“Josie, look, he’s obviously not under arrest. But the way the police just handled that was appalling. They could have made it a lot less public.” To realise that Richard was appalled, rather than entertained as the rest of the canteen seemed to be, made me feel better disposed towards him.
“Thanks Richard.” I smiled as best I could.
“Look, if there’s anything I can do…..” Richard tore a scrap of paper off his notebook and scrawled down not only his mobile number, but his home number too.
I took it gratefully, although I could not begin to imagine how Rich Richard could help me now. Still, it was an offer, and one which I decided to stow away for future use.
“Thanks Richard. I appreciate that.” I could feel the eyes of the whole canteen on me.
There I was, the girl who consorted with the crazed killer. I felt like Myra Hindley, minus the shocking hair-do. Every cell of my body was trying to force my head down and cast my eyes away from the crowd.
However, I had been doing that my whole damned life and I wasn’t going to do it anymore. I had snapped, remember? The rules had changed now. As I defiantly stared around the room, making eye contact wherever I could, I noticed that it was the crowd, and not me, who were forced to look down.
Well, there was a turn up for the books. I was making people feel uncomfortable, instead of it being the other way around, for once. I rather enjoyed it. Anyway, as I looked about me with the cool, calculating stare of my new and somewhat peculiar persona, I spied PC Betty Butler through the window, striding along with purpose in the direction of the Arts Faculty. I rose and hurriedly stuffed my flask into my rucksack before launching myself into my duffle coat.
“Richard, I’ve got to go.” I said, as I was preparing to make a dash for it.
“No problem, Josie. Just text me or something and let me know how you’re doing, ok?”
“Will do.” I called out over my shoulder as I dashed out of the canteen.
No doubt the crowd had thought I was suddenly overcome with embarrassment and had run away. Well, I didn’t have time to worry about the development of my strident new personality at that moment, and instead cantered out of the room with all the grace of a pantomime horse.
Chapter Three
Once I hit the cold January air, the old Josie seemed to return. Well, not entirely; I was still going to make the whole disappearance of Hannah my personal business, but I was probably going to do it as the real me.
I ran around the outside of the canteen building in the hopes of seeing the disappearing rear of my hero as she made her way to the Art Faculty, but was disappointed. For a few seconds, I stood undecided, looking about me. I could head in the direction of the Art Faculty, but Betty could be anywhere by now.
As I was casting about somewhat helplessly, I spotted Betty’s police car some distance away in the car park. I decided I would go and see if Dale Webb was in it and, if not, I would wait by the car until Betty came back. I had to start somewhere. If anyone would help me, it would be Betty and Dale.
So, still in the style of the pantomime horse, I’ve never been a keen athlete, I set off once more. My rucksack was bouncing against my shoulder blades, and I was seriously hoping I had screwed the flask top back on properly.
Breathless and strangely sweaty for a winter’s day, I arrived at the car. As I almost fell against it, I could see the somewhat startled expression of PC Dale Webb, who was perched in the driver’s seat. He scrambled out and looked at me, his concern really obvious.
“Oh, Josie.” As he came towards me, I knew that he was very well aware that Liam had been taken away.
So, with my new resolve still burning bright within my soul…… I burst into big, wailing sobs. Yep, I was definitely going to do this thing as the real Josie Cloverfield.
“I know, I know.” Dale soothed, as if speaking to a sobbing child.
He scooped me into his arms and didn’t seem at all bothered that my hefty, handkerchief-less crying was leaving a trail of destruction all down the front of his police body armour. Instead, he just let me lean there and hugged me tightly.
In the five or six years that Dale Webb had attended horrible incidents in my home, not once had I cried. Although my life had contained a certain amount of horror, it had been a familiar and predicable horror.
This, on the other hand, this snatching away of an innocent man who also happened to be about the only person in the world I cared about, this horror was brand new. Brand new, and shocking.
“Josie, he’s not under arrest. Come on, sit yourself down in here.” Dale released me and opened the passenger door of the police car.
He sped around to the driver’s side and got back in. As we sat there, I could just hear snippets of radio traffic. The radio was turned down so low that it was mostly just an unobtrusive auditory backdrop.
However, there was one dispatcher whose nasally whine could more or less be made out. She started every sentence with the word yeah. “Yeah, all patrols, I need a code one response to the Dalton Arms. Disturbance in progress.”
The whole thing was oddly comforting.
Dale reached under his seat and came out with a family-size box of tissues. They were the sort of tissues I bought, you know the ones; so rough you could actually rub gloss paint off door frames with them.
“Thank you.” I sniffed, as I took a huge handful of the tissues and prayed my skin would survive the ordeal. “I know he’s not under arrest, but the way they did it! Those officers frog-marched him out of the canteen, and now everyone thinks he’s a psycho!” I was still furious about it, and I could feel my teeth kind of gnash together as I pictured it again.
“Yeah, all patrols, I need a code one response to Hackett’s Audio-Visual. Theft in progress.”
“I’m so sorry about that. Those CID blokes can get a bit, well….you know, they think they’re big-city-jacks, like something off the telly. But listen Josie; we both know that Liam hasn’t done a thing and the truth of that will come out. It’s a rotten time for you both, but it will pass, I promise.”
“Honestly, Dale, I feel so sorry for Hannah and I can’t imagine how awful it is to be missing and no-one know where you are. But I really wish Liam had never met her. I can’t help feeling this horrible thing inside where I’m blaming her for what’s happening to Liam. I know that makes me sound like a crap person. I don’t want anything to happen to her but, to be honest, I can’t pretend to have ever liked her. I wish he’d never set eyes on her.” I set off crying again.
“Yeah, I know.” Dale laughed, and I remembered that I had given him chapter and verse on how I felt about Hannah already.
It had been a few weeks before. My mum had been caught on CCTV in the local Euro-Saver stealing bacon, and Dale had volunteered to come and pick her up. Whilst two other officers shoe-horned my screaming banshee of a parent into the back of a transit van, Dale had shot upstairs to my room to see if I was alright.
“You ok, lady?” Dale had popped his head around the door and grinned. He knew by then that my mum being locked up for stealing would barely ruin my night, never mind ruin my life.
“Yeah. Same old same old.” I’d shrugged. “You know, why bacon, Dale? Seriously. I mean, I’m not actually trying to condone shop-lifting to an officer of the law, but if a person’s going to risk getting locked up for stealing, why not do it properly? I mean, why steal a quid’s worth of bacon from a crappy little convenience store? Why not get yourself down to Marks and Spencer’s and steal something worth stealing? Like some really expensive anti-wrinkle cream or something. I mean, the offence is the same, and the penalty is the same, right?” I chewed the end of my pencil somewhat ponderously.
“You mean that you might as well be hung for a jar of anti-wrinkle cream as be hung for a packet of bacon?” Dale’s shoulders began to heave as the roar of laughter made its way up.
“Yeah! Precisely my point!”
“Josie, I think you might just be too rational for your own good!” Dale w
andered into the room and perched on the end of my bed. After five years, he’d got the hang of the no-legs thing, and took it cautiously. “Anyway, how’s life?”
“Crap, Dale. Liam has started seeing an annoying well-to-do girl at uni, and she’s taking over my world.”
“Oh, really? You’re not jealous, are you?” Dale winked.
“No, I’m not. You know me and Liam are just friends. But he’s my best friend, and I get the horrible feeling that Miss Snotty will be edging me out of his life at the earliest opportunity.” I’d looked down sadly.
“Look, just because she’s got a few quid, doesn’t make her bad.”
“I suppose not. But she doesn’t like me, I can tell.”
“But you don’t like her either.”
“No, I don’t, to be honest.”
“Look, Liam is a smart lad. If this….what’s her name?”
“Hannah Davenport!” I spat the words out, and Dale laughed again.
“If this Hannah Davenport tries to push you out of Liam’s world, he won’t put up with it.”
“But Liam seems so impressed by her. And I don’t trust her.”
“You don’t have to trust her, Josie. You have to trust Liam. Believe me, he will put your friendship first if it comes to the crunch.”
“I wish I could believe that.” I knew I was overdoing it.
In my heart of hearts, I knew Liam would always be my friend, I just didn’t want to accept change. I wanted to resist it all the way.
Dale waved the box of tissues at me, gesturing for me to take another handful and successfully dragging me out of memory lane.
“Yeah, Control to Alpha-X-ray Four-Three, there’s a Mrs Sneddon at the enquiry desk to see you regarding a statement.”
“Look, don’t beat yourself up about this. It’s pretty natural for you to think like that. After all, if Liam really had never met Hannah, then this wouldn’t be happening. I mean, she’d still be missing, but Liam wouldn’t be at the police station over it all. So, you’re not a rotten person, Josie. You’re just human.”
“Thanks Dale.” My tears had more or less dried and I was calming down. “Do they think Liam did something to her?” I was ready to ask questions.
“I doubt it. He’s just the boyfriend, you know? They always bring in the people closest to the missing person.”
“But Dale, he wasn’t that close to her. They’ve been seeing each other for five weeks. That’s, like, thirty-five days. He doesn’t even know if she drinks or anything. God, he’s such a buffoon; I’m totally freaking about how he will come across in the police station. I mean, Liam’s bright. Like, really, really bright. But it’s not my kind of brains.
It’s not rational or even vaguely linear. It’s arty intelligence. It’s really right-brain. He can paint such amazing things and he’s read everything under the sun, but he still comes across like kind of a ding-bat, you know?”
“Jose, I know that the CID guys didn’t come off too well, but there are some good guys in the police, you know. There are even some right-brainers in there. Liam will be just fine, you’ll see.”
“But he might be interviewed by those two. There’s no way they will be open-minded. They just want a lock-up, I could see it in them. You forget, I’ve made a pretty good study of cops over the last nineteen years. I’ve probably seen more than you have!” I tried to laugh.
Just as Dale was about to respond, his mobile phone trilled loudly. He took it out of the top pocket of his body armour and squinted at the caller ID.
“I have to take this. Unrelated case, though, Josie. Look, wait here, ok?”
“Sure.”
As Dale sauntered away from the car, I heard his voice disappearing to nothing. I took the opportunity to give my nose a genuinely fulsome blow. You know, the kind of nose-blowing you just can’t do with another person present.
“Yeah, Control to Alpha-X-Ray Five-Five. DI Thorn is requesting that you meet him as soon as you’re clear. He needs a team for the search at the Davenport address.”
Suddenly, I was on high alert. The Davenport address? Surely the dispatcher was talking about Hannah’s home? Casting the briefest of guilty looks at the retreating back of PC Dale Webb, I reached out and turned up the volume.
“Alpha-X-Ray Five-Five to Control. Received that. Can you pass the address please?”
There was a moment’s pause before Miss Nasal came back on.
“Yeah, it’s 355 Westmorland Drive, Grantstone.”
“Received. ETA twenty minutes.”
Hastily, I pulled my notebook and a pen out of my rucksack and scrawled the address down. Seeing Dale slot his phone back into his pocket and slowly make his way back, I thrust the notebook back into my bag and turned the radio down again.
“Sorry about that.” Dale concertinaed his mighty frame back into the police car.
“No problem.” I smiled, wondering how quickly I could get away.
I didn’t know what I’d achieve by going over there, but I just had to do something. Obviously, I wasn’t going to, like, present myself at the front door. I planned to find a place to watch from.
As futile as that seemed, if I was going to get to the bottom of this and help Liam, I wasn’t going to pass up any leads at all.
Leads! Like I was a real detective or something.
“Thanks for listening to me blub and stuff, Dale.” I was gearing up for a hasty anyway, thanks and see ya later.
“No problem Josie. Look, if you need anything, just call me ok? Here’s my own mobile number.” Not for the first time that day, a man had scrawled his phone number on a piece of paper for me. Wow, on any other day, a minor miracle. “I’m not supposed to, so don’t mention it to Betty or anything. Just call if you need, ok?”
“Thanks Dale. I really appreciate it.” I took the scrap of paper and suddenly felt a twitch of guilt at the way I’d taken advantage when Dale’s back was turned.
Still, as I said before, rules are only there for the people who intend to keep them. I got out of the police car and turned back to give him a watery smile, all the while itching to get away.
“Take care, Josie.”
The area around Westmorland Drive was not a part of Grantstone that I knew particularly well. I had needed to use the GPS maps on my phone to get there, almost wiping myself out on a lamppost that I was this close to walking into. Totally suave detective, right?
Anyway, I arrived long after good old Alpha-X-Ray Five-Five had been due to get there, but I’m guessing he didn’t have to take two busses. As I wandered down Westmorland Drive in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner, I stared over at the front of Hannah’s house and tried to take in as much as I could.
There was a large police van and two police cars outside, and I wondered how many coppers it took to search a house. I also wondered what they could be searching for. I mean, it wasn’t like Hannah was ripped out of her bed and spirited away out of an open window. What on earth could they be looking for?
I tried to think of the numerous police dramas I had watched over the years. Usually, when someone was murdered or missing, the TV cops asked the forlorn parents if they could look around the victim’s room for clues.
Maybe they would take her laptop, thinking she had met someone online? Or maybe they were looking for something incriminating that Liam had left there? Maybe his detachable horns and cloven hooves?
Anyway, I had more or less decided that they weren’t looking for forensic type clues, but maybe lifestyle ones. So, I had my first piece of information, but absolutely no idea where that would take me.
Fighting the awful feeling that I was being ridiculous and had no chance of making a difference, I looked about for a vantage point from which to watch the goings-on. The problem was that most of the neighbours were peering out from behind blinds and lacy net curtains, so I would, sooner or later, stand out.
The police officers might even come out to move me on, thinking I was a reporter or something. Well, it wouldn’t have do
ne to be found there, what with my new-found Myra Hindley status and all.
I carried on up the street at a fair old clip, wondering what I should do next. I kept going until I reached a crossroads and looked left to see if there might be a way of getting around the back.
I could have dropped to my knees and kissed the ground in gratitude. Seeing the long line of rangy, leafless trees, I realised that Hannah’s house must back on to the canal footpath. I totally realise that this makes my GPS map reading skills look poor, but I was exceptionally stressed at the time, ok?
Anyway, I picked up the pace and had landed on the old canal tow-path in under a minute. I began to head back down in the direction of Hannah’s house with a rather inappropriate frisson of excitement.
The canal bank was strewn with the sort of low, spikey foliage that refuses to die back, even on a cold January day. Still, the path was well beaten and easy to walk down. No doubt it was a favourite with the local dog walkers, so I made a mental note to mind where I put my second-hand Converse.
I was able to amble along and look about me without the same sense of standing out like a sore thumb that I’d felt in the street. I tried to work out which of the houses would be Hannah’s, but could only narrow it down to four possibles.
Every so often, I looked up and down the canal to make sure I was alone there. The path on the other canal bank was as mercifully deserted as the one I was on.
The fencing which ran along the back of the houses was only about five feet tall, so I could have peered over if I’d wanted. However, I didn’t want my disembodied head being seen to skate along the top of the fence by anyone inside.
In all honesty, I could see less from the back of Hannah’s house than I had seen at the front, and could feel that disheartening dullness return to my chest.
Just as I had been about to hang up my imaginary PI badge, something in the foliage caught my eye. It was in the area of the four possible houses, and I hurried over to it. Again, I looked up and down the canal. Still alone, I crouched down and peered at what turned out to be a small book. Not a reading book, but a journal-come-diary type of thing. It was bound in a sort of shabby-chic floral design and practically screamed young woman’s diary.
The Girlfriend: A Josie Cloverfield Detective Novel Page 4