‘They’re not “poor little things”,’ Jack said irritably. ‘Your sympathy’s overcoming your common sense. They’re the next generation of villains and slags and general bad apples.’
‘Mr Tuttle’s right,’ Dewi said. ‘They look like God didn’t quite make them right, so we’d know who to look out for. That redhead in the tight jeans was dead pretty ’til she opened her mouth. She’s got the weirdest teeth, off-centre and pointy like fangs, and the biggest tongue I’ve ever seen outside of a cow’s mouth.’
‘Trust you to notice.’ Jack’s face pinched with disapproval.
‘Couldn’t help myself, sir. She was licking her lips and making up to me all the time.’
‘Pity you couldn’t charm some information out of her, isn’t it?’
‘The staff don’t look normal either,’ Janet said. ‘The women look dog-rough, and that man like he’s been reared in a cupboard.’
‘He’s only been there a few months,’ McKenna said. ‘He’s a psychology graduate who now wants to help young people grow into worthwhile citizens, so he’ll train as a social worker, once he’s proved his mettle in the “demanding field of residential childcare”. He’s enjoying the challenges already.’
‘What a brown-nose!’ Jack sneered.
McKenna sighed. ‘Eifion Roberts brands them all suspect, but there must be some decent people in social work, even though it’s a thankless job.’ He paused, lighting a cigarette. ‘I can’t help but feel sorry for those children. However mischievous they are, they’re only children.’
‘They’re the dregs of society.’ Jack said.
‘Can we get back on track, sir?’ Janet asked. ‘It’s getting late.’
‘And what track would that be?’ Dewi said.
‘The one leading to the others who legged it with Arwel. Although you didn’t notice, Constable, most of them have done a disappearing act.’
Comforted somewhat by a hot bath, a near overdose of analgesics, and the cat, warm and purring in his lap, McKenna leafed through the first volume of Beethoven’s Letters, pausing now and then to read the Teutonic syntax of the composer’s French, before returning to the first letter, and the poignant statements of a sixteen-year-old boy recently bereaved of his mother.
The telephone interrupted his reading and, fearing it was Denise, who had pushed a note through the letterbox sometime during the day, he let the answering machine take the call, picking up the receiver only when he heard Jack’s voice, brittle with anxiety.
‘I know it’s late. Jesus! We could do without this!’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Trouble too close to home.’ Jack coughed. ‘Em’s frantic. One of the twins ran away, and I’ve just found her by Menai Bridge, sitting in the bus shelter crying her eyes out.’
‘But why?’
‘That Hughes boy, would you believe? He went home at dinnertime, found you’d called, and went berserk with the girls. He says he never wants to set eyes on them again, and they’ve ruined everything.’
‘What could they ruin?’
‘I don’t know! Em’s no idea, either.’
‘Do the girls know?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Think! Getting hysterical won’t help, will it?’
‘I can’t think! You’ve no children, you don’t know what it’s like! You can’t even imagine how it feels when your child goes missing. It’s like the end of the world! Indescribably dreadful, like someone’s ripping out your guts!’ His voice began to rise, edged with panic. ‘Suppose they do it again, and we can’t find them?’
‘Pull yourself together and talk to them. They must have some idea what’s wrong.’
‘I’ve broken their trust, and they’ll never tell me anything ever again,’ Jack said bitterly. ‘Because I told you, and you went to see Gary Hughes.’
‘They’re overwrought. They’re too intelligent to believe that sort of rubbish.’
‘Are they? You could’ve fooled me! Em says their emotions are running wild, and she should know.’
‘Emma’s as distraught as you, if not more so.’ McKenna put down the book, reaching for his cigarettes. ‘Where are they now? In bed?’
‘Are you trying to be funny? They’re locked in their room, and Em’s sitting on the floor outside, begging them to come out, or just talk to her. What if they go through the window? They could climb on the kitchen roof and be off.’
‘D’you want me to come? I can get a taxi.’
‘Please!’ Jack’s breath caught, almost a sob.
Dewi, voice slurred with sleep, said, ‘Mrs Hughes won’t fancy being knocked up in the middle of the night, sir. It isn’t really her problem, is it?’
‘We don’t know what the problem is, or who it belongs to. Call me at Jack Tuttle’s if there’s anything to report.’
Emma crouched at the top of the staircase, hair wild, face blotched and sodden with tears, clothing twisted and rumpled. ‘I’m so terribly, terribly sorry!’ she whispered. ‘Oh, God! They didn’t go to school until after lunch. Oh, God!’
McKenna put out his hand and smoothed the damp hair from her forehead, while Jack crashed around in the kitchen below, making coffee. Catching hold of his fingers, Emma squeezed so hard she hurt, holding his hand while more tears splashed down, burning his flesh. Had Rhiannon Elis, he wondered, svelte and groomed and unruffled, shed such bitter hot tears over her own child?
‘Are the twins in bed?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what they’re doing.’
McKenna stood up, weary like the old man he felt he had become. Emma held fast to his hand. ‘Let’s see if they’ll talk to me.’ He pulled himself gently away, and knocked on the bedroom door. The scuffling sounds ceased, as if the room and occupants held their breath. ‘Let me in, will you? I need to talk to you.’
‘Why?’ demanded one of the girls, her voice sharp and hard and angry.
‘Because you’re caught up in something that isn’t your problem.’
‘That’s his fault! He’d no right to say anything.’
‘Your father had a responsibility to tell me. One boy from that place is dead, Gary’s very frightened, and you’re no help behaving like this.’
‘You grown-ups are all dishonest! You swarm round us to get what you want, then start being horrible! You don’t care!’
Wondering idly which twin spoke, or if each poured out her distress in turn, he leaned against the door. Emma stood in the middle of the landing, all progress suspended, all normality evaporated.
‘If we didn’t care,’ McKenna pointed out, ‘I wouldn’t be here, and your parents wouldn’t look like a bomb exploded in their faces. You’ll be sixteen in a few months, so why not act your age?’
‘That’s what they say!’
‘It’s valid comment in the circumstances. We were all out of bed a lot earlier than you this morning, and we’re very tired.’
‘Were you in bed when he rang?’ The voice was tentative, softer.
‘I’d had a bath.’
‘Is your arm still bad?’ The voice was closer, its owner behind the door.
‘It hurts. It hurts even more when I’m cold and tired.’
The key turned in the lock, and the door was pulled open. A more youthful replica of Emma looked up at him, while the other sat on her bed, wrapped in a flowery quilt. Emma, lunging forward, found her way barred by McKenna. ‘Leave them to me for now.’
‘Which one of you is Gary’s girlfriend?’ McKenna sat on the other bed, leaning on the pillows.
‘He’s not a proper boyfriend.’
‘How long have you known him?’
‘Oh, ages. Since we went to senior school.’
The other girl frowned. ‘He disappeared one day, and nobody knew where he’d gone. We thought he was dead, then we saw him in town with the Blodwel kids, wearing that horrible uniform.’
‘Has he been different since he came home?’
‘Yes.’
‘How diffe
rent?’ McKenna yawned.
‘Strange. Quiet, but sort of angry underneath, probably because his mother made him go there.’
‘Like most parents in her circumstances, Mrs Hughes trusted professional advice.’
‘Gary say social workers are crap, and he wouldn’t put a dog in Blodwel.’
‘What else has he said? What did he say today?’
‘It didn’t make any sense, did it?’ The twins looked at each other. ‘He shouted and sort of screamed and then started crying.’
‘What was he shouting about?’ Downstairs, McKenna heard the telephone ring.
‘He was raving about Hogg and other people, saying we’d ruined everything, and Hogg would send him to a lock-up in South Wales, but he didn’t make any sense. He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?’
‘Not that we know of.’ McKenna heard feet padding up the stairs. Emma stood in the doorway, a tray of hot drinks in her hands.
‘Coffee’s ready downstairs, and Dewi Prys is on the phone.’
‘Looks like Gary’s done a bunk, sir,’ Dewi said. ‘He didn’t come back from school, and his mam says there’s clothes missing.’
‘Dear God!’ McKenna said. ‘Why didn’t she tell us earlier?’
‘She thought he might’ve gone to his cousin in Caernarfon. He’s been going regular since he left Blodwel, but she’s been there, and nobody’s seen him. She can’t think where else he might be ’cos he lost touch with most of his mates being in Blodwel.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘Collecting a missing person’s form. You don’t want to leave circulating his details, do you?’ Dewi paused. ‘And I called Blodwel, to see if anyone’s missing. Doris says not, and we’re not to harass them any more.’
Chastened, quietened, the twins crouched on the sofa, one each side of Emma, clinging to her arms.
‘We’d tell you. Honestly, we don’t know where he’s gone.’
‘Who’s he friendly with at school?’
‘Only us, really. The others’ve been dead snotty since he came back.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he went to Blodwel!’ The girl sounded exasperated.
5
‘People say you can catch sin as easily as the plague,’ Owen Griffiths said. ‘This running away’s reaching epidemic proportions. Pity Jack’s girls got near the source of infection, isn’t it? D’you think there’s a bit of hysteria there? Adolescent attention-seeking?’
McKenna yawned, and shivered. ‘Probably where the twins are concerned, but not with Gary Hughes. He seems to be in some distress.’
‘That can be catching, too. If you could see yourself, you’d call the doctor. What time did you get to bed? Not before the early hours, I’ll bet.’
‘You’ve often told me sleep’s a luxury in this job.’ McKenna took out cigarettes and lighter. ‘We must find Gary quickly. He’s the only person who’s admitted to being friendly with Arwel, and he could be in danger.’
‘You can use whatever resources you need. Who’s his social worker?’
‘Same as Arwel’s.’
Griffiths smiled wryly. ‘You’ve a cat in hell’s chance of any help from her, then.’
‘I wouldn’t ask. I don’t want Social Services to know we’re interested in him. The fewer the better, in case we alert the person he’s cause to fear.’
Doodling on his blotter, Griffiths said, ‘Arwel was probably friendly with the kids who’ve disappeared from Blodwel in the past few days, but you can’t even employ subterfuge to find them, can you? We don’t know their names.’
‘Dewi’s asking around. Finding one would be enough.’ Lighting the cigarette he had been holding, McKenna added, ‘They may be red herrings. Persistent absconders need more security than Blodwel can offer. Or they were moved as part of an existing treatment plan.’
‘More casework decisions, you mean? When a doctor’s treatment makes the patient worse, it’s called an iatro-genetic syndrome. What d’you call botched social work interventions?’
‘You don’t. Negative outcome’s ascribed to the innate incorrigibility of the client. People would say nothing can be done with the likes of the Thomases, for instance,’ McKenna said. ‘Jack took exhaustive statements about their whereabouts last week, which Caernarfon police are checking. Tom Thomas eventually admitted to spending time at the bookies and in the pubs with his mates when Peggy thought he was actively seeking work, as the saying is, and she eventually owned up to a part-time job the benefit agency doesn’t know about. Neither of them wanted to admit Elis took Arwel to see them.’
‘You’d be afraid with all those authority structures holding power over your head like the Sword of Damocles. What about Carol?’
‘She seems to have said all she wants us to know.’
‘Let’s hope you can make her change her mind, then. Will you be seeing our local luminary again soon?’
McKenna stubbed out his cigarette. ‘His wife might be more use to us.’
Slumped at his desk, Jack yawned jaw-wrenchingly, drained of all feeling by the firestorm of the night. He wondered if his sensation of lightness was a product of exhaustion, or true foreknowledge that the worst was over, and smiled weakly at Dewi Prys, slumped in another chair.
‘Can you get sleep-bankrupt?’
‘Most probably,’ Dewi said. ‘Dunno where you’d go for a loan.’
‘Bankrupts can’t get loans.’
‘Then Hogg’s only morally bankrupt.’ Dewi stood up to stretch. ‘I checked his credit rating. Smell of roses all round, in fact, ’til you’re close enough to smell the shit he’s standing in.’
‘What’s that horrible smell in Blodwel?’
‘Fear. The kids are afraid of the staff, the staff are terrified of the kids, and everybody shits themselves when Hogg shows up. Even the lovely Doris. He’s a nasty vicious bastard and they’re all his prisoners, all doing time.’
‘Social Services don’t seem to think so.’
‘He’s a con artist. I told the chief inspector, I’m telling you, and I’ll tell anybody who cares to listen.’
‘That’s slander. You could get done for it.’
‘Hogg’d have to prove me a liar first.’
Jack yawned again, and leafed through the statements taken at Blodwel. ‘Either these kids are stupid, like people say, or terrified, like Janet said. Where is she?’
‘Asking Mari Williamson if she knows Gary Hughes.’ Dewi yawned. ‘Let’s hope she asks Mr Posh ab Elis and his wife as well.’
‘D’you think there’s a Menai Triangle?’ Jack asked. ‘Like the Bermuda Triangle, only kids disappear instead? Four gone like a puff of smoke from Blodwel, one gone off the face of the earth from school. You sure he didn’t get a visit or phone call at school?’
‘The teachers say not. He must’ve taken his clothes at dinnertime, ’cos his mam was home all afternoon.’ Dewi flicked the slats of the Venetian blind. ‘I reckon we panicked him. Have you noticed it’s not so cold?’
Jack shivered. ‘I’m too bloody tired to be warm.’
‘What say I talk to the cousin in Caernarfon?’
‘Caernarfon police already did. He’s not seen Gary for weeks, despite what Mrs Hughes thinks.’
‘Wouldn’t tell us if he had. Kids close ranks when outsiders start asking questions.’
‘Fancy that,’ Jack said. ‘Just like us and Social Services.’
Mari wept, copiously and noisily, rocked in Rhiannon’s arms, her tears leaving muddy splotches on the costly cloth of the woman’s jacket. Janet watched, wondering if the girl was her surrogate child, sound in wind and limb if not in pedigree.
‘When will your husband be back?’
‘Can’t you ever forget your job?’ Rhiannon demanded. ‘Have you no feelings?’
‘We have very strong feelings, Mrs Elis,’ Janet said. ‘Especially about Arwel. I’m sorry talking about him upsets Mari, but we must.’
‘It upsets all of us. You can’t know how much.’
‘Mari wasn’t upset the other day.’
‘Things take time to sink in. All we need now is the media hanging around like vultures.’
‘I didn’t see anyone on the way in,’ Janet said. ‘Why should they bother you?’
‘Because we’re good copy, aren’t we? And someone will drop a hint in the right direction sooner or later.’ Rhiannon pulled another tissue from the box by her side, and wiped Mari’s face. ‘I appreciate your concern about this other boy, but Mari knows nothing of significance. She’d tell you if she did.’ She sighed, and stroked the girl’s damp hair. ‘These children are like flotsam on the tide, orphans of savage family storms.’
‘They share things with each other, especially when there’s no one else.’
‘Not always, and you must believe what Mari says. You owe her that. You mustn’t harass her because you’ve nobody else to question.’ Rhiannon frowned. ‘And it was wrong to interview the children at Blodwel that way.’
‘Social Services made the arrangements.’
‘They should know better, and I’m surprised Mr Hogg hasn’t complained. Would you pour the coffee, please? I can’t reach.’
Janet marvelled at the weight of the solid silver pot, the delicacy of the translucent china banded in blue and gold. ‘D’you know the Hoggs well?’ She added hot milk from another silver pot, and pushed the cups within reach of Mari and her guardian.
‘Mr Hogg has tremendous professional experience, of which the council would be very shortsighted not to take full advantage. Hence his extensive responsibility for childcare services.’
‘How long have you held the committee chair?’
‘Since the last elections.’
‘And what will the committee do about this unfortunate business?’
Rhiannon frowned. ‘What should we do? These things happen. Childcare is very risky work, and social workers are very vulnerable.’
In Guilty Night Page 9