“Yes, I think so,” said Giash. “Thank you both. You’ve been very helpful. Can I just caution you not to talk to the Press, if anyone should try to contact you? And please tell your parents that we may need to talk to you again.”
Both girls nodded.
“Thank you for looking for Cassie,” said Isobel. “Please find her.”
Leonora gulped back a sob. Mrs Hargreaves practically shooed them out of the room.
“Now,” said Richard Lennard, when he and Giash were alone again, “all this talk of strangers lurking among the netball supporters seems rather far-fetched . . .”
“With respect, sir, a prowler has already been reported loitering near the school.”
“In any case, we made a mistake when we fixed the netball match for tomorrow. There’s a charitable organisation run by Councillor Start booked to meet at the school tomorrow and it’s very inconvenient for them to have the match taking place at the same time. You probably heard a snatch of conversation about it when you came in.”
“Yes, sir. But I’m certain that Councillor Start will want to aid police enquiries. I understand he’s a very public-spirited gentleman and does a lot for the school. He’ll surely consider it worth putting up with a minor inconvenience if it means helping us to bring Cassandra home, won’t he?”
“Let me know what your superior thinks. I’m not convinced.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Richard Lennard escorted Giash to the school’s main entrance with barely restrained impatience. Suddenly Giash sensed the headmaster tensing up behind him.
“You’re going to have an opportunity to put your strictures about the Press into practice sooner than perhaps you’d anticipated,” Lennard muttered. He was pointing at a tall, lithe young woman currently loping round the horseshoe sweep.
“Good morning, Mr Lennard,” she said. She had a pleasant, open smile, though Giash detected a twang of irony in her voice.
“If you’ve come about Cassandra Knipes . . .”
The young woman looked curiously from Lennard to Giash and back to Lennard again.
“What about Cassandra Knipes? She’s your head girl, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but . . .”
Swiftly, Giash interceded.
“I’m PC Chakrabati,” he said. “Could you tell me who you are and why you’re here?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, holding out a slim hand. “It was rude of me to jump straight in. My name is Jocelyn Greaves. I’m a freelance reporter.”
“I believe the accurate term is ‘investigative journalist’,” said Lennard sourly. “Ms Greaves has been asked to leave these premises on a number of occasions.”
Giash gave a nod in his direction.
“But answer my question, please,” he said, taking the hand briefly. “Why have you come?”
“I’ve come to ask whether it’s true that The Bricklayers are planning to meet here tomorrow morning,” she said, fixing the headmaster with her eye. He wouldn’t meet it, but stood blinking rapidly before he replied.
“It’s none of your business and I don’t have to answer the question. The school governors have approved the hiring out of the premises when they’re not in use. We’re not obliged to publicise which organisations have chosen to take advantage of this arrangement.”
“May I take it, then, that the information I’ve received about a Bricklayers meeting here tomorrow is correct?”
“No, you may not! Constable Chakrabati, can you please tell this woman to remove herself from the site? She’s causing a nuisance.”
“I think it would be better if you left Mr Lennard in peace at the moment, Ms Greaves,” said Giash quietly. “Mr Lennard is a busy man, and, as he says, you don’t have an automatic right to be here.”
“OK,” she replied, still smiling pleasantly. “But I’m pleased you saw how unco-operative Mr Lennard is. Almost as if he has something to hide, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, really, you are insufferable. Goodbye, PC Chakrabati. I look forward to hearing your boss’s opinion about the matter we discussed as soon as possible.” He had re-entered the school before Giash could reply.
“May I walk with you?” asked Jocelyn Greaves.
“If you like, but I’m only going to my car. It’s parked over the road,” said Giash a little stiffly. Much as he disliked Richard Lennard and was inclined to agree that he was trying to hide something, Giash understood that she was a troublemaker. He wondered if she’d really come about the meeting, or whether somehow she’d got wind of the kidnapping and invented a pretext to obtain information about Cassandra Knipes before the press conference. He braced himself for her next question. When it came, it surprised him.
“Do you know Andy?” she said chattily.
“Andy? Which Andy?”
“DC Andy Carstairs. I had a drink with him last night.
Chapter Thirty-Four
AS SOON AS Juliet had drafted the press release, Tim drove them both to Sutterton Dowdyke. Tim himself was in a sombre mood: he could imagine only too well the histrionics and hand-wringing they would experience at the Cushing household. He also knew that Patti Gardner would have some gruesome evidence to show to him. He noticed, however, that Juliet was transmitting quiet serenity, almost happiness, even though she usually hated such encounters even more than he did.
“You seem very calm. I have to confess I’m apprehensive, myself. I think the Cushings will make a scene.”
“I’m sure you’re right, sir. There’s nothing like a guilty conscience to provoke an outburst – and they’re bound to be feeling that Philippa’s disappearance was their fault. They’ll probably try to wriggle out of the blame in some way – say it was because we didn’t provide proper police protection, or something.”
“You may be right, although we had no reason to suspect that Philippa was at risk – or any of the Grummetts, for that matter. I’d say that if Philippa had anything to fear, it would be from her own family. They don’t seem to like her very much, do they?”
“She wasn’t cast in the same mould as any of them, that’s for sure. But I don’t think any of them would have deliberately set out to hurt her. The person who shows most animosity towards her is the sister, and I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her to plot a kidnapping.”
“I agree – though it is rather convenient for her that she decided to decamp from the Cushings’ house and stay with her uncle and aunt instead.”
“That’s easy to explain. Philippa and Alice Cushing showed nothing but contempt for her while we were there. They were probably quite horrible to her while she was staying with the Cushings. And she obviously likes her aunt.”
“Elsie Grummett, you mean? Yes, they’re two of a kind, aren’t they? Despite the fact that they aren’t blood relatives.” Tim paused for a moment. “But coming back to my earlier point, you seem to be taking a very balanced view about all of this. Have you been trying something out to help you cope better? Pilates, or whatever?”
Juliet almost burst out laughing. The comment was so typical of Tim – and so wide of the mark.
“No, not Pilates. Not really my sort of thing. But recently I resolved to make more space for myself. That’s why I asked you about Fenland Folklore. I did join it, by the way – and it’s not as amateurish as you thought.”
“You shouldn’t take any notice of me,” said Tim, colouring slightly. “I’m full of prejudices, as you know. Still, it would seem that you didn’t. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Perhaps I might reconsider. The Historical Society meetings seem to be increasingly far between and some of them are too self-consciously academic for my liking. Who are the other members? Anyone I know?”
“I don’t know if you know any of them, but there are certainly some that you know of. Richard Lennard, the headteacher at the High School, is the President. And Veronica Start, Councillor
Start’s daughter-in-law, is the Secretary.”
“That is interesting. What’s Lennard like as the President? Do the other members get on with him?”
“I don’t know about the other members. I’ve only been to two sessions so far and I haven’t had much opportunity to speak to them. He chaired the first meeting and if I’m honest I found his attitude quite insufferable – he was definitely patronising, both to the speaker and members of the audience who gave their views. But he wasn’t there last night. It was rather odd, actually. He was supposed to meet the speaker from the station and didn’t show up. She arrived somewhat late and more than a little annoyed.”
“I’m not surprised. Did he offer any explanation?”
“He may have done to her, but not to the rest of us, as he didn’t come to the meeting at all.”
“Even more interesting. What about Veronica Start?”
“Oh, she was there, trying to hold the whole thing together. She’s quite a nervous sort of person. And Louise spotted a burn mark on her arm which she thought was probably inflicted by somebody else.”
“Do you mean she’s a battered wife?”
“I think she could be. Or it could have been an accident.”
Tim was turning the car into Dowdyke Road as Juliet spoke. PC Walton was standing at the top of the road. Recognising Tim, he gave a mock salute and waved them through.
“Here we go again,” Tim said. “Brace yourself. I’d like you to interview Alice Cushing – without anyone else present, if the parents will allow it. You’ll get more out of her that way, if she has anything worth telling us. As well as all the usual stuff about how Philippa seemed over the past few days, whether anything was worrying her, whether she showed any sign of intending to run away – you know the drill, I don’t need to tell you. Try to find out how long they’ve been friends. Given that they’re neighbours, they may have known each other at primary school or even earlier.”
“OK. But I’m intrigued – why do you want to dig back so far?”
“It’s obvious, really,” said Tim, regretting immediately that this sounded patronising. Too late to rephrase now. “Everyone thinks that it’s extremely odd that the Grummetts have a daughter like Philippa. They even seem to think so themselves. She doesn’t fit in with that household. Now Cassandra Knipes has also disappeared. She’s also a girl from a background that doesn’t seem quite to fit – though I admit her circumstances aren’t as incongruous as Philippa’s. And to cap that, these two girls could pass for identical twins.”
“I agree it’s all very odd. Even Superintendent Thornton seems to have picked up on some of the links, though he’s told us to treat them as different cases, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, but you know as well as I do that’s for the benefit of the media – and it won’t last long. Some reporter will look at the photos and put two and two together. Fortunately, the photo we’ve been given of Cassandra Knipes isn’t a particularly good one – though it’s ironical that I should be saying so. And I don’t think we have one of Philippa Grummett at all yet, but that’ll be one of the things Ricky will be asking the Grummetts for.”
“And I’m almost certain I know where they’ll tell him to find it,” said Juliet, smiling wryly.
“How do you . . . . Oh, you mean in the police warehouse? With the ‘contaminated’ items.”
“Exactly. And it could take some time to find if there aren’t photographs of her anywhere else. Let’s hope that Alice or Boston High School can help out.”
“Yes,” said Tim, with a sigh. “Nothing’s ever simple, is it? We’re here now,” he added, as he parked on the grass verge beyond the Cushings’ hedge. “You go first. I’ll follow you.”
Juliet climbed out of the car. It was late morning, but the daylight was a sluggish yellow-grey. A vicious wind came whipping in over the marshes. She shivered and turned up the collar of her coat.
“Let’s hope that neither of those girls is outside somewhere. They’ll perish of cold before we can get to them.”
She turned and quickly made the short walk to the Cushings’ back door.
Tim followed her, congratulating himself on his exquisite tact. He hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when Juliet had mentioned Louise, let alone remarked on it. He reminded himself to tell Katrin that evening and ask what she thought about it.
The meeting with the Cushings wasn’t as difficult as Tim had feared. Peter Cushing was a little tearful and blamed himself for Philippa’s disappearance, though why was not apparent. His wife was almost as cheerful as on the first occasion that Tim had visited her house; her mood would have seemed inappropriate were she not trying to jolly the rest of her family along. Alice’s reaction was hard to gauge: there was a defiance underlying her moroseness that Tim couldn’t quite explain. She agreed, however, to be interviewed on her own – even seemed pleased at the prospect – so Juliet accompanied her into the little living room while Tim remained with her parents in the kitchen.
Juliet began gently, with the sort of questions she was certain Alice would have been expecting.
“When did you last see Philippa?”
“When we went to bed last night.”
“You were sharing a room, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you both went to bed as usual?”
Alice nodded.
“Did you talk before you settled down? Or did either of you read or do anything else – text someone, for example?”
“I didn’t. I turned my light out straight away. I was tired. I think I fell asleep right off.”
“And Philippa?”
“How would I know?” Alice frowned. “I don’t think she turned her light out at the same time, but I can’t be sure.”
“And when you woke this morning she’d gone?”
“Yes. But I wasn’t worried at first. I thought she was in the bathroom. I waited quite a while, until Mum called out that we’d be late for school. I was going to bang on the bathroom door, but when I got to it, it was open. Dad and Mum were both downstairs – I told you she’d called me, and I could hear him talking to her.”
“What did you do then?”
“I went down in my pyjamas and asked them if they knew where she was. We looked in all the rooms – it doesn’t take long! Dad was worried straight off, but Mum said that perhaps Philippa had decided to go to school early for some reason. Dad said she couldn’t have – the front door was still bolted from the inside and he’d been in the kitchen since six-thirty. Besides, the quickest way of getting to school is by catching the bus and it doesn’t come by the end of the road until eight-thirty.”
“Do you know what the time was when you went downstairs?”
“It must have been just after eight, because that’s when Mum would have called. When I’m late up she always shouts up then. Half an hour is exactly long enough to get washed and dressed and eat some toast before the bus comes.”
“Did your parents get in touch with the school?”
“Yes, Dad kept phoning until one of the secretaries answered. People were still arriving then. She said she’d ask Mr Wellington – the teacher on gate duty – to keep a look out for Philippa. But she still wasn’t there when school had started. That’s when Dad walked down to the lodge house to talk to the policeman. He’d seen him go past while he was phoning.”
“Thank you. And you didn’t wake up in the night, hear any movement in your bedroom?”
“No. I’m a heavy sleeper. I don’t often wake up.”
Juliet reflected that Alice would have had to be more than a heavy sleeper if Philippa had been abducted against her will. She must have chosen to leave the house and, if the times that Alice mentioned were roughly correct, she’d probably left in the early hours of the morning. What could have persuaded her to venture into the dark inhospitable lanes of Sutterton Dowdyke at this time of year? She
knew the area well, certainly. And she might have been accompanied: someone might have met her at or near the Cushings’ house. But her motive was the biggest puzzle. She surely couldn’t have been unhappier staying with Alice than at her own home, yet, as far as Juliet knew, she had no history of running away from there.
“Did you argue with Philippa last night?”
“No, we’ve never argued. We get on really well.” Alice said this calmly, without over-protesting.
“Did she seem sad or upset about anything? Apart from the accident, I mean?”
“No, and to be honest she wasn’t all that upset about that. You’ve seen what her family’s like. She’s always thought she must have been adopted. She hates Kayleigh, in particular. She was glad to be here for a while.”
“Kayleigh stayed here on the night of the accident, didn’t she?”
“Yes. She had a mattress on the floor. Then she decided to go and stay with her aunt Elsie.”
“And Philippa was pleased?”
“We all were, if you want to know the truth. Kayleigh’s not just stupid, she’s sly. It makes her unbearable.”
“I see. Do you know what Philippa was wearing when she left?”
“Her school uniform. She’s very neat. While she’s been here she’s hung it all on a wooden hanger every night, at the side of the wardrobe. I saw it had gone as soon as I went back in the bedroom to get dressed.”
“Has her coat gone as well?”
“Mum thinks so. She hasn’t been able to find it.”
“How long have you known Philippa? Were you at primary school together?”
“Most of the time. I think we came here when I was six. We moved from Spalding. I went to school there before we came here. Then to Kirton Primary.”
“That’s when you met Philippa?”
“Around that time. I think we may have met before then – Mum walked down to their house with me because she’d seen there was a girl living there who was about my age. But I can’t remember if that was before or after I started at the school. She was there already.”
The Crossing Page 17