Baby Lies (Reissue)

by Chris Collett

‘Couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Who ended it?’

  ‘She did. She did a runner while I was being held by you lot. That’s how loyal she was. Before you interfered, I’d proposed to her. I wanted us to get married, have a family and that before we both got past it.’

  ‘She was going to marry you?’

  ‘She turned me down.’

  ‘I can’t imagine why,’ said Knox, his voice dripping sarcasm. ‘Upset you, did it? Thought she’d always be there for you, your own personal punch bag.’

  Bond didn’t deny it. ‘She might have said yes if—’

  ‘If you’d extorted two hundred and fifty grand out of Peter Klinnemann? She’d have put up with you knocking her around for the sake of the money, would she? You’re kidding yourself. Christie had too much common sense and too much integrity to waste her life on a loser like you. She didn’t grass you up, you know, she didn’t have to. We already had you.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Bond was defiant, but Knox could see that it was bravado. He was shaken. Maybe in spite of it all, he really had loved Christie. ‘What were you doing on Saturday night?’ Knox demanded.

  ‘I was in Blackpool, getting pissed.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was my mate’s stag night.’ Bond’s expression suddenly changed. ‘This is your fault,’ he said, turning on Knox. ‘You did this.’

  ‘How do you work that out?’ Knox said uneasily.

  ‘If it hadn’t been for you giving her ideas, Christie would still be with me. She needed me.’

  ‘Like a hole in the fucking head. That’s crap and you know it. You might not have pushed her off that bridge but one way or another you were responsible. I’ll be back for you.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re on about. If it wasn’t for you she’d still be alive.’

  And those were the words that rang in Tony Knox’s ears as he walked back across the forecourt.

  * * *

  Last time Mariner had been at Granville Lane it had been a night of celebration, with everyone in high spirits. Today it couldn’t have felt more different, and when Mariner walked in, CID was practically deserted, everyone out catching up on the backlog of cases that had been put on hold for the duration of baby Jessica’s abduction. One of the few officers remaining at his desk was Charlie Glover. He looked up when Mariner walked in. ‘Crap verdict, sir,’ he sympathised.

  So news had got around. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Still, with luck they’ll stick him somewhere like Broadmoor.’

  ‘We can but hope. Where’s Tony Knox?’

  Glover seemed to choose his words carefully. ‘He’s out. You remember that girl we interviewed when the Klinnemann baby went missing: Christie Walker? There’s been a suicide. Knox thinks it could be her.’

  ‘Christ. How?’

  ‘Jumped in front of a train.’

  ‘Poor kid,’ said Mariner. ‘What’s happening with the boyfriend, Bond?’

  Glover shook his head. ‘He’s out on bail, but if Tony Knox gets hold of him I wouldn’t say much for his chances.’ He said it just as Tony Knox walked in the door.

  ‘So?’ Mariner said.

  ‘It’s her all right.’

  ‘No.’ Mariner grimaced. ‘And Bond?’

  ‘I’ve just paid him a visit. To his credit he seemed pretty shocked.’

  ‘Does he think she shopped him?’

  Knox considered this for a moment. ‘No. I really don’t think he does. He claims they’d split up.’

  ‘That puts a convenient distance between them,’ said Mariner. ‘Did you believe him?’

  ‘I didn’t want to, but I suppose I did. And he’s been away all weekend on a stag do in Blackpool, so he says.’

  ‘Well, that will be easy enough to check out.’

  Knox had gone a funny colour. ‘I was meant to meet Christie on Saturday night, you know. Then I had a better offer, so I tried to rearrange it and it all got messed up. I let her down. She’d probably still be alive if it wasn’t for me.’

  Mariner shook his head. ‘Come on, you know better than that. Christie was a responsible adult, old enough to make her own decisions. Do you think she’d made up her mind to bring charges against Bond for what he did to her?’

  ‘Maybe, though the evidence has faded. Croghan said as much. It was only going to stick if she did it straight away. I don’t think she did make up her mind about that. It’s what she said. When I asked if Bond had hurt her, she said: “I can’t talk about it on the phone.”’

  ‘Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable telling you about it over the phone. Maybe she just preferred face to face contact.’

  ‘But if that was it, why not just say “yes?” She knew I knew all about it.’

  ‘So what are you thinking?’

  ‘That it was something else.’

  ‘Something else that Bond was into?’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’

  ‘But we turned over his place and his garage when he was brought in and we didn’t find anything. So all we can really do is watch him.’ Mariner could sense Knox’s frustration.

  ‘He’s a dodgy piece of work, and look at the history. He’s got a previous conviction, and he made the ransom demand.’

  ‘You’re still certain that Christie had nothing to do with that?’

  Knox was unequivocal. ‘She was too straight. She hated him for it. It prompted her to leave him. And he didn’t make any attempt to incriminate her, did he? No, that was all him. I think it has to be something else.’

  ‘So if there was something she needed to tell you, why kill herself?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t make it fit,’ Knox said. ‘There was something in her voice on the phone. She didn’t sound like someone at the end of her tether. She sounded resolved, eager even — like she was ready to move on.’ He broke off. ‘Nah, I’m just making excuses because I fucked up.’

  ‘No,’ said Mariner. ‘If she’d sounded that desperate, you’d have done something about it. Your “better offer” work out?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So maybe you’re feeling bad about that too.’

  Knox shot him a look. ‘You’ve been in therapy too long.’ He shook his head, as if freeing it from some restraint. ‘No.’

  ‘Have you told the parents yet?’

  ‘It’s the next job. I’ve already got her address.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘It’s a bummer about McCrae, boss,’ Knox said when they were in the car.

  ‘He had a good defence team and they did a sound job,’ said Mariner, evenly. ‘And who knows, maybe they’re right.’

  Knox was surprised. ‘You think he really is nuts?’

  ‘Truthfully? Maybe. It still doesn’t give him the right to kill.’

  ‘No.’

  * * *

  The address they had for Christie Walker was a modest ex-council property in Weoley Castle. Knox rang the bell and after some delay, a woman in her mid-sixties came to the door. She regarded them warily, prepared to ward off their sales pitch. Knox raised his warrant card so that she could see it.

  ‘Police?’ The old woman said, looking past them onto the street. ‘I haven’t called the police.’

  ‘No. You’re Mrs Walker?’

  ‘No, I’m Phyllis Gates.’

  ‘Are you Christie Walker’s—?’

  ‘I’m her nan.’

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Mariner and this is Detective Sergeant Knox. We need to speak to you. Could we come in?’

  Phyllis Gates was quick on the uptake and her suspicion grew. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Why don’t we go in and sit down?’ Mariner indicated the living room.

  Leaving Knox to close the door, she led the way into a neat sixties-style lounge, complete with a glass display cabinet of china ornaments, like the one Mariner remembered from his own grandparents’ house. There was a big framed photograph of Christie on the mantelpiece. Mariner saw
Knox flinch away from it. Inviting them to sit in the armchairs of a brown velour three piece, Phyllis Gates perched uncomfortably on the edge on the sofa opposite. Mariner couldn’t help noticing a pile of Watchtower magazines stacked in a corner of the room, still bound in their plastic packaging and awaiting distribution. No wonder she was cautious about door-steppers. She was probably an expert. By the time they had all settled the air was filled with tension.

  ‘We were hoping to speak to Christie’s parents?’ Mariner said.

  ‘Christie’s mum died when she was little,’ Phyllis Gates nervously told him. ‘Her dad’s never been around. I take care of her.’

  ‘Well, then it’s you we need to speak to.’

  ‘About what?’ She was making an effort to keep her voice steady.

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ Mariner said. ‘But the body of a young woman was found on the Bristol to Birmingham railway line, early this morning. We have reason to believe that it’s Christie.’

  Her sharp intake of breath resounded around the room, then silence. She dropped her head, and after a moment when Mariner glanced across, he saw her shoulders heaving as she wept silent tears. They should have brought a female officer with them. He reached out and placed a comforting arm on hers as they waited for the shock to subside. ‘Do you keep any brandy in the house?’ Mariner asked, trying to remember if Jehovah’s witnesses were teetotallers, and when the response was in the negative he said, ‘Go and stick the kettle on,’ quietly, to Knox.

  Five minutes later when Knox returned with tea in a china cup, no saucer, her sobbing had diminished and she took the cup from him with shaking hands. ‘I can’t believe it. How did she end up there?’ Her voice was a whisper.

  ‘We’re not altogether sure yet.’ Mariner spoke slowly. ‘When was the last time you saw Christie?’

  ‘On Saturday afternoon. She’d finished with her boyfriend a couple of weeks ago, and she was moving her things back here.’ Mariner and Knox exchanged a look. It corroborated Bond’s story.

  ‘How did Christie seem?’

  ‘She was okay.’

  ‘Was she upset about the split?’

  ‘She was sad,’ said Phyllis, wiping her eyes. ‘But she thought it was the right thing to do.’

  ‘So she didn’t seem depressed about it?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘No. Not at all.’ She was struggling to comprehend.

  ‘How did you feel about it?’ Mariner asked.

  ‘It was a nightmare.’ said Phyllis, misunderstanding the question. ‘She’d got so much stuff to move back into her tiny little room we didn’t know where to put it all. She’s had to leave some of it at his house.’

  Mariner tried again. ‘I meant, how did you feel about her splitting up with Jimmy Bond?’

  ‘I was glad really. I always thought he was a bit too old for her—’ no mention of the physical violence ‘—and when he made those phone calls about the baby — Christie was so upset about that.’

  So had Christie finally stood up to Bond? He wouldn’t have taken it well. ‘Did Jimmy help to move her things back?’

  ‘Oh no, she got her uncle to help. He’s got a van.’

  ‘And you didn’t see Bond at all?’

  ‘No. Christie said he wasn’t there. But it was Saturday. He was probably at work. Moving back here was only temporary, like. She was going to get a place of her own, a flat. She’d already seen one that she fancied on that new development on the Bristol Road, by the college.’

  Mariner had seen that development. It was all luxury jobs. How on earth could Christie have afforded that? ‘They’re expensive properties,’ he said.

  ‘I know. But she’d won some money on one of those scratch cards, and she was going to get a pay rise,’ said Phyllis confidently.

  It’d have to be one hell of a pay rise, Mariner thought. ‘Then what?’ he asked.

  ‘When we’d put her things in her room we had some tea. I went down the road and got fish and chips, and we had it in front of the telly, then she went out about half past six.’

  ‘Did she say where she was going?’

  ‘She’s twenty-four years old,’ Phyllis reminded him. ‘She doesn’t have to tell me everything. I suppose I thought it was the girls from the nursery.’

  ‘And that’s the last time you saw her. You didn’t report her missing. Why was that?’

  ‘I thought she must be staying with friends. She often did. She’s not a child.’

  ‘Would she have taken anything with her?’ Mariner asked. ‘A handbag, for example.’

  ‘Oh yes, she always had her bag with her, and her mobile.’

  Mariner glanced up at Knox who gave a slight shake of the head. They were both thinking the same thing. ‘It wasn’t with her when she was found,’ Mariner said. ‘It would help if you could describe it for us.’

  ‘It was one of those Morgan bags,’ Phyllis said, which didn’t help either man in the slightest. ‘It was white leather, with lots of little pockets. She was very proud of it. She got it on eBay. It was a bargain.’

  ‘Mrs Gates, this may be uncomfortable, but we have to consider the possibility that Christie took her own life . . . this is hard, but can you think of any reason why she might have wanted to do that?’

  ‘Suicide? Oh no, Christie wouldn’t. She knows what we think of that.’ A glimmer of hope crossed her face. ‘Are you sure it’s her?’

  ‘As sure as we can be,’ Knox said, gently. ‘I spoke to Christie during our investigation into baby Jessica’s disappearance.’

  Phyllis Gates fixed him with a bright-eyed gaze. ‘You’re Tony. She told me about you, about how kind you were. She liked you.’

  Knox squirmed. ‘She contacted me on Saturday,’ he went on. ‘She said she wanted to talk to me. Do you have any idea what it might have been about?’

  For a moment she stared off into the middle distance, the cup in her hand tilting precariously. ‘No,’ she said, vaguely. ‘I can’t think of anything.’

  ‘Did you know that Jimmy Bond hit Christie?’

  ‘Jimmy?’ It brought her back to them, but she couldn’t meet Mariner’s eye. Instead she smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on the arm of the sofa. ‘Oh, I don’t think so. Christie was accident-prone, that was all. She always was quite a clumsy child. She and Jimmy had their differences at the end, but she loved him and he was good to her.’

  Mariner saw the look on Knox’s face. Hard to tell if she really hadn’t seen what was going on, or if she was in denial. Either way it had got to him. ‘Do you think Christie might have been more upset about splitting up from Jimmy than she let you see?’ Mariner asked.

  Phyllis considered this for a moment. ‘They’d been together a long time,’ she said.

  Mariner gestured to the photograph propped up on the fireplace. ‘Could we borrow that picture to take a copy?’

  ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘This is hard, Mrs Gates, but we’ll need someone to formally identify Christie.’

  ‘I can do that,’ she said, without hesitation.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I want to see her, to say goodbye. And to make sure.’

  She was still hoping it wouldn’t be Christie, Mariner thought. She wouldn’t be the first. ‘Before we go, would it be possible to just have a quick look at Christie’s room?’

  Christie may have moved her possessions in but she hadn’t got as far as unpacking, and the room was so crammed with boxes and black bin bags that they could hardly open the door to get in. The components of a personal computer stood unconnected on top of a dressing table. If Christie had left a note, she’d made no effort to draw attention to it.

  ‘This is too big a job,’ said Mariner. ‘We’ll do it later.’

  An hour later, after identifying her granddaughter’s body, Phyllis collapsed, sobbing with distress and turned to clutch at Mariner. ‘What am I going to do without her?’

  He couldn’t give her an answer.

  Chapter Twelve

  A new si
gn was being erected outside Jack and the Beanstalk nursery renaming it ABC Nursery.

  ‘That was quick,’ observed Mariner. ‘The kidnap must have left its mark.’ The doorbell had also been replaced by a more sophisticated affair and, unlike the last time, summoned an immediate response. It was Trudy Barratt who let them in and she didn’t seem particularly pleased to see them. The alterations it seemed were cosmetic and nothing had visibly altered inside. She returned immediately to her desk in the office, leaving them to follow.

  ‘What could you possibly want now?’ she asked, already attending to the papers in front of her.

  ‘How’s business?’ Mariner asked, pointedly.

  ‘Most of the sensible parents have stayed with us. A handful have chosen to place their children elsewhere.’

  ‘Any “elsewhere” in particular?’ Mariner couldn’t help wondering again about rival nurseries.

  ‘Not as far as I know. The reasons have been varied, but all quite diplomatic,’ she said with a wry smile.

  ‘And the staff?’

  ‘They’ve been more erratic than ever, which is why I’m rather busy just now. Three of them haven’t turned up today—’

  ‘Including Christie Walker.’

  ‘Yes.’ That had come out of the blue, and she finally looked up from what she was doing. ‘How did you know—?’

  ‘Christie’s body was found on the main Birmingham to Bristol line early this morning.’

  ‘What? Oh God. No.’ Now they had her full attention and for a couple of seconds she gripped the edge of the desk, swaying slightly. Mariner crossed the room to the tiny high window, pushing it open as far as it would go. ‘Let’s get some air in here. Would you like some water?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ Knox filled a plastic cup from the water cooler in the corner and passed it to her. She swallowed it in three gulps. ‘How? What happened?’ she asked, finally. ‘Was it — an accident?’

  ‘At the moment we’re treating it as suicide,’ said Mariner.

  Her eyes widened. ‘I can’t believe it. Poor girl.’ Her voice grew stronger. ‘It’s a terrible shock, of course, but in some ways I’m not surprised. I’ve always thought Christie was a little fragile.’

  ‘Fragile enough to want to end her life?’