by Sally Rigby
‘Yes, but, Sarge …’
‘It’s best left alone. We’re already stretched too thin with Rambo out of action, as you well know, and I can’t afford to shell out for any more overtime. The budget for this year has almost been spent.’ His face was set hard. She knew from experience it would be pointless pushing him further, but that didn’t stop her from offering another suggestion.
‘Can I look into it myself? I don’t mind working overtime and not claiming for it.’
‘No. I want your full attention on the carjackings case. We’ve been investigating it for a couple of months now and still no closer to apprehending the culprits.’
‘But, Sarge—’
‘Sorry, Birdie. Lacey’s case was investigated before, and all avenues were exhausted. Leave it.’
Her fists clenched by her side. ‘But, Sarge …’
‘Don’t but Sarge me again. I’ve decided, and that’s it.’
He glared at her, and then turned and marched out of the room. She scowled at his retreating back, then returned to her desk and plonked herself down on her chair.
Spinning to face Twiggy, Birdie said, ‘It’s so not fair. Why can’t he see Lacey deserves our attention?’
‘It’s not that, and you know it. If he says no, it’s no. Don’t you get it?’ Twiggy asked.
‘I do, but you didn’t see Lacey and how upset she was. It was gut-wrenching to witness. Something must have happened. Kids don’t do that for no reason at all. We need to investigate. We have to investigate.’
Why was she the only one to see the importance of this?
‘And don’t think about doing it on the side, either. You’ll end up in the shit if you do,’ Twiggy said.
‘Agreed. Listen to your elders. We know what’s best for you,’ Tiny said, jumping into the conversation.
‘Did I say I was?’ she replied, an idea forming in her mind. It was definitely an option worth exploring.
‘No, but knowing you, that’s exactly what you’re thinking about doing,’ Twiggy said. ‘You can’t fool me. I’m your partner and know you better than you know yourself.’
‘Yeah, right. Of course, you do.’
He didn’t. Well, he did, sort of. But he didn’t know everything about her.
‘I’m glad we see eye to eye. Now we’ve got that sorted, let’s interview this woman before we have Sarge breathing down our necks.’
‘Give me a minute. I’ve got to go to the loo.’
She left and went to the ladies’, taking her phone with her. If the team couldn’t do it, she knew just the man to ask. Sebastian Clifford.
Clifford was an ex-DI from London, and when she’d seen him last, he was in between jobs. She’d worked with him on the QT, investigating the suicide verdict of his cousin Sarah’s husband, Donald Witherspoon. Sarah wasn’t convinced the verdict had been correct and had approached Seb to look into it. He’d intended to investigate on his own, but Birdie had managed to force her way onto the case.
She hadn’t been in touch with Seb since then and had no idea where he was or what he was doing. When they’d last spoken, she’d suggested he became a private investigator, but she didn’t know if he’d decided to or not. It wasn’t like he had to work or would be out on the streets because, unlike the rest of them, he was related to the aristocracy, the son of a viscount. His family would always be there for him as backup. It must be nice to have that security.
She’d call him and ask for his help.
Chapter 4
Sebastian Clifford was sitting at his desk, researching international drug trafficking. He’d recently set up his own company, Clifford Investigation Services, and his first job had been acting as a civilian investigator for his friend and ex-colleague DI Rob Lawson who worked in the Homicide and Serious Crimes Command Unit at the Metropolitan Police force.
His phone rang, and he glanced at the screen.
It was Birdie.
He’d been meaning to contact her, but work had got in the way. It was no excuse. What was she going to say when she found out where he was?
‘Hello, Birdie. Good to hear from you.’
‘You too. How’s it going?’
‘Well, thanks. And you? How’s CID?’
‘Same old, same old. Look, I’m sorry, but I haven’t phoned for a chat. Well, I have, but you know what I mean. Where are you and what are you doing?’
‘I’m here in East Farndon, at Rendall Hall.’
‘You’re here? That’s awesome. You must have known I needed you. You can add psychic ability to that crazy remembering everything talent of yours.’
He laughed at her description of his highly superior autobiographical memory. It was the bane of his life, as it was incessant. With no let up.
‘I’ll stick with the HSAM, thanks. That’s more than enough for one person to deal with.’
‘Are you staying here long?’
How was she going to react when he told her? There was only one way to find out.
‘I moved in a few weeks ago to take care of the house while Sarah’s travelling around the world. I’m not sure how long she’ll be away for. It could be months, if not longer. We’ve left it open.’
Silence hung in the air.
Had Birdie hung up?
‘B-but … why didn’t you tell me?’ she finally said, sounding dejected.
‘I was going to, but I’ve been really busy.’ His words sounded lame. After what they’d been through together, he should’ve been more considerate. ‘Sorry, that’s no excuse.’
‘What have you been doing?’
‘Some investigative work for DI Rob Lawson. My friend at the Met. Remember him?’
‘Yeah. How could I forget? It felt like Land of the Giants being stuck next to the pair of you.’
He laughed at the description. Rob was one of the few people he knew who was close to his six feet six inches. Birdie was over a foot shorter, if not more.
‘That’s him.’
‘How come you’re working for him?’
‘I’ve set up an investigation company and he’s my first client.’
‘What happened to all the I don’t want to be a PI crap that you were spouting when we last spoke?’
‘That’s an exaggeration.’
‘Is it? I don’t think so. Anyway, I’m very pleased because, guess what? I’ve got a job for you. For us really, because I want to be involved. But it isn’t one I can pay you for. I’ll explain when I see you.’
‘I’d like to know a little more now, if you don’t mind?’ he asked, his curiosity piqued.
‘Okay, but I’ve gotta be quick. Twiggy’s waiting for me to go out with him. I nipped to the loo to call you because Sarge turned me down when I asked about investigating this case.’
He shook his head. ‘Some things never change.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. Anyway, did you see on the news last year the case involving a young girl, of about six or seven, who was found abandoned in Market Harborough town centre?’
‘Yes, I recall the incident. The child was found near the Old Grammar School. The investigation was unsuccessful, despite a concerted effort and it being in the media. Tragic circumstances.’
‘That’s the case. Her identity was never discovered and so she was given the name Lacey. She’s currently being fostered by my aunt.’
‘How is the child?’
‘Until Saturday she was doing really well. We were out in town and Lacey saw something which totally blindsided her. I don’t have the foggiest what it was because she didn’t say and I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, either. All I know is, it’s got to be connected to her past. Because, what else could it be?’
‘And since your sergeant told you no, you want me to look into it for you.’
‘There’s no one else I’d trust to do it. The fact you’ve now set up your PI company and you’re living in the area has gotta be a sign. Surely you agree.’
‘Except I’m working with Rob at
the moment,’ he reminded her.
‘I thought you were done with the police so how come you agreed to this job?’
‘Rob approached me and I needed cases to work on. Once the company takes off, I can afford to be more choosy.’
‘Are you enjoying Rob’s work?’
‘The money I earn covers my expenses, but I’m stuck behind the computer and it’s not fieldwork, which I much prefer,’ he admitted.
‘Is the case taking up all your time?’
‘Probably about fifty per cent, give or take.’
‘So, what else are you doing? And don’t say walking Elsa because I know that at her age, she’s happy with one walk a day. How is she, by the way?’
‘Loving it here. She enjoys playing in the woods surrounding the house.’
Birdie and Elsa, his nine-year-old yellow Labrador, had developed a strong attachment when he was last there.
‘You haven’t answered my question. How are you filling your time?’
He could see which way this was going and, knowing Birdie, she wouldn’t give up until she had the answer she wanted.
‘I’m devising a marketing strategy for the business. It’s no good having a company if I don’t have any cases to work on.’
‘That’s not going to happen overnight, which means you’ll have time to devote to Lacey. We’ll work on it together. What do you say?’
‘It’s so tempting considering there’s no payment.’
‘As I helped you on Sarah’s case, we’ll view it as quid pro quo.’
‘What? You refused to give me the information I requested unless I let you help,’ he spluttered.
Their very first conversation, when she’d demanded to be included in the case was firmly etched on his mind. He had no choice. Though, with hindsight, it was a smart move on her part. It had taken the pair of them to solve the case.
‘There was that I suppose.’
‘Not to mention our success got you out of trouble with your sergeant, and you ended up being praised for your efforts. I’d have said that was more than enough compensation. Don’t you agree?’
‘Okay, I accept that it was. But I’ve really got to go, or Twiggy will be sending out a search party to find me. Let’s meet this evening and we’ll discuss it some more. You can buy me dinner.’
He burst out laughing. ‘That makes a change.’
‘You know my situation. I’m saving up for a deposit on a house and all my spare cash goes towards that. We can just go for a drink, if you’d rather. Although I expect you’re feeling guilty for having been here for so long and not letting me know. Buying me a meal is one way you can redeem yourself. You know, I could’ve been really upset at being forgotten so easily.’
She was right. He felt guilty.
‘Okay, you win. Meet me at the pub in Great Oxendon at seven. And that’s my seven and not yours.’
‘Okay, let’s go. We’ll take your car, as mine was playing up a bit this morning,’ Birdie said to Twiggy when she returned to the office.
They drove to Harvest Road, a recent development to the west of the town centre. Twiggy was moaning, as usual, about his lack of food, but she only had half an ear on what he was saying.
She’d made a joke of it, but why hadn’t Seb told her he was back and that he’d started his own PI company? Or was she being supersensitive? It wasn’t like they had a history that went back years. They’d only known each other a few weeks. Okay, they’d clicked and solved the case together, but that didn’t mean they were going to repeat the process regularly. Apart from Lacey’s case, obviously.
‘Birdie.’
She jumped at the sharp tone in Twiggy’s voice. ‘What?’
‘I’ve asked you the same thing twice. Are you ignoring me?’
‘No.’
‘Answer my question then?’
‘Okay, I had tuned out when you were going on about diets and stuff. What did you ask?’
‘It doesn’t matter, we’re here now,’ he said, pulling up outside a red-brick detached house.
‘Suit yourself.’ She unclipped her seat belt and got out of the car.
There was no garden and the front door backed onto the pavement. Birdie knocked and it was answered by a woman in her late forties, wearing a grey trouser suit, pink shirt and black pumps.
‘Hello?’
‘Mrs Dennis?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m DC Bird and this is DC Branch from Market Harborough CID, we’re here to talk about the incident you reported which happened at the weekend.’
‘I was expecting you. Come on through to the lounge.’
They followed her into a large square room with modern furnishings and sat on the light grey sofa. Birdie pulled out her notebook and pen.
‘Please could you tell us exactly what happened.’
‘Yes. It was really scary. It was Saturday night. I’d been out with a friend shopping in Leicester for the day and didn’t arrive home until late. I couldn’t face cooking. The kids were out, and my husband wasn’t feeling well, so I went out for a takeaway. It was around eight o’clock, I think. There wasn’t much traffic, and I drew up to the lights on Welland Road when a man ran over and jumped in front of my car and banged on the windscreen. At the same time someone tugged at the door handle.’ She shuddered.
‘What happened next?’ Birdie asked, while scribbling down her notes.
‘Well … thank God I’d locked myself in. The man standing in front of the car banged the windscreen again and adrenaline must have kicked in because I rammed the car into reverse and hit the accelerator until I was away from them.’
‘What did they do?’ Twiggy asked.
‘Ran off down Farndon Road.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Pulled into the side of the road and called my husband. He stayed on the phone while I turned around and drove home. I was going to contact the police, but it was late and it wasn’t like they’d done anything, so I waited.’
‘Can you describe these men to me?’ Birdie asked.
‘One was tall, looked at least six feet, and the other short. Around five feet five. He wasn’t much taller than my car. They were wearing balaclavas and hoodies. From their build and the way they were jumping about, it made me think they were young men. Maybe late teens, early twenties.’
The same as the other victims. But, again, nothing to properly identify them.
‘When you say jumping about, do you mean agitated, as if they’d taken drugs?’
‘Sort of. It’s difficult to tell.’
‘Were they wearing gloves?’
‘Yes.’
No fingerprints. Same as before.
‘Is there anything else you can tell us that might help catch them?’
‘The taller of the two had a limp. It was his left leg. I noticed it when they ran away.’
‘Was he the man who tried to open the door, or the one in front of the car?’
‘He was the one who came up to the front.’
‘Is there anything else you noticed that might be of help to us?’
‘No. It all happened so quickly. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.’
‘You haven’t. If anything else springs to mind, here’s my card. Call me anytime.’ Birdie handed it to the woman.
They left the house and returned to the car.
‘If she’d have told us when it happened, we might have found them wandering the streets. Now, we’re still no closer to identifying them. Apart from the limp which could’ve been done if he’d jumped awkwardly in front of her.’ Twiggy banged his fist on the steering wheel.
‘Are you kidding me?’ Birdie stared at him.
Hadn’t he realised?
‘What?’
‘This is the best lead we’ve had, so far. They ran off down Farndon Road. There are cameras there, unlike any other place they’ve carjacked. Drive us back to the station so we can get hold of the CCTV footage.’
Chapter 5
Seb set
tled himself at a table in the corner of the pub and picked up the menu he’d brought over. He quite fancied the beer and game pie, which he’d ordered when he was last there.
Despite his life changing so much since he’d seen Birdie, he was already feeling at home in his new surroundings. Living in the country and being away from the hustle and bustle of London was enjoyable. After Birdie and he had solved the case, and Sarah had asked him to move in, he’d returned to London to sort everything out with his flat in Notting Hill. He’d decided not to rent it out but instead arranged for his neighbour to monitor it for him, so he could use it anytime he came to the city for a visit. He’d also been to see his parents and explained to them he’d left the police force after his special squad had been disbanded. His mother already knew what had happened and, much to his surprise, she’d kept his secret so he could explain to his father, Viscount Worthington, in person.
His father’s reaction had been predictable. He’d been delighted that Seb was no longer in the force, not considering it to be a suitable profession for him, but he wasn’t so pleased when Seb had refused to work on the family estate in Winchester alongside his older brother, Hubert. He hadn’t mentioned his new company to his parents or his work with Rob. They wouldn’t approve because it was too close to police work.
Seb would be eternally grateful that it was Hubert who was in line to inherit the family title, as it left him free to follow his own path. Although the last time he’d spoken to his brother, he’d sounded a little strange and distracted. Most unlike the normally positive and outgoing person he was. Next time Seb was in Winchester, he’d have a chat with him. But it might not be until Christmas when they all got together for their traditional family celebrations.
Seb’s father had been surprised that he’d moved into Sarah’s house, and even more taken aback that his niece had gone traveling around the world. He’d kept away from her during the scandal relating to her dead husband, and Seb suspected he was feeling guilty. He wasn’t a mean man but was cognisant of how his behaviour could affect his charity work and the public’s perception of the aristocracy.
