Snow Kills

by Bridgestock, RC

  ‘Hi Jackie, what you got there love? A job for us?’ she said.

  ‘She wants to know how much it costs for a boob job like yours,’ quipped a chubby bloke with crisp, curly black hair and dark eyes who rested lazily upon one arm on his desk.

  Vicky swung round and gave him a slap on the back of his head with the palm of her hand.

  ‘You’ll be applying for some dentures if you don’t back off,’ she said, winking at Jackie. ‘Ignore him kid, every office has one.’

  Normally at moments like this Jackie would have been praying for the ground to open up and swallow her but to her surprise, she laughed instead. Vicky was cool.

  ‘Come over to my desk, in the corner, we won’t be disturbed there mate. Do you fancy a drink? Kettle’s just boiled,’ she said.

  ‘A coffee would be great, thanks,’ she said, shyly. In her experience, detectives told her to go and put the kettle on, they didn’t make a drink for her – she was pleasantly surprised.

  ‘Milk, sugar?’ Vicky enquired as she spooned the coffee powder out of the jar into two cups.

  ‘Both thanks.’ Jackie said.

  ‘Mine’s black,’ called the detective.

  Vicky flashed him her middle finger, ‘Ned,’ she said. He cocked his head. ‘Swivel. Now, what’s up love?’ she added, smiling as she slid in behind her desk and invited Jackie to sit opposite her.

  ‘Ned?’ said Jackie with a frown as she took the mug from Vicky.

  ‘DC Duncan Granger.’

  ‘So why Ned?’ she said taking a small sip of her drink.

  ‘Hung like a donkey, or so they say.’

  Jackie coughed, took another sip and coughed again mid-swallow, choking on the hot liquid.

  ‘But I wouldn’t put it past him starting the rumour himself,’ said Vicky, in a loud whisper that DC Granger couldn’t help but hear. He flashed her a V sign without lifting his head from the tabloid he was reading.

  ‘Really?’ Jackie said wiping the tears from her eyes.

  Vicky cocked an eyebrow at the young police officer, who cleared her throat and proceeded to shuffle the papers in her hand.

  Jackie cleared her throat. ‘I’m concerned about this girl that’s gone missing. To be honest, I don’t know what else I can do that I haven’t done already to try to locate her. Any ideas... I’d be really grateful?’ she said, handing Vicky the report.

  Vicky sat quietly for a moment or two, taking a mouthful of her coffee as she read the paperwork. Jackie looked around her and her eyes locked in on another man in a suit who sat nearby. She smiled, timidly and he winked at her. She looked quickly away.

  ‘Well, it’s certainly a mystery,’ Vicky said, scratching her head and gaining Jackie’s attention once more. ‘Anything else of relevance come in that night?

  ‘Not really, just a male flasher at a house in Harrowfield about tea time.’

  ‘Wonder he didn’t freeze his bollocks off,’ Vicky laughed. ‘You haven’t searched her home, her boyfriend’s or her workplace yet?’

  Jackie shook her head.

  ‘We can’t leave anything to chance and we have to be sure about those close to her, or the last person to physically speak to her, before we move on. As the boss would say, we must clear the ground beneath our feet first.’ Vicky smiled as she looked in Dylan’s direction.

  ‘The rescue teams are out there, so if she is a victim of the weather, they’ll find her, I’m confident about that,’ said Jackie.

  ‘Good,’ Vicky nodded. ‘Impressed.’

  Jackie sat and listened to the friendly blonde twenty seven year old Detective, who made everything sound so simple.

  ‘I think we had better inform the DI. He likes to be told about anything that CID might be involved in. Have you worked with Dylan before?’

  ‘No, just heard about him,’ she said, clasping her hand together tightly in her lap and moving to the edge of her seat. ‘He’s a bit scary, isn’t he?’

  Vicky laughed. ‘Dylan? Don’t you believe all you hear, Dylan’s a good boss but he doesn’t suffer fools gladly and I suspect it’s those who think that he’s scary. Work hard, make a good brew,’ she said, raising her cup in the air, ‘and he’ll be putty in your hands. Look, he’s just gone in his office. There’s no time like the present, let’s introduce you to him and see what he has to say about the missing girl.’

  ‘Now?’ Jackie gulped. ‘You mean just walk in without making an appointment with his secretary?’

  ‘He’s a Detective Inspector,’ Vicky said, shaking her head as she stood up and walked towards Dylan‘s office. ‘Oh my, you’ve a lot to learn. CID isn’t like uniform. You’re treated like real people in here and we don’t get any luxuries like secretaries in CID.’ Jackie tagged behind, in trepidation. Vicky knocked on Dylan’s door and entered without waiting to be invited in, but to Jackie’s surprise he looked up from his paperwork, put his pen down and smiled at them.

  ‘Boss, this is PC Jackie May from Harrowfield patrol. She’s dealing with a report of an eighteen year old female Misper who disappeared on White Wednesday.’ Dylan held out his hand and invited them to sit opposite him.

  ‘Okay, tell me what you know PC May,’ he said. Dylan was still smiling, and there was something about his smile that made her feel at ease. The atmosphere was relaxed and she felt comfortable as she went through the circumstances of the case.

  ‘Very thorough and concise,’ Dylan said. ‘So what else do you think we can do?’

  Jackie’s mouth was dry and as she wriggled in her seat she looked sideways at Vicky for support.

  ‘We thought perhaps we should search the home, the boyfriend’s flat and her work place to confirm that she isn’t in any of the obvious places first,’ Vicky said.

  ‘Well we should be able to do that with consent, I would have thought, and if anyone objects, we’ll deal with that when it arises,’ said Dylan, slamming the palms of his hands on his desk as he stood. ‘How would you like to come and work with us for a few days in plain clothes Jackie... that’s if your Sergeant will allow it?’

  ‘Would I, Sir?’ she said, her eyes wide with excitement.

  ‘I’ll speak to him boss,’ Vicky said.

  ‘Okay, keep me posted. I don’t like it when young girls go missing. Vicky, any problems with Jackie’s Sergeant let me know, because technically this is still a Uniform job.’

  ‘Don’t worry boss, I’ll use my charm,’ she said with a wink.

  ‘That’s what worries me,’ Dylan replied as he followed them to the door.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Jackie said as she stopped and looked up at him.

  ‘You’re more than welcome,’ Dylan said. ‘Thank you for bringing the matter to our attention.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s put your Sarg under pressure, he’ll be no match for us both,’ Vicky said as she marched through the CID office like a woman on a mission.

  ‘Dylan’s nice, isn’t he?’ said Jackie running behind Vicky to keep up.

  ‘Told you he was,’ she said, then seeing the look on Jackie’s face, like a schoolgirl with a crush, Vicky raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Oh, no not again,’ she said with a groan.

  Chapter 6

  Dylan passed Kayleigh Harwood’s misper details to Claire Rose in the press office. His approach was to ask Kayleigh to make contact, as well as appealing for anyone who had seen her, or who was in the area of Manchester Road on White Wednesday.

  Virginia Mason, Editor of the Harrowfield Courier, was soon on the phone to him, so he knew the appeal had gone out directly. ‘What else can you tell me Jack?’

  Dylan smiled. The direct approach of the young, bubbly brunette, always made him smile.

  ‘Well, while there are obvious concerns for her welfare, V,’ he said. ‘There could be a legitimate reason for a young girl not contacting family or friends. However, because of the horrendous weather conditions on that night, we are obviously anxious about her safety. Anyone in the area will see we have search and rescue teams combing the s
urrounding locality where her car was found.’

  ‘Do you suspect she’s been abducted... murdered?’ Virginia said.

  ‘Kayleigh appears to be a sensible girl, but at the moment her disappearance is unexplained. There’s not a lot more I can tell you. I want to hear from anyone who was in the area last Wednesday, the 7th January, so if you can make the appeal in the Harrowfield Courier for us, that would be a start.’

  Dylan was always careful not to use the past tense when talking about a misper. It could suggest that he believed them already dead, and when he gave an appeal like this, he hoped with all his being that the missing person was still alive. He waited for further calls from the press. All the editors wanted a headline, that’s what sold their newspaper and kept their journalists in work. He was always grateful for their support – and luckily for Dylan, the editors of today were journalists with whom he had been brought up in his early days in the job.

  Vicky had managed to get Jackie May attached to CID for a few days. But she’d be weekend off before having to return for their nightshift cover. The two returned to inform Dylan.

  ‘I’ve given the incident some thought and I’m going to let you have Ned Granger and DC Andy Wormald to assist you.’ Dylan told the pair. ‘Let’s see if we can get any indications as to what’s happened to Kayleigh. I’ll speak to you in a bit, but first I have to make a few phone calls.’

  ‘Don’t look so worried kid, you’ll be fine. Stick with me and I’ll show you the world,’ Vicky said, placing an arm around Jackie’s shoulders and giving her a motherly hug.

  Jackie smiled, yet to be convinced. She would be sticking to Vicky like superglue.

  Dylan walked into the general office and gave the pair a list of enquiries that needed to be carried out, with a request for an ongoing log to be kept of what was being done by whom and when.

  ‘I want to ensure enquiries into Kayleigh’s disappearance are not only diligent but documented. Let Ned and Andy go and talk to her employer and search the hairdresser’s. Tell them I want names and addresses of her customers. We’re going to have to speak to them at some point. You two, go to Mrs Harwood’s house and gather what you can intelligence wise from her, will you? We’ll need something of Kayleigh’s that we can get a DNA profile from.’ Dylan’s eyebrows knitted together in a scowl. ‘You know the sort of thing, hairbrush, toothbrush etcetera. Then when you get back, I want you two to research the list of customers that the lads have obtained, and I want them to go see the boyfriend and rattle his cage, see what drops out, and make sure she isn’t there. Any questions?’

  They shook their heads. ‘No, seems straightforward.’

  ‘Let’s get her found – and don’t forget. Keep me updated,’ he said, already heading back to his office.

  Dylan stopped and turned on his heels at his door, ‘In the meantime, if the search and rescue or their body dog turns anything up, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Cheers, boss,’ said Vicky.

  Jackie smiled.

  Detectives Andy Wormald and Ned Granger were directed to the hairdressing salon by force control. Marlene made them a cup of coffee before asking if they minded waiting while she combed out her elderly client’s curls.

  The two men sat at the dryer bank next to the window.

  Marlene Schofield was a slim woman in her thirties. Dressed in a black roll neck jumper, shorter than knee length skirt and high heeled black patent court shoes, her burgundy hair was cut in a neat, short bob. Ned nodded in her direction and winked at Andy. ‘Drink on a stick?’ he said with a wink.

  ‘Are you for real?’ Andy whispered. ‘She’s way out of your league.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ Marlene said apologetically, when she’d seen her customer through the door. She picked up a book from the desk, pulled up a chair and sat opposite the detectives. ‘But they still expect their hair doing, no matter what’s happening.’ She crossed her legs, appearing slightly flustered as she opened the appointment book and ran her finger down a list of clients. ‘I thought she hadn’t rung me because she wanted time off with Matt. I understand, to a point,’ she said, looking at the detectives, her head on one side. ‘I was young once, contrary to Kayleigh’s beliefs of course, and I’d still love a lie-in after a night on the tiles, but I’m running a business. You’d think youngsters these days would be pleased to have a job when there’s so much unemployment round here, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Has she gone missing before?’ asked Andy.

  ‘Not that I know of, but Matt does ring her in sick on occasions – and annoyingly, it’s always on our busiest days. But that’s kids today for you,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘They’ll take responsibility for nothing or no one.’

  ‘He didn’t ring you this time then?’ said Ned.

  ‘No. Not this time. I tried to ring Kayleigh to let her know I was opening up again after the snow had been cleared some. Her mobile phone wasn’t responding and so I ended up calling her home and spoke to her mum.’

  ‘Fortunately, you’re not busy,’ said Ned, looking around the empty salon.

  ‘You’ve caught me in-between appointments, that’s all. A lot of our clients don’t know we’re open again. Being on my own means I haven’t got around to phoning all our regulars yet.’

  ‘I could do with a trim. Any chance?’ said Ned, running his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Suppose so,’ Marlene said, getting up from her chair and pointing to the empty chair in front of the wall full of mirrors, as she reached for a gown from the peg on the wall.

  Ned moved in quickly and raised an eyebrow to Andy.

  Marlene placed a maroon nylon smock around his ample frame and expertly tied the ribbons in a bow at the nape of his neck, to stop any hair falling onto his suit. Next she draped a towel around his shoulders. ‘It could do with a bit of a wash,’ she said, screwing up her nose as she held up a greasy lock.

  Andy sniggered.

  ‘Go on then,’ Ned said with a forced smile at Andy.

  Marlene took DC Granger over to the bowl.

  ‘What was Kayleigh wearing when you last saw her?’ said Andy.

  Marlene thought long and hard. ‘Nothing appropriate for the weather,’ she scoffed. ‘In fact, a customer remarked on it: short skirt and high heel boots.’

  ‘I can’t understand …’ said Ned, but before he could finish Marlene had pushed his head lower into the sink as she smiled at Andy, who sniggered. ‘Bit rough aren’t you?’ It was Andy’s turn to smile at Marlene through the mirror.

  ‘What colour were her boots?’ Andy said, suppressing a chuckle.

  ‘Black with a gold ankle strap; they weren’t cheap. She doesn’t do cheap, our Kayleigh. All these questions... you’d think something bad had happened to her.’ Marlene stopped in her tracks. ‘You don’t think... do you?’ Her face was full of concern.

  Andy shrugged. ‘We don’t know. We’re just making enquiries with anyone that knows her or saw her Wednesday 7th January for now. Tell me, was she in a good mood? She didn’t seem agitated or upset about anything, did she?’

  ‘No,’ Marlene said, shaking her head. ‘One thing about Kayleigh is she wears her heart on her sleeve. She would have said if there was anything bothering her. You’ve got me worried now. I feel awful, I thought she just skiving. Just a trim?’ she said, turning to Ned as she ruffled his hair dry with a towel.

  Ned was quiet. He closed his eyes and noticeably relaxed in the hairdresser’s hands. Snip, snip, snip went the scissors.

  ‘Any customers that were a bit over-friendly or showed too much attention towards Kayleigh?’ Andy said.

  ‘Well she’s popular with the men, as you’d imagine, being young, blonde, attractive and with a figure to die for,’ she said.

  DC Granger’s eyes shot open. Marlene pushed his head down.

  ‘But I suppose the only customer that I consider is a bit of a pest to her is a lad called Donny. He’s in his early twenties, I would have said. Dresses like a Teddy boy. You k
now, skin-tight jeans, big soled shoes and has his hair styled in a big wave at the front of his head. If he’s not in here asking her for an appointment to get his hair trimmed with her, he’s sitting on that wall opposite with his flaming scooter, drooling.’ She pointed across the road to a turning circle in the road. ‘I’m not sure if he’s a bit, you know, slow, if I’m honest, so I may be being a bit unkind, but the customers and I tease her about him.’

  ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got Danny’s number?’ asked Andy.

  ‘No, sorry,’ she said.

  Ned’s arm fell from the armrest, his head jerked, momentarily he had fallen asleep.

  ‘Hey, keep your head still,’ Marlene scolded. ‘Otherwise you’ll be minus an ear. I once had an accident and cut through an old lady’s hearing aid wire when she did that,’ she said. Andy sniggered. Ned opened his eyes wide.

  ‘This lad’s about often, then?’ Andy said.

  ‘Oh, all the time. But saying that, I haven’t seen him since the snow came down.’ Marlene put her finger under Ned’s chin and lifted his head. She concentrated hard as she ran the scissors along his forehead to cut his fringe.

  ‘Do you have a list of customers’ names and addresses that we could see?’

  ‘You can have my customer index, but I only have telephone contact details of our regulars.’

  ‘Any live Manchester Road area?’

  ‘Don’t know, like I said we only take telephone numbers. You can help yourself to the cards,’ she said pointing to the reception desk. ‘Why you asking?’