Tightrope

by Andrea Frazer

  Lauren had been interviewed at home, where she was able to recount what she had been able to get from the children about Gerda trying to put a pillow over their faces and their father dragging Gerda away. She then left the children with Mrs Moth while she was taken to identify Kenneth’s and Gerda’s bodies. It was one time she was glad she was in the police and not horrified by death, although she was still very disturbed by what Kenneth had done to his young, pregnant lover, despite the fact that it seemed he was defending the children, and the way he had died. She had been given compassionate leave for a few days so that she could deal with the reaction of the children to recent events, and what they themselves had been through.

  The sight of the two bodies in the mortuary moved her more than she had thought possible. If only Kenneth had left this girl alone, or even the other way round, they would both still probably be alive. And their unborn child had had no chance. Life could be an absolute bitch sometimes, and she felt unbidden tears form in her eyes. What Kenneth and Gerda had done was unforgivable, but if only he hadn’t tried to snatch the children, they could both have gone on living and Kenneth could have had access in the school holidays.

  Now she’d have to break the chain of events to the children. At least they weren’t used to Kenneth being around very much in recent years. And she had other things on her mind. What was she going to do with her not-relationship with Daz? Should she just cut him loose and get on with her life now she was a widow? God, how horrible that sounded, but she had no loyalties to anyone except her children. There were plenty of women around that Daz could use for a quick fuck.

  On the other hand, did she want him to? It was all too convenient, although she thought there’d be a ruckus when it all came out, unless they were very careful. How uncomplicated life had been in earlier years.

  She realised that she had never appreciated the simplicity of her existence when she was at home with the children. She might have said that life was hard and tiring but, compared with what it was now, it had been a breeze, really.

  Olivia had Baz Bailey in an interview room and had made it clear that she would accept no bullshit. Lenny Franklin had been grabbed unceremoniously from the office and was now sitting beside her waiting for her to start the recording.

  ‘Before I press the button, Mr Bailey, I want to make it quite clear to you that I have had a full and frank discussion with your partner, and she has brought me up to speed on exactly what happened with poor, defenceless, six-week-old Stacey. If you try to feed me any bullshit I shall come down on you like the proverbial ton of bricks. Do we understand each other?’

  ‘Yes,’ croaked Baz, his eyes flicking frantically from side to side as if he were looking for some way to escape. Consequences was a game he had never liked to play, and the rules in the adult game were so much more difficult to live with.

  ‘Now, if you tell me the truth, it may help in your defence. You are going down for this, and you’re not going to have a good time in prison, so the more straight you are with me now, the less time you’ll be locked away with all those psychos who don’t like baby-killers. Or all those screws who don’t take kindly to disposing of an ‘inconvenience’ in the way that you have done. Do I make myself clear to you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he repeated, sounding as if his throat was as dry as a desert, and looking as if all the moisture he could ever need was now leaking out of his forehead and top lip.

  Lenny slid his eyes sideways towards the inspector. He’d never known her sound so menacing. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for his brief?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m more than happy to do that,’ replied Olivia, not removing her gaze from Baz Bailey’s perspiring face. ‘I just hope that Mr Bailey isn’t so stupid as to offer a ‘no comment’ interview. That won’t go well for him in court.

  There was a knock at the door and a slim and expensively besuited man was led in, and sat the other side of the table beside the prisoner, before shooting a grim smile at those opposite him. ‘Are we ready to start?’ he asked.

  ‘We have been for some time, but then we’re not as important and busy as you obviously are.’

  ‘I say!’ he objected, but Olivia ignored him and pressed the button to start the two tapes whirring, giving the appropriate information for this to be used in evidence. ‘Now, Mr Bailey,’ she began, ‘can you tell me exactly what happened on the night that you killed your daughter?’

  ‘You can’t say that!’

  ‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. OK, Mr Bailey, can you tell me what happened on the night before you buried the dead body of your daughter in your partner’s mother’s garden?’

  ‘You simply can’t talk to my client like that.’

  ‘Really? Let’s start again, then. What happened, Mr Bailey, on the night before your daughter’s abduction was faked?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Bailey interrupted. ‘I’m going to tell the truth. You can go if you like.’ He addressed this last to his solicitor. ‘I ain’t going to get away with this, so there’s no point in trying to twist things and lie to get me off, because it ain’t going to work, see?’

  ‘Mr Bailey, I am here to look after your best interests,’ his brief interjected.

  ‘And I’m here to get the shortest time inside that I possibly can, by not pissing around the police, OK?’ retorted Baz.

  ‘Would you care to share the details of the time indicated to you in my last question?’ Olivia pressed on.

  ‘Look, she was screaming. That’s all she ever did when I was around, and for most of the night too. I’d got to the point where I just couldn’t take the noise any more, and I sort of acted stupidly.’

  ‘You didn’t think of moving the Moses basket into another room?’

  ‘I didn’t think at all: I just wanted the noise to stop. I couldn’t sleep: I couldn’t even think straight. Carole said how it was all going to be lovely, just the three of us after she was born, but it was like hell on earth.’

  ‘So, what did you do, Mr Bailey?’

  ‘I got out of bed, and I picked her up, and then I shook her to stop the noise.’

  ‘You shook her the way a dog shakes a toy?’

  ‘I just shook her so that she’d shut up.’ There was a tension in the room, almost palpable, that none of the other occupants dared to break.

  ‘And what did you do next, Mr Bailey?’

  ‘She stopped yelling, and I put her back in her basket and went back to bed.’

  ‘Without checking that she was all right?’

  ‘I didn’t think there’d be anything wrong.’

  ‘And what happened the next morning?’

  ‘I woke up when Carole started yelling. I didn’t know what was wrong.’

  ‘But Carole soon told you, didn’t she, Mr Bailey?’

  ‘She said Stacey was dead, and I thought, like, it must have been one of them cot deaths.’

  ‘You never thought that the shaking you’d given her frail, six-week-old body could have had anything to do with it?’

  ‘Course I didn’t.’

  ‘So, why then did you suggest to Carole that she should go out to the shop and then pretend that Stacey had been abducted from the car’s baby seat while she was out of the vehicle?’

  ‘Why did you do that, Mr Bailey?’ asked Lenny.

  ‘Because I knew your lot wouldn’t believe someone like me.’ Bailey looked down at the floor at this statement.

  ‘Only if you told the truth. And Carole went along with this madcap scheme of yours, did she?’

  ‘She didn’t know what to do, either.’

  ‘So, you killed Stacey and then got Carole to agree to a conspiracy to hide the death?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘How was it then, Mr Bailey?’

  ‘Look, I didn’t mean to hurt the kid. I just wanted her to shut up for a while and let me get some kip.’

  ‘And then you pointedly avoided us from that point onwards, not wanting to face being questioned, and told your partner that if
she didn’t do exactly what you told her to do, you’d throw acid in her face?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he whined.

  ‘So, how exactly was it, Mr Bailey?’

  ‘Look, I done it. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill her. I just wanted to go to sleep in peace. It was like she was torturing me.’

  ‘So you killed her?’ Baz Bailey started to sob. ‘Then threatened your partner – your daughter’s mother – with violence if she didn’t go along with your charade?

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be like this.’

  ‘I think my client could do with a break now.’ Finally the brief spoke again, having been silent throughout the confession. Even he looked faintly disgusted with what he had heard.

  Olivia went for a walk outside before she could return to her desk and, inevitably, Lenny beat her to it, so that, when she finally got back to the office, the news that Baz Bailey had coughed to the murder of little Stacey Shillington and that they should have no trouble in getting the CPS to prosecute had gone ahead of her. There was a small round of applause, over which could be heard Buller’s normally hectoring tones calling, ‘Well done, that woman,’ something that Olivia thought would never normally pass his misogynist lips.

  He then called her over and told her that he did now have an identity for their mystery corpse, and pointing out to her that they currently had three unsolved murders. ‘Four,’ she corrected him. ‘You’re not including the newborn in that.’

  Ignoring her, he continued, ‘And I reckon that the first two are going to be down to our nailed-hand chappie, and some unknown accomplice. I’ve got an answer on the prints, and he’s a Moroccan who came over here on a tourist visa about three years ago from France. He’s overstayed his welcome somewhat, but has a record as long as your arm under the name of Muhammed Kharboub. In general, he was referred to as Ali Kebab or Ali Baba, but this is no fairy tale.’

  ‘Muhammed?’ squeaked Olivia.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Kharboub?’

  ‘Yep’

  ‘Moroccan?’

  ‘Yep!’

  ‘So how come he looked so bloody Celtic? What gene pool do you reckon his mother was dipping her toes into, then? What a red herring those descriptions were.’

  ‘But they fooled us, didn’t they?’

  ‘And how. Wait till the others hear about this – a red-haired and freckled Moroccan who looks more Irish or Scottish than North African.’ Olivia gave a wry smile at this enigma that fate had thrown at them, then continued. ‘Trying to set up on his own, you think?’

  ‘Definitely. We’ve got an address for him, and I’ll send Desai and Leo off to have a look with a warrant. I’ve already contacted the landlord and got him to agree to meet them there with a key first thing in the morning. We should find all the proof we need to nail him to that address, no pun intended.’

  ‘And who do you think did for him?’

  ‘Definitely a gang; no hint of where they might be based. They may be in this county, or they may be from further afield. We’ll have to dig a bit deeper for that information, but his death was a clear message to anyone trying to muscle in on this area.’

  ‘How did Operation Zee-Tee go?’ she asked, casually, as she had been more noticeable by her absence from a lot of the action.

  ‘Take a look at some of the faces round you. It was a rip-roaring success, and we had to use several stations for those detained and waiting for interview. How’s your partner?’

  Assuming that he meant Lauren, she brought him up to date and informed him that she was taking a few days’ compassionate leave. What she didn’t notice was Daz Westbrook’s ears pricking up at the news, and then immediately applying himself to his mobile phone.

  ‘Looks like we can all get away at a decent hour tonight, then.’ The DCI really did seem pleased at the prospect.

  ‘Does that mean you’ll be leaving this happy little band?’ Olivia asked this, trying not to sound sarcastic.

  ‘Not just yet, so, no need to start weeping. I want to get the rest of the forensic evidence from the three people found dead in 3 Gooding Avenue and put a few feelers out first, before I return to my own gang; but don’t worry, I can be back here very soon, if needed.’

  The inspector tried to produce a sincere smile and found it next to impossible. ‘We shall miss your cheery countenance around the office.’

  ‘Don’t try to flannel me, but it hasn’t been all bad, as far as I’m concerned. I shall remember my time here, but I’m sure Jenner will be glad to get back to his home turf.’

  When Olivia finally got the chance to apply herself to the paperwork that had built up while she was otherwise engaged, she found that there had been a couple of reports from the officers that had gone up to the tip to see if anyone there knew about the ‘baby in the bag’.

  There was a rumour that a party of travellers, who had squatted illegally for a few weeks on some waste ground north of the ring road, were breaking in, in the early hours and scavenging for anything they could sell on. She had a nagging suspicion that they would be able to locate the finder of the little dead body there. Whoever found it didn’t want to be identified handing it in, but was obviously moved enough to want it to be declared, and not just crushed or burnt with the waste.

  It would be worth paying the settlement a casual visit to see if she could jog anyone’s conscience. She could at least acquire some plain-clothed bodies to do this, as Buller looked like he had got his man.

  As she mentally selected Daz and Teddy – an Irishman is always handy when dealing with travellers, she thought – to do this very early the next morning, there was a roar from Buller. ‘I don’t believe it. Talk about locking the stable door after the horse has bolted.’

  ‘What is it, guv?’ She thought she was entitled to call him this now that they had reached some sort of understanding.

  ‘That e-fit of our red-headed murderer has just come through. Just a bit late, wouldn’t you say? And looking nothing like our DIY enthusiast.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure you’ve got the right man?’

  ‘You mean, apart from the fact that he was nailed to a table in the house of death?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Just about. There’s more intel coming in on him all the time, since we got a name to work with.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘There’s a van registered in his name which has been clocked going back and forth to France on a regular basis. That might explain all the contraband. And he was more than likely killed as a warning to others trying to move in to this patch. That will do for the weed growing.

  ‘But there were two hooded figures seen fleeing from that house over the back fence. I wonder where the hell his partner is, and who the bloody hell he is, so we can look for him. We still don’t have any identification or even description of this joker.’

  ‘Mind your blood pressure, guv. And the murders that started this thing all off?’

  ‘As I said, that could easily be explained away as a warning that didn’t work.’

  ‘So, you don’t think our Moroccan friend did them?’

  ‘You’ve got me there. I believe he did, but I just can’t work out why. If they were caretaking for him, why would he turn on them? Unless they’d been rather loose-lipped about the operation. OK, I know they weren’t English, but where you get one or two illegals, there are usually a couple of dozen others. There’s something more going on here than we understand or can recognise at the moment, and I want to get to the bottom of it.’ He thumped the last phrase out, word for word, on the desk’s surface to emphasize his frustration at still being in the dark.

  ‘There’s something here we don’t understand yet?’

  ‘I think there is – in fact, I know there is. We just have to do a bit more digging.’

  ‘I don’t think he killed them.’ For a moment Olivia was certain of this.

  ‘Does not compute, Hardy. Of course he did for them. They may have b
een talking, like I just said, and he couldn’t risk being discovered.’

  ‘No, there’s more to this than meets the eye, guv.’

  ‘If you want to believe that, then there are fairies at the bottom of my garden.’

  ‘No doubt called Justin and Tristram.’

  ‘Don’t be facetious to a senior officer, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m right,’ finished Olivia, but she said it in a hushed tone. She was sure there was more to this situation than they had unearthed, but Buller had sounded most convincing in his conjecture that this case was more serious and more complicated than they yet comprehended.

  INTERLUDE

  She had managed to get clear of the trees and saw the dark shapes of the glass buildings in the darkness ahead. If she could only get in there, she could hide, and emerge when people turned up the next day. Then she could find out what had happened to her baby. They had taken it away so quickly that she hadn’t had a chance to hold the little form, let alone look at the face. She didn’t even know whether it was a boy or a girl.

  When she was three-quarters of the way across the open stretch, she heard the sound of pursuit and tried to quicken her pace, but she was already rushing flat-out over the grass. As hostile shouts came from her pursuers, she caught her foot in a hole in the turf and went flying, finding despair washing over her. What would happen now?

  She’d broken the most important rule and come in pregnant. The loose smocks, or overalls or whatever they called them, that they wore for work had allowed her to conceal it until almost the last moment, but they had made her pay for her deception by stealing her child and had done heaven knew what with it. She must find her baby, or tell someone what had happened, so that they could help her look for it.

  Would they send her back to where she had come from, now? She really didn’t think she could go on with her current existence, and she couldn’t face going back. What was to become of her if she couldn’t be a mother?