by J. E. Mayhew
How did they know? “It must have been that policewoman,” Leonard hissed, wiping his eyes. He’d been through this before, though. He’d weather the storm and once everything calmed down, they’d go and pick on someone else. He just had to be careful for a while, that’s all.
Leonard opened his back-room windows and the kitchen window. He didn’t dare open the front in case more fireworks were thrown into his house. He pulled on a pair of gardening gloves, scooped up the stinking, charred remains of the doormat and threw it in the wheely bin. Opening a can of lager, he slumped down in his armchair and, trying to ignore the haze in the room, put the TV on.
The local news showed a picture of a missing little girl and her parents. Leonard held his breath and bit his tongue. It was bound to happen. He forgot how quickly news like this spread. Lying low wasn’t an option.
*****
“Laura Vexley was never an innocent party in their relationship. When I knew her she was hard as nails. She had a mouth on her and wasn’t afraid to use her fists. I was afraid of her,” Leslee Quinlan said, cradling her teacup in her hands.
Jeff Blake blinked. “People can change, I suppose…”
“Just before my brother, Kyle, disappeared, he told me that he was closing a ‘big deal.’ I never knew what it was but it clearly involved a lot of money…”
“Maybe his ship came in and he scooted off with the money, then.”
“I thought that, too but he was worried about Laura. Saying that she mustn’t find out. He was genuinely scared of her.”
“Why would he be scared of her?”
“I’ve told you, she’s not the sweet and innocent that you think she is. And she’s handy with her fists, too.”
“I’ve seen that,” Jeff said, remembering when Laura stopped Blake from fighting with Jeff by knocking him down.
“I don’t know why but Kyle wanted to keep this deal, whatever it was, a secret from Laura. He told me that she mustn’t find out. I got the impression he was going to hide the money from her. She was using a lot of substances at the time and I think he worried that she would blow it all.”
Jeff sat down, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m finding this hard to process, to be honest. But in another way, it would make sense if she did have that money; Laura has a part time job but never seems short of cash. In fact, I suspect she volunteers more than she gets paid. If she had got hold of that cash somehow.”
“The only way she would have done that was over Kyle’s dead body.”
“Who might know what happened to him? Who else could I talk to?”
Leslee sipped her tea. “There’s one place. The Seraph. A pub down in the North End of Birkenhead. It’s a dodgy place but Kyle was welcome there. I wouldn’t dare go there myself. The landlord knew my brother well. If it’s the same person, he might have some knowledge…”
Jeff took a breath. “Then I’ll pop down there and pay them a visit, shall I?”
Chapter 14
It was still dark outside as Blake stood before the team in the Major Incident Room again. The smell of coffee mingled with bacon butties and deodorant, a testament to those who’d woken hastily from scant sleep or those who had pulled a caffeine-fuelled all-nighter.
“Okay, people what have we got?”
“Sam Percival is on the Wirral for sure. I spotted her at her parents’ house in Leasowe but she got away from me,” Kinnear said. “She also visited a friend, Holly Young, who said she had asked about staying with her. Her friend got the impression that Sam was planning to take Florence, but she was looking for somewhere to stay.”
“Which suggests that she hasn’t got Florence. There’s no CCTV of Florence with her mother,” Blake said. “At least not on Ashville Road.”
“Holly Young also said that Sam had quite a temper. Sam told Holly that she worried about hurting Florence before she went into the clinic. She could have the child somewhere but was concealing that from her friend. I do think we need to treat her as a threat.”
“What else?”
“The two boys gave us a description of a man who hanging around the playground at that time. It sounds worth pursuing,” Manikas said.
“Not the only thing you thought was worth pursuing,” Vikki Chinn said, smirking. “What about that teacher, Miss Zander, wasn’t it? Did you get her number?”
“I couldn’t possibly comment,” Manikas said, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Well, try and keep your mind on the matter in hand,” Blake muttered. “I’ll be glad of anything that leads us to Florence Percival.”
“We’ve got a preliminary image of the man the boys saw, based on their description,” Manikas said, passing around some copies of the picture.
“Oh my God. It’s him,” Kath said.
“It’s who, Kath?” Blake said, feeling nettled. Kath Cryer was a good detective, but she was partial to a touch of melodrama.
“Leonard Hill. In and out of prison for grooming minors and possessing indecent images of children. I visited him yesterday,” Kath said. “He was lying about something. I was going to run an ANPR check for the Birkenhead Park area to see if his car was around there at the time of the disappearance.”
“Make that ANPR check a priority, Kath. I don’t want to drag anyone in unnecessarily but if there’s even a faint chance Hill was in the area, we’ll be all over him like a rash.”
“Will do,” Kath said.
“And get more background on Hill. See what kind of threat he poses,” Blake added. “I don’t know if this child’s been snatched by her mother or by a paedophile or if she’s just wandered across the park into the lake. We need to organise divers for today.”
A phone rang on a desk next to Blake and an officer answered. “Sir,” he said, putting the receiver down. “Paul Percival is downstairs. He wants to talk to you urgently.”
*****
If Paul Percival was worried sick about his daughter, it wasn’t immediately apparent. He looked immaculately groomed, not a hair out of place, and clean shaven. He wore a brown suit with sharp creases and a pale pink shirt. An overcoat hung on the crook of his elbow and he leaned on the enquiries counter chatting casually to Marge the receptionist. He straightened up as Blake approached and extended a hand.
“DCI Blake, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I remember you on that television programme,” he said. “Searchlight, wasn’t it?”
Blake couldn’t help frowning. “Yes, Mr Percival…”
“Call me Paul,” he said. His brow creased slightly as though he was trying to solve a crossword puzzle. “Brendan called me and said that Flossy has gone missing…”
Blake looked around, the reception area at Police HQ was busy with all kinds of people, including a few journalists eager for a scoop. He could see their ears pricking up. Obviously they hadn’t recognised the relaxed, suave character strolling into the building as though he was on a sight-seeing holiday as a worried and anxious father. “Shall we take this inside, Paul?” Blake said. “I’ll see if a meeting room is available and then we can bring you up to date.”
After a little searching and with a little help from Marge, Blake and Paul Percival located and settled in a meeting room. Blake explained everything they had done and the lines of enquiry they were following. Throughout it all, Paul Percival looked calm and the gentle smile never left his face. Blake could see a vein pulsing in his forehead, though and the man’s jaw muscles clenched and relaxed far too often.
“So,” Percival said at last. “You think Sam may have her. I really hope that isn’t so, detective. Sam is very unstable…”
“Can I ask where you’ve been, Paul? We’ve been trying to contact you and I know your father has, too. We checked the hotel you told Brendan you were staying at and they hadn’t heard of you at all. Nor was there a conference happening there.”
Percival gave an embarrassed smile. “Ah, that is something of a delicate matter, detective. Suffice to say, it concerns the honour of a lady and so I’m not at libert
y to say.”
“If I may say so, Paul,” Blake said through gritted teeth, “you don’t seem particularly alarmed at the absence of your child.”
This time, Percival went pale. “I have a saying, ‘never lose your shit in public.’ It’s stood me in good stead in the past and I’m sure it will help me through this. Now in all likelihood, Flossy is with Sam and, whilst that is alarming, me going off the rails about it isn’t going to help.”
“I can see the wisdom in that, but I have to insist. You see, in many of these cases, parents or close relatives are involved and I really need to know where you’ve been and who with in order to rule you out of the list of suspects.”
Percival blinked, clearly close to ‘losing his shit’ with Blake. “But I’m her father…”
“Nevertheless.”
“Very well. I was in the Lake District. The Lodore Falls Hotel…”
“With?”
“You have to promise me that you’ll be discreet, Blake,” Percival said. “The lady is happily married and wants to remain so.”
Blake allowed himself a look of confusion at the idea of a happily married woman sneaking off to a hotel with Paul Percival, but kept any comment to himself. “I’ll be as discreet as possible.”
“Mrs Davina Allisen. She’s the wife of a client of mine. I work in investments; stocks and shares and such.”
“And you have contact details for this Mrs Allisen?”
“Yes but… why do I feel like I’m under suspicion here?”
“Because I have a suspicious mind, Paul and I like to be thorough. I just want to get your daughter back, believe me. If I can do that without upsetting your private arrangements, then that’s fine but this is a police investigation, and nothing will get in its way.”
Paul Percival seemed to shrink in his seat. “I understand.”
“Good. Now, Brendan Dockley. How well do you know him?”
Percival shrugged. “Fairly well. He lives in my house. Mum and Dad chose him to calm Sam’s nerves. Sam was convinced that I was having it away with the previous nanny and the one before that.”
When actually, you were having it away with Mrs Allisen, Blake thought. “But you find him diligent? Trustworthy?”
“Yeah. Flossy seems to like him. He kept her busy and out of my hair. Makes me seem very ‘equal opps’ to clients, having a male nanny, too.” Percival’s face twisted and Blake thought he saw the mask slip a little. “But he’s cocked up bigtime here, hasn’t he? I mean he had one job yesterday. One job.”
“Yes,” Blake agreed. “He did. He hasn’t actually met your wife, has he?”
“No but Mum and Dad wanted him in place so Sam could go to the clinic without worrying about my fidelity.”
“So your mother and father hired him. Not you,” Blake said, trying not to get distracted by Percival’s seeming lack of concern about his actual and obvious infidelity.
“Yes, I was mad busy and left it to them. Look, why are you asking questions about Brendan, now?”
“As I say, I have to eliminate everyone from our enquiries. Right now, we’re combing the area for your daughter and the person who last saw her is Brendan Dockley.”
“D’you think he might be responsible for her disappearance?”
“I’m just finding out the truth about what happened, Paul. I’m not here to apportion blame. Brendan’s concentration lapsed, and maybe someone took advantage of it. I just want to find Florence and bring her home safe and sound.”
“Yes. I can see that. It would be interesting to find out who took her in the first place as well, don’t you think?”
Blake ignored the jibe and the indignation that was growing in Paul Percival’s voice. “Your father said that he saw bruises on Florence. Where did they come from?”
“Her mother, most likely. I told you, she’s unstable.”
“That must have put you in a worrying situation…”
“I love the woman, Blake. I did everything I could. Gave her all the support possible but it wasn’t enough. In the end the clinic seemed like the best option.”
Before Blake could answer, there was a knock and Kath Cryer put her head round the door. “Sorry to interrupt but could I have a quick word. It’s important.”
Outside, Blake shut the door behind him. “Leonard Hill,” Kath said in a low voice. “His car was in the Birkenhead park area yesterday. Andrew’s rechecking the CCTV of Ashville Road to see if we can see his car there but it’s him. I’m certain!”
“Okay,” Blake said. “Good work, Kath. I’ll finish up here and then we’ll get a warrant for Hill’s house. We can bring him in too. He’s got a bit of explaining to do.”
Chapter 15
Leonard Hill looked as though he expected to see Blake flanked by Cryer and Chinn. His shoulders sagged in weary acceptance, and he pulled his front door wide.
“Morning Leonard, I’m DCI Blake, this is DS Chinn and DI Cryer who I think you’ve already met. We have a warrant to search these premises for Florence Percival who is currently missing. We’re also looking for any evidence that she has been here.”
Hill stepped back and let them in. Kath gave him a tart smile as she brushed past him. “You won’t find anything,” Leonard said.
Blake paused. “Can you wait in the living room with DS Chinn, please, Mr Hill, whilst our officers conduct a thorough search?”
Hill shuffled into the living room and sat on the edge of his armchair, watching the officers come in. Blake glanced down at the floor and sniffed. “You had a fire?”
“That was my lovely neighbours after your Detective Inspector’s visit. Put a few fireworks through my front door just to cheer me up.”
“If you want to make a complaint…”
Hill held up his hands and closed his eyes. “Just do your searching and then go. Complaining about things only makes it worse.”
Blake was puzzled. For someone who was on the verge of being arrested for abducting a child, Hill seemed more fed up than anxious. As though he was resigned to his fate. He also seemed sure they would leave empty handed. “Do you want to have a chat with him, Vikki?”
Blake made his way upstairs. As Kath had told him, the house was a blank canvas. Anyone could have lived there. That was one of the downsides of living in rented accommodation, especially fully furnished. It was fitted out to suit everyone and no one. Every room had the same shade of oatmeal on the walls. He thought of his own décor at home or rather the flowery wallpaper that his parents had put up, given that he’d never done any decorating in the place since his father died.
Drawers were emptied, cupboards were opened, tables turned over but nothing suspicious was found. They even checked the roof space and found it empty apart from some packing cases that Leonard Hill said he’d used to bring his belongings to the house.
“He still hasn’t explained what he was doing around Birkenhead Park yesterday, sir,” Kath said. “Let me have a crack at him.”
“Vikki’s talking to him now, Kath. Why are you so sure he’s taken Florence?”
“It’s just a feeling, sir. A hunch. You know?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean Kath, but we can’t just arrest him on a hunch. We need hard evidence. He could have been driving past the park for a whole host of reasons that he didn’t want to share with us. It doesn’t mean he abducted the girl does it?”
“Sir!” One of the uniformed officers called from the spare bedroom. Blake and Cryer hurried across the landing. Under the mattress on the bed was a jiffy bag. The officer held it between his gloved finger and thumb.
“Put it on the bed, let’s see what it is,” Blake said.
Carefully, they teased open the bag and slid the contents out. Blake held his breath. A small pair of girl’s briefs tumbled out followed by two bloody tissues and a lock of dark hair in a bobble. “Okay,” Blake sighed. “Let’s get CSI in and take Hill into custody.”
Outside, Blake watched as Kath Cryer and Vikki Chinn ushered Leonard Hill into the
back of a car. Why would someone keep those items, so personal and intimate? Even after all his years in the force, he couldn’t understand why anyone would do that. He’d heard all the explanations, reliving the moment through trophies, keeping the victim close in some way but it just didn’t make sense to him. Also the stupidity of where criminals hid their mementos never ceased to amaze him. Hill obviously hadn’t thought long or hard about where he was going to conceal the jiffy bag. Or maybe they’d caught him out before he could shift them. Maybe that was what Hill’s look of weary acceptance was all about when he’d first let them in. He knew he hadn’t moved the package in time and that they’d find it.
A movement across the road dragged him from his thoughts and he realised someone was filming Leonard getting into the car. He was a tall but thin character, bony and unshaved, dressed in sweatpants and hoodie. His attention was focused on Hill clambering into the car so he didn’t notice Blake cross the road.
“Can I help you, sir?” Blake said, making the man jump and lower the phone.
“No. I’ve got all I want, thanks,” the man said, staring evenly at Blake with large, poppy eyes. “Have you nailed the dirty bugger, then?”
“I’m afraid, I can’t discuss that. What’s your name, sir?”
The young man’s toothy grin faded, and Blake watched the internal struggle written on his face. Clearly, this man had been in trouble with the police before and knew the perils of not supplying a name.
“Ian Vale,” the man said at last.
“Thank you. And why were you filming the police car?”
The grin returned. “I’m an enthusiast, aren’t I? I love police cars, I do.”
Blake narrowed his eyes. “Right. You seemed more interested in the occupants, Mr Vale. Do you know any of them?”
“Nah,” Vale said, with a shrug. “I know the fella in the back is a nonce, though. A bloody kiddy-fiddler and he’s getting what’s due to him.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Everyone round here knows,” Vale said. “And if they didn’t they soon will, once word gets around. Social media’s a wonder, isn’t it?”
