by Helen Fields
‘I had a couple more questions about your whereabouts this week actually,’ Ava said. ‘Just five more minutes should do it.’
‘Oh, forgive me, I thought I was here to answer questions about what I might have seen in the Meadows. If we’ve covered that subject, then I’m afraid I’ll have to leave. It was lovely to meet you. Leo said I’d enjoy it.’ He reached out a hand to shake Ava’s. ‘Goodbye, Ava. I’m sure we’ll meet under more interesting circumstances soon.’
He nodded to the headmaster then left the room. Ava had the urge to scrub her hands.
‘Shall I see if we’ve managed to contact Leo Plunkett’s father?’ McGowan asked.
‘No need,’ Ava said. ‘I can see we’re wasting your time. What a very smart group of boys you have here. So much more grown up than the seventeen-year-olds we usually deal with. Quite sophisticated, in fact.’
‘Thank you for saying so,’ the headmaster said. ‘I’ll leave you to find your way out then, if you don’t mind. Noah’s father is expecting a call from me. Good day.’
Salter waited until they were in the street before speaking her mind. ‘Little shithead,’ she growled. ‘My God, it was like dealing with a politician.’
‘Not quite,’ Ava replied. ‘Politicians know when to trade confidence for the appearance of shock. The delightful Mr Alby-Croft has yet to recognise the value of pretending to be taken unawares. He was happy to let us know how masterful he is by preparing for our questions, but he forgot that the price he was going to pay for that was an ongoing investigation.’
‘But there’s no evidence against any of them,’ Salter said. ‘A coincidental key in the park and the use of language that Noah very astutely assured us was commonplace.’
‘There’s evidence somewhere. A droplet of blood on shoes. A weapon. Text messages with arrangements to meet. Perhaps even a memento in the form of a photograph taken just before Melanie Long’s life ended. If we look hard enough, there’ll be a trail.’
‘I don’t doubt it. The question is, will we be allowed to look at all?’ Salter replied.
Chapter Thirty
Coffee in the Cloud was busy. Through the glass frontage, a middle-aged woman could be seen serving food and drink while a slightly older male handled computer queries. Callanach leaned against his car, an unlit Gauloise in his mouth, and studied the set-up. The small industrial unit just off Howden South Road looked unloved, having fallen prey to an outlet retail park nearby where you could park for hours and fulfil every retail, food or indoor leisure fetish imaginable. There was a hairdressing salon above the cafe, a Chinese takeaway to its right and a couple of empty units advertised as for rent. The internet cafe seemed to be the only one thriving. Tripp got off his phone and exited the car.
‘We’ll have backup units here in a few minutes, sir,’ he said.
‘Good. Tell them to wait until I ask them to enter. We’ll get information faster if we don’t have to bleed it out of the hard drives with warrants.’
‘There are more people in there than I’d have expected. I don’t get it. Anyone can wander into a library these days and use a computer with wifi. Why would you pay for something you can get for free?’ Tripp mused.
‘Because there are certain websites you can’t access from the library, and lots of cameras. Here there’s nothing. You can access any website you want without the police tracing your home computer address. God only knows what secrets those computers are hiding, and from a commercial standpoint it’s all perfectly legal.’
‘So it’s a magnet for anyone who wants to do dodgy stuff online but who doesn’t have the technical skills to cover their tracks at home,’ Tripp said.
‘Exactly. Which means the owners will be wary. Let’s keep this friendly as long as possible. No one who’s using the place now leaves without giving a statement. Some of them may be regulars and might have been here when our man came in.’ A string of marked police cars entered the car park and filled the available spaces. ‘Right, let’s go.’
The chatter evaporated into silence as Callanach and Tripp went in. There was a sudden reaching for coats and wallets, the scraping of chairs and logging off of computers.
‘Please take your seats again,’ Callanach announced. ‘We’re only here to make a quick enquiry about a previous customer.’ No one retook their seat. Tripp did a quick head count. There were eight men and two women at screens, and all appeared deeply uncomfortable. ‘No one is obliged to stay, but when you leave, you will each need to answer a few questions and provide a statement regarding dates and times you were here. We’re asking for your help, nothing more.’
There was a clatter of furniture as a young man bolted for the fire exit. Callanach noted the computer he’d been using and made a mental note to have it seized. Shouts from the rear of the property indicated what Callanach and Tripp already knew. They’d posted officers there earlier to assist people who might think using the alternative door was a good idea.
‘If this is a raid, where’s the paperwork?’ the man behind the counter asked.
‘It’s not a raid. We’re simply after your assistance, on a voluntary basis. Of course, if anything happens while we’re here that gives us reasonable cause to believe that a crime has been or is being committed, that would change things.’ Callanach took the schedule of the killer’s visits to the cafe out of his pocket. ‘We need to know what you can tell us about a man who visited on three occasions. These are the dates and times.’ He slid the paper over the counter.
‘If you know when he was here, you must know who he is. Do you want to give me a name or show me a photo at least?’ the man asked.
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Tripp said. ‘Do you have CCTV here?’
‘No. It’s a bunch of relatively old computers and we take all the cash out of the premises each night. How do you know this man came here, if you don’t know who he is?’
‘Are you the owner?’ Callanach enquired.
‘Yes. Richie Pleasance. This is my wife. We run the place together,’ he said. His wife, who had been furiously wiping the countertop and putting cups in the sink, did her best to smile.
‘Good. So you know that if you own these computers and it’s your internet connection, I can hold you liable for anything that’s on them. Anything, for example, that your customers might have accidentally downloaded to the hard drive. Do you check them regularly to make sure there’s nothing illegal on the machines?’ Callanach asked.
‘It’s not like we can check them every night. That would be crazy. We’re here ten hours a day as it is,’ Richie moaned.
‘And making a profit, by the looks of it,’ Tripp said. ‘This man is six foot one. We have a video that shows his build but we don’t have a good shot of his face. If you can help us with any other details, that would be useful.’ He held up a still from the shopping mall CCTV footage. The man peered at it, looking unimpressed.
Richie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We have a lot of people come through here and we don’t take names or check identification.’
‘Are you able to find out how he paid you?’ Callanach asked.
‘It would have been cash. We don’t have a debit or credit card machine. Gets too expensive,’ Richie said.
‘You run a cash-only business,’ Callanach noted. ‘When did you last get a tax inspection?’
Richie sighed, taking the hint, snatching the picture from Tripp’s hand and waving it in his wife’s direction. ‘Do you remember him?’ he asked her.
‘Sort of. I don’t really pay that much attention. Most of our customers are men. I reckon women have too much to do at home to bother spending all day staring at a screen. I sure as hell don’t get to sit down very often,’ she moaned.
‘Don’t bloody start. Do you remember him or not?’ Richie snapped.
‘Vaguely. He was wearing these really thick glasses, I think. Big black frames and coke-bottle lenses. Couldn’t really see his eyes. Been in three times, you reckon? I only remember him
twice, but then I’m sometimes out shopping. Both times I saw him, he used the same computer, sat over in that corner.’ She pointed to the far side of the room, where the computer screen was facing away from both the serving area and the window. It made sense, keeping himself to himself and out of others’ memories. ‘Never ordered anything to eat or drink that I was aware of, tight bastard, just paid for his time on the computer then left.’
‘We’re going to have to take that computer with us,’ Callanach said. ‘This is an important investigation. You’ll get it back when we’ve finished checking the data. Also, you’ll both need to make statements confirming what you’ve told us today.’
‘You can’t just take our stuff. That’s how we make our living. I’ll want to be compensated,’ Richie blustered.
‘Or,’ Callanach said, ‘I could decide that I’m deeply concerned about the lack of accountability here and the likely use these computers are being put to, and take all of them.’ Richie gritted his teeth and motioned towards the computer in the corner. ‘Thank you for your cooperation.’
‘You won’t be in touch with the Revenue about us, then?’ the wife muttered.
‘If we had additional details about the man we’re looking for, I’m sure we’d be too busy to speak with the tax office,’ Tripp said. Callanach was surprised at the younger officer. It wasn’t like his detective constable to be so manipulative.
‘Well …’ Richie’s wife mumbled. ‘There was his vehicle.’
‘For Christ’s sake, if it gets out that you’re blabbing, no one’ll ever want to use this place again,’ Richie groaned.
‘But on the plus side, you won’t be in prison for abetting a murderer,’ Tripp said softly.
Richie and his wife stared at one another.
‘I noticed it because of the mud all over the number plate. You couldn’t read it at all. He parked at the far end of the unit spaces, nearly where you exit onto the main road. I only saw his car at all because I was putting the signs out the first time he came. The second time, I know it sounds stupid, but I looked to see if he’d washed the mud off the licence plate yet. He still hadn’t. I think I may have even said something to him about it.’
‘How did he respond?’ Callanach asked.
‘He didn’t. Just ignored me. Not unusual in here. Most people want to be left alone with the screen.’
‘I bet they do,’ Tripp commented. ‘What colour was the vehicle?’
‘Very dark, like a deep shade of grey, but old, you know, and tatty. The paintwork was patchy.’
‘Make and model?’ Callanach pushed.
‘It was some sort of minivan. Can’t help more than that.’
Tripp and Callanach left the squad to question the other customers and seize the computer in question. For the first time since this all began, Callanach was starting to believe they might actually be able to find Kate Bailey and spare her parents the news they were braced for.
Chapter Thirty-One
The incident room was completely silent. Ava walked in, threw down her coat and checked her watch.
‘It’s midday,’ she began. ‘Before midnight I want to know who that minivan belongs to and where it is being kept. We don’t have a licence plate, but the description of the exterior is very specific. The minivan is dark – either grey or black, possibly a deep blue – and the paintwork is tatty. “Patchy”, is how DI Callanach said the witness described it. We also have locations for where the driver has been and very good timings. I want CCTV rechecked for every other known location this man has been. At the shopping mall, near Kate’s halls of residence to drop off the doll, when he dropped off both Zoey and Lorna before they died. Identify all routes in and out where there are cameras for the relevant periods. If we still can’t make out the licence number, we should start to see a route pattern. Where is this man coming from? Where does he live? What is the camera furthest from the city where we can get a shot of the vehicle?’
‘Are we going to notify the public, ma’am?’ Salter asked.
‘No. We have more to lose than to gain at this point. We might still see the van on the road or parked up somewhere. The danger with publicity is that the murderer will realise we have the details and swap to a different vehicle, ditching this one. He might even kill Kate faster and run. I’m authorising a cross-agencies alert – all police forces, parking attendants, fire service, paramedics. I want CCTV controllers on the lookout at all times, calling in all vehicles that could match the description. Our best hope is that we catch this bastard while he’s driving around. Any progress on the woman seen staring out of the shop window at the suspect as he met with Kate?’
‘No clear facial picture. She followed the same route out of the shopping centre that Kate and the male took, but was keeping her head down. It looks as if she didn’t want the man to see she was following them,’ Lively said. ‘The girl from the shop gave us a description so vague it could apply to half the middle-aged women in the city.’ He flipped open a notebook. ‘Female, Caucasian, in her forties or fifties, mousy looking, brown hair tied up in bun. Did not notice eye colour. Height between five three and five six. Average build.’
‘That’s it?’ Ava asked.
‘She was carrying a shopping bag. No description of that either,’ Lively added. ‘That’s the problem when your witness is nineteen. They literally don’t see anyone over the age of twenty-nine. It’s as if you cease to exist. When I began questioning her, the girl looked confused. She actually said, “Well, she just looked like all women that age.” Now, if the woman had been standing in the optician’s next door or chemist to the other side, we might have got something close to an actual description.’
‘Bollocks,’ Ava said. ‘Right, we can only work with what we’ve got. The vehicle’s the priority. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in Superintendent Overbeck’s office.’ She picked up her coat and began walking towards the door.
PC Biddlecombe approached before she could escape. ‘Just before you go and see the super, there’s a lady in your office. She did give me her name and I checked her ID, but I can’t remember it.’
‘Okay,’ Ava said, determined not to take her frustration out on a colleague. ‘Do you at least remember what it’s about?’
‘She said it was personal, ma’am,’ Biddlecombe said, looking pleased with herself.
Ava considered explaining just how unhelpful that was, then decided it wasn’t worth the time it would take. Instead, she strode to her office to get rid of the untimely visitor, throwing the door open to find Natasha staring out of the window.
‘I’m sorry. I know you’ve got better things to do than to update me, but I just had to get news. I can’t work. I can’t sleep. I feel like I’m going insane. It’s like when you were taken, Ava. Every minute is agony. How did Kate’s parents take it?’ Natasha asked, turning round.
Ava’s first thought was that her friend looked awful, followed by the realisation that she probably looked the same herself. The toll of sleepless nights, too much coffee and insufficient vitamins could not be hidden.
‘God, Natasha, come here. I’d forgotten that you’d been through this before.’ She stepped forward to take her friend in her arms. Natasha was always so strong and outspoken. It was heartbreaking to see her devastated. ‘I know this is hard, and that you care about Kate, but there’s nothing you can do now. There’s nothing you could ever have done,’ Ava said.
‘That’s not true,’ Natasha cried, pulling out of Ava’s arms. ‘I knew her father was ill. I knew she was using the money she earned for the basics. She wasn’t buying clothes or going out clubbing. She was living on end-of-day bargains from the supermarkets and helping her friends with their assignments in return for borrowing their books. So I could have done something. I could have just given her the money, Ava. I’ve got enough, more than enough, to support myself. I never want for anything. Your father and my parents are in the same situation. We’re going to inherit money. I’m already sitting on savings I don’t spend.
I could have given her a cheque for a thousand pounds and I wouldn’t have missed it for a second.’
‘Natasha, you can’t do this …’
‘Why not? I let a young woman I knew had already been assaulted continue to let vile, abusive men screw her so she could earn what, an extra fifty quid, a hundred, even two hundred. What the hell is wrong with me that I sat there listening to the details of the shit she was living through and did absolutely nothing about it?’ she screeched.
‘With the benefit of hindsight, maybe. But you didn’t know what was going to happen to her. You didn’t know if the following week you’d have another ten, twenty, thirty students at your door with similar stories. And I doubt Kate would have taken the cash from you. Everything I know about her indicates that she’s a proud, brave, resourceful young woman who just rolled up her sleeves and did what she felt was necessary. If you’d offered her money, there was a chance she’d never have returned to you for help. Your conscience is clear, Tasha. You were there for Kate when she needed you. You came to me before anyone else realised she was missing. There’s nothing more you could have done.’
‘It’s not fair,’ Natasha said, sinking down into Ava’s armchair. ‘I know that sounds stupid and childish, but it’s just not fair. She’s a nice girl. You’d like her. I think she reminded me a bit of you, your fighting spirit. She was faced with a challenge and she decided to meet it head-on, whatever the cost to her. I can’t stand waiting for her body to be found. The worst thing is that I’ve found myself wishing it was over, as if it would be easier to bear if she was dead already.’
‘I can understand that. I don’t let myself imagine what she might be going through. You mustn’t think about that. We’re doing all we can. There’s even been a small measure of progress today. Kate’s not dead yet. She may even still be physically unharmed. You just have to let us find her.’