I’ll drive you. Julia.’

  He watched helplessly as she charged down the road towards the Gartside Street car park, hair flying, feet hardly touching the ground.

  - 103 -

  The gates of Hillside House were standing open and Wendy was already at the door when Julia skidded to a halt. Wendy took her arm and helped her out.

  She closed her eyes and for a few moments she couldn’t speak. Then as reality returned she drew herself up straight. ‘Any phone calls yet?’ she asked, dreading the answer. The frantic detour to the office to retrieve her gun from the top drawer of her desk had only taken a few minutes, double parked and engine still running, but had seemed like a lifetime when every minute counted.

  A red-eyed Wendy shook her head. ‘Was he really her uncle?’

  ‘Of course he wasn’t.’

  ‘Then who? Who? He must have followed me from the school.’

  Julia closed her eyes. Twin brother. Uncle.

  Nicholas?

  Sam Smith?

  No!

  Through the confused strands of Julia’s tangled brain one thing nagged at her ─ if Sam Smith was Nicholas King then he saved her from a life of degradation by knocking that dreadful foster father out for long enough for them both to get away, but somehow the tables were turned. She got away scot-free. She had all the comfort, the privilege, the kindness and the love. Now he was getting back at her for leaving him alone to rot in the cesspits of homelessness and neglect . . . Oh, if only David and Jessie had adopted him too, no matter what awful thing he did . . .

  ‘Calm down, Wendy,’ she said. ‘Let’s go inside. I’m expecting a call. We can do absolutely nothing until we get that call.’

  ‘But why didn’t you let me phone the police? Why not phone them now?’ Wendy was shouting with frustration.

  Julia put her arm around Wendy. ‘Trust me. There are things you don’t understand. After we’ve had the phone call we’ll know what to do. Until then we must just sit tight. Let’s have tea.’

  Wendy filled the kettle, unhooked two mugs and dropped tea bags into them, and only then she seemed to fall apart. ‘I don’t know how you can be so calm,’ she said. ’Most people would be tearing their hair out with desperation. Would at least be phoning the police. Jesus, your child’s been kidnapped. What else can it be? And it’s all my fault. I don’t know what possessed me to go with Alan and get married. Another few days would have made no difference. I don’t know why you don’t tell me what a useless shit I am.’

  ‘Sit down, Wendy,’ Julia said, taking over the making of the tea and adding two spoons of sugar to Wendy’s. ‘Relax and drink your tea.’ The poor girl was distraught.

  ‘When d’you think you’ll get the call?’ Wendy asked through her tears.

  Julia looked up at the ceiling. ‘Soon,’ she said. And just then the phone rang.

  They both jumped as though a bomb had exploded. With giant strides Julia tore up to her study where she could record the call. As she lunged at the receiver she finally made her decision.

  The moment she heard his voice she lifted her finger to jab the number one digit, then withdrew it as though she’d stuck it in a furnace. Don’t, idiot. BT will trace the call. They will tell Paul . . .

  ‘Ah, Julia.’

  ‘Where’s my daughter?’

  ‘First things first. Where’s my dosh?’

  She had prepared herself for the lie she’d have to tell. Now, more than ever, he must go on thinking he was going to get what he’d requested.

  ‘I have it,’ she said.

  ‘In tens and fifties?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Old notes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, well, well. You surprise me, Julia. It just goes to show. You can never know every fucking thing about a person. Even though ─ ’

  ‘Tell me where to bring it. You’ll get it as soon as I have my daughter back safely.’

  ‘Safely? Why would I harm her? No, Julia. It’ll be the other way around. I’ll hand her over when I have the money. She’ll be fine. As long as you bring it by nine o’clock tonight. I have an important journey to make at midnight and I can’t be late.’

  ‘Okay.’ She glanced at her watch. It was seven-thirty. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘She’s fine. We’re having lots of fun.’

  ‘How do I know you’re telling me the truth?’

  ‘You must trust me, Julia.’ He laughed. ‘Now listen carefully.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, just tell me where to meet you.’

  ‘Don’t get any funny ideas. Make sure you’re on your own, and don’t tell the police. You know what might happen if you do.’

  ‘Tell me where.’

  ‘You know the Cat and Fiddle? The pub on the Buxton road?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, a couple of miles before you get to it, there’s a road to the left, sign-posted to Goyt Valley. Just a mile or so up this road there’s a gorge. Drop a body down there and no one would ever fucking find it.’

  ‘W
here’s my daughter?’

  ‘She’s in a churchyard. Don’t worry. You’ll pass it on your way. She’s quite safe there. She loves playing hide-and-seek.’

  ‘A churchyard? You’re mad.’

  ‘Only kidding, Julia. She’s in the car now, waiting for me while I’m talking to you from the Cat and Fiddle. Anyway, go down the Goyt Valley road about a mile. Turn right at the grass triangle. Follow the narrow twisting lane and you come to the old chapel on the corner. Turn right. It goes to a lookout point where you can see right across Cheshire. Fucking tourists all day, going to the reservoir and the ruins of Errwood Hall, but nobody there now. Worst bloody June weather I’ve known for years. But you don’t mind a bit of mist and rain, do you Julia?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hell no. But I don’t want you to go right up there. I want you to stop just after the chapel, where you see the footpath sign.’

  ‘The footpath sign? But there are hundreds.’

  ‘Don’t panic. You can’t miss this one . . .’

  As his voice meandered on, something inside her snapped, and almost as though it had a mind of its own, her finger moved slowly towards the number one digit.

  ‘Yes,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘I think I know where you mean.’

  ‘You can’t miss the barn. The only one for miles. Be there, rich bitch.’

  Now, she told herself, before he rings off. Press it.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she said, and stabbed the number one digit.

  - 104 -

  With Smith’s instructions drumming in her ears Julia threw off her clothes and changed into jeans, sweater and strong walking shoes. Into Simon’s light and roomy sailing bag she crammed enough old Readers Digests to mimic a large bundle of bank notes. She took the pistol from her handbag, placed it on top of the Readers Digests and clipped the two sides of the bag together. With one flick of a finger she could open the bag and have her hand on the gun. Hopefully the sight of it would frighten Smith enough to hand Nicky over.

  Then she put her mind into gear. That’s altogether too clumsy. If Smith sees the gun he might shoot me and that would be that.