Paolo pointed at the ground. “We should have brought wellies with us, Dave.”
Dave grimaced. “Bloody hell, sir, my shoes won’t be worth wearing once we’ve been down there.”
Paolo shrugged. “The joy of police work, Dave. I don’t think my local drycleaner is going to be too thrilled to get these trousers in tomorrow. Come on, it might not be so bad further in.”
They trudged along the muddy path, slipping and sliding, but managing to remain upright. After ten minutes or so the smell of wood smoke, accompanied by the sound of voices, drifted towards them.
“Nearly there, Dave,” Paolo said, trying not to think about the mud clinging to his shoes and the bottoms of his trousers.
“They could have picked a more accessible spot,” Dave moaned.
Paolo grinned. “I think the whole point is to choose somewhere as inaccessible as possible so that it’s harder to move them on.”
They came to a large clearing. A mix of brightly painted traditional wagons was interspersed with a number of white transit vans. Paolo scanned the vans, looking for the registration plate they’d found on the CCTV footage, and was thrilled to see the van standing at the end of the clearing. He nudged Dave.
“Looks like we’re in luck,” he said, nodding in the direction of the van.
At his words all conversation stopped. Women gathered children to them and the men stepped forward. One man, much older than the others, hobbled towards them, leaning heavily on a stick.
“This is a private place,” the old man said. “What do you want here?”
Paolo showed his card. “I’m Detective Inspector Storey and this is Detective Sergeant Johnson. We’d like to ask you a few questions about a visit to Bradchester Central Hospital earlier this month.”
Those nearest to him gasped.
“I told you!” one of the women hissed to the man next to her.
Paolo smiled at her. “Told him what?”
The woman took a step towards him, but the old man raises his stick and waved her back.
“I’ll deal with this, Mari,” he said. Turning back, he continued, “My name is Hanzi Recos and these are my people. Any questions you have, you can put to me. Come, we can talk in my home.”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed for the largest of the painted wagons. Paolo estimated it to be about 10ft long. Paolo and Dave followed him up the steps. Inside, on the left, a stove was throwing out a lot of heat. Paolo wondered if he should take his jacket off. It was stifling in there.
“Sit,” Hanzi Recos commanded, pointing at a small sofa.
Paolo and Dave perched side by side, shoulders rubbing. The old man took a comfy looking armchair opposite them. Paolo looked around at the intricately painted panels filling every available space.
“Lots of work gone into this,” he said, pointing at the walls and ceiling.
Hanzi Recos smiled. “It has been in my family for over two hundred years. I cannot take credit for the decoration. But you haven’t come here to talk about my people’s history or this home, my vardo. You are here about that child, I think?”
Paolo nodded. “We know that one of your vans delivered the child to the hospital, but we need to know how she came to be with your people and why whoever dropped her off there didn’t take her inside.”
The old man nodded. “She was badly injured, but not by us. However, we have not the best reputation with authority, as you must know. We saw she needed help and took her to a place where she would receive that help. Had we taken her inside the chances are high we would have been accused of injuring her.”
Paolo opened his mouth to answer, but the old man held up his hand to stop him.
“Before you speak, please do me the courtesy to think about what I have just said.”
“You’re probably right,” Paolo said, “but I believe you. Please will you tell me what happened?”
The old man nodded and yelled something in a language Paolo didn’t understand, but he’d clearly called for someone because shortly afterwards a woman came in and sat down. Paolo recognised her as the woman who’d hissed to the man outside.
“Mari,” the old man said, “tell the police how you found the child and what we decided to do with her.”
“I’d had a fight with Jan, he’s my husband, and stormed off into the woods when I heard a noise. I thought it was an animal, maybe injured. I had my knife with me. I thought it was maybe something for the pot.”
The woman’s face quivered and she fell silent. Paolo became aware of the scratching of Dave’s pen as he took notes.
“But it wasn’t an animal,” Paolo prompted.
“No,” she said, “I found a child scrambling under a bush, trying to hide. She was naked and bleeding. I managed to coax her out and took her back to the camp.” She shook her head. “I was wrong about the noise coming from an animal. The animal was the one who did that to her. She had blood between her legs and running from behind. I knew she’d been raped front and back.”
She fell silent and studied her hands before looking up again. “We couldn’t understand her language. The words were all strange to us, but I’m sure she was saying thank you. I wanted to keep her with us, but after the council met it was decided to leave her at the hospital. At least we saved her from whoever had raped her. What will happen to her now?”
Paolo pictured the horror Mari must have felt when she found the child. He didn’t want to tell her she’d saved the girl only for someone to murder her in what should have been a place of safety, but he had no choice.
“I’m afraid she’s dead. Someone got to her in the hospital.”
Mari’s hand flew to her mouth. “No! How? That isn’t possible, surely?”
“I’m sorry, it’s true. Could you tell me where you were camped when you found her?”
The old man answered. “Bradchester Woods. It is one of our regular stops. Almost directly in the centre there is a large clearing with tables and benches. At this time of year few people use the woods for picnics. Before, when it is warmer, we are not able to camp because the council move us on. But in autumn, we rest there for a month or so.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us that might help track down the rapist?”
Mari spoke to the old man in their own language. The old man nodded and Mari got up and left the van.
“Please wait. She has gone to fetch one of the children.”
After a couple of minutes Mari returned, her hand clasped with that of a boy of about eight or nine. He looked at Paolo, bright-eyed and unafraid.
“Tell the policemen what you saw, Andre.”
“I was in the last van and I told my dad someone was following us.”
Paolo smiled in encouragement. “What did your dad say?”
“He said I was making it up, but I wasn’t. There was one of them posh BMWs hanging back all the way until we stopped outside town. Then, when Mari and her man took the girl to the hospital in their van, the car followed them. I told my dad, but he didn’t believe me.”
“I do,” Paolo said. “Did you get the car’s number?”
Andre shook his head. “It was too far back. No one else spotted it, but I did. I love cars like that.”
Paolo nodded. “Me too,” he said. “What colour was it?”
“Black or really, really dark blue.”
“Could you see how many were in the car?”
“It looked like four. Two in front and two in the back.”
“That’s great,” Paolo said. “You’re very observant. Were you able to see any of the people closely enough to describe them?”
Andre shook his head again. “No. They were too far away. I think one of them in front had light hair. Lighter than the others.”
“And that’s all? Nothing else you can think of that stands out?”
Andre stood for a while, eyes up towards the ceiling. Paolo could almost see the wheels turning in the boy’s head as he tried to find something to add to what he�
��d remembered so far. Finally, he gave up and shrugged at Paolo.
Taking one of his cards, he passed it to Andre. “If you remember anything, no matter how small, ask your dad if you can call me.”
Andre took the card and slipped it in the pocket of his jeans. “I don’t need to ask my dad. I’ve got my own phone.”
“I’m sure you have,” Paolo said, “but tell your dad anyway, just so that he knows you’ve spoken to me. Okay?”
Andre nodded and Mari took him outside.
Paolo stood. At least now they knew how the traffickers had known the child was in the hospital. He held out his hand to the old man. “Thank you for your help. If we need anything more, I’ll come back again. Will you stay here long?”
The old man stood and grasped Paolo’s hand. “For as long as it takes the council here to get an order moving us on. Wait, I’ll give you my mobile number. If we’re not here, you can call me.”
Paolo waited while Dave added the number to the notes he’d already taken. “You and your family have been a great help,” he said.
“I’m pleased someone is bothering about that child,” Hanzi said. “The press only care about blue-eyed children from good families. I feel for the plight of Lucy Bassington, but what about all the other children who go missing? The ones who aren’t pretty or blue-eyed – who cares about those? No one!”
“I do,” Paolo said. “I care.”
Hanzi nodded. “I believe you. If any of my people thinks of something to help, I’ll call. We get a bad press,” the old man continued with a toothless grin. “Sometimes we earn it and sometimes we don’t. This time, we’re on the side of the angels. Next time…” He shrugged. “Who knows, we might not be.”
As they trudged back through the mud to the car Paolo realised he was one of the guilty ones. Before they’d got here, he’d pretty much made up his mind the travellers must have been involved in a bad way. Now it turned out they’d been, as the old man had put it, on the side of the angels this time.
Mari had painted such a vivid word picture of the child’s condition when she’d found her, Paolo couldn’t get it out of his mind. How many other children were out there suffering in the same way?
CHAPTER TWENTY
17th October (late afternoon/evening)
Paolo stared at the Google Earth images on his computer screen, bringing into focus the layout of the properties around Bradchester Woods. He turned the monitor so that Dave, sitting on the other side of Paolo’s desk, could see as well.
“Okay, let’s see what we have. There’s the river to the south and the motorway to the north, so not much help to us there, although I suppose she could have been dumped on the motorway and made her way into the woods. Something for us to bear in mind, but not likely to have happened. There are lots of houses here on the east side,” Paolo said, pointing out a large estate on that boundary. He scrolled across to the other side of the woods. “What have we got over on the west?”
He manipulated the image and two large properties came into view. “Ah, yes. I think one of those belongs to Pete Carson,” Paolo said. “I don’t know who owns the other one, but we can soon find out.”
Dave grimaced as if a bad smell had suddenly appeared under his nose. “Pete Carson the over the hill rock star I’m going to have to suffer in a couple of months’ time?” he asked. “Maybe if we can get him locked up I won’t have to sit through a night of torture. Now there’s an idea. He absolutely fits the bill. Our very own Gary Glitter. No problem in getting the public to believe he’s involved. You’ve only got to look at who’s been found out in the last year or so. Was he ever on Top of the Pops? I bet he was. Well, that proves it. He’s our man. Let’s go pick him up.”
Paolo glanced away from the screen. “You’re lucky there’s only me in here. Someone else might have thought you were being serious.”
Dave grinned. “I am! That’d be perfect. Even Rebecca wouldn’t expect me to turn up to a concert where the main act is in jail.”
Paolo laughed. “Knowing your Rebecca she’d drag you off to listen outside the prison walls. Anyway, let’s get serious for a minute here. There hasn’t been a sniff of scandal attached to Pete Carson over the years. Well, drugs, yes, but no accusations of sexual impropriety have ever come to light. Mind you, there are plenty facing charges right now that had always appeared squeaky clean. We need to find out who owns the other house, but you and I are off to pay a visit to Pete Carson just as soon as I’ve organised uniform to do a door to door on the housing estate on the east side.”
Paolo picked up his phone, but before he could dial George tapped on the door.
“Come in,” Paolo called. “What have you got for me?”
George glanced at Dave and then back to Paolo. “Nothing, sir. I thought you might be alone.”
Dave got up. “I can leave. No problem.”
“No!” George said, his voice sounding agitated to Paolo’s ears. “It wasn’t important. I just wanted to discuss the Christmas rota. That’s all. It wasn’t important. I’ll come back later.”
He started backing out of the office.
“Wait! Dave and I are off to have a chat with Pete Carson,” Paolo said, explaining what they’d found out so far. “While we’re out, could you find out who owns this property?” He signalled for George to come and view the screen.
George nodded. “Yes, I’ll get on to it right away.”
As he left the office, Dave grimaced again. The bad smell look even more pronounced.
“What’s that face for?” Paolo asked when he was sure George was no longer in earshot.
“I’m not sure,” Dave said. “There’s something funny going on with George these days. He isn’t getting on as well with CC as he used to.”
Paolo remembered CC’s frown from earlier and wondered if there was a connection. Something else he must remember to look into.
“Let me know if you hear anything,” Paolo said. “If George has a problem we need to help him through it. Right, let’s get uniform organised on the housing estate and then we’ll go and see your favourite rock star.”
Dave drove up to the main gates of Pete Carson’s mansion.
“Looks more like a stately home than a rock star’s pad,” he said as he pressed the intercom buzzer.
“I told you.” Paolo said. “He’s gone out of his way not to upset the locals. He keeps a very low profile. No wild parties, no quad bike races, nothing like that.”
A woman’s voice sounded through the intercom. “Yes, can I help you?”
Dave held his warrant card up to the camera on the gate post.
“We’d like a word with Mr Carson.”
“I’m his housekeeper. I’m afraid he isn’t here at the moment,” the woman said. “He’s gone to visit his agent.”
“What time are you expecting him back?” Dave asked.
“Not until tomorrow. He usually stays overnight when he goes to London.”
Dave turned away from the intercom. “What now, sir?”
Paolo thought for a moment. “She might have seen something useful, but I’d rather wait and question her at the same time as Pete Carson. Ask her if she’ll be around tomorrow when he’s back.”
Dave relayed the question.
“Oh, yes, I’m here every day. Mr Carson will be here tomorrow afternoon. Could you come back then?”
“Yes, of course,” Dave said.
“Oh, before you go. What shall I tell him you want to talk about?”
“Just routine enquiries about something he might have witnessed,” Dave said. “Nothing for him, or you, to worry about.”
“Where to now, sir?” Dave asked as he reversed the car out of the driveway.
“Drive on to the next place.”
While Dave was negotiating the country roads, Paolo called George. He switched his phone to speaker mode so that Dave could listen in.
“Have you got info on the owners of that property I asked you about, George?”
“A
s far as I can tell, it’s empty, sir. I’m still trying to find out all the details, but up to now I’ve discovered the owner was something big in the city. When the market crashed he lost everything, couldn’t take the strain and topped himself. His wife and kids moved out a couple of years back when the bank repossessed. It’s been on the market ever since, but according to the estate agents there’s absolutely no interest in it.”
“Thanks, George. Good work.”
“Yeah, right,” George said and then the phone went dead.
Paolo looked at his phone. He definitely needed to set aside some time to find out what was bothering George.
“Did you get all that, Dave?”
“I did, sir. We still going to have a look?”
Paolo nodded. “Definitely. There’s nothing to say the house isn’t being used by people other than the owners.”
But when they pulled up outside the property it was clear no one had been near in a long time. They got out of the car and peered through the locked gates. Weeds had taken root on the drive leading up to the house. Paolo could see the weeds hadn’t been disturbed for at least several months as they all stood tall and undamaged.
“There’s not much point in trying to get access here,” he said. “Let’s concentrate on Pete Carson’s property and the houses on the other side of the woods.”
Dave nodded. “Back to the station?”
“Might as well,” Paolo agreed, climbing back into the car. “Nothing more we can do here until tomorrow.” He looked at his watch. “I think I’ll pick up my car and head off to the hospital. I should get there before visiting time ends.”
Dave started the car and reversed out. “How is Katy, sir?”
“She’s doing much better. Her psychiatrist says she should be able to go home in another week if she continues to improve.”
“That’s great news,” Dave said.
“It is,” Paolo said, but couldn’t help wondering if Lydia would make it difficult for him to see Katy once she had her under her wing at home.
Paolo parked and walked up to Katy’s ward, saying hello to nurses and doctors as he passed. Visiting twice a day meant he got to know faces, even if he never found out their names. As he approached Katy’s room he heard raised voices – Katy’s and Lydia’s.
Someday Never Comes (#2 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 13