Meadows laughed. ‘You said that everything changed, as far as Jill was concerned, a couple of months ago,’ she reminded Mrs Pierce.
‘Yes, it did. Jill was suddenly in trouble. Not in the classroom – she was still as good as gold there – but in the playground.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Girls of her age can be so vicious that they’d make Adolf Hitler seem like Tiddles the Cat, but most of their viciousness is purely verbal. Having said that, of course, you should realize that verbal violence can often be more wounding than the physical kind.’
‘But you’re saying that Jill went beyond the purely verbal stage?’
‘Indeed she did. She had not one, but several fights – and with several other girls.’
‘And what were the fights about?’
‘That’s the really interesting thing. If girls have fights – and as I’ve said, that’s very rare – they’re always very keen to shift the blame on to the person they’ve had the fight with. They’ll say the other girl said nasty things about their parents, or stole from them, or copied their homework.’
‘But in the case of Jill . . .?’
‘In the case of Jill’s fights, neither of the participants was prepared to say a damn thing. They’d just sit there in absolute silence. To be honest with you, I found that an unnerving experience, because normally I can get girls to open up to me – whether they want to or not.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ Meadows said. ‘What’s your theory on why the fights started?’
‘How do you know I even have a theory?’ Mrs Pierce asked.
Meadows grinned. ‘I think you’re the kind of woman who’ll always have a theory.’
Mrs Pierce smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose that is an occupational hazard,’ she agreed. ‘I did have a theory at first, but, as events turned out, it didn’t quite stand up to investigation.’
‘I’d still like to hear it.’
‘We had a new girl join us at the start of the spring term – a quiet, pretty, very timid little thing called Tilly Roberts. She and Jill became firm friends almost at once, and the fights started soon afterwards.’
‘So your theory is that the new girl was being bullied, and that Jill was defending her,’ Meadows guessed.
‘Exactly,’ Mrs Pierce agreed. ‘But then the friendship broke up – that happens with girls, they’re joined at the hip one day, and scarcely noticing each other’s existence the next. The friendship broke up – but the fights continued.’
‘So perhaps Jill had just acquired a taste for fighting,’ Meadows suggested.
‘I’d be open to that idea if Jill had been a boy,’ Mrs Pierce said, ‘but girls are not like that. Perhaps that comes from giving dolls to little girls, and guns to little boys.’
‘I’d like to talk to the girls who Jill got into fights with, and also to this Tilly Roberts,’ Meadows said. ‘Do you want me to ring around the parents and get their permission, or will you do it?’
‘I’ll do it,’ Mrs Pierce said. ‘The parents have confidence in me.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And even after talking to you for only a few minutes, I have confidence in you, Sergeant Meadows.’
‘Thank you,’ Meadows said.
‘How are things going in Yorkshire, sir?’ Fred Comminger, the assistant chief constable, asked the man on the other end of the line.
‘You assigned the murder of that young girl to DCI Paniatowski,’ Baxter said angrily. ‘What the hell were you thinking of?’
‘It seemed a perfectly sensible decision to take,’ Comminger replied. ‘DCI Paniatowski isn’t involved in any other major investigation at the moment, and she’d expressed an interest in the case even before the body was discovered.’
‘You are aware that her own daughter was kidnapped not two months ago, aren’t you?’ Baxter asked.
‘Well, yes, but as I understand it, she was only missing for a couple of hours, and no real harm was done.’
‘There speaks a man who hasn’t got any kids of his own,’ Baxter said witheringly.
‘And neither have you, sir,’ his deputy countered, rankled.
No, he hadn’t, Baxter agreed silently, but he knew Monika well – which was more than Comminger seemed to.
‘I’m not at all sure DCI Paniatowski is up to handling this particular case at this particular moment,’ he said aloud.
‘So you’re telling me to take her off the investigation, are you?’ Comminger asked.
‘No!’ Baxter said, and was surprised at the note of what could almost have been panic in his own voice.
She couldn’t be taken off the case like that – not so brutally! If that happened, she would never forgive him.
‘I’ll come back to Whitebridge and talk to her. Then I’ll make my own assessment of the situation,’ he heard himself say.
‘You’ll come all the way back to Whitebridge?’ Comminger asked, with evident surprise.
‘I’m not on the other side of the world, you know. The drive won’t take me much more than two hours.’
‘And it’ll be another two hours back to Dunston.’
‘I’m more than willing to sacrifice four hours of my own time for the good of the force,’ Baxter said. ‘And that’s what this is all about you know – the good of the force.’
‘I’m sure it is, sir,’ Comminger said, unconvincingly.
‘I want each case investigated by the officer who is most suited to investigate it,’ Baxter continued, ‘and I’m not sure that DCI Paniatowski – because of her recent experience – is the best person in this instance.’
‘I know what you mean, sir,’ Comminger said. ‘It’s certainly a challenging case in which emotions will be running high, and if DCI Paniatowski fails to get a result, it certainly wouldn’t do much for her reputation.’
He knows what Monika and I used to be to each other – or, at least, what she was to me – Baxter thought, and whatever I say, he thinks that’s what’s driving me.
‘I’m more concerned about putting a dangerous man behind bars than I am about protecting DCI Paniatowski’s reputation,’ he said.
‘Of course you are, sir,’ Comminger agreed.
‘And since I won’t decide whether or not she should stay on the case until after I’ve talked to her, I’d be grateful if you didn’t even hint, before I get there, that there’s a possibility she might be replaced,’ Baxter said.
‘Whatever you say, sir – you’re the boss,’ Comminger replied.
And there was something in his tone that implied that his respect for the chief constable had gone into a nosedive over the previous few minutes.
EIGHT
‘Where’s young Jack?’ asked Beresford, glancing across the pub table at the seat that should have been occupied by DC Crane.
‘He asked me if he could have half an hour off,’ Paniatowski replied. ‘He said he had some personal business to attend to.’
‘Personal business,’ Beresford repeated, with mild disgust. ‘Doesn’t he realize we’re in the middle of a murder inquiry?’
Paniatowski grinned. ‘You’ve gone from being the playboy of Whitebridge to a grumpy old man in less than a month, Colin,’ she said. ‘Surely that has to be some kind of record?’
‘I just think he should be here,’ Beresford said.
‘And he will be,’ Paniatowski promised. ‘What have your lads out on the street come up with?’
‘There were several sightings of Jill Harris between the Royal Vic and her home – which is about half a mile away from the hotel – but that’s hardly surprising, because the dress she was wearing would have made her rather conspicuous, wouldn’t it?’ Beresford said.
‘It would have made her stand out like a sore thumb,’ Paniatowski agreed, remembering the flounced pink horror.
‘A couple of the neighbours remember seeing her leave her house again, about half an hour after she got home, and their description of what she was wearing matches the clothes she was found in,’ Beresford continu
ed. ‘However, from the point at which she passed the end of her street, we lose the trail.’
‘Maybe we’ll get more witnesses as a result of the television appeal,’ Paniatowski said hopefully. ‘How did that go, by the way?’
‘I believe that, on the whole, it went rather well,’ Beresford replied. ‘I think I made all my points clearly, and that anyone who saw the broadcast will know what sort of information we need.’
‘Not that that will stop the odd nutter ringing up to claim he saw Jill being abducted by a space ship,’ Meadows said.
‘No, there are always a few nutters,’ Beresford agreed.
‘The problem is that anyone who saw her is likely to have seen her before she entered the park,’ Paniatowski said. ‘What we really need is witnesses who were in the park – and the chances are, they don’t even exist.’
‘Maybe we’ll get lucky,’ Beresford said, encouragingly.
Maybe they would, Paniatowski agreed silently – but somehow this didn’t feel like a lucky case.
It was as Dr Liz Duffy was crossing the morgue car park that she noticed the handsome young man standing next to her vehicle.
‘Why, it’s Detective Constable John Crane, isn’t it?’ she asked.
Crane grinned. ‘Sorry to have put you in such a difficult position earlier,’ he said.
‘That’s all right,’ Liz told him, ‘once I got used to it, it was rather fun. But I must admit that I am interested in finding out why it was necessary to drop me into the middle of a pantomime without even a script to work from.’
‘You were about to say that we’d been up at Oxford together.’
‘Well, we were, weren’t we?’ Liz Duffy smiled. ‘Or have I simply imagined it all?’
‘No, you didn’t imagine it,’ Crane said, ‘but nobody I work with knows I went to university.’
‘Nobody?’ Liz Duffy repeated sceptically.
‘Well, Sergeant Meadows knows – but she’s a special case.’
‘What makes her special?’
‘She’s just weird,’ Crane said. He paused. ‘You’d have to meet her to understand what I’m talking about.’
‘So Monika has no idea that you’re really Jack Crane, MA (Oxon)?’
‘No, and Inspector Beresford doesn’t know, either.’
‘Why are you making such a big secret of it?’
‘Monika was educated at the local secondary modern, and Inspector Beresford went to a comprehensive school. God alone knows what exotic course Sergeant Meadows followed before she finally turned up in Whitebridge – but like I said, she’s weird.’
‘If that was an explanation of why you’re being so mysterious, it wasn’t a very good one,’ Liz Duffy said.
‘There’s still a lot of prejudice against a university education in the force,’ Crane explained. ‘As it stands, I’m being judged on my merits, but if people knew I was a “university boy”, they wouldn’t take me seriously.’
‘Not even Monika Paniatowski?’
‘She’d take me seriously now, because I’ve worked with her for a while – but I’m not sure even she would have done at the beginning.’
‘You should come clean, you know, Jack,’ Liz Duffy said. ‘Living a lie – even a relatively harmless one like that – can have a very destructive effect on your personality. Believe me, I know.’
‘You know?’
‘As a doctor, I’ve seen it with my own eyes – on so many occasions.’
‘I’ve been meaning to confess to the boss, and I will – very soon,’ Crane said. ‘But in the meantime, I’d be grateful if you didn’t say anything.’
‘You can rely on me,’ Liz Duffy told him.
‘Thank you.’
A silence fell between them – that awkward sort of silence which comes when two people who haven’t seen each other for years have finished the business in hand, and don’t know what to say next.
‘So what have you been doing since the days when we’d go punting up and down the Isis, with me doing all the work and you sitting back and stuffing yourself with strawberries and cream?’
‘I did some of the work,’ Liz Duffy said, in mock rebuke. ‘And I never stuffed myself with strawberries and cream, because, even back then, I had to watch my figure.’
The conversation sounded all wrong, Crane thought. Liz had described what had gone on in the morgue as a pantomime, but what was happening now was more like a play – a bad, hastily written drama about two Oxford graduates who had just happened to meet up again after several years. And perhaps the reason they were behaving in that way was because playing a part was so much less painful than playing themselves.
‘Seriously, what have you been doing?’ he asked, in an attempt to break away from the role that his psyche had imposed on him.
Liz Duffy shrugged. ‘I’ve been doing pretty much what you’d have expected me to do. I qualified as a doctor, I worked in a hospital for a while, then I went into general practice. It’s all been quite exciting – in its way – but compared to your career path, it seems very dull and predictable.’
‘I’m sure nothing you ever did could be dull,’ Crane said.
Was he slipping back into playing a role, he asked himself. No, he was sure he wasn’t. This was Jack Crane speaking – and when he’d said Liz could never be dull, he’d meant it.
‘Are you married?’ Liz asked.
‘No. Are you?’
‘Sadly not,’ Liz told him. She took a deep breath. ‘Would you like to come round to my flat one night – for dinner? I promise you, I’m a much better cook than I used to be.’
‘I’d like it very much,’ Crane said.
‘Then let’s set a definite date for it. What about tomorrow night, for example?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Crane told her.
‘I’m being too pushy, aren’t I?’ Liz Duffy asked. ‘It’s always been a failing of mine.’
‘No, it’s not that,’ Crane protested. ‘It’s just that I’m part of a murder investigation, and my time’s not really my own.’
‘You could surely squeeze in an hour or so to slip round for a drink, couldn’t you?’ Liz asked hopefully.
‘I’m not even sure of that,’ Crane admitted.
‘Well, how about we make the arrangement purely tentative?’ Liz suggested. ‘I’ll be at home, and if you can manage to come round, we’ll have that drink. If not, we can postpone it to another night, when you have your killer safely behind bars.’
‘That seems a bit unfair on you,’ Crane said dubiously.
‘I’ll be at home whether you come or not,’ Liz Duffy said. ‘Being so new to the area, I don’t have much of a social life.’
‘I’ll try to make it if I possibly can,’ Crane promised.
‘I know you will,’ Liz Duffy said.
Since Beresford and Paniatowski were not facing the door of the public bar, they didn’t see Crane come in. Meadows, on the other hand, had a clear view of his entrance, and, noticing an obvious spring in his step, wondered what had caused it.
‘Ah, DC Crane!’ Beresford said, when Crane reached the table. ‘How good of you to find the time to drop in and talk to us.’
Crane’s joie de vivre drained away.
‘The boss said it would be all right—’ he began.
‘Sit down, Jack,’ Paniatowski interrupted him. ‘We were considering the possibility that the reason Jill went to the park was to meet a boyfriend. What do you think?’
‘She obviously had a boyfriend,’ Crane said, taking his seat. ‘You can’t put love bites on your own neck. And what other reason could a young teenager have for going to the park on Saturday but to meet her boyfriend? Besides, she was wearing her favourite top – the one she only usually wore when she was out with her Auntie Vanessa.’
‘Then we’re all agreed,’ Paniatowski said. ‘She went to the park because she had a date with a boyfriend who her mother knew nothing about – and having met her mother, I can quite see why Jill might want to keep him a
secret. But did she actually see that boyfriend?’
‘And if she did, did he kill her?’ Beresford added.
‘And if he did kill her, why did he kill her?’ Meadows said.
‘It could have been through jealousy,’ Crane suggested. ‘Perhaps he found out she was seeing another boy.’
‘I don’t think that’s likely,’ Paniatowski said.
‘You don’t think what’s likely?’ Meadows asked.
‘I don’t think it’s likely that she’d have two boyfriends. In fact, after seeing her for myself at her aunt’s reception, I’m surprised she even had one – though all the evidence clearly indicates that she did.’
‘If we assume for the moment that there’s only one boyfriend, and that he didn’t kill her, why hasn’t he come forward?’ Beresford asked.
‘He might not even know she’s dead yet,’ Meadows said.
‘That’s rather unlikely, isn’t it?’
‘She attended a girl’s school,’ Meadows pointed out. ‘If the boyfriend’s school is at the other end of town – and if he’s not the kind to read the newspaper or listen to the radio – then it’s more than possible that he hasn’t heard yet.’
‘And even if he has heard, he might be frightened to come forward,’ Crane said.
‘I don’t think the boyfriend did it,’ Paniatowski said decisively. ‘Dr Duffy called it a “clean kill”. I don’t like the term – and neither does she, as a matter of fact – but I do know what she means by it. Jill’s murder seems to me to have been a rather cold – almost clinical – one, and I can’t see it being carried out by a schoolboy.’
‘If we could only find the boyfriend in question, we’d be able to rule out all kinds of possibilities,’ Beresford said.
‘I’ll have his name for you by the end of the afternoon,’ Kate Meadows told the team.
‘And how do you propose to do that?’ Beresford wondered.
‘I’m interviewing a number of girls from Jill’s school this afternoon. They’ll tell me who he is.’
A Walk With the Dead Page 8