Ridpath stood downwind of Emily Parkinson, inhaling as much second-hand smoke as he could. He’d given up smoking for almost a year now as Eve hated the smell on his clothes and his breath. But Ridpath still enjoyed the vicarious pleasure of standing next to Emily as she puffed away.
They were outside Police HQ in the reserved area for smokers around the back. A large ashtray was in front of Ridpath, filled to the brim with sad fag ends. It was a joke in the building that the quality of the air-conditioning was so bad the only way to get some fresh air was to go out for a smoke.
He’d already briefed Chrissy on Jane Ryder. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got some work for you. And if Turnbull gives you trouble, it’s been approved by Claire Trent.’
‘Great, anything to get off bloody stats.’
‘I’m looking for missing person files.’
‘No worries, Ridpath, have you done a misper check before?’
‘Did the course in training years ago, but that’s about it.’
‘Give me the name and I’ll go through the databases for you. When did she disappear?’
‘Her name was Jane Ryder and she was last seen on June 12, 2009.’
‘How old was she?’
‘Just sixteen. Had her birthday a week before, according to the file.’
Chrissy made a smacking sound with her lips. ‘Did the parents report it to the police?’
‘I think so. I’m meeting them tomorrow morning to get more details.’
‘Somebody will have gone round to the house if she was only sixteen.’
‘Even though she’s no longer a child?’
‘As ever, the law is a bit vague. Once a young person reaches sixteen they can leave home or their parents can ask them to move out. However, parents are responsible for their children’s well-being until they turn eighteen. Police would follow the usual procedure for a sixteen-year-old.’
‘Which is?’
Chrissy adjusted the scarf around her neck. ‘Conducting a search of the house and outbuildings, obtaining two pictures, fingerprints, DNA and any other items of interest, with the parents’ permission. The investigating copper would look for diaries or notes. Finally, they’ll fill in a Form 737 and place all the information on OPUS.’
‘The old operating system. Can we still access it?’
‘I can. There’ll also be a risk report, and they may have contacted a missing person search manager. Depending on the risk assessment, there will be a list of actions taken on OPUS and the report will be sent to the Missing From Home Unit for follow-up. The officer will also seek permission to place the child’s details on the Missing Children website.’
‘There doesn’t seem to have been much follow-up.’
‘She was probably evaluated as not high risk; a runaway rather than somebody who’d been taken.’
‘You know a lot about this.’
‘Spent my first five years at the MFH unit. Know it like I know City’s players.’
‘Will the form show who was the responding officer?’
She nodded. ‘Plus all the other coppers involved, the SIO and the missing person’s manager.’
‘Great, I need to find witnesses for the inquest.’
Chrissy was silent for a moment, chewing the end of her pencil. ‘Given her age, she may be on two other nation-wide databases: the Vulnerable Persons database and Missing Persons DNA database, plus the Missing Kids website. Want me to check them out for you?’
‘It’s for the coroner, so I don’t want you to go to too much trouble, Chrissy. Point me in the right direction and I’ll do the work myself.’
‘No worries, anything rather than looking at more bloody stats. I’ll send you the info as soon as I have it.’
‘Thanks, Chrissy.’
Of course, Emily Parkinson had collared him as soon as he’d finished with Chrissy, making the universal sign of the invisible cigarette to the mouth, which actually meant she wanted to chat.
He inhaled another satisfying cloud of secondary smoke.
‘I hear you’ve been put on the Northenden case.’
‘News travels fast. I was only told myself five minutes ago.’
‘Nothing is secret on the floor, you should know.’ She paused for a moment, taking another long drag. ‘Need any help?’
‘You know I’d love to have you on the case, but apparently, I’m to “assist” the local CID in their investigation.’ He formed quotation marks with his fingers. ‘You desperate to get out of HQ?’
‘Nah, desperate to get off the computer. And so is Chrissy.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Comparing crime-solving statistics from all forty-four police districts of England and Wales.’
‘You must be up to your eyes in numbers.’
‘I dream bloody numbers.’ Another drag on the cigarette, followed by a furtive lowering of the voice. ‘If you need any help on your case, let me know. I mean it, Ridpath.’
‘I did suggest it to our lords and masters, Em, but they were keen for you to carry on doing what you’re doing.’
‘Justifying our existence.’
‘MIT needs justification?’
She assumed the voice of a police spokesperson. ‘“In the modern world of policing, each and every resource must be examined and quantified to justify its allocation in the fight against crime and the protection of the public.” I know the bullshit off by heart now.’ Another long drag on her cigarette. ‘I’ll even come in on my days off if you want, and so would Chrissy.’
‘You must be desperate.’
‘You don’t know the half of it. I’d kill to work on a case again.’
‘There’s an idea for you.’
‘It would be one way of getting out of HQ and away from the stats. Are you going to be the SIO?’
‘Nah, like I said, just assisting. The SIO is Dave Connor.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘A good copper, old school, like Charlie Whitworth.’
‘Must be close to retirement. Why’d he leave MIT?’
‘Wanted an easier life and more regular hours. After John Gorman retired, he was seen as part of the problem, not part of the solution. You know how it is.’
‘The new brush sweeps clean. Now, Turnbull is doing exactly the same.’
‘How you getting on with him?’
‘Badly, he’s doing his best to force me out, but I’m hanging in there by the skin of my teeth.’
‘You’re too valuable to MIT, Em, he won’t let you go.’
‘You should tell him.’
Ridpath checked his watch. ‘Time to leave.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Off to see Dr Schofield.’
‘I love the smell of the mortuary in the late afternoon. Enjoy yourself.’
‘It’s a post-mortem, not a party.’
‘Funny, I’d give my left arm to spend an afternoon with the bodies in the mortuary right now. Better than wasting time with the corpses in there.’ She gestured back towards Police HQ.
‘Don’t let them get to you, Em. I’d better be off.’
Emily Parkinson waved goodbye, the cigarette still clapped between her fingers. ‘Knock yourself out, Ridpath, and call me if you need anything.’
‘Will do, Em. Take care of yourself.’