by Rhys Bowen
At ten o’clock, the dance was in full swing. Either the boys had lost their shyness or they had decided that dancing with the girls was a lesser evil than being polite to Mrs. Powell-Jones, but the floor was now full of twitching bodies. Every face was very red, as Mrs. Powell-Jones allowed no slow numbers, in case the boys and girls got too close to each other. Evan had done a huge trade in punch and was on his third bowl. Betsy kept slipping behind the table next to Evan with the excuse of offering to hand around plates of sandwiches.
“Nobody seems to be eating the cheese and pickle,” she’d say. “I better take them around before they go stale.” She peered into the punch bowl. “It’s getting low again, isn’t it?” she asked. “Do you want me to mix up some more for you, Evan bach?”
“It’s okay. I can do it,” Evan said.
“I think it’s criminal, the way that Powell-Jones woman has kept you working all evening. It’s your day off, after all. She should let you have at least one dance.”
“It’s okay, Betsy. I don’t mind. And standing here lets me keep a good eye on the kids too.”
“I tell you what, Evan Evans,” Betsy said. “Before this evening is over, I’m going to that stereo player and I’m putting on a slow number and you and I are going to dance. No excuses!”
Then she swept away with a tray of sandwiches. Evan sighed. Bronwen would never understand, he was sure. And yet if he danced with Bronwen and snubbed Betsy, the whole village would have him engaged to her by the end of the evening and he wasn’t sure he wanted that either. He’d have to come up with a gracious way out somehow.
Evan’s gaze swept over the dancing teenagers. Dilys hadn’t shown up after all, he noticed. Her fear of being teased had won out over her desire to dance with him. Poor Dilys, he thought. He could remember what it was to feel different and to know that people were laughing at you. He remembered those first terms at Swansea Grammar School very well. They had made fun of his accent, his lack of English, his skinny legs, his haircut, just about everything. He could definitely understand why Dilys had stayed away tonight.
At that moment the door opened and a group of mothers came in. They stood in the doorway with tolerant, proud smiles on their faces, watching their children dancing. There was a pause in the music and the youngsters made a rapid dive for the food table, pretending not to notice that their mothers had now arrived. Then one of the mothers came scurrying across the room after them.
“Where’s Dilys?” she demanded.
Blank faces turned to her. “Dilys? She hasn’t been here all evening, Mrs. Thomas,” one of the girls said.
“But she left the house at seven o’clock,” Mrs. Thomas said, the panic rising in her face. “I heard the front door go. You mean she never got here? Nobody’s seen her? What can have happened to her? Where can she be?”
Chapter 18
Evan and Bronwen reached Mrs. Thomas at the same moment.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Thomas,” Bronwen said in a calm voice. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. You know what silly things children get into their heads sometimes.”
“That’s right, Mrs. Thomas,” Evan agreed, sounding more upbeat than he felt. “She was telling me the boys teased her about her height. I bet she got cold feet at the last moment and she’s hiding out until the dance is over.”
“But I heard her go out,” Mrs. Thomas insisted. “Where could she have gone?”
Evan looked around the scared faces. “She didn’t say anything to any of you?” he asked. “She didn’t have any secret plans we ought to know about?” There was silence. A few girls shook their heads.
“Come on, girls,” Bronwen said. “You’re not helping Dilys by keeping anything from us right now. We need to find her. Glynis, you’re her friend, aren’t you?”
“But Miss, we all thought she was coming here,” Glynis exclaimed. “She was supposed to call for me at my house and we were going together. Then she phoned this evening and said she’d come on her own and I was to go on without her.”
“Did she say why?” Evan asked.
Glynis shook her head. “I just thought she was taking a long time getting ready maybe. She’s an awful slowpoke sometimes.”
“So she was definitely planning to come here then?” Evan went on.
The girls looked at each other, then nodded agreement. “She was looking forward to it, Mr. Evans,” one of them said. “She said you’d told her that you’d dance with her.” She blushed furiously. “We were all a little jealous, you know.”
“We talked about what we were going to wear on the bus yesterday,” another girl said. “And Dilys said she’d bought a new silky blouse specially for the dance.”
Mrs. Thomas clutched at Evan’s sleeve. “What are we going to do, Mr. Evans? Something terrible’s happened, I know it.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Thomas. We’ll get everybody out looking for her right away,” Evan said, trying to stay calm himself.
“But where could she have gone?” Mrs. Thomas wailed. “Why isn’t she here?”
Evan looked around the room. “Betsy love, run down to the pub and tell all the men we need them this minute. We’ve got a missing little girl we have to find,” he said.
Betsy didn’t wait to argue. She grabbed her coat and fled out of the door.
“I really think that I should maybe question these children,” Mrs. Powell-Jones said, pushing through to stand beside Evan. “I am very good at knowing when a child is lying.”
“Thanks a lot, but Constable Evans is already handling this just fine,” Bronwen said firmly. “Why don’t you make Mrs. Thomas a cup of tea?”
Mrs. Powell-Jones opened her mouth to speak again, then shut it and stalked in the direction of the kitchen. It seemed only a few seconds later that there was the sound of boots on the steps and the men appeared. Mr. Thomas, his face ashen, pushed through to his wife.
Evan divided everyone present into search parties and they spread throughout the village. Evan stood on the hall steps, hearing high voices calling out, “Dilys, where are you?” and Mrs. Thomas’ plaintive, “Dilys love, please come out if you’re hiding,” as they moved off down through the village.
In the darkness Evan could make out the yellow police tape across the paths that led to the mountain. He didn’t want to think the unthinkable, but he couldn’t help it. Dilys’ hopeful face flashed into his mind and he heard her clear young voice saying, “I was hoping you’d dance with me once.”
He borrowed Mrs. Powell-Jones’ flashlight and took it upon himself to check around the hall and the area beyond that led to the mountain trails, but he found no obvious clues in the dark. One by one the search parties returned having found nothing. The teenagers were looking white-faced and tired.
“You might as well all go home,” Evan said. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight. I’ll go down to the station and get onto headquarters. They’ll notify all units to be on the lookout for her.” He turned to the Thomases. “And if you don’t mind coming down to the station with me,” he said. “I’ll need your help to fill out a report and get all the details on her.”
“We’ve got young Melanie home alone,” Mrs. Thomas said, her voice rising in fear again. “I don’t like leaving her.”
I’ll go and stay with Melanie until you’re done,“Bronwen said. She shepherded Mrs. Thomas down the hall steps and started down the street with them.
“You’re very kind, I’m sure, Miss Price,” Mrs. Thomas said, attempting a grateful smile.
Bronwen touched her arm. “Try not to worry too much,” she said. “I’ve known girls do very silly things before now. It might turn out to be something no worse than sneaking down to Caernarfon to see a forbidden movie.”
“But Dilys has never done a thing like that,” Mrs. Thomas said. “She’s always been such a good girl.”
A lone streetlamp threw an anemic glow down the village street. It was the sole source of illumiation until the light that streamed from the pub wind
ows, farther down the hill. Evan had complained about the poor street lighting before. Anyone could sneak anywhere without being seen. He could feel dread rising in his throat.
“Has she been acting strangely at all recently?” Bronwen asked gently as they reached the Thomas’ cottage. “Has she been at all sneaky or secretive? Has she got any new friends from outside the village?”
“Not really,” Mrs. Thomas said. “Not that we know of, anyway. She’s been moody lately, but that’s just a stage they go through when they’re teenagers, isn’t it?”
“So you can’t think of anything that might have happened to make her change her mind about the dance?” Evan asked.
“No, she was looking forward to it,” Mrs. Thomas said. “She talked about nothing else all week.”
“So tell me about this evening,” Evan said. “How was she acting earlier? Did you all have dinner together? Was she still excited about the dance?”
“Well no, we had a little upset right before suppertime,” Mrs. Thomas admitted. “Dilys and her sister had one of their little spats and her father had to show them both who was boss.”
“She ran off to her room crying and wouldn’t come out again,” Mrs. Thomas went on. “But that wasn’t anything unusual. They’re always getting into fights and Dilys is always making dramatic exits to her room.”
“That sounds like a typical teenager,” Bronwen agreed. “So you didn’t actually see her before she went to the dance?”
“No, she stayed in her room and she wouldn’t come out for supper,” Mrs. Thomas said. “I didn’t worry too much. I knew there was plenty of food at the dance. Then Mr. Thomas and I were in the living room watching TV and we heard the front door slam and we assumed it was Dilys going to the dance.” She grabbed her husband’s arm. “Why did we let her go without saying good-bye to her? I’d give anything …”
“Don’t upset yourself, mother,” Mr. Thomas muttered. “She’ll show up.”
“I’m sure she will,” Bronwen said. “I’ll go on in and sit with Melanie.”
“She should be asleep,” Mrs. Thomas said, glancing at her house, “although I wouldn’t put it past the little monkey to sneak down and watch the telly again the moment we were out of the way. She’s going to be the wild one, Miss Price, as I expect you know.”
“Let’s get on down to the station, shall we?” Evan suggested.
It was cold in the little room and Evan turned on all three bars of the electric fire. Even so he noticed that Mrs. Thomas couldn’t stop shivering. “This won’t take a minute,” he said, “Then you can make yourself a nice cup of tea when you get home.”
“You’re very kind, Mr. Evans,” Mrs. Thomas said. Evans always marvelled that people didn’t lose their good manners even in moments of great stress.
The Thomases sat like two statues. Only Mrs. Thomas gave him the answers to his questions, but she always looked to Mr. Thomas for his confirming nod. After the form was completed Evan called the information through to headquarters. He was glad that they couldn’t hear the dispatcher on the other end of the line. “A young girl missing again?” he asked. “That doesn’t sound good, does it?”
Evan had trouble sleeping that night. When he did doze off, his dreams were so disturbing that he shook himself awake again. He was glad for an excuse to get up when his pager beeped at six.
“What’s this about a missing girl?” Sergeant Watkins’ voice came on the line. “I just got called in on my day off.”
Evan gave him the details.
“Christ,” Watkins muttered, “and we’ve had a definite sighting of Lou Walters too. He was trying to get to his mother’s house and then they lost him again. He seems to know the mountains well.”
Evan’s heart sank. “Is there anything I can do, sarge? She’s the nicest little girl …”
“There’s nothing you can do that we’re not already doing,” Watkins said. “The chief’s sent out every available unit. If she hasn’t told any of her friends that she was going somewhere, you can bet your life she wasn’t intending on going.”
“They all seemed as surprised as we were,” Evan said. “I don’t think anyone was doing any covering for her.”
“What about friends outside the village?” Watkins asked. “Is there anyone she might have decided to go visit—anyone from school? Any relatives?”
“No one from school, as far as we know. She has an auntie in Liverpool that she’s fond of, but we’ve already contacted her.”
“Doesn’t sound good,” Watkins said, echoing the dispatcher’s words. “I’ll let you know if we hear anything. Lucky the chief kept the mountain sealed off, isn’t it? It would be hard for anyone to get up there without one of our men spotting him.”
After he had dressed, Evan hurried downstairs and intercepted Mrs. Williams before she could cook him a big breakfast. He found it hard even to swallow a cup of tea.
I should be doing something, he kept on telling himself, but he had no idea what. Every squad car of the North Wales police was already out looking for her. He felt useless and angry.
At nine o’clock he called back Sergeant Watkins. “Listen, sarge, any objection to my going back to see Jimmy Marshall? We need to hear what he’s got to say about the forged signature, don’t we? And I’d rather all of you detectives kept looking for Dilys.”
“Fine with me. Go ahead,” Watkins said. “It might be a good idea to catch him off guard before he hears that we were checking up on him and has had time to think up a story.”
“Right. I’ll drive over there straight away,” Evan said.
“Oh, and Evans,” Watkins added. “Go carefully, won’t you? If it did turn out that we’ve found our murderer, he’s already killed three men.”
“Don’t worry, sarge. I won’t let him take me up any local mountains to show me the view.”
Watkins chuckled as he hung up. Evan went to his car, glad to have a task that he could do. He drove fast, keeping at the motorway speed limit and ignoring the complaining whine of his aged engine.
Jimmy Marshall was watching cricket on the television. He looked up in surprise as his wife ushered Evan into the living room.
“Back again so soon?” he asked.
“Sorry to disturb your Sunday,” Evan said, “but there was one little point I wanted to clear up with you.”
“If you’d forgotten to ask me something, you could have called me, you know. They have phones in North Wales, don’t they?” Jimmy grinned good-naturedly. Evan noticed that he seemed relaxed enough. “Can I offer you a beer today, or are you still on duty?”
“I won’t have anything, thanks,” Evan said. “Who’s winning?” He indicated the screen.
“Yorkshire, beating Surrey,” he said. “I always like to see Northerners show the South a thing or two.” He looked away from the set. “What was it that was so urgent you drove all the way over here on a Sunday? You didn’t find my fingerprints on a mountaintop, did you?”
He was still smiling. “Nothing like that,” Evan said. “I just wanted to know if you had a good excuse for skipping class last Sunday afternoon—you know, when you had someone forge your signature in the book at that seminar place?”
For a second Jimmy’s face went pale. Then he nodded. “You’re sharp, you chaps from Wales, I’ll give you that,” he said. “As it happens I do have a good excuse—and nothing to do with going up mountains, either.”
“I’m listening,” Evan said.
Jimmy looked around. “Don’t let the wife hear,” he said, lowering his voice.
“You went to meet a woman?” Evan asked.
Jimmy chuckled. “Nothing like that. It’s harmless really, but it could get me into trouble at work. Look, I told you that we’ve been taken over by this American company, right? They’re into all this self-motivation nonsense. I don’t go in for all this touchy-feely, sharing-your-innermost-feelings stuff. I couldn’t take any more of it by Sunday afternoon. I mean, would you want to sit in a circle and hug the person next
to you and tell them that you liked them just the way they are?” He made a pained face. Even had to smile.
“So you cut class?” he asked.
“I had someone sign in for me. I didn’t think they’d ever check,” Jimmy said.
“And where did you go?”
Jimmy looked sheepish. “I went to the pictures,” he said. “Arnold Schwarzenegger was playing in Chester. My wife hates action movies. If we go at all, it’s always Jane Austen and that kind of thing. So I took my chance.”
“Can anyone back this up?” Evan asked.
“I doubt it. I mean, you don’t notice people going into a cinema, do you? But I’ll repeat what I said yesterday. Those men were my friends. What possible reason could I have for wanting either of them dead?”
Evan nodded. “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it then,” he said. He got up. “Sorry to have disturbed your Sunday, but we have to follow up every lead we get.”
“I understand,” Jimmy Marshall said. “They don’t give you much time off, do they?”
“I don’t mind,” Evan said. “If there’s a dangerous man running around, I’d rather see him safely behind bars than get my days off. And speaking of dangerous men … were you at work last Friday?”
“You mean the Friday just gone by?” Jimmy Marshall looked puzzled. “I was down in London, doing a presentation to clients. I went down on Thursday and came back Friday afternoon. What did you want to know for?”
“Just a little thought,” Evan said. “And you can prove you were down in London, I suppose. You didn’t get anyone to forge your signature down there?”