CHAPTER SIX

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Buller had reported that at an evening visit to those in the vicinity of number three Gooding Avenue, any who had not been at home during the day had been spoken to, and the daughter of the Dennings at number five had admitted to seeing someone go into the house during the night.

‘She said she had been unable to sleep, and went out into the porch for a cigarette – a habit she was supposed to have given up, and didn’t want her parents smelling. Silly bitch!’ It was Lenny Franklin who had made the visit, but Buller had wanted the glory of announcing it. Magnanimously, he nodded to Lenny to take up the story. ‘But don’t make a meal of it,’ he warned him.

Lenny raised a cynical eyebrow and took up the tale. ‘She was in her nightie, so she stayed at the back of the porch, not wanting any neighbours to see her. You get some right chancers in those flats.’

‘Get on with it!’

‘She was looking down the road, away from this end of it, and she saw this guy sort of slouching along it. Even though it was warm, he had a hoodie on, but as he was approaching a lamp-post, she caught a glimpse of him, and he pulled the hood back as he let himself in. She said he had red curly hair and freckles.’

‘That’s a bit conspicuous, isn’t it?’ asked Desai.

‘That’s what I thought. Can any of you think of someone who looks like that on our radar?’ There was a negative murmur from the members of the team, and the shaking of heads.

‘Right, well, keep your eyes peeled,’ Buller ordered. ‘I’ve spoken to her this morning and asked her to come in and see if we can’t get a likeness of this mysterious ginger.’ This last word he pronounced with hard ‘g’s. ‘I’ve also got a handler with a sniffer dog going round that place a bit later, now that everything’s been taken out of it. Yeah, it’ll go ape if it’s let up to the second floor, but we need to be absolutely sure about the ground and the first floors. Now, I’ve got your tasks for this morning here …’

When they began to disperse, Buller made himself scarce, hinting that he had more important matters to deal with. DS Jenner stayed behind with the two DCs who were last to leave. Lenny Franklin had been paired with Daz Westwood, and they had, unspoken, decided to see what they could get out of the Drugs sergeant.

‘Hard man, is he, your guv’nor?’ asked Daz, somewhat impertinently.

‘Harder than you could imagine.’

‘Tell us,’ Lenny urged him.

‘I’ll not go into detail,’ responded Jenner coyly, ‘but he’s been shot twice: once in the shoulder and once in the thigh.’

‘Sounds dodgy.’ – Daz was so called because he was easily dazzled, and not because his name was Darren.

‘It was. A couple of inches higher and he would’ve been singing with the sopranos. He’s had quite a few beatings, a fractured skull and God knows how many drug dealers have threatened to kill him.’ Jenner fell silent.

‘Is that it?’ Daz asked in disappointment.

‘That’s all you’re getting from me. Oh, and I’d advise you never to cross him. That would be most unfortunate, and rather unpleasant for you,’ said the sergeant, heading out of the office.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Just heed my words, or you could be very sorry.’

‘Bloody party-pooper,’ muttered Westbrook, and Lenny Franklin raised an eyebrow once more.

They were primed with the best photographs that could be provided of the victims – in the woman’s case, an artist’s impression – and had been instructed to go round all the supermarkets. As Buller had stated logically, they had to go out sometime just to buy food, even if they went out in the wee small hours to shops that were open twenty-four hours – and they might have gone with a third party if spoken English was a problem.

When Olivia and Lauren got back, the office was eerily empty and Olivia’s phone was trilling urgently. Just her luck. It was the superintendent, wanting to be brought up to date on the missing baby case, and she was summoned in no uncertain terms. She might have been frightened of no one, but there was something about Devenish that made her knees shake and the only conclusion she could come to on this one was that she loved her job and didn’t want to lose it.

‘So, give me an update, Inspector,’ he snapped, spearing her with his eyes. ‘Have we had any responses to the appeal yet?’

‘All the usual nutters have rung in, and the baby has been spotted in Brighton, Norwich, Birmingham and Inverness to name but a few. I know everything needs checking out, however insane, but I don’t think we have got anything concrete yet; nothing that will actually help us locate the baby.’

‘Not good enough,’ barked Devenish, ‘you need to find that baby safe and well, and more to the point, quickly, Hardy! And where the hell was the father during that appeal, or isn’t there one?’

‘There is, but he’s proving hard to pin down.’

‘Then make like a lepidopterist and get out your box of pins. This is a specimen we need to capture.’

‘Sir!’ A heartbeat of a pause and then she continued, ‘And what about the two people from yesterday?’

‘Media silence on that one until we’ve got more information. Dismissed.’

She certainly felt it.

Hardy returned to her office and made the phone call she needed to make to Carole Shillington’s holidaying mother. Mrs Shillington was much more concerned for her granddaughter’s safety than she was about her daughter’s emotional state, and immediately gave permission for the photographs to be copied from her computer, readily submitting her password and agreeing to phone the keyholder next door. ‘But do excuse any mess,’ she concluded. ‘I went off on holiday in a bit of a hurry.’

She must have used the last number dialled in, because she was back on Hardy’s phone in a few minutes. ‘I rang my neighbour on her mobile, and she’s just gone off on an overnight trip, so you can’t have the keys until tomorrow, although she’ll be back quite early.’

‘How early?’ She didn’t consider it was as vital as she’d made out to the mother, because she didn’t reckon that babies changed that much in six weeks. She thought a baby was a baby was a baby, if it weren’t your own. The things that should help to trace her were the pink romper suit and the flowered mob cap.

‘About nine. She’s got her daughter dropping her off around half past.’

That was all right, then. She’d get someone out there in the morning, and if the kid had changed that much, she could give the photos to the Super so that he could make another appearance on television. That should please him. The only other options open to her were finding a keyholder for the keyholder’s property, or actually breaking into it, which would not go down at all well with the brass.

That lunchtime, Lauren left the station before Olivia could ask her if she wanted to go for something to eat with her. That was unusual, and she realised that the sergeant had moved slightly away in their friendship. It was weeks since they had shared a musical evening together, or even mentioned the possibility of one.

She supposed it was just a symptom of getting her social life back together after the break-up of her marriage but she, nevertheless, felt slightly snubbed. She had to take into account that she didn’t have a built-in babysitter any more, now that that hussy Gerda had cleared off with Kenneth, but that wouldn’t stop her from asking Hardy over to her place. Maybe it was having the children at home now, and not at boarding school. Perhaps she just didn’t have the time or the energy with her new responsibilities.

She was still not back in the office by mid-afternoon when DCI Buller came charging in with a face that looked like he’d won the lottery. ‘How’s your luck?’ asked the DI, chancing her arm, as he seemed to be in such a good mood.

‘Couldn’t be better,’ he almost chirped back. ‘That sniffer dog really came up trumps. I don’t know where the press got their information from yesterday, but it certainly wasn’t from us.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘The dog only turned up cocaine and heroin underneath a couple of floorboards: brilliantly fitted back into place, but no match for a trained dog’s nose.’

‘How come the media knew and we didn’t?’ asked Hardy, very surprised.

‘That’s what I intend to find out. It wouldn’t be from whoever feels they own the drugs so, somewhere out there in that crumbling mass of housing, there’s someone who knows full well what’s been going on.’

‘So, what are you going to do about it?’

‘I’m going to start with leaning on the local press, then I’m going to dig a bit further afield. It’ll no doubt be what they will refer to as an “anonymous tip-off”, but we can only hope.’ Then he was gone, his eyes sparkling at the thought of a bit of freelance bullying and leaning on people.

But she had some leaning on to do herself, with a few hooky characters who had been brought in that morning: known users who were willing to let out the odd bit of information about their suppliers, provided it paid for a few more wraps or spliffs and it couldn’t be traced back to them.

She eventually spotted Lauren at the end of the corridor, in what looked like earnest conversation with Daz Westbrook. Without a second thought, she called, ‘Put the boy down, Sergeant. I have urgent need of your services,’ and was surprised when her partner jumped as if she’d been caught out in something irregular.

‘Just coming,’ called Groves, turning on her heel and walking away with a look of innocence on her face.

‘What was all that about, then?’

‘Nothing important. Just general chit-chat about the case. You just made me jump, that’s all.’

‘And why are you so sensitive all of a sudden?’

‘I guess the way that woman was injured has given me the creeps. What an evil thing to do, take out her eyes like that. Whoever did it is an animal.’

‘Agreed. That’s why it’s so important that we find out who’s responsible as quickly as possible. Come on, we’ve got some guests in our private suites to have a word with and, doubtless, as we’re doing it, there’ll be a new list being drawn up to include heroin and cocaine users.’

‘Did the dog get a hit then?’

‘From what I hear, he’ll be chewing on treats for the rest of the day. Let’s get to it.’

While they asked up close and personal questions, Lenny Franklin and Terry Friend went back to the Shillingtons’ flat. Hardy hadn’t managed to secure the officers she’d wanted, so they had been dispatched on a lesser mission. There had been no luck on the baby’s whereabouts, and they’d need something either for dogs searching for her, or for Forensics, should the worst happen, and she turn up as a tiny corpse.

As Carole Shillington let them in, they could see through the back window the figure of a man shinning over the fence. ‘Hey!’ yelled Lenny, and then, ‘Who’s that?’

‘It’s all right, it’s only me boyfriend, Baz.’

‘So, what was so urgent that he couldn’t stay around and talk to us?’

‘He doesn’t like the police,’ she said, then turned on the tears again. ‘I miss her so much,’ she managed to croak out between sobs, and Terry took her by the arm and led her to a seat, while Lenny went through the kitchen and bathroom, looking in cupboards and for anywhere a baby’s body could be hidden, then he went into the bedroom and removed the linen from the Moses basket, then lifted it to his face and sniffed.

Going back into the living room, he stated, ‘This smells fresh.’

Carole gave him a blank look.

‘Have you recently changed it?’ he asked, a ripple of suspicion running through his body. ‘When did you do that?’

There were a few seconds silence, then she answered, ‘Before I went out to the shop.’

‘Why then?’

‘She’d gone through her nappy in the night, and it was wet.’

‘What, top as well as bottom?’

‘She weed a lot for a little baby.’

‘She must have.’

‘Is there anything that might smell of her that we can take with us?’ asked the PC, trying not to panic her or set off DC Franklin.

‘There’s a little teddy that I give her if we’re out together,’ she offered.

‘If we could just take that.’

The girl retrieved it, still sniffling, while Lenny’s face turned stony. ‘We’d still like a word with your boyfriend. Do you know where he might be?’

‘He said he had some business to sort out.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘I don’t know what he does,’ she answered, naively.

‘And who does he hang out with?’ asked Terry, trying to find a way to get information out of the girl.

‘I haven’t a clue. All I know is he feeds me and Stacey, and he pays the rent for this place and covers the bills.’

At the mention of her daughter’s name, she began to sob again. ‘My poor little Stacey. What has she ever done to anyone?’

‘Will you ask your boyfriend to call into the station when he’s got time? We’d like to speak to him. And what’s his full name?’

‘Barry Bailey. I think Barry’s short for Bartholomew, though I’m not sure.’

‘We’re going to be able to get the key to your mother’s place tomorrow. We’ve arranged to collect the key and, if necessary, we may get specialist officers round here to have a search.’ – although there was precious little space to hide anything – even something so small as a baby’s body, thought Friend, even as she spoke the words. And she knew that Lenny’s eagle eye would have picked up anything like blood spots. The PC had to ease the soft toy out of her hands. The girl spoke then, her gaze distant, ‘His name’s Teddy Eddie, and he used to be mine.’

‘Well, Teddy Eddie,’ said the woman, ‘you’re coming along to help the police with their enquiries.’ That produced a wan smile, as they left.

When they were back in the car, the bear was slipped into an evidence bag, and Lenny spoke. ‘I’ve got a feeling in my bones that this one’s not going to turn out good. And those bits of foil have disappeared from where I was expecting them to be from what you said about earlier.’

‘Pessimist.’

‘Realist.’