Michael paced the church hall. There was not a lot of room. They’d managed to cram four desks into the small space, plus a whiteboard covered with his barely legible scribblings and Post-it notes. It was noisy: two officers were on the phone; Bachelet was nose to his screen, furiously typing.
‘Where are we with Tuesday Jones?’
Bachelet looked up. ‘The background information and the interview notes are on your desk, sir. Me and DS Fallaize spoke to her this afternoon. She has alibis for Monday morning—several people went in and out of her shop booking tours. She said she took telephone bookings as well during the morning. We’re checking the records. All seems pretty watertight.’
‘Still. There’s something. What about the bones in the cave?’ He picked up the notes and flicked through them.
‘I don’t believe we asked her about them, sir.’
‘I specifically said I wanted to know why she’d asked that question at the meeting. And where are we with Reg Carré’s bank statements?’
Bachelet looked blankly around the room.
‘Where’s DC Marquis when you bloody need him, eh? Apparently he’s the only bugger around here who knows how to follow up a lead.’
‘Oh, he called, sir.’ Bachelet flicked through his notes and read them back to Michael. ‘He said he had a Lemsip, managed to get into the station for a couple of hours—he’s been looking into the whereabouts of Rachel Carré. Said he can’t find any trace of her. There’s no record of the marriage at the Greffe even, so he can’t find a maiden name. Said it’s like she never existed.’
‘They weren’t married. So she wasn’t Carré? Who the bloody hell was she, then? Jesus wept. We’re getting nowhere.’
He threw down the paperwork. Rubbed his forehead. It was no good. He had to talk to the kid. He wasn’t supposed to. Not without the family liaison. But these were extraordinary circumstances. The boy was the only lead they had. The picture itself was no use. A child’s drawing, no detail as to what the man looked like. But perhaps the kid had seen something else. Noticed the way the suspect walked, heard him speak, seen in which direction he’d gone. Perhaps he’d seen the weapon. A long, slim, curved blade, forensics had said. And as sharp as they come. No wonder he was terrified. And Michael understood that his mother wanted to protect him. But there was a killer on the loose. It was so irresponsible. He felt a wave of anger towards Tanya Le Page, and people like her, who deliberately held back information, for whatever reason. It was followed by a wave of shame. He was in no position to judge.
‘I’m going out.’
‘Do you want me to come, sir?’ Bachelet, sounding like it was the last thing he wanted to do.
‘No. I think it’s best I do this one on my own.’
He rapped on Tanya Le Page’s door. There was a light on upstairs. Shadows moving behind the closed curtains. Someone was definitely home. He knocked again. Still no answer. Just after seven. Tanya was probably putting the boy to bed. He tried the door. Locked. Of course. He didn’t want to scare them. But this couldn’t wait until the morning. He hammered on the door.
That did the trick.
‘What’s going on?’
‘I need to speak with you and your son, Ms Le Page.’
‘We’ve been through this. He won’t say anything!’
‘I have reason to doubt that.’
‘What reason?’ There was an edge to her voice now. He needed to tread carefully. To keep her on side.
‘Ms Le Page. Please. Can I come in?’
She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded, opened the door fully. Stood opposite him in the hallway, arms folded.
‘I understand you’re trying to protect your son, Ms Le Page, I really do. But he won’t need protecting once we’ve caught whoever he saw at Reg’s house, now will he? And I have reason to believe Arthur can help us.’ He took out the sketchbook. Showed her the drawing. She barely glanced at it, but her cheeks paled.
‘Where did you get that?’
‘A passer-by picked it up. Near your house. It is Arthur’s, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Yes.’ A small voice. Arthur stood at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a Spiderman dressing gown. ‘I lost it.’
Michael smiled at him. ‘Well, lucky for you it’s been found. You can have it back. I just need to ask you a couple of questions about this picture. Would that be all right?’
Arthur looked at his mother.
She nodded at him. ‘It’s OK. Come on down, Arthur.’
She took her son’s hand and pulled him close to her, led him through to the living room. Michael followed. All he needed was a description. Then he could leave the kid and his mum alone. There was no reason anyone on the force would even have to know he had come here.
‘So you like drawing, do you, Arthur?’
He nodded.
‘Well, I can see from this you’re very good at it. Now, I know this is hard to talk about, but this is the man you saw, isn’t it? The one you called the Beast Man?’
Arthur looked at his mother.
‘You can tell him, sweetheart.’ Her hands were clasped neatly in her lap. Her knuckles were white.
The boy nodded.
‘And it looks to me that he’s wearing a mask, doesn’t it? Bit like a superhero, eh? Was he wearing it the whole time, Arthur?’
He nodded again.
‘Great. You’re good at this, eh? Doing very well you are. So, just a couple more questions. Was the man already there when you arrived at the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘And he was in the room? With Mr Carré?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what were they doing? Were they talking?’
A shake of the head this time.
‘No? Were they fighting, maybe? Was this man hurting Mr Carré?’
Another shake. ‘Mr Carré was on the floor.’
‘When you got there? He was already on the floor?’
A nod.
‘And this man, Arthur, where was he?’
Nothing. Eyes to the floor.
‘Where in the room was he?’
A tear fell to the floor, leaving a tiny, dark splash on the carpet. ‘He was bending over Mr Carré.’
‘I see. Very good. And, Arthur, did he see you?’
A shake of the head. More tears. ‘I don’t think so. I was looking through the window.’
‘Good stuff. So the man was bending over Mr Carré. Then what did he do?’
‘He went.’
He was quiet for a moment. ‘The back. I think the back.’
‘Brilliant! I’ll be keeping an eye on you, I will—you’ll be a detective before you know it. Now, what did you do after the man went out the back, Arthur?’
‘I went into the house. To see if Mr Carré was all right and to—’
Tanya took a sharp breath. ‘Do we have to make him relive this? For fuck’s sake, this can’t be bloody necessary!’ She got up, went into the kitchen. Came back typing furiously into her phone.
‘You pressured me into this. It was completely inappropriate, you coming here, bullying me into letting you in.’
‘Now, Ms Le Page, I did no such thing.’
‘I’m alone here—you know that. What am I supposed to do when a policeman hammers on my door? Refuse entry? How was I to know how you’d react?’
‘I’m sorry if you felt that way, Mrs Le Page. I didn’t mean to intimidate you in any way—I’m just desperate to catch this man. To make sure you and Arthur can sleep soundly again. And I’m done here. You’ve both been really helpful. Thank you.’
‘Can I have my book back, please?’ Arthur held out his hand.
‘Of course you can. I’m going to borrow this page, though, OK?’ Michael tore the page with the drawing of the Beast Man out and held the sketchbook out for Arthur. The poor little mite was shaking and the book fell open on the floor. ‘Whoops. There you go, buddy.’ Michael bent down and picked it up. ‘Some other good drawings there, aren’t there?’ Michael looked at the pirate ship on the open page. He was filled with an odd feeling of familiarity. ‘Very nice. Like pirates, do you?’
‘Yes.’
Michael flicked through the book.
‘Are you done?’ Tanya demanded.
Michael’s eyes met hers. Searched them for some recognition. Some acknowledgement of what he’d just seen. Her gaze was cool and steady. Her outstretched hand, however, trembled.
‘I’m going to have to borrow this one too, Arthur. Hope that’s all right.’ He didn’t wait for the boy’s response but tore a second page out of the book. He handed it back to Tanya.
Outside the house, he took out his phone. Called the incident room. The signal was too weak: the call failed to collect. Shit. He wanted to watch the house. To make sure she stayed put. He searched for Wi-Fi. Found ‘lepageguest’. No padlock. Sent a message to Fallaize, one to Bachelet. He walked a few feet away from the house and waited in the shadows.