by G D Sanders
‘Money! The buggers didn’t offer me no money. It were just questions … questions and that photo the bastards took when I opened door.’
‘So it was just the locals, the local papers.’
‘Spose so.’
‘It may not be too late to make some money.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘With Lucy Naylor missing, the newspapers could be interested, even the nationals.’
‘I could use some money.’ Kimberley’s eyes were bright and she looked less tired but then a guarded expression came over her face. ‘How d’you know so much?’
‘I’ve got a contact with The Chronicle. I could look into it and let you know.’
Kimberley relaxed. Her brightness returned. ‘Would ya?’
‘Sure, I’ll see you in a day or two.’
‘How did you get on?’ Verity Shaw, the editor of The Canterbury Chronicle, looked up from her desk as Becky Hawthorne walked into the office. Becky’s childlike face never revealed much emotion but Verity was sure her young reporter had been successful.
‘I’ve got her.’ There was no sense of triumph in Becky’s voice. Instead, her tone and slightly raised eyebrows implied surprise that anybody could possibly think otherwise.
‘Excellent. Delve deep, double check and take time to write a feature. Meanwhile, dig back in the archives. I’m sure another girl went missing around eight to ten years ago. Find all we have on that case and then do 200 words for tomorrow’s edition. Was there a third victim? That’s your headline.’
‘What about your Chief Reporter?’
‘Timothy? He had his chance four years ago and got nothing more than Missing local girl found unharmed with a poor photograph. We had to lead with Farmers protest EU subsidy for marsh maintenance for God’s sake. He tried again when Lucy was reported missing and he couldn’t get his toe in the door let alone his feet under the table.’
Verity took a pencil and scribbled a note.
‘I’ll say you’re doing a short pot-boiler and working on a human interest piece from a woman’s perspective. Dig deep and follow what you find.’
‘Right, I’ll play it close to my chest.’
‘Do that.’
As Becky left the office, Verity’s crossword-honed mind mused that ‘chest’ probably was the most appropriate word for her elfin young reporter who seemed to spend all her free time in the nearest gym or sitting with a skinny latte and her laptop in the coffee shop next door.
23
‘Lucy’s been missing for 11 days. In most cases of abduction we’d be looking for a body but, finally, we’ve got a lead.’
DI Saunders had been called to Maidstone and, without putting it to DS Potts, Ed had taken charge of the team meeting.
‘Yesterday, Nat and I spoke to Kimberley Hibben about her abduction and she made a real effort to answer our questions.’
Mike interrupted. ‘Erm … you said abduction but we concluded Callum had found a place for her to hide so he could bring her home in triumph.’
Ed trod carefully. ‘With Kimberley’s reticence during the initial investigation that was a valid conclusion, but yesterday she mentioned details that convinced us she really was abducted.’
‘So, what’s new?’ Mike was leaning forward in his chair, fists on the table, his question tinged with antagonism.
Ed knew it wouldn’t feel good having a junior colleague and a newcomer challenge your conclusions, but the Hibben case hadn’t been Mike’s finest hour.
‘Nat, you took notes. Give us the highlights.’
‘Kimberley left work, still with a hangover from New Year’s Eve, and he grabbed her from behind. Claimed she saw nothing. Ed got her to reflect. She said there might have been a vehicle parked by the side of the road. Pressed, she said it was more likely a van than a car.’
‘If she saw nothing why did she say “he”?’ asked Jenny. ‘How did she know it was a man?’
‘Exactly what we thought,’ said Ed, cutting in, ‘but Kimberley said she saw him while he held her captive.’
‘Description?’ asked Mike abruptly.
‘He wore a hood and was not as tall or as slim as Nat.’
‘Not much to go on then.’ Mike sounded pleased.
‘But we got something else,’ said Nat with the smile of a novice revealing a winning hand. ‘Kimberley said he sounded like Punch.’
‘Punch …? You mean the seaside puppet, Mr Punch?’
‘Yes, Jenny.’ Ed smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘We think he realized his victim could recognize his voice, which implies the abductor was somebody Kimberley knew.’
‘So we’ve narrowed the field,’ Nat added quickly.
‘Did you get anything else?’ asked Mike.
Ed decided to take over. ‘We questioned her about where she was held but her description was vague. However, she said it was lit by lamps and the only warmth was from paraffin heaters. So no electricity, it was in the countryside, off the grid.’
‘Maybe,’ said Mike, now more engaged. ‘It could’ve been in town with the supply cut off.’
‘She heard foxes,’ said Ed. ‘Doesn’t that suggest countryside woods?’
‘Could be, but bloody foxes get everywhere. There are easy pickings from rubbish in town these days.’
‘Did you ask why she refused a medical examination?’ Once again, Jenny had remembered a critical point.
‘She reiterated that he didn’t hurt her,’ said Ed. ‘In fact, she said he was good to her. From what we saw, he probably cared for her better than she cares for herself.’
‘Let’s hope it’s the same man who’s taken Lucy,’ said Jenny.
‘Even if it is the same man, he may behave differently this time,’ said Nat.
‘Nat’s right,’ said Ed, ‘all the time Lucy is missing she’s in danger.’ She looked round the table and, thinking it was time to bringing the point-scoring to an end, she started to sum up.
‘With the detail Kimberley gave us, we must assume she was abducted. She’s also given us our first real lead. Her abductor disguised his voice by speaking like Mr Punch. Apart from friends and family, who else might want to mask his voice?’
‘They were both 17, so one of the staff at their school?’ suggested Jenny.
‘Kimberley had already left school,’ said Nat.
‘She’d left the year before. The school staff would be fresh in her mind.’
‘Jenny’s right,’ said Ed, ‘the girls went to the same school. That’s a real link. Tomorrow Mike and I will speak to potential suspects among the teachers and ancillary staff. Anything else?’
No one spoke.
‘What about the Mr Punch voice?’
‘How do they do it?’ asked Jenny.
‘With a reed or some such in their mouths,’ said Mike.
‘Exactly,’ said Ed. ‘If we can trace where he got the device, the purchase records could lead us straight to him. Nat, get online and find out who sells them. Okay …’
Ed was about to terminate the meeting when the door opened and Desk Sergeant Williams burst into the room holding a newspaper. He started towards Mike Potts then veered to Ed’s side of the table.
‘It’s this week’s Chronicle. I thought you’d want to see it asap.’ He pointed to a short piece at the bottom of the front page, headlined Did Mr Punch claim a third victim?
As Williams left the room, Ed started to read the article aloud. ‘“Following the recent disappearance of Lucy Naylor and a possible link with the Kimberley Hibben case in 2008, The Chronicle asks, was there a third victim? Ten years ago in 2002, 17-year-old Teresa Mulholland disappeared in similar circumstances. Our archives show …” blah, blah, blah. “Here at The Chronicle we pray Lucy has been taken by the same Mr Punch because Teresa and Kimberley were returned unharmed.”’
Ed began to lower the newspaper but failed to control her anger and slammed it onto the table.
‘Why the hell wasn’t I told about this? How can a local rag be more on top of the
case than you are?’ After a long moment of uneasy silence, she added, ‘Mike?’
Potts looked uncomfortable, probably wondering if he’d forgotten the Mulholland case. Nat and Jenny were new to the Force. Neither had been around in 2002. However, Ed wasn’t surprised that Nat was quick to make the point.
‘This third abduction was in 2002, way before our time. Jenny and I were still at school.’
‘I realize that, but have you really heard nothing? With all that’s going on, nobody thought to mention the Mulholland case?’
‘Nobody’s said a word,’ said Jenny.
‘Not even DI Saunders?’
Ed waited, expecting Mike to speak. His continued silence caused her anger to return and it tinged her voice as she turned to him.
‘Mike, what about you? You were on the Force in 2002. What have you got to say?’
‘Sorry, Ed, but I’m as surprised as you.’ Mike’s face had reddened but he pressed on. ‘I know nothing about a Teresa Mulholland. I’m sure there’s nothing in the files.’
‘A girl goes missing for five weeks and you know nothing about it. Worse still, there’s no record in the files?’
‘It was ten years ago. Neither I nor Brian worked on the case. If charges had been brought we’d have heard. I guess the case was dropped for lack of evidence.’
‘There should still be a record,’ said Ed. ‘If we’ve got nothing, where did this journalist, Rebecca Hawthorne, get her story?’
‘There must be a record in the newspaper files,’ said Jenny.
Ed guessed there would soon be pressure from above. With this story in the press the Super was sure to be onto it. Tipped off by his staff, the Chief Constable was probably already on the phone.
‘Nat and Jenny, what would you do next?’
‘Interview the reporter,’ said Jenny.
‘Demand to search The Chronicle’s files,’ said Nat.
‘Right targets but I don’t want anything said to the press. There must be no indication we were ignorant of the Mulholland story.’
‘I agree,’ said Mike, ‘this mustn’t get out.’
‘Keeping a lid on it is one thing, but we need a breakthrough,’ said Ed. ‘Nat, get onto the Mr Punch devices and remember the trail now goes back to 2002. Jenny, I want all you can find on Teresa Mulholland’s abduction. Start with back copies of The Chronicle.’
‘I’ll go through police files,’ said Mike.
‘Do that. How can the abduction of a local girl not be recorded?’
24
Ed had intended to get a coffee from the machine down the corridor but, on leaving the Incident Room, she had another idea. Taking her mobile to the car park, she made a call.
‘Canterbury Chronicle, Verity Shaw, editor, speaking.’
‘Hi, Verity, it’s Ed. Do you have time for a coffee?’
‘Deakin’s in 30 minutes.’
‘I’ll see you there.’
Back at her desk, Ed called the school to agree tomorrow’s visit before setting off to meet Verity. On her way out she spoke to Desk Sergeant Williams.
‘Barry, I’ve got a meeting in Deakin’s over coffee. Where is it exactly?’
‘On the corner of Sun Street and Guildhall Street. Walk down Burgate, past the cathedral entrance.’
‘I walk past there a lot but don’t remember seeing it.’
‘If you don’t know, it’s easy to miss. Deakin’s was a men’s outfitters.’ On seeing Ed’s blank face he added, ‘They sold men’s clothes. A couple of years ago it became an all-day bar restaurant. The outside’s unchanged with its old shop windows and doors. The owners gave it a new name but locals still call it Deakin’s. Evidently, the coffee’s good. I’m partial to their pastries m’self.’
‘I’ll bring one back for you.’
Arriving at the end of Sun Street, Ed saw Verity’s sculpted steel-grey hair behind a large plate-glass window. She was sitting with a coffee and checking her mobile. Ed ordered a flat white and went to join her.
‘Hi, thanks for coming.’
‘Coffee’s always good.’
Verity lapsed into silence and fixed Ed with her habitual half-smile. Her expression was neither welcoming nor questioning but more pensive as if she were waiting for Ed to reveal something they both knew was unsaid.
The silence continued. Ed was comfortable with interrogations. Impassively she returned Verity’s gaze but eventually dropped her eyes and stirred her sugarless coffee.
‘Hard day?’
Ed didn’t respond immediately so Verity continued.
‘How’s the Naylor case going, or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘Sorry, I need a break, I was hoping for a quiet chat over coffee.’ Ed paused and then added, ‘As a new girl in town, I’d appreciate a little orientation.’
‘New girl you may be, Ed, but you’re a professional. You’ve been around. You’re well aware there’s no off the record. What we hear we use and that applies to the police as much as it does to journalists.’
‘Okay, but should I happen to mention something that hasn’t been released to the press you’ll need to ask me again if you want to use it.’
‘The same goes for me should I say anything you want to quote as evidence.’
Verity paused and then continued quickly, softening her voice, ‘Of course, should I say anything personal in confidence I’ll expect it to remain between us.’
‘Me too,’ said Ed. ‘Deakin’s Rules: unwritten but understood.’
Verity laughed. ‘Deakin’s Rules. What’s said in Deakin’s stays in Deakin’s.’
She dropped her eyes to the table, sipped her coffee and then leant back in her chair ready to listen.
Ed smiled and relaxed. Despite the rules they’d just established, the last thing she wanted was to discuss her work in detail with a journalist. Although it must be fresh in Verity’s mind, Ed certainly didn’t want to bring up the article in today’s Chronicle. The CID team’s ignorance of the Mulholland case was to be kept under wraps. To avert further discussion Ed offered a stalling answer to her friend’s earlier question.
‘Actually, with the Naylor case we’re at the plod stage, questioning family and friends, cross-checking to eliminate people from our inquiries, laborious but necessary.’
Verity nodded. ‘So … how’s it going with your hunt for a place to live?’
Ed’s face brightened but Verity didn’t wait for an answer.
‘When are you moving into your new apartment?’
Ed ignored the question, judging it for what it was – a marker.
‘News travels fast.’
‘It’s a small world in a small town.’ This time Verity did pause before adding, ‘You’d do well to remember that.’
Ed noted but didn’t respond to the warning. Instead she described the top-floor apartment she was intending to buy.
‘Nigel’s a useful person to know. He has a reputation and all the right contacts.’
Ed was sure she hadn’t mentioned Nigel by name but she let it ride; another marker.
‘He’s certainly been very good with me.’
Verity’s eyes widened slightly. Clearly aware of her reaction, she attempted to disguise it by quickly glancing at her mobile. ‘Sorry, I’m due at the school in 15 minutes, careers in journalism event. Perhaps we could meet one evening for a glass of wine and a meal?’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Great. There’s a family-run Italian called Gino’s. It’s hidden behind the Magistrates’ Court. I’ll introduce you.’
‘Gino’s? The same as the barman?’
‘His father. When he’s not at the hotel Gino Junior helps his parents in the restaurant. The family have been there for as long as I can remember. Great pasta and a lovely Sangiovese, which they get from relatives in Italy.’
‘Sounds good, I’ll look forward to it.’ Ed glanced at the counter. ‘You’d better go. I need to get something for work and there’s a queue.’
Back at the Station Ed
left a Danish pastry for Barry at the front desk and took a skinny flat white to the CID Room where she stopped beside Nat.
‘How’s it going with the Mr Punch voice device?’
‘It’s called a swazzle.’ Nat smiled at Ed as he spoke but when she didn’t react he continued quickly. ‘I doubt it’ll give us a breakthrough.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Swazzles are not big business. The outlets I’ve found are sidelines for Punch and Judy men, small-scale and little chance of reliable records.’
Ed pursed her lips. ‘Perhaps if we could pinpoint when he bought them …’
‘He could have made his own. There are instructions online.’
Ed sighed. ‘Right, it’s probably a non-runner but try a few outlets to see what sort of response you get. Let’s hope Mike and I do better tomorrow with the school staff.’
25
Lucy listened intently, but she could hear nothing. Extending her chain to its limit she quickly used the pail, washed her hands in the bowl on the table and returned to her position on the bed. She hated the pail but she hated the uncertainty of his arrivals almost as much. That morning, after breakfast, he’d said he would be later than usual this evening. She was already hungry. It had been two hours since she’d eaten the last of the biscuits he left by the slot in the wire partition.
After the horror of her first few days in captivity, she’d come to believe his repeated assurances that he’d release her. She’d asked when, but he consistently refused to say. Now she was resigned to waiting. She spent each day switching between music and reading, a boring routine punctuated by his morning and evening visits. For the last couple of days she’d been feeling a bit down but she’d learnt to cope with the mood swing she got for a few days every month. To cheer herself up she was reading a story about beauty queens, which made her laugh out loud. She sat on the bed facing the door in the partition with the lamp behind her. Its light shone on her book and spilled out through the wire mesh onto the floor beyond.
Prompted by hunger, Lucy looked up from her book and, as if on cue, a vehicle pulled up outside. She heard a door slam loudly as if it had been closed too forcefully with a foot. The outer door to the building opened and closed. As usual he spent a moment out of sight. Lucy assumed he’d stopped to put on the black hood but this time the pause was longer than usual.