by Alex Clare
‘It’s all too close to home.’ There was a catch in Lorraine’s voice. ‘The first burglary was on Priory Street, over there …’ she pointed, ‘… the third was half a mile away on the Pickley Road and now another one. I thought a village would be quiet. Do you think he lives here?’
They were walking in single file on the narrow brick pavement. ‘Risky to operate somewhere you might be recognised but he does do his homework and seems to know who lives alone.’ Around the next bend, houses gave way to fields on one side. ‘The best way to stop worrying is to catch him.’
A small crowd of villagers stood behind blue and white tape at the top of a lane. Ducking underneath, Robyn and Lorraine approached the end cottage, pink with a thatched roof. A scene of crime officer came outside, stretching his arms and taking a deep breath. Robyn had a vision of how tight it would be inside. ‘Lorraine. I’m going to stay out here and call Ms Chivers about the reconstruction.’
Lorraine nodded and had to duck as she went through the front door.
This is the voicemail box for Melissa Chivers of Derby and Rutherford. Leave a concise message after the tone. ‘Ms Chivers, this is DI Bailley. I wanted to confirm we’ll be running a reconstruction of Ben’s disappearance at the shopping centre tomorrow from eight am. Please call me if you would like further details.’
Enjoying the escape, Robyn idled in the sun, dealing with messages: Tracey made clear her disappointment that she’d ducked out of Fell’s meeting and Ravi was so excited he was unintelligible. After the third replay, she picked up that one of the small Fiats belonged to Maggie Gorton and her number plate had been picked up by a traffic camera near Gatwick Airport on Monday afternoon.
Lorraine appeared in the doorway. ‘Got something, Guv?’
The crowd was watching them. ‘Maybe. Let’s go.’ They ducked under the tape and walked up towards the main road until they were clear of the spectators. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘A couple of things. No signs of a break in, the victim must have opened the door to her attacker. I couldn’t see a tool box anywhere: conclusion, he must have brought the weapon with him. And another thing.’ They waited while a tractor rumbled past before crossing the road. ‘He upended her jewellery box and took trinkets yet left her father’s war medals which were on top. Then he went to the kitchen and emptied one storage jar. Nothing else. Mrs Whittaker said she didn’t think Mrs Jarvis had anything special but in the front room there are some Wedgwood figures. The most valuable stuff, he didn’t touch.’
‘Do you think he was on drugs and looking for food?’
They reached the car. Lorraine waved to someone across the square. ‘Unlikely he’d choose a jar marked “Flour”, Guv, when there was one marked “Biscuits” right next to it. He must have known there was something in that particular jar.’
Robyn’s phone buzzed again with a text from Tracey. She tried to focus on what Lorraine was telling her but she couldn’t escape that she’d promised Fell answers by today. There had been no sensible reason for accepting, she should have just refused to be held to a deadline she’d no chance of meeting. Roger would have had answers. He’d have dealt with this case as he did everything; without fuss or drama. She stared at the roof of the car, trying to find a reason why Robyn couldn’t find Ben.
Lorraine turned the stereo on again. Approaching town, the traffic ground to a halt in road works, a bitter smell of tarmac hanging in the air. A group of teenagers loitered past them.
‘Hello, gorgeous!’ Robyn jumped. A lad’s face was pressed up to the car window, drool on the dust in the window. ‘You’re so horny, I’d like to stick my cock–’
Lorraine pressed hard on the horn. Though the traffic-lights were green for them, a car was still blocking the single lane. More horns sounded from behind. The lads had already lost interest.
‘Bet you’re not in too much of a hurry to get back and see Fell, are you?’ Lorraine glanced at Robyn, then away, her face settling into a more serious expression.
The car in front of them moved and Lorraine eased the car forward. The stench of bitumen lingered all the way back to the police station.
As they went under the car park barrier at the police station, Graham drove out past them, cigarette already on the go. Robyn wound down her window.
‘Got a whisper on the drugs, Guv.’ He accelerated away before Robyn could ask why he wasn’t following up on Ben. She didn’t have time to think about it because they were able to slot straight into a parking space. It was time to see Fell.
22
After a brief catch-up with the team, ‘good lucks’ in their eyes, Robyn dawdled towards Fell’s office. Tracey was squeezed into a bright fuchsia top, the perfume chosen to match, shrill floral notes with hints of bleach. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Sorry, Tracey. Someone was supposed to ring you to let you know. I’ve only just picked up your messages – there’s no signal in Gaddesford.’
Tracey glared at her. ‘Please don’t break a nail on my behalf, DI Bailley. Go and tell the superintendent.’
Fell stood by the window. Robyn remained standing, filtering the thick air and scanning the mass of papers on the desk, including two mauve HR files.
Robyn swallowed. ‘Thank you for getting us Chloe, sir. She’s hit the ground running.’ The part of her brain that listened wondered why, when talking to Fell, she always lapsed into clichés.
Fell cleared his throat. Robyn braced herself. She must be used to the room now because all she could smell was her own sweat through the thin blouse, no trace of the lavender body spray she’d used this morning.
‘Bailley, I am disappointed by your progress so far. I don’t know whether this is to do with your mind being distracted by your – personal situation – but this case is not being run to your usual standard.’ Fell’s voice was little more than a rumble.
She reasoned it wouldn’t matter whether she said ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ at this point, as long as it was in the right tone.
‘Yes, sir.’
Fell moved to the desk, sat down and shifted papers. Now Robyn could see one of the HR files was hers, ‘Roger’ crossed out in thick black pen. Someone had written ‘File closed – now Robyn Bailley’ underneath. The other file, in Robyn’s name, was already almost as thick as the original.
‘Although you have only been back in Meresbourne for two years, you have over twenty years of excellent service, Bailley.’ Fell opened the newer file. ‘It is therefore disappointing I now have to deal with a complaint against you.’ He selected a sheet and began to scan it.
Robyn tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. ‘What’s it about, sir?’
‘It has two parts. Concerns have been raised firstly about your general fitness to handle the Ben Chivers case and secondly, your specific conduct towards a witness. This complaint came in yesterday. I am confident, with immediate action on your part, we can resolve it locally, without having to involve the Independent Police Complaints Commission.’ Fell glanced over the top of the page.
Robyn tried to ignore a sudden sick feeling. Melissa had taken part in the appeal yesterday, in the conference room just up the corridor. She had a vision of how far Melissa would get if she tried to bully Tracey and couldn’t help smiling.
‘I suggest you take this seriously, Bailley.’ The sheet of paper crumpled in Fell’s grip.
Robyn stood up straighter. ‘Sorry, sir. May I know more details about the complaint? What particular aspects of my conduct were not appropriate?’
Fell put down the sheet then took a long time pouring water from a jug into a glass and taking a sip. Robyn waited.
A drop of water hung from the end of Fell’s moustache. He picked up the sheet. The water droplet quivered. Fell made a noise in the back of his throat and put the paper down again. ‘There is an objection to you working on a case involving children and people with a strong faith.’
Robyn counted to ten, digging a nail into her palm with each count. ‘Thank you, sir, for cla
rifying. Of course I’m disappointed we haven’t found Ben yet but the investigation is following the set procedures for this type of case. And as I can’t have any contact with the child until I find him, I don’t see how there’s an issue.’
Fell’s eyebrows came together.
Robyn’s mouth was dry. ‘Yesterday, for the first time, Ms Chivers stated Ben’s father was dead. She still refuses to identify him and I admit I’ve been pressing her about this because it’s crucial to the enquiry. It was inevitable the media would ask because it makes a better story.’
Fell raised his eyes to the ceiling.
Robyn bit her lip. ‘As for upsetting Ms Chivers, I don’t understand why the public can discriminate against me if my colleagues aren’t allowed to?’
Fell’s palm crashed to the desk. ‘Bailley, your attitude is not helpful. The force is supporting you in your, ah, endeavours but I will not allow investigations to be compromised. I want an update from you every four hours and make sure a member of your team handles contact with Ms Chivers in future. I do not expect to receive further complaints.’
‘Yes, sir.’
23
As Robyn left the office, the stifling combination of sweat and perfume was replaced by a reek of paint. Two decorators had started work by the lift, stained sheets rucked across the carpet. Robyn stepped across with caution.
‘Cheer up, love, might never happen.’ The painter was grinning, his tanned face a series of lines and wrinkles.
Robyn kept walking, passing a second painter leaning on a ladder, whistling. The note died away as she passed. Robyn pressed the button for the lift, then heard a whispered conversation start up between the decorators and decided she would take the stairs.
On a landing, she stopped, leaning back against the wall. She held the rail, one foot dangling over the edge of a step. Above her, the whistling restarted. Thoughts refused to organise themselves in her mind – outside, she watched a gull landing on a street light, two pigeons scattering to make room. Below, voices echoed, cut off as a door closed. Robyn sighed and turned down the stairs.
The incident room was quieter than she expected until Chloe bustled over. She’d got hold of a clipboard. ‘Guv, I’ve been talking to the TV people about the reconstruction tomorrow …’ then stopped as Robyn frowned.
‘A bit unfair to dump this on you.’
‘I don’t mind, Guv, in fact I asked.’ Chloe smiled. ‘I know what the TV people need – there’s got to be some use for a media studies qualification, after all.’
Graham chuckled. Robyn managed a small smile.
‘I was thinking, if I could go down to the shopping centre now, Guv, to make notes for the TV people on where they need to go?’ Her eyes were bright.
Robyn stood up. She needed to be doing something constructive. ‘Good idea. I’ll come with you.’
‘Hang on, Guv, how did the meeting go with Fell?’ Graham was half out of his chair.
Robyn stopped for a moment. ‘We keep going.’ She walked out.
The van had moved and Robyn wanted the simple focus of driving to stop her brooding. During the journey to town, Chloe read and reread the reconstruction summary. Robyn parked in the shoppers’ car park and led Chloe through the grubby swing doors into the central rotunda, where the college’s display stands were being taken apart.
Chloe held the clipboard across her body as a youth gawped at Robyn. ‘What are you after, Guv?’
‘Something.’ Robyn stopped. ‘At five past eight, Gillian and Ben left their car and walked in, the route we just came. They turned up towards Northbank.’
Chloe fell into step beside her.
‘They stopped at the health food shop.’ In the window, a slogan advertised something herbal: Every woman has natural beauty within her. The glassy-eyed woman in the picture wasn’t anyone Robyn would aspire to be. ‘Then the dry cleaner’s.’
Chloe was staring up the concourse. ‘Guv! Then they went to pick up the shoes.’ She pointed at the cobbler’s beside the Northbank entrance. ‘They were right by the High Street and the doors were open. If someone wanted to snatch Ben, they could have been away in seconds.’
Robyn nodded. ‘Exactly. But there are lots of CCTV cameras out there. I think whoever we’re dealing with took steps not to be caught on camera. Gillian said she comes here regularly to do a similar set of chores. Someone knew her routine and planned.’
They turned down the slope. Robyn stopped outside the pharmacy, sitting on the nearest of the benches. ‘Gillian had her route: up one side, down the other, then home for vitamins and lessons.’
Chloe sat beside her. ‘How did the snatcher know Ben would wander off?’
The stone bench was cold through the thin material of her trousers. Robyn pulled from her bag the picture taken outside the camera shop, gazing at the blurry figures. Leaving Chloe, she strolled down, unable to resist peering into the window to see whether the second-hand Hasselblad she coveted was still on sale. Chloe, left on the bench, was like an abandoned child herself. Robyn checked the photo, then the scene in front of her. ‘Chloe – could you go and stand over there?’
Chloe trotted across the aisle. Robyn held the picture up and gestured. ‘More to the right, nearer the shops.’
Someone in a suit, hurrying to the station, swore as he swerved around her. Robyn imagined herself seeing the scene through a lens. A step to the right and the shop-fronts on the far side aligned with the photograph.
‘OK, face as if you’re going to the car park.’ Chloe turned and was now almost side on: if she’d been holding Ben’s right hand, he would have been on her far side, probably hidden. In the picture, the figures had their backs to the camera.
‘Now as if you’re going down to Riverside.’ Chloe turned and stood almost face-on. Robyn checked the picture again. ‘OK, now turn your back on me.’
They were attracting attention now, a group of girls giggled. Chloe obeyed, casting a glance back over her shoulder. Robyn fixed the scene in her mind, then crossed the aisle.
‘You’ve got something, Guv?’
Robyn held up the picture. ‘We are where they were.’ She pointed ahead. ‘Look.’
Chloe scanned from the curtain shop to the fashion boutique. ‘What?’
Robyn pointed again, to the gap between the shops. A few yards away, painted to match the wall, was the staff door to the loading bay. Robyn and Chloe slipped through the door into a corridor of flickering fluorescent tubes. There didn’t appear to be any CCTV cameras. At the end of the corridor, through a set of double doors and they were in the loading bay, traffic passing outside.
‘This was the way she came.’ Chloe shook her head. ‘So easy. A second to grab Ben, a few steps to the service door, then down here and away.’
Robyn nodded. ‘She must have parked on the access slip road, then drove out the same way, making the U-turn Ravi spotted.’
‘I don’t remember seeing this area on the CCTV footage we’ve watched. I’ll check.’
Robyn’s phone rang. She took a couple of steps away. ‘Hello.’
‘Hi, Ro … Robyn, it’s Ady. Can you talk?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘The burglary today – it’s a big story, the first time someone has been hurt and, well, there isn’t anything new about Ben and we’re running this front page. I know you were in Gaddesford today, what’s happening?’
Robyn watched Chloe as she studied tyre tracks on the grubby concrete. ‘I’m sorry, Ady, I can’t give you anything. Have you spoken to Khalid?’
There was resignation in Ady’s voice. ‘He’s just given the usual flannel about pursuing all lines of enquiry. Did you get the link by the way?’
Robyn grimaced. ‘Haven’t checked, I’m afraid. As soon as we have anything, I’ll call you.’ She tucked the phone into her bag and watched Chloe, who was peering under a workbench.
‘OK? Shall we?’
‘Hang on, Guv: there’s something here.’ Chloe fumbled in her pocket for a glove, then
reached down into a box of dirty rags. She lifted up something by one corner, holding it at arm’s length. It unfurled, a child’s sweatshirt, red with blotchy stains.
Robyn reached for her phone again.
Chloe’s face lost the little colour it had. ‘What do you think those marks are, Guv?’
While technicians examined the loading bay, Robyn and Chloe interviewed the maintenance team in the staff room.
‘This is what it’s all about, isn’t it, Guv? Being a detective?’ Chloe tucked her notebook into her bag.
Robyn rubbed her eyes. She had been standing yards away from the sweatshirt less than an hour after Ben went missing. She’d even asked Phil about the search and then had just accepted his answer without checking. Maybe this was trying to tell her something about her own instincts. They walked back towards the car park.
‘Every investigation has its ups and downs. Most of the time you gather hundreds of tiny bits of information, ploughing through lots of rubbish before you find something important. Or, something you were certain of turns out to be wrong, like we now know the kidnapper changed Ben’s appearance before they left the shopping centre.’
They settled into the car. ‘So always speak up, Chloe, because you may realise something’s important when no one else does.’ Robyn comforted herself that this was one area where she could say she was unlike the former DI, Kenny Prentiss, who had loved mocking his juniors’ ideas.
‘Thanks, Guv. I find it a bit difficult sometimes. Either you know what you’re trying to say and it doesn’t come out right, or you’re sure of something and someone asks you a question and suddenly, you’re not so sure any more.’
Robyn chuckled, without humour. ‘Unfortunately, that feeling doesn’t go away. You’re uncertain most of the time.’ She hoped she was sounding experienced rather than cynical.
‘I suppose nothing’s ever certain, is it?’ Chloe ran her fingers through her hair. ‘At least when you’re on the beat, it’s easy – someone puts a problem in front of you and you sort it. With this, you’re trying to solve something you can’t see.’