The Sleepover

by Carol Wyer

  ‘Loud music? Could simply have been the brothers.’

  ‘He said it was party music – techno or garage – he didn’t know what exactly, something with a heavy, repetitive beat and the house lights were all off.’

  ‘Did he remember which nights?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We’ve not gleaned much, have we? Only that they’re two fairly unpopular men who live in a swanky house and maybe hold the occasional party. They certainly haven’t won any friends. What about their immediate neighbours?’

  ‘Didn’t hear or see anything last night and have never spoken to them.’

  ‘Not even a “hello”?’ Natalie had known her own neighbours on either side of her house for years. They weren’t very close but they always sent each other cards at Christmas and had each other around for drinks. She’d stop and chat to them if she saw them in their gardens or on the street. Still, she didn’t live in a Victorian mansion on an exclusive street.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Nothing. They never even introduced themselves.’

  Natalie let it drop. If the neighbours didn’t know anything about the brothers, then there wasn’t much to gain by staying in the area. ‘Murray’s gone back to the station. We ought to get going too. Have you heard anything from Ian?’

  ‘He hasn’t rung me.’

  Natalie’s eyebrows knotted. This was most unlike Ian. He was normally conscientious and the first to arrive on the scene. ‘Okay. We’ll manage without him. You done here?’

  ‘Yes. That was my last house.’

  ‘I’ll see you back at base then.’

  The police headquarters at Samford was a modern-day landmark. Designed and commissioned especially to house police specialists, Forensics and terrorism squads, it was one of only four such headquarters in the UK. It overlooked the main road that passed through the town centre, and those not in the know might easily mistake it for a modern arts centre or similar. The building was accessed by automatic glass doors, leading into a bright atrium. Natalie and Lucy acknowledged the reception staff behind the curved front desk, passed through the ID recognition Perspex gates that swung open simultaneously and then took the stairs to the first floor where their office was located. Many of the special police units could be found on this floor, each housed in a glass-fronted office that overlooked the lengthy corridor. Natalie’s office was halfway along it, with a large patterned settee, supposedly for guests but rarely used, directly in front of it.

  Murray had his back to them but his voice was clear as he shouted at somebody at the other end of a phone. Natalie swiped her pass again to gain access and caught the tail end of the conversation.

  ‘Stop fucking about and man up!’ He ended the call and tossed his mobile onto the desk.

  Lucy threw him a look but he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Natalie noticed the movement but didn’t draw any attention to it. He clearly didn’t wish to discuss the conversation. Instead, he picked up some notes he’d made.

  ‘I’ve got information on both the owners and on Extravaganza. The Lang brothers were born and brought up in Dagenham. They’re the youngest of five foster children. Dad was a London cabbie and their mum used to work in a fish and chip shop. They’re both retired now but still live in Dagenham. The brothers rented a place in Shepherd’s Bush in 2010 and worked at Green Pineapple nightclub. In 2012, they moved to Birmingham and worked at Starstruck on Broad Street and then Platinum 123 in Derby. They definitely rattled a few cages when they bought the warehouse that was the indoor cattle market and transformed it into a nightclub. The locals drew up a petition to try and prevent them but it was too late. The brothers had already been granted planning permission and licences to run the nightclub before they actually moved to Armston-on-Trent.’

  ‘That goes some way to explaining their unpopularity. How’s the nightclub doing?’ Natalie asked.

  ‘I’m still waiting for that information although I spoke to one of the employees – Lindsay Hoburn – who’s looking for another job because she hasn’t been getting the shifts she was promised. She’s a “reserve” bar person and called into work when it gets really busy and they need backup bar staff, but she only worked once last month and that was only because two staff members were off sick.’

  ‘Did she tell you anything else?’

  ‘Only that the Lang brothers are okay to work for and she hadn’t noticed any particular bad feeling towards them. I haven’t spoken to any of the other staff yet.’

  Natalie pressed the point between her eyebrows as she often did when she was organising her thoughts. She soon spoke up. ‘Okay. Let’s work through the staff list and talk to everyone we can. Are either of you or your friends familiar with the club?’

  Murray shook his head. ‘Nightclubs aren’t my thing. I’m more of a pub person.’

  ‘Not been to Extravaganza. We tend to go to Derby or Nottingham for a night out,’ said Lucy.

  ‘Well, toss a coin and one of you can check out the place tonight. Have you got the number for the cleaning agency the Langs used?’

  Murray scribbled it down and passed it to Natalie. As she walked to her desk to ring it, Lucy pointed a finger at him and mouthed, ‘You go.’ He shook his head.

  Natalie dialled the number, and with her back turned to her officers she spoke to the cleaning agency owner.

  Lucy took the opportunity to whisper, ‘Who were you speaking to when we came in?’

  ‘Ian,’ he hissed. ‘Stupid prick is having a major meltdown. Thinks he might jack it all in so Scarlett will take him back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I told him to get his arse here and I’ll take him out for a beer later and talk to him.’

  Murray and Ian had never really seen eye to eye although recently they’d been more tolerant of each other. The fact Murray was willing to listen to his younger colleague and offer advice was a surprise to Lucy. ‘Is he coming in?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Shit!’ She turned to her desk. If Ian quit the team and the police force, he’d be throwing away everything he’d worked for. He’d come back to work soon after being stabbed and had thrown himself wholeheartedly into every investigation. He couldn’t throw it all away. Would he really be willing to give it all up for Scarlett and Ruby? Lucy wasn’t sure she’d make a similar sacrifice if Bethany ever wanted her to leave the police force. Besides, she could never leave the team short-staffed.

  Natalie ended her call. ‘Top to Bottom cleaners definitely didn’t go to the house yesterday. I’ve asked the company owner, Rachel Stevens, to come to the station all the same. She might be able to tell us more about the brothers.’ She dropped onto a seat and stared out of the window. The brothers appeared to be very close. They’d lived and worked together for quite a few years. They’d worked in nightclubs and looked to no one but themselves. They were driven to succeed, and lived in an expensive house, yet claimed material goods didn’t impress them. Both brothers had looked very smart, and although she couldn’t be certain, their clothes looked expensive.

  ‘What cars do the Lang brothers own?’ she asked.

  ‘An Audi RS5 and a BMW 6 series,’ came the reply.

  ‘Financed?’

  ‘Not sure. Waiting for confirmation of that.’

  Natalie continued staring ahead, processing the information she had. They drove quality cars. Even if they’d purchased them on finance, they were prestigious vehicles.

  ‘According to the Zoopla website their house cost £750,000,’ said Lucy.

  ‘Shit, that’s treble what we paid for our place,’ said Murray.

  ‘And it’s a huge amount for two guys who own a nightclub to come up with. Imagine the mortgage payments on that place.’ Natalie tapped a fingernail against the desk and said thoughtfully, ‘They’ll pay out a fortune on the nightclub too: running costs, wages, not to mention how much it must have cost to buy and renovate the place in the first instance. They must be stretched financially. The more I think about this
, the keener I am to find out about their finances.’

  ‘I’ll push for some information,’ said Murray.

  There was a shuffling outside the door and it opened. Ian, unshaven, walked in wearing a wrinkled shirt. He halted by Natalie.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Natalie snapped, steely gaze on the young man who faced her.

  ‘I was at a friend’s house.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call in to let us know?’ Natalie knew immediately there was more to it than that. Ian’s eyes were bloodshot and she could smell sour alcohol on his breath. He dropped his gaze. She waited for him to lie his way out of it, and her heart sat heavy and solid in her chest.

  ‘He did call in. He rang me earlier to let me know he was on his way,’ said Murray. His voice was flat. Natalie spun to face him, one eyebrow raised. He continued, ‘With all that was going on, it slipped my mind. I should have told you.’

  Murray’s face was blank. Ian glanced quickly at him.

  ‘If you’re covering up for him—’ she began.

  ‘I’m not. Ian phoned me before you came back. I didn’t mention it because we were discussing the Lang brothers. Sorry.’

  There was little point in pursuing it. They had an investigation to conduct and she needed all her team behind her. She gave a brief nod. ‘Next time, make sure you keep me in the loop.’ She looked from Murray to Ian and then let the subject drop. ‘Okay, I’ll bring you up to speed. Murray, I want those financial records.’

  No sooner had she finished going through the investigation with Ian than her mobile rang.

  Mike’s voice was low and sombre. ‘We’ve identified the victim. It’s a fourteen-year-old girl by the name of Roxanne Curtis.’

  Natalie swallowed back the bile that rose rapidly and stung the back of her throat. The girl in the house was the same age as Leigh. Mike continued with, ‘She lives in Clearview.’

  Clearview was a suburb – the ugly part of Armston-on-Trent with high unemployment, cheap housing and an unsavoury reputation. Gang culture, knife crime and violence were rife there.

  ‘Where exactly?’

  ‘Stockwell Estate.’

  Stockwell was regarded as one of the better estates that made up the vast area but that didn’t say much. Natalie’s team had been called out to it on one of their early investigations when a teenager had been stabbed during a brawl outside a convenience store.

  ‘That was quick work.’

  ‘We had a spot of luck, if that’s what you can call it. The poor kid had metal pins and a metal plate screwed into the elbow hinge joint. Darshan got hold of her medical records and we were able to identify her from them. He’s sending them across to you to look at.’

  ‘Thanks, Mike.’ Her voice was quiet, her mind suddenly elsewhere. What possible connection could the Lang brothers have to a teenage girl who lived on the far side of town? She placed her phone on the desk. She already had the attention of her team, who were waiting to hear what she had to say.

  ‘The body belongs to fourteen-year-old Roxanne Curtis.’

  ‘Oh, shit!’ Murray rubbed a hand over his head. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Natalie blinked away the thoughts of her own daughter, who’d gone missing earlier that year. She’d been terrified that something terrible had befallen her. This poor girl’s mother would be going through a similar living hell. ‘She lived on the Stockwell Estate. Ian, drag up whatever you can find on her from social media. Murray, I still want you to chase up those financial records for the nightclub, but first, find out whatever you can about Roxanne’s family. She had internal metal fixings in her elbow so she might have been in some sort of accident or even been attacked and beaten up. Forensics are sending over medical records. Lucy, take a closer look at them. Maybe they’ll give us an indication as to what happened to her. I need to update Superintendent Melody and then you and I will go and inform her parents.’

  There was a renewed burst of activity. Murray and Ian both dived towards the computers on the bench at the far side of the room. Natalie headed towards the stairs, leaving the trio working in silence. There was no sound other than the tapping of keys and then suddenly Ian spoke quietly. ‘Cheers for that.’

  ‘What?’ said Murray, keeping his eyes on the screen.

  ‘Speaking up for me.’

  ‘You did ring in. It was the truth.’

  ‘Yeah, but I called to tell you I wasn’t coming in. That I’d had it with all of this – that I was giving it up to get Scarlett back.’

  ‘Well, you’re here now, so stop wittering and get some details on this family.’

  ‘I really wasn’t going to come in, you know? I was at an all-time low. I only changed my mind because of what you said.’

  ‘Which bit? The “don’t be a total fuckwit” or “man up”?’

  ‘Both.’ Ian turned his attention once more to the screen, fingers dancing across the keyboard.

  Murray left it a minute then added, ‘That drink’s still on if you want it later.’

  Ian looked across. ‘Cheers. I’d appreciate that.’

  Lucy looked at them both from across the room. ‘For crying out loud, can you two quit the whole bromance thing and give me something useful to act on? You know what Natalie’s like. She’ll want to know everything about the family before we speak to them, including the names of their bloody pets and shoe sizes.’

  ‘We’re on it,’ said Murray. ‘Give us a fucking chance.’

  Lucy grinned then tutted loudly. ‘Does this sound normal to you? Roxanne was admitted to hospital on three separate occasions between 2012 and 2016 for fractures: clavicle, wrist and elbow.’

  ‘Didn’t all those breaks ring any alarm bells?’ Murray asked.

  ‘I can’t see anything to suggest so. There are no reports filed for suspected child abuse.’

  ‘Maybe she was accident-prone or sporty,’ said Ian. ‘I broke my shoulder and my leg and dislocated my thumb when I was a teenager all through playing rugby.’

  Murray squinted at him. ‘You played rugby?’

  ‘Left wing.’

  ‘Makes sense. You look like you could be one of those lanky speed merchants.’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘She could have been sporty. I’ll ask the question,’ Lucy replied.

  Murray slipped back into work mode. ‘Lucy, I’ve found some information on her family. Her mother is Cathy Curtis, born 11 April 1979, aged thirty-nine, and works at Argos. Married Aidan Curtis in January 1998 – divorced 2010. They have three other children: twenty-year-old Oliver, eighteen-year-old Seth and seventeen-year-old Charlie. The two youngest boys live at home but Oliver is in the army – the Royal Engineers, currently stationed at Chetwynd Barracks in Nottingham.’

  ‘Roxanne was the youngest then?’ Lucy said, jotting the information down in her notebook.

  ‘Yes, and she was the only girl. In 2011, Cathy moved to 114 Pine Way on the Stockwell Estate, with Paul Sadler. He was born 19 July 1988 so he’s a fair bit younger than Cathy – by almost ten years.’

  ‘That’s not a massive age gap,’ said Lucy. ‘But it’s quite a responsibility to take on four kids when you’re only twenty-three. Does he own the place?’

  ‘No. It’s rented.’

  ‘He’d still need to earn a fair bit of money to feed all those mouths.’

  Murray grunted a response and then continued. ‘According to our general database, he’s worked for CAT Aerials since he left school.’

  ‘Nothing untoward then?’ Lucy said.

  ‘Ah, possibly. His ex-girlfriend, Sarah Raleigh, reported him for domestic abuse back in 2008 but dropped the charges, and again the following year in 2009 when she dropped the charges again.’

  ‘Were there any further charges made against him?’

  ‘Hang on a sec. No more but police were called out to his house in 2016, following a phone call from a concerned neighbour who claimed he heard Cathy screaming for help. The couple refuted it and said the
person was mistaken. According to the report, Cathy had injuries to her face but she insisted they were caused by a fall in the bathroom.’

  Lucy tapped her pencil against her notepad. ‘More suspicious injuries. I doubt Roxanne’s mother was accident-prone too. Roxanne was first admitted to hospital in 2012, the year after she and her family moved in with Paul.’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘I know… we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.’

  Ian swivelled on his seat. ‘We ought not to but a young girl who sustained three fractures in four years and whose mother had facial injuries rings alarm bells for me.’

  Lucy grimaced in response. ‘Me too. I’ll see if we can get to the bottom of it.’

  Murray sucked his teeth noisily. ‘You could be right. There’s something else you need to know. Roxanne was reported missing twice: once in April 2016 and again in January 2017. She came home of her own accord the first time but it took a week to locate her the second time. She was found on the streets in Stoke-on-Trent.’

  Lucy’s eyebrows lifted. ‘That definitely smacks of an unhappy teenager.’

  Ian had returned focus to his screen. ‘This is her Instagram account. It’s not set to private. She’s got 850 followers.’

  Lucy crossed the room in three strides and peered over his shoulder. An unsmiling Roxanne looked defiantly back at her. With full lips, slightly upturned nose and clear, hazel eyes, she was an attractive girl. She had attitude: the way she posed with hands thrust in the front pockets of her jeans and chin lifted, the studs in her upper earlobe, the black T-shirt bearing a studded skull, and her dark brown hair styled in a dramatic shoulder bob with a perfectly straight fringe that rested just below her eyebrows. In many ways she reminded Lucy of her younger self: rebellious and hateful of the world.

  ‘What do you make of her?’ she asked.

  ‘It seems she only posted a couple of times a month. Captions are simple, mainly emojis and a couple of kisses. She’s only got pictures of the estate, presumably where she lived – quite arty ones of kids milling about, graffiti on walls, empty playgrounds. There’s only this one selfie of her.’