He's Gone

by Alex Clare

  His easy confidence was borderline irritating, Robyn decided. ‘This is a nice surprise, Dr Shepherd. As you can see it’s not glamorous but we manage. What have you got for us?’

  ‘Call me Kelly. I can give you some more details, though I’ve still got some specialist tests going on the bones.’ Dr Shepherd reached around Lorraine to the mouse. ‘I also wanted to show you these.’

  Blurred black and white images filled the screen. Robyn squinted, until the shape became recognisable as a skull. With a quick check to make sure everyone was watching, Dr Shepherd pointed to the screen with a pen.

  ‘When a body has lost all its soft tissue, there are things I can’t tell; for example, if they were poisoned or suffocated, because there’ll be no evidence on the bones. Even a stabbing or a strangulation might cause death without marking the skeleton. But fortunately, this killer decided to hit the victim a number of times, giving us a clear cause of death.’

  The choice of words made Robyn wince. Graham also seemed fidgety, while the rest of the team stared at the screen.

  On the next image, patches were highlighted in a searing green. ‘There were three, possibly four, hard blows to the front of the skull.’ He turned back to the team, cheery smile showing white teeth, one at a crooked angle. ‘So you’ve got someone who needed to make sure this girl was dead.’

  ‘But did they want this particular girl dead or did they want to just kill?’ Lorraine leant forward to study the screen, cheek close to Kelly‘s.

  ‘Can you tell if there was any sexual motive?’ Robyn’s voice was dry.

  Kelly leant back, folding his arms. ‘I can’t. Any traces, semen, blood, bruising, would have vanished a long time ago. We’re still analysing the clothing pieces and you’ll get a full report in the next couple of days.’

  He reached into his satchel, pulling out a dirty shoe in a plastic bag.

  ‘And, this was found by your lot near to the door. Size seven, a woman’s shoe and the body’s female too.’ He glanced at Robyn. ‘What’s interesting is when you compare this left shoe to the remains of the right one from the pit. It appears as if some chemical agent was poured over the body to speed up decomposition.’

  Chloe took the bag and began studying the shoe, her nose touching the plastic.

  ‘One other thing, the warehouse is dry with little organic matter, soil or plants to narrow down the date of death.’ Kelly paused, scratched his leg. ‘My assessment is the body must have been there a minimum of two years to reach this level of decomposition but a maximum is harder to pin down. Sorry I can’t be more precise.’ He inclined his head. ‘Did you know you’ve got paint on your face?’

  It took a second for Lorraine to realise he was speaking to her. She ducked her head, rubbing at her cheek.

  Kelly grinned. ‘Other side.’ Lorraine smeared the icing into a tear drop.

  Robyn cleared her throat. ‘Thank you, Dr Shepherd, Kelly. It’s good to have you on the team and we’ll await your full report …’ The team weren’t listening. Graham and Ravi were laughing. Janice passed Lorraine a tissue, glancing at Kelly with disapproval or appraisal.

  ‘Well, see you.’

  The door closed behind him. ‘Smug git.’ Lorraine raised an eyebrow to Janice, who nodded.

  ‘But quite a good-looking git.’ Chloe might have been speaking to herself.

  21

  Janice switched on the television at one-thirty for the local news. Ben was the top story. The reporter described the progress of the searches in the villages, the airfield, the nature reserve. Everywhere, the pictures showed lines of people in hi-vis tops walking shoulder-to-shoulder, staring at the ground. The report cut to a mousy woman in front of the Citizens Advice Bureau, who talked about the marvellous legal support Melissa Chivers gave them.

  Half an hour to go until Robyn was due to see Fell. ‘Any news on the getaway car, Ravi?’

  ‘There are thirty-two registered vehicles within an area of twenty miles. So far, I’ve made contact with four of the owners …’

  Robyn banged the desk. ‘We need to go faster. Split them between you and Janice and get through them today. Any you don’t get an answer from, visit them. At the moment, given the rubbish we seem to be getting from the E-FIT, it’s the best lead we’ve got.’ Everyone was busy yet she still had nothing to say to Fell and couldn’t keep her promise.

  ‘Guv, I’m going to Lower Markham to see the ex-receptionist.’ Lorraine was already halfway through the door.

  ‘Are you all right, Robyn?’ Janice was perched on the corner of her desk, her eyes wrinkled in concern. Robyn was angry with herself for letting the team know she was worried. She prodded at the papers in her in-tray, the sheets spilling onto the desk. ‘Sometimes it feels like all I’m good for is signing things.’

  ‘We’re doing everything we can. There are never any guarantees, are there? We might never find Ben.’ Coming from anyone but Janice, it would have sounded callous.

  It was possible a decision had already been made and Fell wanted a meeting just to tell her the case was being assigned to the larger team at Maidstone. One of the constables called Janice back to the phone. There was a scent of vanilla: Chloe was standing by her desk.

  She held out Lorraine’s lists of names. ‘I’ve got an address for Kinnister, Guv and I’ve noticed something else. He’s just got a divorce finalised – do you think it means something?’

  Robyn’s first thought was she didn’t want to follow another half-theory – they had been too distracted already but she didn’t want to criticise Chloe for trying on her first day. Before she could respond, Lorraine charged back into the room. ‘Guv, the burglar’s hit another property and this time he’s put the owner in hospital.’

  Robyn stood up so fast, her chair shot backwards, hitting the wall. ‘What did he do?’

  ‘Knocked out an old lady.’

  Robyn tasted the familiar cocktail of emotions; revulsion, then a surge of adrenalin, followed by a cold desire to get whoever had done this. ‘Sure it’s the same man? We’ve had intimidation before but not violence.’

  Lorraine nodded. ‘I’m sure, Guv. Another Gaddesford house, another pensioner.’

  ‘Is the victim in any state to talk to us?’

  Lorraine shook her head. ‘She’s an elderly lady. There’s another witness, her friend who called it in. Scene of Crime are at the house now.’

  ‘Get down there, Lorraine. Where’s Graham?’ This would need two people.

  ‘He said he was going to get an update from the search teams.’ Janice took a neat bite of a home-made sandwich.

  Robyn hesitated for a second. They were finally making progress but the team needed more time to follow through on the new leads. She shouldn’t have made the stupid promise to Fell yesterday, so an excuse to postpone the meeting was welcome. Then when she did see him, she might be able to give him an answer. ‘Right, change of plan. Chloe, let Graham know about Kinnister when he gets back. Janice, can you go out and see this girl from Derby and Rutherford? Let’s go, Lorraine. Oh and Janice …’ Robyn tried not to sound guilty, ‘could you please call Tracey and tell her I won’t be able to see Fell as planned?’

  She collided with Phil in the doorway, who stepped back, brushing down the front of his uniform. ‘Sorry, ma’am. Is Graham here?’

  Robyn kept on walking. ‘I thought he was with you?’

  Phil’s lips twitched. ‘I thought I was meeting him here.’ He turned away, then realised Robyn was following him down the corridor. In the lobby, he loitered, waiting until Robyn and Lorraine turned for the stairs before he pressed the button for the lift.

  At the top of the external steps, Robyn pulled up, realising her car had been blocked in by the painters’ van.

  ‘Typical.’

  ‘We’ll take mine, Guv.’ Lorraine pointed to the other end of the row.

  As the engine started, there was a blast of music before Lorraine turned the stereo down. Robyn turned it back up. ‘This is good – who’s pla
ying?’

  ‘It’s us.’ There was pride in Lorraine’s voice. ‘My band. It’s so easy to make and issue your own recordings now. We even made the download charts for one exciting week.’

  ‘Impressive. I don’t suppose you do anything for a Luddite, like CDs?’

  ‘We’re talking about a new album so, maybe.’ Lorraine glanced across. ‘How’s this whole thing going?’

  Robyn swallowed, guessing she didn’t mean the case. ‘Fine, thanks.’ The safe response. A soaring clarinet solo started the next song, Lorraine’s unvarnished nails playing the notes on the steering wheel. Robyn remembered her own chipped nails. ‘Actually, no. Better. Good. Really good.’

  Lorraine glanced over. ‘Good.’ She indicated, moving into the outer lane. ‘I’m glad. Because things must be … must be grim at the moment.’

  She turned into the street leading to the hospital and swore at the traffic.

  Robyn searched for a topic. ‘I should be in a meeting with Fell now and you know what he’s like …’ Robyn stopped, confused because Lorraine was laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  Lorraine’s laughter subsided. ‘Sorry, Guv.’ She pulled herself together. ‘I know just what Fell’s like. Did you know he’s a jazz fan? He often comes to the club. Someone suggested campaigning to get the smoking ban lifted on nights when he came, to hide the smell …’ Lorraine giggled again.

  A siren sounded behind them. Lorraine checked her mirror. ‘It’s about time they built a new access road to the hospital.’ She twisted the wheel to manoeuvre onto a driveway as an ambulance drove past.

  Robyn found her fingers tapping to the song’s rhythm. ‘So Fell likes jazz? Explains a lot.’ Lorraine pulled a face. ‘But we do need a new road. Maybe the council can get the Dearmans to contribute. They must be responsible for a fair amount of the people needing hospital treatment …’

  ‘You sound like Graham, Guv. Always blaming the Dearmans.’

  Robyn tensed. ‘Who are we going to see?’ Conversation was safer if she stuck to cases.

  Nipping in front of a truck, Lorraine turned into the hospital. Robyn found herself grabbing the door handle.

  ‘Sorry, Guv, otherwise we would have been sitting there for ages. We’re seeing Mrs Jarvis, the victim and Mrs Whittaker, the victim’s friend. Now where the hell do I park?’

  For want of a parking space, Lorraine squeezed the car between two waste containers. As they opened the doors, a traffic warden was in front of them.

  Lorraine sighed. ‘He must love his job.’

  The man loomed over the bonnet, wheezing. ‘You … can’t … park … here … without … a ticket.’ Stretched around his gut was a utility belt with an array of pouches. He peered from the warrant card Robyn was holding up to her face and back again. ‘What’s your name then?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Robyn Bailley. We’re investigating a violent robbery and need to interview a witness.’

  The man showed yellow teeth: it was hard to tell if he was smiling or scowling. ‘Your card’s not valid. It says “Roger Bailley” but you say you’re Robyn Bailley.’

  ‘Oh for crying out loud. Here.’ Lorraine shoved her warrant card forward. The man subjected Lorraine to the same scrutiny before stepping aside. He made a fuss of taking a photograph of the car.

  Robyn watched him as he lumbered away. ‘I didn’t think people could be so petty. Still, I’d best get my warrant card updated.’

  Lorraine locked the car. ‘And your driving licence. And your passport. And what about your bank account?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I know.’ Robyn felt her nose itch. ‘I was going to do the deed poll first, then it’s easier. I was just waiting for …’ She tailed off as they approached the hospital’s entrance.

  Lorraine stepped aside to let a wheelchair pass. ‘What were you waiting for?’

  Robyn paused. She wasn’t going to admit she hadn’t got a clue and was able to cut off any further conversation by approaching the reception desk to find out where to go.

  They were outside again within a few minutes. To Robyn’s frustration, they couldn’t see Mrs Jarvis because she was in surgery and Mrs Whittaker had discharged herself. They got back into the car. Robyn hated being a passenger, her thoughts started wandering and she couldn’t stop herself questioning her every action. As a way to stop any more probing from Lorraine, she rang Janice.

  ‘Hello, Robyn. I was just about to call you. I’ve got something on the landlord Ms Chivers took to court.’

  ‘Oh, yes. What had he done?’

  Janice laughed, sounding less strained than she had before. ‘Not a he, a she. A woman called Jaqueline McManus, aged fifty, who was convicted and had to pay a big fine.’

  ‘Where’s McManus now?’

  ‘Her business is registered to an address in Maidstone so I’m on my way there now.’

  ‘Good work, Janice, keep me posted.’

  They passed the Gaddesford village sign. ‘Sounded good, Guv.’

  ‘Yes, a woman of the right age with a grudge against Ms Chivers.’

  Lorraine slowed the car. ‘Where do you want to go first, Guv? The witness or the crime scene?’

  Lost in a moment of hope that they were getting closer to Ben, Robyn pulled herself back to the burglary. ‘Let’s talk to the witness first. The scene of crime team will be busy at the victim’s house, no point in getting in their way.’

  Lorraine slowed the car. ‘OK. The two houses are on opposite sides of the village, it’ll be quicker to park in the centre and walk out to both.’ As they pulled into the village square, the butcher had already closed for the half-day and the fancy-goods shop was pulling down its blinds. Outside the Lion and Flag, men without shirts drank lager.

  ‘Your local?’

  Lorraine grimaced. ‘No way. They don’t even do live music in there. Right, we’re crossing the road, Guv.’ After a couple of hundred yards, the single-width brick pavement outside the Georgian houses changed to a wider, paved path. They kept going, the houses becoming more modern as they moved towards the village’s edge. ‘I think it’s sweet there’s still a police house here in Gaddesford.’ She pointed to the shabby sixties’ house. ‘If I were based there, I could walk to work in five minutes.’

  They reached a crescent of bungalows, each with a garage and neat front garden. Lorraine paused at the gate of ‘Spinnaker’ and pointed across the road, to where a small, cream Fiat was parked outside ‘Buntings’. ‘Wonder whether this one is on Ravi’s list? We can visit them while we’re here.’

  They crossed the road and Lorraine rang the doorbell. The car had big sprays of mud behind each wheel. Lorraine pushed the bell again. Somewhere inside, a dog barked.

  Robyn scraped at the thick dirt. ‘It’s been driven off-road, which is odd for a small car.’ She squinted through the window. In the back, a stained child’s car seat was half-covered by a blanket.

  Lorraine peered past her. ‘I hadn’t considered the kidnapper could already have kids of their own. Maybe a boy died and they’ve taken Ben to replace him?’ She noted the number plate. ‘I’ll text Ravi.’

  ‘Interesting theory.’ Robyn started back across the road. ‘Except I still don’t believe it was a chance snatch. Why was Ben targeted?’

  In ‘Spinnaker’, they sat at the square table in the kitchen while Mrs Whittaker brewed tea. ‘Well it’s very good of you to come to see me when you must be so busy …’ She began a stream of small talk which, by the time she sat down, had covered the hot weather, the traffic, the appalling upkeep of St Leonard’s square and the high numbers of greenfly, which she suspected were caused by the hot weather.

  The whole monologue had circled around and appeared to be about to start again. Robyn gritted her teeth: she had to get something of value from this interview; the phone at her belt had vibrated a couple of times and Fell would need to see progress to justify missing his meeting. Mrs Whittaker finally came to the table but her tweed-covered bottom had only just touched
the patchwork cushion before she bobbed up again to fetch napkins.

  Lorraine lost patience first. ‘Mrs Whittaker, we need to talk about …’ She stopped, uncertain, as Robyn held up her hand where Mrs Whittaker couldn’t see. The tea had been made the proper way and Robyn made a noise of appreciation. In response, Mrs Whittaker held out a plate with three types of biscuit. Robyn took her time choosing, rattling her bracelet as she decided. Mrs Whittaker reached into an embroidered pouch and slipped on some glasses. She gasped as she focused on Robyn’s face: for the first time, they had her full attention.

  ‘Please tell us what happened today.’ Robyn smiled at Mrs Whittaker, who took off her glasses.

  Once she’d started, Mrs Whittaker seemed keen to tell the story and get them out of her house. During the interview, Robyn compared how she had been treated by Melissa to Mrs Whittaker’s reaction and had to conclude she was scaring the old woman. She hadn’t expected to generate fear and made sure she kept the questions short. As they left, the door was shut before they’d left the top step.

  Robyn made a point of closing the gate and checking the catch. ‘I think Mrs Whittaker is frightened so I didn’t want to rush her. What did you get?’

  Lorraine sounded like a child reciting a lesson. ‘Every Wednesday, little Mrs Whittaker and little Mrs Jarvis go to book club, then afternoon tea with their friends, which is quite the highlight of their week, though some recent book choices are not quite suitable for respectable people–’

  ‘Lorraine – this isn’t the time.’ Robyn could feel the phone vibrating again and ignored it. They were walking back to the village’s centre.

  ‘Sorry, Guv. OK, Mrs W normally picks up Mrs J at one-thirty but arrived early. As she was walking up the path, a man, all in black, burst out of the house and ran past her to the street. He was carrying something metal, possibly a wrench and he threatened her as he passed. Inside, Mrs Jarvis was unconscious in the kitchen.’

  In the square, the bunting was still up from the festival, the edges frayed. ‘Telling us what?’