Rock, Paper, Scissors

by B Baskerville

  “Urgh,” he grimaced.

  “Now, now,” teased Cooper. “Eat your crusts or your hair won’t go curly.”

  Tennessee pulled a face and turned his eyes upward towards his mop of blond curls. “What you got?” he asked, pointing to the file in Cooper’s hand.

  “Missing girl. Nineteen-year-old student named Macey Gallagher, originally from Dublin. Reported missing by her flatmate Pearl Baxter. Hasn’t been seen since a boozy night out on the eighth and doesn’t have her insulin with her.”

  Tennessee sat up. “Since Saturday? How’d the flatmate not realise until now?”

  Cooper shrugged. “She assumed she was staying at her boyfriend’s and her boyfriend assumed she was with the flatmate.”

  “Is that likely?”

  “I’m not sure, but the flatmate’s been receiving texts supposedly from Macey, only she’s convinced the messages aren’t really from her.” Cooper stole a chair from a neighbouring desk and sat down.

  “And that’s why you haven’t handed it over to Mispers?” Tennessee asked, referring to the common abbreviation for missing persons. “You smell a rat?”

  Cooper drew her lower lip in between her teeth and slowly released it. “I smell a rat,” she confirmed, “but I hope I’m wrong. Listen, there’s not much of the day left but I’m going to make a start by contacting the girl’s landlord and getting her parents’ contact details. Can you put a request in for the missing girl’s phone records? And get a trace while you’re at it. Hopefully it’s still switched on.”

  “Consider it done,” he replied with a yawn.

  Cooper frowned at the DS. “Another restless night?”

  Tennessee took the name and phone number of the missing girl from the file and got to his feet. “Little Alfie woke up about twelve times last night. I mean, I want to be a hands-on dad, I don’t believe in leaving all the baby stuff to his mother, but Hayley didn’t even stir. I swear that woman could sleep through a bomb blast. Anyway—” he waved the phone number. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Cooper watched him walk away while she dialled the number Pearl Baxter had given her for their landlord. The first five months of fatherhood had ravaged Tennessee’s fashion-model looks. The man was drained. His skin was dry and colourless, apart from the skin under his eyes, which had been stained a sickly shade of purple.

  “Hello?”

  Cooper could hear chewing noises. “Mr Walker? This is DCI Erica Cooper from Northumbria Police. I’m calling about a tenant of yours. Macey Gallagher?”

  There was more chewing. “Gallagher? Gallagher? Oh, yeah. Blonde girl, Rothbury Terrace. Let me guess, noise complaint? Always is with the student lets.”

  Quieter than the chewing noise, but still audible, was the sound of excitable sports commentary. “No, Mr Walker, it’s nothing like that. I’m afraid Macey’s been reported missing. I need the contact details for her parents, I believe you have them listed as guarantors?”

  “Missing?” The television was turned down but not muted. “Er, yes, I have their details somewhere. Can I call you tomorrow? I have a lot of properties, it’ll take me a while to dig them out.”

  “Sorry, but I’m going to need them now. Your horse race will have to wait.”

  Several seconds of silence were followed by a sigh and, “Fine. Hang on, I’ll just pop you on hold.”

  Cooper drummed her fingers on the table for a moment and checked her mobile for messages. She had two. Tina had messaged to say that her father was taking her and her boyfriend, Josh, to the cinema and asked if she wanted to join them. Cooper declined. She and Tina’s father, Kenny, had split up the moment they found out she was pregnant. They’d barely spoken for the best part of twelve years but in recent times they’d been making an effort with each other. Maybe next time, T. Have fun and don’t eat too much popcorn.

  The second message was from Justin Atkinson: highly skilled scene of crime officer; silver-haired environmentalist; and Cooper’s new beau. Berlin is beautiful. Great conference. The Germans are making huge strides in forensic podiatry. Fascinating stuff. Miss you. J.

  Cooper smiled to herself. Not many people would consider forensic podiatry fascinating, but that was what made Atkinson so brilliant at what he did. As a teen, she’d always been attracted to alpha males. Strong, silent types with biceps bigger than their brains. After falling pregnant at seventeen, joining the police at eighteen and dedicating herself to a career that could provide for her daughter, Cooper’s romantic confidence took a tumble and she ended up in a string of on-again, off-again relationships with men like Detective Neil Fuller. Thankfully, her thirties had awoken Cooper’s dormant sapiosexuality and she couldn’t get enough of Atkinson’s extensive vocabulary. His tall, lean body was a felicitous bonus.

  “You still there?” Matt Walker was back on the line and had interrupted her thoughts about something else that was extensive. “I have the names and address you wanted.”

  Cooper shook herself back to the present and grabbed a pen. “Yes, okay, go.”

  “Iris and Sean Gallagher. Six Kildonan Avenue, Perrystown. You want their phone numbers?”

  “Please.”

  Cooper noted the landline and mobile numbers for Macey’s parents and thanked Matt Walker for his help. She was just about to dial the Gallaghers when Tennessee returned.

  “Here,” he said, handing her a coffee. “Phone records will be with us tomorrow or Thursday at the latest.”

  “Cheers. I was just about to inform the family. Want to do the honours?”

  Tennessee’s mouth twitched. “Ah, Coop, you know I hate that.”

  “And you know everyone hates it. You’re a capable DS. If you can handle the domestic we saw the other night, you can handle this.”

  The younger man rubbed his jaw and went to take a sip of coffee before realising it was far too hot. “Fine. Give me the phone. What are their names?”

  “Iris and Sean Gallagher.”

  Cooper picked up a second line to listen in and take notes.

  “Hello? This is DS Jack Daniel from Northumbria CID, I’d like to speak to Mr Sean or Mrs Iris Gallagher, please.”

  There was sniggering on the other end of the phone. “Aye,” came a deep, male voice, “and this is Mr Jim Beam hoping to speak to Captain Morgan. Good one. Who is this? Mikey?”

  “Sir, this isn’t a joke. This is Detective Sergeant Jack Daniel from—” There was more giggling and Tennessee turned to look at Cooper.

  “Fine,” she mouthed. “Sir? Sir? DCI Cooper here, DS Daniel’s colleague. We’re calling about Macey.”

  The giggling came to an abrupt end and his voice hardened. “Macey? Should I be sitting down?”

  “Macey was reported missing by her flatmate today. She and her friends haven’t seen Macey since the evening of the eighth. When was the last time you spoke to your daughter, Mr Gallagher?”

  “Missing?” Strangely, Cooper thought she heard him laugh again. “I thought you were going to tell me she’d been shot or something. Well, thank God.”

  Cooper and Tennessee frowned at each other. Sean Gallagher didn’t sound too concerned for his daughter’s safety.

  “The last time you spoke to Macey, sir?”

  “Oh, it’s been a while. A month at least. I’ll check with her mother but this is classic Macey.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, she’s always running off, isn’t she? Did it when she was ten. Jumped on the train to Galway to see her aunt without telling anyone. Sparked a massive search. It made the news and everything. At fifteen she stole her sister’s ID - double of each other they are - and she went off to Amsterdam with a boy from her school. Got high on pot brownies and stole a pedal boat. And at eighteen, after telling us she was going to Trinity College, she runs off to Newcastle. She’s a wanderer. Always has been, always will be. I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s heard from her, but if history’s anything to go by, she’ll show up when she’s hungry or runs out of money.”

 
“Mr Gallagher,” interrupted Cooper. “Macey’s flatmate doesn’t think she took any of her belongings with her, she also left her insulin at the flat they share.”

  “Hmm,” he was quiet for a moment. “Well, that’s more unusual. She’ll pick up an emergency prescription though. She was always very good at remembering to do her injections. I’ll speak to Iris and Kate.”

  “Kate?”

  “Her sister. It’s Katherine, but we call her Kate.”

  “When you spoke to Macey last month, how was she?”

  “Besotted with some boy.”

  Cooper consulted her notes. “Would that be Aaron Quinn?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. She said he’d never been abroad before and she couldn’t wait for the summer break to come around so she could show him Bangkok. She’s probably with him. They’ll be holed up doing what young lovers do.”

  Cooper took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if Mr Gallagher was indifferent to the danger his daughter could be in, whether she genuinely was the type to disappear and not tell a soul, or if he was hiding something. “She’s not with Aaron,” Cooper said. “He’s just as worried as Macey’s flatmate. I’ll be speaking with him first thing in the morning. Thank you, Mr Gallagher. I’ll be in touch regularly to update you on the investigation. In the meantime, if you hear anything, could you call me straight away?”

  “Of course.”

  Cooper recited her number and hung up. She sipped her coffee as she mulled over the conversation. She and Kenny would be beside themselves if Tina disappeared again and Tennessee would be the same way with his infant son. Sam Sutherland, a DI, had been so concerned about his daughter, Caroline, during the Tarot Card Killer case, that he’d pulled her out of school. Sean Gallagher did not appear to be cut from the same parenting cloth.

  “What now?” asked Tennessee.

  “Put in a request for her bank records and meet me downstairs in fifteen. We should visit Macey’s flat before we finish for the day.”

  Tennessee saluted and grabbed his coat. “What did you think of Sean Gallagher?”

  She ground her teeth before speaking. “I think Papa Bear’s a little too laid back about his baby girl going missing.”

  - Chapter 4 -

  Tennessee opened an umbrella and held it over both his and Cooper’s heads as they strolled through Heaton Park. The young detective was as physically protective of Cooper as Cooper was emotionally protective of him. He reminded Cooper of a younger brother who always looked out for his much smaller big sister. She was worried about him; he’d checked his phone eight times on the short drive over here.

  Heaton Park was a beautiful oasis of greenery in a diverse and fashionable area of Newcastle. The suburb of Heaton was close to the city, with good schools, independent cafés and restaurants as well as the usual chains. The rain pitter-pattered off the umbrella as Cooper and Tennessee strolled towards the park’s exit. The trees lining either side of the pathway were blushed pink with blossom petals while blooms of yellow daffodils erupted in patches over grassy verges. Even on a miserable spring day like today, the park was alive with colour.

  On Cooper’s right, the ancient ruins of The House of Adam of Jesmond stood proud against the downpour. A knight and loyal ally of King Henry III, Adam de Gesmuth rose to the position of Sheriff of Newcastle only to become hated by his community for extortion and embezzlement. Fearful for his safety, the king allowed Adam to fortify his home. After Adam’s death during the crusades, the house fell into disrepair but two walls remained defiant to seven hundred years of wind and rain.

  “What’s that smell?” asked Tennessee.

  Cooper sniffed the air. “Wild garlic.”

  “Can you eat it?”

  “You can. Some of the fancier restaurants forage down here and use it in their menus. Don’t ask me how. You know I can’t cook for toffee.”

  Tennessee kicked a pebble with his boot. “Did I hear Sutherland was called to an armed robbery?” he asked, referring to detective Sam Sutherland.

  “Yeah, some jokers turned over a pawnbroker’s in the city. He’s got Keaton and Martin with him. Bit of a hostage situation going on. I’m sure they’ll fill us in once it’s all over.”

  The pair left the park, passed the Islamic Centre and turned up Rothbury Terrace. On one side of the street, huge Victorian terraces housed well-to-do families; on the other, smaller terraced houses had been converted into flats for the city’s ever-expanding student population.

  Cooper double-checked the door number of one flat before ringing the bell. A red-eyed Pearl Baxter opened the door and hurried the pair in. “Come in, it’s pissing down.”

  “How are you holding up, Pearl? Did you call the number I gave you?”

  Pearl nodded at Cooper. “Spoke to some lady. She said I can call back whenever I want to talk.”

  Cooper placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “That’s good. Pearl, this is DS Daniel. Could you show us Macey’s room, please?”

  “This way.”

  Pearl led the pair to the back of the house. “Macey had the back bedroom. She wanted the smaller room as the rent was cheaper.” She pushed open the door. “I’ve left everything as I found it,” she added.

  Macey Gallagher’s room was a shrine to Ikea. Cooper recognised the Malm range of furniture from her daughter’s bedroom as well as a free-standing mirror she’d admired on her last visit to the Swedish labyrinth of flat-packs and temper tantrums.

  Tennessee picked up a hairbrush from Macey’s dresser and slipped it into a paper evidence bag.

  “What are you doing?” asked Pearl. The corners of her mouth turned down in an accusatory manner as if Tennessee were stealing from her flatmate.

  He sealed the bag before answering. “The hair on her brush includes the root. We can take a DNA sample from it.”

  “In case she turns up dead?”

  Tennessee’s face tensed and he nodded. It was enough for Pearl to leave the room.

  “Poor kid,” he said to Cooper.

  “Can’t be easy.” Cooper slid a MacBook out from under Macey’s bed and opened it. “Her laptop’s here; password-protected though. We’ll take it to the techies.”

  Tennessee continued to scan the room. “I have to agree with the flatmate. It doesn’t look like anything’s missing. Nothing obvious anyway.” He opened a drawer and closed it again.

  Cooper opened a second drawer. “Here’s her passport.” She flicked to the photo page and took in the image of Macey Gallagher; a pale blonde with rosy cheeks and blue eyes that seemed too big for her face.

  “So she hasn’t left the country.”

  “Her father said she'd travelled on her sister’s passport before. We should check with the sister. Make sure she still has her passport.”

  “Any sign of a diary?” Tennessee said, continuing his search.

  “No. There’s plenty of notepads here though.” Cooper flicked through the pages of a beige exercise book. “Uni notes by the looks of it. Personal notes in the margins. Dentist two o’clock, buy bread, that sort of thing.”

  “Worth taking them?”

  Cooper nodded and slipped the books into a bag. “Martin can comb through them when he’s finished at the pawnbroker’s. See if anything stands out.”

  “He’ll love that,” Tennessee said with sarcasm.

  “He doesn’t have to love it, he just has to do it. Right, I think we’re done here for now.”

  Cooper found Pearl on her living room sofa gripping a bottle of Czech lager with both hands. When she saw the DCI she lifted the bottle, toasted the air and took a long swig. “It’s been a shitty, long day.”

  In front of the sofa, a coffee table was littered with photocopied posters of Macey’s face under the words Have you seen me? Tennessee picked one up. “Did you make these?”

  Pearl shook her head and took another swig. “Aaron did. He feels a bit helpless. Wants to stay busy. He’s been up and down Heaton Road handing copies to all the cafés and shops. He’s
going along Chillingham Road tomorrow morning and then Osborne Road in Jesmond.”

  “Can you tell me what Macey was wearing on Saturday night?” Cooper pulled a pen and pad out of her coat pocket.

  “I can show you.” Pearl opened her phone and scrolled through images until she found a suitable one. “This is Macey,” she pointed to a short, slender girl in the middle of a group shot. “She had on these new Kate Spade heels, apparently they hurt like hell. That’s a French Connection wrap dress and I don’t know what brand her handbag was but it was a black clutch with silver trim. She kept an insulin pen in there, make-up too, and the silver bracelet…” Pearl zoomed in to Macey’s right wrist. “It’s a medical alert bracelet. Says she has type one diabetes.”

  “That’s great Pearl. Can you send that photo to this number?” Cooper handed Pearl her card. “And these girls are the ones you mentioned to me at the station? Imogen and Alison?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Who’s this?” asked Cooper, pointing to a man stood close to the group whose eyes were trained on Macey.

  “A friend of Imogen’s. Nick, I think. It was loud in the bar. Might have been Rick.”

  “And did you see Nick, or Rick, after you noticed Macey wasn’t with you anymore?”

  Pearl’s shoulders lifted for a moment. “I don’t know. I was pretty out of it, too many shots. Sorry, I know I’m useless.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek and she tipped the remaining beer into her mouth.

  “You’re not useless,” Cooper told her. “You’re doing well. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Now, is there anything else you can think of? Anyone Macey was scared of? Or a reason she might want to disappear?”

  Pearl wiped the tear away and left a smudge of mascara on the back of her hand. “No. She was happy. She was enjoying her course and Aaron doted on her.”

  Cooper closed her notepad and gave Pearl a sympathetic look. “Thanks, Pearl. Call us if you think of anything else. We’ll see ourselves out.”