by Alex Clare
‘A body. You found a body.’ Mrs Penrose’s voice wavered. She fixed her eyes on the family pictures on the mantelpiece.
Of course. This was how any normal mother would react. Robyn tried to make the bland phrases as sincere as possible. ‘Yes, we’ve found a body …’
‘So you think it’s her.’ The boy left the table and lurched forward; once you saw past his height, he was perhaps only fourteen. ‘The skeleton in the warehouse. You think …’ He tailed off, hands beginning to flap. His sister rose, put her arms around him and pulled him down into the chair with her.
Robyn jumped as something damp skimmed her hand. The dog was sniffing her: she scratched behind its ears. ‘We do need to make sure the body we found isn’t Lacey, using DNA. Would one of you be prepared to give a sample?’
Mr Penrose rubbed his face and nodded.
‘Thank you. I’ve read the case notes. It was thought at the time Lacey went to Manchester to meet a new boyfriend?’
‘She sent us a text message to say she was going away but then …’ Mrs Penrose choked on her words. ‘Then there was nothing.’ The mother stopped speaking and slumped back against the cushions. The father reached across. Their hands fumbled together, settling an inch apart.
The grandmother gripped her chair’s arms as she addressed Robyn. ‘We’ve talked to her friends, officer, which is more than you ever did. Lacey already had a boyfriend and he was at university in Leeds, not Manchester.’
The Labrador was leaning its full weight against Robyn’s leg, golden hairs already showing against the dark trousers. ‘We now have new evidence of Lacey’s actions in the week before she went missing.’
‘With respect, officer, we’ve heard something similar before.’ The grandmother sniffed. ‘Just after the case was closed, we had a visit from a nice lady officer who promised us she was still investigating. She called back a month later saying she hadn’t found enough to convince her superiors to reopen the case.’
The dog lost interest in Robyn and flopped onto a patch of floor. ‘Can you remember the officer’s name?’
‘Of course.’ The grandmother’s thin lips were pursed with disapproval. ‘It was Detective Constable Warrener. The child-snatcher.’
‘We tried writing to the senior officer and got a letter saying they’d done everything they were going to and Lacey would turn up when she wanted to. That was nearly three years ago.’ Mrs Penrose covered her face.
Robyn spoke over the dog’s gentle snores. ‘Why were you convinced she was missing?’
From behind Mrs Penrose’s hands Robyn could hear fast, ragged breaths.
‘We didn’t hear from her on Christmas Day.’ Mr Penrose gazed ahead. ‘When we went to her flat in the evening, there were no decorations up. We could see through the letterbox: nothing.’
Robyn frowned for a second.
A plaintive voice came from the chair. ‘We always put the decorations up on the first of December.’
‘So you believe Lacey went missing before December the first, otherwise her flat would have been decorated?’ Robyn saw the girl nod. ‘Is there any chance she might have changed her routine?’
‘No way.’ The girl’s face showed how stupid she thought the question had been.
Robyn leant forward. ‘When was the last time any of you saw Lacey?’
The boy scrambled up and ran out of the room. There were rapid thuds as he ran upstairs then a door slammed.
‘It was Luke who was the last one to see her.’ The grandmother’s voice was matter-of-fact. ‘She took him to the cinema for his birthday.’
‘The rule is, we’re not allowed to mention Christmas until after Lukey’s birthday.’ The girl spoke as if she was talking to an idiot. ‘And Lacey said to Luke on the twenty-ninth she was getting paid the day after and was going to buy decorations for her new place on the Saturday.’
‘And on the Saturday, you received a text message to say she was going to Manchester. Has there been any other contact with Lacey?’
The father shook his head.
‘Do you still have a copy of the message?’
The woman shuddered. ‘It deleted itself. I didn’t know it was the last one I would get from her.’
Mrs Penrose blew her nose. Her voice was clearer, anger making it louder. ‘The officer in charge, a DI Prentiss, said this proved she’d run off with someone.’
‘And he kept saying so even when we got the landlord to open her flat and all her clothes were still there.’ One of Mr Penrose’s feet was tapping, tapping. The dog raised its muzzle.
‘Where are those clothes now?’
The mother muttered something Robyn couldn’t catch.
The grandmother pointed. ‘They’re in the cupboard under the stairs. Lacey’s old room was turned into a room for me after she left home.’
‘May I look at them?’
The grandmother nodded and Robyn stepped out into the hall. From upstairs, a faint bass beat came from behind a door with a Manchester United poster. She opened the cupboard. Behind a litter of sports equipment, paint pots and a stepladder were three large cardboard boxes. After clearing a space, Robyn lifted out the first. On top was a square shape wrapped in newspaper. Robyn peeled apart the sheets, to find two photo frames. One was a family Christmas from perhaps a decade before, everyone in paper hats, a decorated tree in the background. The other was of pair of happy teenagers. The girl had long hair mussed by sea and sand and the same snub nose as her mother. One strap of her vest top had slid down a lithe arm as her fingers rested on a boy’s shoulder. Robyn recognised a younger Josh, brown curls reaching his shoulders, his arm around Lacey’s waist. They looked very happy.
Underneath was a pink handbag, full of clutter. Next, were layers of clothes from High Street chains, a mix of size eights and tens. Robyn reached to the bottom of the box, feeling the irregular shape of shoes. She selected one at random and noted they were size seven. Robyn pushed the box back, keeping the photo and handbag. When she returned to the lounge, the family was still sitting around the log burner, the remains of their lunch left on the table.
‘Thank you, Mr and Mrs Penrose. Do you know who this is next to Lacey?’ She held out the photo.
Mrs Penrose blew her nose again.
‘Josh, Lacey’s boyfriend.’ The girl’s voice was firmer.
‘Did you ever meet him?’
The girl opened her mouth, her father speaking first. ‘No, we never did.’
‘Officer, one of the reasons Lacey left home was because of differences over a boyfriend.’ The grandmother touched Lacey’s picture on the mantelpiece. ‘There was one horrible man we warned Lacey against. There was a row, she moved out and even after she’d split up with him she didn’t bring anyone else to meet us.’
The father’s shoulders slumped. ‘That was the one thing the woman officer did say when she came back. Said she’d checked out Lacey’s boyfriend.’ He waved at the picture. ‘Him. She said he couldn’t have been involved because he was away studying at university. We’d have been happy to meet him.’
A clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour. Robyn held up the handbag. ‘Is this Lacey’s?’
‘Yeah.’ The girl shuffled in the chair, shifting her feet. ‘All her stuff was in there.’
The bag on Robyn’s arm was heavy compared to her own. ‘How did you get it?’
‘Somebody found it. It was on the Monday. After the message, I was texting Lacey all weekend. She didn’t come back to me, which was odd. I called her and got this bloke in Manchester who was cleaning a train. Everyone had got off and he heard the phone ring in the bag under a seat.’ The girl’s voice broke and she buried her face in a cushion.
The grandmother continued. ‘The train company was very kind. They sent the bag back to Euston and we picked it up. The police thought this confirmed Lacey really had wanted to leave everything behind.’
‘Is the phone still in here? May I look?’
The nod took a long time to come. The phone was
in the outside pocket, though no sign of a charger.
‘One final question. Did Lacey have any links with Manchester? Friends or family up there?’
The girl hit the arm of the chair with a cushion. ‘Are you listening? Lacey never went to Manchester. She was happy here, happy with Josh and yeah, I did meet him.’ She glared around the room. ‘And he seemed really nice.’ She met her father’s flat stare and her tone became more defensive. ‘I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d be cross.’
‘When was this meeting?’ Robyn heard a change of note in the mother’s weeping. The dog sat up and shook itself.
‘It was the beginning of November. Josh came down for the weekend and we went to a fireworks party.’
Robyn chose her words with care. ‘Do you believe the relationship was serious?’
The girl nodded. ‘Er, yeah. Why else would Josh come all the way back to see her each weekend? Everything was good. OK, Lacey didn’t like her job but it paid for her own flat. Why should she go?’
Robyn nodded. ‘I intend to find out. Thank you for your time and I’m sorry for what has happened. Could I take these things with me? And, Mr Penrose, if I could take a DNA sample, I’ll leave you to your lunch.’
Five minutes later, as she walked out, it was just the dog accompanying her to the door. Robyn decided to take the DNA sample straight to the hospital for analysis.
Robyn was able to slot into a parking space near the hospital’s main reception. There were giggles from the receptionist at the front desk when she asked for the lab and showed her warrant card. ‘Take the far lifts, second floor and turn left. I’ll let Glenn know you’re coming.’
Robyn thanked her and followed the directions, wondering what she’d missed. When she knocked, a voice called. ‘Oh. Well. Come in, why don’t you?’
The man was what her mother would have called ‘a nice boy’. Robyn had a sudden certainty the receptionist would now be telling everyone she’d met Glenn’s girlfriend.
‘Hello, I’m Robyn Bailley, police. I’ve got a DNA sample I need matching. It’s for a murder enquiry and it’s urgent so I thought I’d drop it in myself. When would you be able to–?’
The door banged open and a porter wheeled in a trolley laden with tubes and vials. ‘Alright, Glenn. Got the latest batch of samples for you. Sign here.’
‘I guess this isn’t a good time.’
Slotting the sample into a rack, Glenn sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do. Now, excuse me.’
Robyn left him to it and walked out, ignoring a knowing glance from the receptionist as she crossed the foyer. Outside the hospital, she had to squint into unexpected sunshine. She should be typing up the Penrose interview but apart from that, there wasn’t a lot more she could do until the DNA link was confirmed. The Kent Print Cup was coming up and the rose garden in Victoria Park would be at its best. The thought of losing herself in taking pictures was a welcome one: she hadn’t picked up her camera since the start of her transition but as she drove home to the outskirts of Barton, she noticed the ‘sale’ banner was up at the retail park and, giving in to another impulse, she parked at the DIY store.
An hour later, she arrived home with a neat table and stacking chairs for the kitchen and, on impulse, a fancy feeder for birds. To fit the new table by the window, she manhandled the heavy freezer into the hallway. Sweating, she started inching the heavy dresser out of the lounge, swearing as dark furniture polish stained her top. Everything in her wardrobe was new and there was nothing scruffy to wear for DIY or gardening. For a moment, she thought of going to the charity shop and buying back some of her old clothes, dismissing the idea immediately: Robyn would develop her own style. The clutter of old furniture made getting through the hallway difficult. She picked up her mobile. The phone rang for a while before she heard the wheezy voice of Paddy Hall.
‘St Oswald’s furniture. You’re too late, we’re closed now.’
‘Hello, Mr Hall. This is Detective Inspector Bailley. I wanted to follow up on our meeting on Tuesday.’
‘Well, what do you want? You’ve found the kid and ’e wasn’t here.’
‘No. I wanted to let you know we won’t be pursuing any enquiries against Jack Parkes.’
‘Well that’s kind of you. Not pursuing enquiries against someone what ’asn’t done nothing.’
‘We had to investigate all angles, Mr Hall. But there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve got some furniture I’d like to donate. When can you collect it?’
Hall coughed. ‘You want to give us stuff?’
‘Yes.’ Robyn edged her way into the front room. ‘There’s a dresser, a sideboard, two coffee tables and a bookcase. Do you take electrical stuff as well? There’s a big chest freezer.’
‘All this yours?’
‘My parents’ old stuff. It’s all wood, walnut I think.’
‘Sounds like it needs the bigger van.’ Hall was sounding more eager now.
‘When can you come? I’m in Barton.’
There was a thump of the phone being put down on a hard surface. Hall yelled something, then there was just his edgy breathing.
‘Sorry ’bout that. A couple of the lads could get over by six tonight if you’re there?’
It was almost five o’clock. ‘Perfect, thanks.’
She made tea for the men who arrived to collect the furniture, watching their eyes dart to her bruised face. When the door shut behind them, she walked back into the now-huge room and spun around, arms outstretched.
Given how dizzy she felt after the first turn, the punch was still affecting her and she would have to be careful. From the sofa, she began thinking of colours. Maybe she needed a couple of magazines. The doorbell rang. Surprised, Robyn hauled herself off the sofa. On the doorstep, Clyde gave a nervous smile.
‘DI Bailley, how you doing? I just heard over the radio that your man Harper has been pulled over on the M2. Looked like he was doing a runner. They’re bringing him in now. Thought you’d want to know.’
‘Hello, Clyde, thanks, that’s great news.’ She thought for a second. ‘Look, could you drive me down there? I want to see him brought in.’ She stopped, aware of the stains and sweat on her top. ‘Give me a minute and I’ll change.’
The outer door of the custody suite swung open and an officer stepped through backwards. There was an angry muttering and Harper stepped through, his shoulders ducking and twisting as he tried to avoid being touched by the officer behind him. He stopped suddenly when he saw Robyn leaning against the reception desk.
‘What’s that fag doing there?’
‘Keep going.’ The first officer looked over his shoulder. It was Jeremy, the failed fast-track candidate. ‘That fag is a detective inspector.’ Harper was at the counter now, the officers on the balls of their feet, watching him.
‘Well I didn’t know he was a copper, did I? He didn’t say nothing, just came on all gay-like.’
Even with his back to her, Robyn knew Jeremy was sniggering from the shaking in his shoulders. The custody sergeant proceeded with the booking in and Harper’s handcuffs were removed. Robyn wondered why she’d come. The question and answer seemed to go on for an age and the strip lights were overwhelming her good eye. Harper demanded a lawyer.
‘Cell six.’ The custody sergeant handed Jeremy a clipboard.
He and his colleague closed in on Harper. ‘You heard the lady. Down there.’
Robyn stood at Jeremy’s shoulder and moved with them along the corridor. The looks Harper and Jeremy gave her were remarkably similar. Outside the cell, Robyn faced Harper.
‘Right, Dean, now we’re here, I’d like to have a little chat and we could do it in the cell, just you and me. Not about what happened today, this is a little bit of history …’
Harper jerked around. The two officers closed in.
‘I’m not having a fag in my cell. I’ve got rights.’
Robyn stepped into Harper’s eyeline. ‘So tell me one thing and I’ll go away. Three months
ago, you tried to scam a house in Upper Town and the home owner made a complaint about you. What do you remember? You’ve already paid the fine, there’s nothing else we can do, I just want some more details.’
Harper massaged his neck.
‘That was the one I got done for. The black bitch, she was so cold. Like she’s the queen or something. She was scary.’ He stopped. ‘Got nothing else to say until my solicitor gets here.’
Jeremy tutted, rolling his eyes to his colleague.
Robyn blinked and tried not to wince. ‘OK. Good work, you two.’ She turned away.
‘Why thank you kindly, ma’am.’ She heard it, whether Jeremy had meant her to or not. Harper sniggered.
Robyn stopped and walked back. ‘If you spoke to a suspect like that, you’d be suspended.’ She smiled at Jeremy. ‘If you speak to me like that, I’ll make sure you stay a constable. Oh look, I already have.’
As she walked down the corridor, she heard Harper’s grunt of pain as he was shoved into a cell.
MONDAY 25 JULY
36
Shaving her tender skin had been difficult and getting ready had taken longer than usual but having breakfast at the new table, looking out at the garden in the early light, cheered her up. Robyn lingered over her tea, watching as the first sparrow discovered the bird feeder, until she saw how late it was. It was only in the car she realised that in her haste to get out, she’d forgotten to put any jewellery on. With no school traffic, she made up time and at eight-thirty, she caught the faint chimes of St Leonard’s as she crossed the police station car park. Her pass was now in the outer pocket of the handbag, no fiddling required. The desk sergeant was leaning on the counter, chewing the last of a MacDonald’s breakfast.
‘Morning, ma’am.’
‘Good morning. Can we get this area tidied up? We shouldn’t have food at the front desk, it doesn’t create a good impression.’
She waited until the sergeant’s ‘Yes, ma’am’ was followed by some actual action to remove the wrapping. She ignored the lift and took the stairs, keeping an even pace to the second floor.