Tightrope

by Andrea Frazer

  There had been a 999 call only minutes before from Mrs Shillington in an hysterical state. All that could be got out of her was that she had found her granddaughter in the garden and that she needed help right away. She was too incoherent to give any details, and ended the call as soon as she had managed to splutter out her address.

  A patrol car and ambulance had been dispatched, and Olivia was able to give her assurance that she and her sergeant would head immediately for the house. ‘Come on, Sergeant. I don’t care how ticked off you are with me, the job needs you now. Mrs Shillington has phoned in to say that she has located her baby granddaughter. I don’t know any more details than that, but I think we should get out there. Uniform and medical help are on their way. Don’t let anything personal get in the way of you doing your job.’

  Lauren rose and grabbed her handbag, muttering, ‘Truce’ to the inspector.

  ‘Atta girl. Let’s get off out there.’

  At the house they found that the patrol car and ambulance had already arrived, and one of the car crew let them in. Mrs Shillington was sitting on the sofa, something very muddy on her lap on to which tears dropped. Her mouth was encircled with muddy stains, and make-up ran down her cheeks, as the paramedics tried to encourage her to let go of the bundle that she cradled.

  As she rocked herself to and fro she murmured, ‘No, no, no, no, no.’

  ‘Give her to us, Mrs Shillington, so that we can get her to the hospital,’ one of the female paramedics asked, hopefully.

  ‘No, no,’ she replied. ‘This cannot be happening.’

  ‘You know it makes sense.’ Sometimes the worst clichés come out at the most serious of moments. ‘Let us take her.’

  Olivia and Lauren looked on, hardly aware that they were holding their breath. It was Lauren who let hers out first, saying, ‘Can I hold her, please?’

  Mrs Shillington looked up at the sound of her voice, as if she were returning from underwater. ‘Can I hold her?’ repeated Lauren. ‘I’ll be very gentle.’ There was absolute silence in the room.

  The grandmother, who wasn’t much older than the sergeant, looked at her, a plea in her eyes. ‘I didn’t know anything until this morning, when I got back. I just noticed something wrong in the garden, and thought next door’s cat had been using my flowerbed for a lavatory again. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but she won’t wake up.’

  ‘I know you have. Now, hand her to me, so that she can be treated with the proper respect.’

  Mrs Shillington’s face seemed to fold in upon itself with grief as she slowly held the little bundle a bit further from her body. ‘That’s right. Let me take her. She needs to be bathed and have a pretty dress put on.’ Of course, she knew that Dr MacArthur would test her skin first, for any DNA traces left on it by the person who buried her, and who probably killed her, but she didn’t want to upset the shocked and grieving woman any further.

  ‘I have a lovely pink frilly one upstairs on the bed. I’d bought it while I was away.’ She dissolved into fresh tears at the thought of the gift.

  ‘I’ll send someone upstairs to get it,’ Lauren assured her, and nodded to one of the patrol car’s officers. ‘Now, you hand her to me, and I’ll see that she’s well looked after.’

  Very slowly, she moved the bundle away from her body and towards Lauren, who gently took it from her, her own eyes creasing up with grief as she looked down on the little dead face. Carefully, she handed the baby to one of the paramedics while the other one moved tentatively towards the distraught woman, encouraging her to come with them, because she needed to be checked out. She was suffering from shock, and would need some sedation to get her through the first few hours of her grief.

  While the crew of the ambulance dealt with the grandmother and transferred the baby’s body to the ambulance, Olivia stepped into the hallway to make a phone call to the station. ‘Can somebody let the baby’s mother know, and get as many as you can out looking for Baz Bailey. We’ll take a statement before we come back,’ she concluded. Then she turned to Lauren. ‘We’ve only just let that bastard go. I hope he hasn’t gone to ground. And, well done for persuading her. I think you prevented her from going into hysterics again.’

  ‘Let’s get that statement,’ replied Lauren with the merest hint of a smile.

  ‘I’ll let you lead the interview. You seem to have a way with her.’

  After her visit to the hospital, when Mrs Shillington had returned home, she began to give her statement. With a lot of hiccoughing and hesitations, the woman slowly unravelled her memories.

  She never watched or listened to the news when she was away, but an officer had contacted her about getting the key to her property, and had had to explain why. She immediately made plans to come home early and was going to go straight round to her daughter’s when she had unpacked.

  She had only just taken the little dress out of her suitcase when something attracted her attention outside, and she looked out of the window. She couldn’t remember what it was for the moment – it had slipped her mind – but she had instantly noticed that one of her flower beds had been disturbed.

  Coming downstairs rather cross, she had gone outside to clear up the mess on the path and was just trowelling holes to replace the plants that had come adrift when she noticed a tiny finger in the soil. That’s when she had gone cold and begun frantically digging with her hands – which were still filthy, her nails encrusted with earth and compost.

  She had uncovered Stacey’s little body and time seemed to stop. In desperation, she had tried to give her the kiss of life, soon realising that she was far too late, and becoming aware of how cold the baby’s flesh was. She had no idea how long she had sat on the ground, cradling the body of her granddaughter in her arms, but when realisation dawned on her again, she went straight in and tried to report it, but she found it difficult to get out the words.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she sobbed, ‘and in my garden too. You know who is to blame for this don’t you? The bastard! The shit!’ Her fists began to beat a tattoo on her knees and she began to shake again, recommencing her rocking, but with her arms empty now.

  ‘Did they give her anything to calm her down?’ asked Olivia, who had been more concerned with apprehending Baz Bailey again.

  ‘Yes, and there’s a bottle on the mantelpiece with some tablets in it which she can take if she has trouble sleeping,’ Lauren replied, putting an arm round the distraught woman. ‘Shall we get you to the cloakroom and get you cleaned up a bit, and is there anyone you’d like to sit with you?’ Olivia gave Lauren an encouraging look. She was handling this well.

  ‘I want my daughter,’ she suddenly shrieked. ‘I want my Carole.’

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible at the moment. Your daughter is in custody, because we believe she is lying about the circumstances of Stacey’s disappearance.’

  Mrs Shillington, no more than forty, shuffled from the room like an old woman, at this further bad news. While she was tidying herself up there was a ring on the doorbell, and Olivia went to answer it, hoping to God that it wasn’t press already, but it was only the woman from next door who had been the keyholder.

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked timidly. ‘Only, I saw from a bedroom window, when she cried out – when she found it; her.’

  ‘Perhaps you could make a pot of tea and sit with her. She’s pretty heartbroken, and at least you could see to it that she has hot drinks and some food.’

  ‘That’s no problem at all, but why isn’t Carole here?’

  Totally ignoring this direct question, Olivia replied, ‘Just don’t answer the door to any members of the press or other media. I’ll draw the curtains now, and you keep away from any windows. Perhaps, with no response whatsoever, they can be persuaded to think that Mrs Shillington has gone away for a while.’ Although the inspector thought there was about an ice cube’s chance in hell of that happening, she thought the woman looked the sensible sort who would handle the situation wel
l. She obediently trotted off to the kitchen, and soon the sound of the kettle heating was audible.

  The two detectives left the shocked and grieving grandmother with her neighbour, with a word of warning that she would need to come in for further questioning.

  Olivia was in a reflective mood and was convinced that Carole knew exactly what had happened to her baby; after all, she would hardly have gone out to the shop knowing that the baby seat was empty. She’d arrange for her mother to be picked up a little later, when the dust had begun to settle about where Stacey’s body had been hidden. That, she probably didn’t know, but Carole knew very well who had killed her daughter – it might even have been her. And that’s why it had been important to get her into police custody. She’d been wrong to let Baz Bailey go. She didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. And incur the wrath of The Devenish.

  The drive back to the station was a quiet one, not because of their earlier falling out, but because this was the second young baby that had lost its life on their patch recently at the hands of others with evil intent.

  When Lenny and Daz got back to the office they had already booked in the white coat and made sure that it had gone to Forensics to be checked for DNA. Buller was delighted with this bit of progress because it took them one step closer to who was responsible for the deaths, illegal drugs and contraband at the house in Gooding Avenue.

  The owners of the house had been traced and were surprised that there had been anybody using it. As far as they were concerned, it was shut up, unoccupied and waiting for them to move into it when the husband’s contract ended. It had belonged to his father but, as he had been working abroad, he didn’t want to sell it before he and his wife had decided whether they wanted to move into it, sell it, or subdivide it for rental.

  The recent events had focussed their minds, and they had decided to fly home and do something about it, which was a good thing as far as the street was concerned, because an empty house was a target for crime. Once it was no longer a crime scene, it could be handed over to its rightful owner, and would be occupied again in some way.

  They would have to wait for the forensic results on the white coat, but it might get them a step closer to identifying the man with the red hair and freckles. How could he be an unknown with the sort of things he had been up to? He must be on somebody’s records somewhere. They didn’t even have a name yet.

  When Olivia and Lauren got back there was the scent of hope in the air, but one of their worlds was about to come crashing down about their ears.

  The reports of the visits to the tip were coming in, and some of them made some interesting reading, and while Olivia was checking these, Lauren’s phone rang. They had nearly finished for the day, and she was looking forward to going off to her assignation. She and Daz had not spoken that day, but he had given her some meaningful looks from his desk whenever he found her gaze wandering. She was disconcerted to find that her body was actually tingling in anticipation of pleasures to come when the phone call knocked her sideways.

  She heard the voice of her children’s school’s headmistress and could hear Mrs Moth’s voice in the background protesting something that sounded pretty urgent. As it turned out, it was her innocence.

  ‘Mrs Groves?’ the voice enquired. ‘I’m afraid I have to inform you of a serious incident which occurred today.’

  Without allowing her another word of explanation, Lauren cut in with, ‘Is it the children. Are they all right, or have they been hurt?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s more serious than that.’

  ‘They’re not dead, are they?’ Once again Lauren cut across the woman.

  ‘Their father came in this morning and told us that you had been injured in an accident, and that he wanted to take the children to see you in hospital.’

  ‘What? And you let him take them? Why didn’t you give me a call?’

  ‘Because he said you were injured and being treated, so we couldn’t get in touch with you.’

  ‘But you knew our marriage had failed.’

  ‘This is true, but he said he was back in the country on leave, and that you had asked someone to call him to collect the children to take them to your bedside.’

  ‘You should have checked first.’ Lauren’s voice had risen, and all eyes in the office were upon her.

  ‘I realise that, now, but we had no reason to disbelieve him. He was so plausible, and it wasn’t until Mrs Moth, your childcare assistant, came to collect them that we realised that anything was amiss.’

  ‘But, where would he take them? He hasn’t contacted me about taking them away.’

  ‘I’m afraid I have no information on that.’

  ‘Then you’re reporting that they’ve been abducted?’ The sergeant’s face had drained of all colour.

  ‘I suppose I am.’

  ‘You stupid, irresponsible bitch! How could you do something so, so …?’ Her voice tailed away as she ran out of adjectives to describe what the headmistress had done without checking with a third party first. ‘You could’ve called the station to check up on me. You could’ve called the hospital to see if I’d been admitted, but instead you just fell for his lies and let them go with him? They could be anywhere.’

  ‘He seemed genuinely concerned for your welfare. I must admit, he was very persuasive.’

  ‘He is. That’s why he’s so good at his job. That man could lie for England.’

  Olivia snatched the handset from her colleague and began to talk to the woman on the other end in a more rational manner. After a couple of minutes while Lauren wrung her hands and hung her head, the inspector handed back the handset with the words, ‘Mrs Moth. She’s in a real state. Try not to be too hard on her. This wasn’t her fault.’

  She spoke quite kindly to her employee, stating that she understood that none of this was her fault, and that she couldn’t be held responsible for releasing the children into the care of her soon-to-be ex-husband, but when she ended the call, she burst into tears.

  ‘Oh, my babies, my babies, my babies. Whatever am I going to do?’

  ‘It’s not too late yet to get something out today. Firstly, we’ll have to go back to your house to get some recent photographs. Then we’ll get them issued, start a search, get the local press involved and get an appeal on the television as breaking news. He’ll be picked up.

  ‘And don’t worry yourself about what we were working on. These reports can wait till tomorrow, and Baz Bailey will be picked up. They can hold him overnight if necessary. We’ve got twenty-four hours to question him, and if we’re not done by then, we can get an extension of custody.’

  ‘I don’t give a shit about Baz Bailey. I just want my children back safe and sound. I can’t believe Kenneth has done this. I had no idea he was over here on leave.’ There would be no illicit rendezvous for her tonight.

  On their way to her barn conversion home, Olivia asked her, ‘Have you got an interim supervision order or whatever it’s called? I don’t know the exact term, because I’ve never been divorced.’

  ‘There’s no custody order in place. We’ve only just started divorce proceedings, although we’ve applied for it to be a quick one so that things don’t get protracted.’

  ‘It’ll be all right, Lauren.’

  ‘That Mrs Hendry’s such an airhead. I don’t think she should be in a position of authority.’

  ‘You can’t be worrying about that now. The first things to be sorted out are photographs so that we can get this abduction publicised. Someone will have seen him either before he took them or afterwards, when he’ll be even more conspicuous, once his face is out there.’

  ‘He can’t take them out of the country.’

  ‘That’s a relief, anyway. Have they got their own passports?’

  ‘Yes. God, actually I’ll have to lodge those with the solicitor. I know I’ve changed the locks, but I’d put money on him getting in some way.’

  ‘Better to be safe than sorry.’

  ‘Shit, I wonder i
f he’s got Gerda with him.’

  ‘There’s no point in speculating. Let’s just get on with getting what he’s done out with the media and then wait for sightings.’

  For a moment, Lauren lost it again. ‘Omigod, omigod, omigod, what if we can’t find them? What if he’s arranged false passports for them and takes them out to that Godawful place where he’s working?’

  ‘Calm down. We will find them.’

  They called first at the school to speak to Mrs Hendry, who was in quite a state herself now she fully comprehended what she had done, and was fretting about her position at the school. What if she lost her job? She should have found some other way of confirming the father’s story. But he had seemed so plausible at the time, and she had just been concerned about the children getting to see their mother in hospital. And he had been so charming and believable, seeming genuinely upset for what he said had happened to his wife and getting the children to her bedside as quickly as possible.

  But she was perfectly aware that the children had been transferred from boarding school to the church school simply because the parents’ marriage had failed. Why had she believed his story without a qualm? Was it because the children were well-mannered and came from a good address? Was it because they all seemed so respectable? She knew this sort of thing happened, but just not to pupils from her school.

  When the two detectives did arrive, it was all Olivia could do to restrain Lauren from attacking the head teacher. Forcing her into a chair, she asked Mrs Hendry if she could describe what Mr Groves had been wearing when he had picked up the children, as they would need that information when putting out an appeal for anyone else who had seen him.

  ‘He had on a grey pinstripe suit, white shirt and a navy tie, and looked like he had just come from his office,’ she told them.

  ‘But he works in the Middle East. Did you listen to nothing I told you when my children started here?’ Olivia actually put her hand over Lauren’s mouth while shielding her action by putting herself between the two women.