Closer To Home

by Heleyne Hammersley

  24

  2015

  Soup microwaved and beer opened, Kate settled down on her sofa and logged on to her laptop. Raymond had been unimpressed with her lack of progress and she could tell that he wasn’t really convinced by her theory about Ian Hirst. He was still looking at Craig Reese, despite his alibi, and urged her to do the same. He seemed convinced that Reese could have had time during the day to abduct Callum Goodwin and this was all connected to the illegal cigarettes and alcohol.

  O’Connor was in his good books because he’d organised a search of Ken Fowler’s house and the team had turned up thousands of pounds worth of illegally imported cigarettes and bottles of high-end spirits in the cabinets and drawers of his garage. He was still being questioned but O’Connor was convinced that Fowler was the one with the logistical know-how to organise such an operation.

  Craig Reese had buckled and admitted his own role. It was, as O’Connor suspected, small-time. Reese had also implicated the bookmaker Bob Allan, leaving Kate wondering if there was more to the altercation on the day Aleah went missing than Reese had told them. She was happy to let O’Connor untangle it all.

  She almost scalded herself when she saw an email from Karen, spilling her soup as she leaned forward to open it.

  ‘Shit!’ she cursed, trying to wipe the red mark from the front of her top. She put the spoon and bowl down so that she could focus. Her hand was trembling as she scrolled to the message title and hit enter.

  Hi Kath,

  I thought I’d get back to you straight away as your last email seemed quite important. I’m in Leh now, back from the trek, so I have plenty of internet access – not that I want to be reminded of what’s going on in the world. I survived nearly two weeks in a tent – that must be a record for me. I think the cook and horsemen made life that bit more bearable – I’ve never had ‘bed tea’ in my sleeping bag before. The scenery’s spectacular and the monasteries are fascinating. I’ll send some pics when I have a bit more time.

  I had a good think about what you said about Ian Hirst. I do remember a lad in my year at school whose sister was killed in some sort of accident. He was a little shit and probably behind a lot of the bullying in the months before we left. He once did a presentation in English that really sticks in my mind. We all had to give a talk about something that we’ll never forget. He spoke about his sister going missing and the police finding her in one of the tunnels in the quarry. He cried when he told us. The girls were really sympathetic but some of the lads teased him about it. I think he got into a couple of fights because of it.

  I’ve been wracking my brains and really don’t think that his name was Ian but I think his surname might have been Hirst. He said that his sister had had a different name and he was glad because it stopped people from asking him about what had happened to her.

  I don’t know if this helps but I’m fairly sure that he was called Andy. There was three Andrews in my class and I think he might have been one of them. They all called themselves Andy. It used to really bug the teachers – there were three Lees as well. Bloody unimaginative lot in Thorpe!

  I hope this helps.

  I’ll send pix soon.

  Stay safe.

  Love Karen. X

  Andy. He was using his middle name. How the hell had she managed to miss that? They’d been looking for the wrong man. Energised, Kate did a quick 192.com search for Andrew Hirst. There were dozens. Six lived in South Yorkshire. That’s where she planned to start.

  Kate finished her soup, stacked the pan and bowl in the dishwasher and settled down with a second beer. She turned on the television and flicked to the BBC News channel, hoping to catch up with at least some of what was going on in the world. Her mobile rang just as she was sighing through yet another report on how the new government was planning to fund the NHS. She glanced at the screen. Garry. She considered letting it go to voicemail but she knew that he wouldn’t use her mobile number unless it was important.

  ‘What?’ she snapped, in no mood to listen to more of her ex’s whining.

  ‘Kate? Have I caught you at a bad time?’

  ‘Depends what you want.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Ben today?’

  ‘No. I’ve offered to pay his rent for a year so I don’t expect to hear from him for the next twelve months.’ She knew that she sounded bitter and that it wasn’t fair on her son. She’d been pleased to hear from him and glad that he’d accepted her offer of help. She just didn’t feel like indulging Garry.

  ‘He was supposed to meet me earlier. I’m in Sheffield on a course for work and we’d planned to meet up. I waited at the station but he didn’t turn up.’

  ‘He probably found something better to do. Have you tried his mobile?’

  ‘Of course. He’s not answering. I rang the house landline, spoke to one of his friends but he hadn’t seen him.

  ‘How long did you wait?’

  ‘An hour and a bit. He’d have texted if he was going to be late. I’m worried, Kate.’

  ‘Look, he’s probably in a pub somewhere and he’s forgotten all about meeting you.’

  ‘Should I contact the police?’

  ‘No point,’ Kate said. ‘He’s only been missing a few hours and he’s not in an ‘at-risk’ category. He’ll probably turn up tomorrow hungover and apologetic.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Garry conceded. ‘I’ll let you know if I hear anything.’

  Kate hung up. Her son was an adult; he could look after himself. Half an hour later worry was tormenting her like an out-of-reach insect bite. She thought about calling somebody in Sheffield, maybe asking for a favour. But what she’d told Garry had been true. Nobody would be interested for at least another eighteen hours.

  Her feeling of disquiet hadn’t abated when she woke up the next morning. She showered, dressed, gulped down a bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee and was at her desk just after seven. The rest of her team straggled in and were waiting for their actions by seven thirty. Kate was vaguely aware of Raymond staring at the small group through the glass of his office door and she knew that she’d need to get him up to speed before he came looking for her.

  ‘Right. Big day today and a change of plan,’ she said. ‘The Reese sisters can wait because we’re going to find this bastard now I know his name. He’s not Ian Hirst he’s Andrew. He’s been using his middle name since he was a kid. My sister was in his class at school and she remembers him talking about the death of his half-sister. I’ve done a PNC search and looked on the electoral roll and now have seven Andrew Hirsts in South Yorkshire. I’ve ruled two out due to their age but I can’t get a DOB for the others. One of them might well be the one we’re looking for.’ She handed out a sheet of A4 to each member of the team. It contained the addresses of all the local Andrew Hirsts.

  ‘Barratt, take the first two, they’re fairly close together, Mexborough and Wath and they’re both close to Thorpe. I’ve sent uniforms out to the two in Sheffield. Our man is forty-five and local. If you find anything, anything at all, I want to know immediately. Cooper, I want you to find out who was in that patrol car in Sara Evans’s picture. Get yourself a coffee because I think you’re in for a long trawl. Hollis, with me.’

  She allowed the rest of the team to leave before speaking to Hollis. ‘My son, Ben’s gone missing. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, he’s a student on his summer break, but I want you to know in case I need to shift focus for a few hours.’

  Hollis nodded his understanding.

  ‘We’re going to the last known address of Barbara and Anthony Malloy and we’re going to knock on the door of everybody in Bellingham Court until we find somebody who remembers Andrew Hirst.’

  The sheltered housing turned out to be a new development of bungalows close to Rotherham town centre. Hollis pulled up the car at the entrance to the cul-de-sac and glanced round.

  ‘Nice place. Wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this myself when I retire.’

  The bungalows were all red-bri
ck which glowed in the morning sunlight and each was surrounded by a small grass border. Some had flower beds at the front and one or two had small areas of block paving occupied by mobility scooters.

  ‘Come on, no time for daydreaming,’ Kate said. ‘Otherwise you might find yourself “retired” a bit sooner than you’d planned.’

  Hollis laughed and got out of the car.

  ‘Right. The Malloys lived at number eight so let’s start with ten and six and work out from there.’

  The first door they knocked on was opened by a woman in a healthcare provider’s uniform who was clearly too young to be the resident. She told them that Mr Carrington had only been living there for six weeks so he couldn’t have known the Malloys.

  Kate made a quick note of the conversation and then knocked on the door of number six. No answer. She noticed a doorbell on the door jamb and pressed it twice. A minute passed with no response.

  ‘Next,’ she said to Hollis, turning back to the street.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The door had opened and a tiny woman stood on the threshold, held up by a walking frame. ‘I’m sorry it took me so long to get to the door but, well, you can see.’ She nodded at her feet which were twisted into unnatural angles in her slippers. ‘Arthritis. Can’t get around like I used to.’

  Kate smiled sympathetically, offered her warrant card and introduced herself and Hollis. The old woman took her time scrutinising Kate’s ID.

  ‘What do you want with me?’ she asked.

  ‘Could we come in for a few minutes and ask you a couple of questions. It won’t take long.’

  The woman nodded and stepped aside.

  ‘First door on the left. I’ll follow you in. It might take me a little while.’

  The house was immaculate. The hall floor was dark laminate that gleamed in the sunlight and the paintwork was a brilliant white gloss, unscuffed and uniformly applied. Kate led the way into the sitting room which was pleasantly spacious, the chair and sofa were plain beige and the coffee table was dust-free and devoid of clutter.

  ‘Nice place,’ Kate said. ‘Mrs…?’

  ‘Frith,’ the woman said. ‘I had the home-help in yesterday. She always does a lovely job. Can I get you a drink?’

  Kate considered the amount of time it would take for Mrs Frith to get to the kitchen, make tea and get back. Too long.

  ‘No thanks,’ she said, with a glare at Hollis who looked like he was about to say yes. ‘We won’t keep you long. I just want to know if you remember the Malloys who used to live next door?’

  ‘Of course,’ the old woman said with a smile. ‘Lovely couple. So sad, they died within a few months of each other.’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘Did you know them well?’

  ‘As well as you’d expect really. We were neighbours for about eighteen months before Barbara died. Tony used to come in every now and then and do little jobs for me. He was good with his hands.’

  ‘Did you know Barbara’s son?’

  Mrs Frith smiled.

  ‘I only met him once but Barbara used to talk about him a lot. Ever so proud of him she was. Don’t you know him?’

  Kate sat up in surprise. ‘Why should I know him? Is he famous or something?’

  The old lady laughed. ‘No, he’s not famous. He’s one of your lot. He’s in the police force.’

  Kate removed her notebook with a trembling hand, pieces of the puzzle clunking into place as she underlined the last section of notes and wrote the date.

  ‘Can you describe him?’

  Mrs Frith looked at her blankly for a minute.

  ‘I suppose so. He’s tall. Dark hair, looked like he’d had it cut recently when I saw him but he might have grown it by now. Quite muscly-looking, probably goes to one of those posh gyms. He was round here a fair bit before his mam died. I always knew it was him because of his van. Bloody bright yellow. Tony gave it him. He was turning it into one of them campervans.’

  ‘What did his mum call him when she spoke about him? Was he Ian, or Andrew, Andy?’

  ‘He was Andrew. Never heard her call him Ian. Barbara always called him Andrew but he introduced himself to me as Drew.’

  At that moment Kate’s phone began to vibrate in her pocket.

  25

  2015

  ‘Cooper, what have you got?’ Kate turned away from Mrs Firth hoping that the woman couldn’t hear the rising panic in her tone.

  ‘I’ve been through the duty logs. Our most likely candidate for the patrol car driver is PCSO Drew Rigby. He’d been in Mexborough earlier and logged the car back in about forty-five minutes after the photograph was taken. Rigby would have been on his way back to base.’

  ‘But he wasn’t responding to a call-out? There wasn’t anything on the estate at that time?’

  ‘Nope, and nobody seems to have been anywhere near the estate apart from Rigby.’

  Kate stood up and went into the hallway of the bungalow.

  ‘Cooper, listen. Is Rigby on duty today?’

  ‘No, I checked. He rang in sick.’

  ‘Right. Get his home address.’

  She heard the tapping of a keyboard then Cooper gave her an address in Wheatley Hills just east of Doncaster town centre.

  Kate stuck her head round the door of the living room and gestured to Hollis who quickly made their excuses to Mrs Frith and followed her to the door.

  ‘Cooper, get somebody round to Rigby’s house now. If he’s there bring him in. He’s Ian Andrew Hirst! He’s the fucker we’ve been looking for.’

  She waited for Hollis to unlock the car and pulled open the door.

  ‘We’ve got him!’ she said, banging the dashboard. ‘He’s a clever sod, but we’ve got him!’

  ‘Who is he?’ Hollis asked. ‘And where are we going?’

  ‘Back to Doncaster. He’s our killer. He’s Tracy Moore’s brother. I don’t know why he calls himself Rigby but it might be that his mother remarried and Rigby took his stepfather’s name. He’s been pissing up my back and telling me it’s raining; and now I’m going to have him.’

  ‘And he’s one of us?’

  ‘He’s a PCSO. I met him at the quarry the morning Aleah’s body was found. He did the initial search of the house. He was at the second search after you got the statement about the van. He’s everywhere. I even had a drink with him the night before last to see if he could remember anything about Ian Hirst. He must’ve thought that was hilarious.’

  Her phone rang again. Garry.

  ‘Has he turned up?’ she asked before her ex-husband could say anything.

  ‘No. Kate I’m worried. I finally managed to get hold of another one of his housemates. Ben left the house just before lunchtime yesterday. A police officer called at the house and told him that you’d been in an accident. Ben left with him.’

  Despite the stuffiness of the car, Kate went cold.

  ‘Kate?’

  ‘I’m still here. Are you absolutely sure about this?’

  ‘That’s what his friend said. I’m assuming it’s a lie and that you’re fine?’

  ‘Yes. Did the friend give you a description of the police officer?’

  ‘No. I didn’t ask. Why would I?’

  ‘Okay. Text me the number of Ben’s housemate, I’ll talk to him.’

  Kate hung up and looked up the contact number for Sheffield University. Somebody had given Rigby Ben’s home address and she wanted to know who and why. She got through to the main switchboard, who transferred her to admin, who put her on hold. She tried to take deep breaths, desperate to remain calm until finally a human voice cut through the muzak and Kate explained what she wanted to know.

  ‘I’m sorry but we can’t give out student details over the telephone,’ the man at the other end of the phone told her. Kate almost growled in frustration.

  ‘I don’t need his details. He’s my son. I’m a Detective Inspector with South Yorkshire police and I need to know if my son’s details were given to one of our officers yesterday.’
/>
  ‘I’m sorry but how do I know that you’re with the police?’

  Kate took another deep breath.

  ‘I’ll give you the number of Doncaster Central police station. You can confirm that I work there and then you can ring me back. I’m Detective Inspector Kate Fletcher, mother of Ben Fletcher. My son is missing and I need information. If you continue to refuse to help me I will arrest you for obstruction. Now ring this number.’

  She gave the switchboard number for Doncaster Central and hung up.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Hollis asked, glancing from the road to Kate and back again.

  ‘I think Rigby’s got my son,’ she said and as soon as she actually managed to vocalise her fears she felt tears building behind her eyelids. She saw Aleah Reese floating face down in a pond and Callum Goodwin’s abandoned body in the bushes under a bridge. What would he do with Ben?

  ‘Why would he take your son?’

  It was a good question.

  ‘For the same reason that he took Aleah and Callum. He wants revenge on people that hurt him in the past. Aleah was the niece of two girls that he holds responsible for killing his sister.’

  ‘But she wasn’t. She’s Reese’s stepdaughter.’

  ‘I’m not sure that he knew that when he took her and there might be a link with Jackie’s family. He obviously blames Callum Goodwin’s family for the suicide of his father for some reason.’

  ‘But what about you. What did your family do to him?’

  Kate shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. We left after the first few months of the strike. It didn’t affect us because Dad was a pit deputy. Different union. My sister was in the same class as Rigby at school but she doesn’t really remember him that well.’

  ‘You left,’ Hollis said. ‘Could that be it? We think his dad was a scab, yours was working but he probably didn’t get the abuse that Hirst did and then you left and got on with your life. Now you’re back, big boss and he’s not even a proper copper. Could that be it?’