by G D Sanders
Ed moved to pick up her drink but stopped. ‘Were the girls involved in anything more than posing? Was there evidence they were recruited for sex?’
‘None that I could find.’
‘It was successfully hushed up. Perhaps no crime was actually committed.’ Mike spoke with little conviction.
‘Maybe,’ said Ed slowly, ‘but I take a cynical view where powerful men are concerned.’
Percy put down his glass and looked directly at Ed.
‘No matter how unsavoury you find it, the girls were all over the age of consent. Of course, it would have been different for Anders and Carlton. The girls were still at school and under 18. But, as teachers, I think they’d have been too savvy to do something that foolish. Whatever might have been going on, there were no complaints from any of the girls and nobody was ever prosecuted.’
‘Nothing in the local papers?’ asked Ed.
‘Initially there was a short anodyne piece in The Chronicle but after that, zilch.’
Before Ed could continue, Mike surprised her by making a connection.
‘Verity Shaw is the editor of The Chronicle. Wasn’t she linked to Nigel Drakes-Moulton in some way?’
‘His wife.’ Percy took a sip of his pint before continuing. ‘I thought it interesting they separated six months later.’
‘Did they divorce?’ Ed was aghast as she heard herself ask the question. She raged at herself, think before you fucking speak!
‘I didn’t take that close an interest in them,’ replied Percy. He looked surprised, but then added, ‘He stayed on at The Hall and she moved to a period townhouse in Canterbury.’
Ed glanced at Mike. He was finishing his drink and appeared uninterested in the direction the conversation had taken. It occurred to her that his drink was a cover; since she’d reacted to Drakes-Moulton’s name she’d felt Mike was surreptitiously watching her closely. Ed moved to end the meeting before she asked more stupid questions.
‘An absence of prosecution doesn’t mean there was no crime. TOBs is a group of men who are clearly interested in young women. We also have someone abducting young girls. The two may not be connected but it’s a possibility we can’t ignore. Lucy’s been missing for 18 days. We need to find her soon.’
‘If she’s still alive,’ said Mike under his breath.
That wasn’t a line Ed wanted to pursue. She thanked Percy and went to pay the bill.
34
It was almost three weeks since Lucy had been abducted and the investigation was going nowhere. Ed, alone at her desk in the CID Room, was feeling despondent. The Super had been on her back, echoing the Chief Constable’s concern there’d been no photo ops of media-friendly activity. The PR-minded top brass were still pushing for wide-angle shots of police and public searching woods and undergrowth but Ed remained resolutely opposed to this action. Without a lead they had no specific area in which to search. Lucy had disappeared without trace. She could be anywhere. They needed a breakthrough.
Having the Super on her back was a pain but Ed could live with that, it was part of the job. From time to time investigations did stall; however, this time she had a feeling something basic was wrong. Ed sighed and pushed back her chair. She needed a break.
Passing Barry Williams at the desk, Ed checked her stride and said, ‘When the others show their faces, remind them we’re meeting at 14.00.’
Crossing the car park Ed called Verity’s mobile. ‘I’m on my way to Deakin’s. Are you free to join me?’
‘I’m already there. See you soon.’
Verity was at their usual window table with two coffees, a Danish pastry and an almond croissant.
‘You sounded a bit down. I thought you might need sustenance. You choose and I’ll eat the other—’ Verity paused, glancing up at Ed’s face ‘—unless you can manage both.’
‘The Danish will be fine.’ Ed sank into a chair.
‘That’s not like you. Is it so bad you need the sugar rush?’
‘What I need is a breakthrough. I need some information.’
Verity bridled and her body stiffened. ‘I thought we’d agreed to leave work at work when we met.’ There was no half-smile. The warmth had left her voice. It was cool and businesslike. ‘I’m a journalist and you’re a police officer, you can’t just turn up for a coffee and then trawl me for information.’
Ed was surprised by the abrupt change and tried to defuse the situation. ‘We agreed I should ask you in my official capacity if I wanted information as evidence. For now, I’d just like to draw on your local knowledge; a friendly chat that might throw up pointers to guide my investigation.’
Verity remained upright in her seat. ‘And I thought we were here for a friendly chat that would give us both a break from work.’ She pushed her coffee away from her. ‘If you want information relevant to your case you should invite me to the Station.’
‘Verity, please, I’d like nothing more than a relaxed chat but I’m really up against it. If I ask for something you’re not happy revealing, just say so and we’ll not go there.’
Verity leant forward, putting her forearms on the table. ‘So this coffee is work-related?’
‘Largely, I’m afraid. I’d really appreciate whatever help you can give me.’
There was no immediate response. Then Verity’s face softened to a half-smile and she pulled her cup back towards her. ‘Okay, where would you like to start?’
‘Thanks.’ Ed took a sip of coffee. ‘Let’s start with TOBs. What can you tell me about The Old Boys?’
Verity raised an eyebrow. ‘Not many people have heard the name. Why the interest?’
‘It could be relevant to our inquiries.’
‘I can see that but I’m also aware it might have a wider significance for you.’
Ed felt a twinge of anxiety. She put down her coffee, alert to what Verity might say next.
‘Meaning?’
‘It’s a small world in a small town.’ Verity paused. The half-smile had left her face and she looked directly at Ed. ‘I was once married to Nigel.’
The information wasn’t new, Percy Lynn had said the same thing, but Ed was caught off guard and angered by the feeling her friend had betrayed her.
‘You might have told me earlier.’ Her tone was sharper than she’d intended but Ed had been determined to keep the hurt from her voice. ‘You knew I was using his estate agency. What are friends for?’
‘Friends are for allowing each other space. Anyway, you’re a bright woman, I assumed you could take care of yourself.’
‘But he was your husband.’
‘Exactly, he was my husband. Would it have made a difference if I’d told you?’
‘Probably not, but it would have been nice to know.’
‘No harm done then.’
No harm done but a brief apology would have been nice. Ed busied herself with the Danish pastry and waited for her annoyance to subside. Across the table Verity looked calm but the half-smile had not returned.
‘It never occurred to me …’
‘Why should it?’ Verity’s voice had softened. She relaxed and smiled. ‘Perhaps we have more in common than you realize.’
Ed took a step back and probed. ‘Do you miss it?’
‘Do you mean the marriage or what came with it?’
‘What came with it for you?’
Ed sensed Verity wasn’t used to being manoeuvred. Once more their conversation had lost its relaxed friendliness. That was her fault. She was the one who’d started asking questions and she sensed the editor didn’t like to be questioned. Indeed, in an attempt to make Ed show her hand, Verity answered with a question of her own. ‘Where should I start, with the marriage or The Hall?’
What Ed really wanted was to pursue her question about TOBs but, conscious she was imposing on her friend’s time, she felt she should play along. ‘Let’s start with The Hall.’
‘Many people envy the status that goes with living in a place like that but old buildings are cold and d
raughty. The only warm place in winter was under the tester.’
Ed feigned a look of puzzlement, inviting more. ‘Tester?’
‘A canopy over a four-poster bed with curtains – they’re ideal for shutting out draughts. Ours was a tester in more ways than one. It was there I discovered Nigel and I were incompatible. He likes younger women. Had I been your age I might have hung on for a few more years.’
Verity’s body relaxed and she looked candidly at her questioner. It reminded Ed of the moment in an interrogation when a confession is imminent.
‘I was beginning to realize that Nigel and I were too much alike.’
Ed waited, confident her silence and steady gaze would draw further information.
‘I was discovering I also liked young women.’
Without giving Ed time to react Verity continued.
‘Be careful of Nigel.’ Verity spoke seriously, setting aside the humour which had crept back into her voice. ‘He wouldn’t have helped you with the apartment if he didn’t fancy you. I get the impression the attraction’s …’
Verity left her sentence hanging and Ed stepped in quickly.
‘Mutual?’ Ed smiled, intent on showing she was comfortable with the exchange. ‘I may have been a little impulsive but my eyes are wide open.’
‘It can happen to us all. I gather you were a little impulsive in London.’ Verity spoke quietly, softening what she said next. ‘Or should I say Manchester?’
Ed let the question go unanswered. Verity barely paused.
‘Nigel always wants to have something on people. He wasn’t pleased when he realized I was serious about getting a divorce. He tried to use my …’
Verity thought briefly before clearly using the phrase she’d sought to avoid.
‘… to use my sexuality against me. Tough, I live my life as I please and I don’t give a damn who knows it.’
Ed smiled supportively as Verity continued.
‘For Nigel, it wasn’t just the social convenience of our marriage. He craves recognition in society and jealously guards his family’s status in the community. I was his trophy wife.’
Verity took a bite from the almond croissant and Ed waited for her to continue.
‘He’s the same about money. As a rich local family, the Drakes-Moultons have always supported good works. They willingly add the cachet of the family name by attending charity functions but their financial support is anonymous. Nigel’s different.’
Verity sipped her coffee.
‘He’s needy. He makes sure his donations are known to people who matter.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought Nigel insecure,’ said Ed.
‘He covers it well. Money, public school and Oxford have helped enormously but deep down he feels he doesn’t belong. Basically, he’s scared he’ll be found out.’
Puzzled, Ed asked, ‘Found out?’
‘It’s crazy. Nobody with any sense would hold it against him. However, that’s not the case with those he most wants to impress. For them you’re one of us, one of them, or an arriviste.’
‘But surely, Nigel’s—’
Verity didn’t give Ed chance to finish the question.
‘In his own eyes he’s not one of us and he’s afraid the truth will out.’
‘How …’
‘The Drakes-Moultons were childless. Quite late in life they adopted Nigel when he was a young boy. Few know this apart from Nigel and the Drakes-Moultons. If you have money such information can be buried. He doesn’t talk about it but over the years he’s let slip the odd word here and there. With my reporter’s eye for a story I filed the information away.’
‘So, what’s the story?’
‘Nigel’s adopted. His original family was poor. His father walked out and Nigel spent some time in care. By now all links between him and his original family will have been lost unless he’s exercised his right to trace them.’
‘It must be hard for him, to be handed a silver spoon and not be able to enjoy it,’ said Ed, hoping to prolong the revelation.
‘Oh, he enjoys it all right, the money and the power that comes with it, but he’s constantly concerned he’ll be exposed, lose face in the eyes of the establishment whose approval he craves. He’ll do anything to retain what’s important to him. So, be warned, watch your step and don’t do or say anything that he might be able to use against you.’
‘Thanks for the tip.’
Both women toyed with their coffees. Verity seemed deep in thought, with a wry gaze fixed on Ed’s face, then she broke the silence and caught Ed by surprise.
‘Eddie?’
Only Don, and one other long ago, called her Eddie. She didn’t want to go there again. Verity must have noticed her reaction because her face fell.
‘I may call you Eddie?’
Holding Verity’s gaze, Ed allowed an appreciative smile to curl the corners of her mouth.
‘Let’s stick with Ed … for the moment.’
Verity smiled in return and Ed sensed a strengthening friendship. She was about to move back to TOBs when Verity beckoned her closer. Lowering her voice, she asked, ‘Has Nigel invited you for champagne in his office?’
‘He mentioned it after showing me the apartments but then suggested the pub at Fordwich. Why? What’s so special about champagne in his office?’
‘It’s another one of his vanity projects: an adolescent game to impress impressionable young women.’
‘Now you’re being cryptic.’
‘I’m sure he wisely decided that a woman with your experience wouldn’t be impressed by anything so tawdry.’
‘I’d still like to know. He might be saving it for a future occasion.’
‘Years back when he was having the offices renovated he came across an obscure internal space. He immediately brought in a London-based firm to create a secret room with nothing apart from a bed, a bar and a top-of-the-range home entertainment system. When he wanted to rile me he’d start telling me of its success with susceptible young girls.’
After a moment of silence in which Verity finished her croissant, Ed switched the conversation back to the topic she’d wanted to pursue from the outset.
‘Speaking of young girls, what can you tell me about TOBs?’
‘That’s another matter. It goes way beyond Nigel.’
‘But if it’s one of Nigel’s activities … You’ve warned me about one, I think you should tell me about the other.’
‘You don’t need to worry about TOBs. Neither of us is young enough for the members of that select group. Even Stephanie, who went on to do some glamour modelling, is too old now.’
‘Stephanie?’
‘You weren’t introduced?’ Verity smiled sympathetically. ‘She’s the landlord’s daughter at the pub in Fordwich. Nigel still sees her off and on but she’s long since stopped going to the group meetings.’
Ed remembered Nigel leaning across the bar to kiss an auburn-haired beauty. She filed the image under Stephanie before trying to push the conversation on more rapidly.
‘I gather TOBs used girls as models for the group’s art and photography meetings.’
‘There’s not much art, it’s almost entirely photography.’ Verity lowered her voice. ‘Frankly, the whole thing’s very sleazy. A room full of middle-aged men with little or no talent attempting to capture sordid images of young women. Usually three girls, and their poses were way beyond provocative, more pornographic than artistic.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I was still at The Hall. Nigel holds the meetings there.’
‘Was there any sex?’ asked Ed.
‘Nigel was adamant it should never happen at The Hall. I thought it rather quaint of him. After all, the girls were all 16 or 17. It would have been a different matter for the teachers.’
‘Teachers?’ Ed knew what was coming but she wanted confirmation.
‘All the models came from the school sixth form. They were recruited by two teachers who were members of TOBs.’
/> ‘Do you know their names?’
‘Of course, but you’ll have to question me officially if you want to use them.’
‘I’d just like confirmation. You can nod if I’m correct.’
‘Okay.’
‘Stephan Anders, maths, and Alex Carlton, art.’
Verity nodded twice and then looked at her phone.
‘Time to go?’ asked Ed.
‘I’m afraid so. I’ve got to see a man about a dog … literally!’
Ed laughed. ‘Last time it was the school, now it’s a dog.’
Verity looked at her and smiled. ‘You can laugh but it’s no joke. School visits are infrequent but people with pets are a staple; they want to get their stories in the paper and our readers seem to love them.’ With a reluctant sigh, she got to her feet. ‘Give me strength.’
Ed stood so they could leave together. ‘Perhaps we could do supper again soon.’
‘That would be good. By then I could be the one in need of sustenance.’
Walking to the Station, Ed knew what had been bothering her, what was wrong. The moment Verity mentioned seeing a man about a dog, she’d known. On learning the abductor disguised his voice using the Mr Punch device, Ed had decided he was known to his victims and, in the absence of suspects among family and friends, she had pinpointed school staff. Now she realized her net should have been spread wider. Unlike Verity’s infrequent visits, there were people who made frequent appearances at the school; the police were a prime example. The voice of an officer who made regular school visits would be as familiar to the students as the voices of some of their teachers.
Back in the CID Room, Ed checked computer records and wasn’t surprised to discover Barry Williams was the officer who visited local schools. Barry was a career Sergeant whose main duties were on the desk in reception. However, what startled her was the length of time he been filling the school liaison role. Barry had been visiting local schools consistently since the millennium. Each one of the abducted girls would have heard him speak at least once and maybe many times.
Checking the work rotas revealed what she feared: Barry Williams was primarily on the day shift. It was clear he’d been off work when Lucy Naylor was taken and when Kimberley Hibben was taken and returned. Ed would need the paper records to check for Teresa Mulholland, but already she had enough to designate Desk Sergeant Barry Williams a potential suspect in the abduction investigation.