Speak No Evil: A Midlands Crime Thriller (Detective Sebastian Clifford - Book 2)

by Sally Rigby

  ‘I expect it’s already being discussed in the kitchen, so with a bit of luck you’ll learn shortly. Probably for the best, as I don’t want you to lose any sleep worrying over it. You need to be fighting fit so we can begin work tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re telling Lacey what you want to do?’ He frowned.

  ‘No. That’s a stupid idea. But Auntie Catherine will find out her opinion of you.’

  ‘Are you confident I’ll pass?’

  ‘Lacey’s a really intelligent child and I’m already sure she likes you. I could tell by her reactions while you were talking.’

  ‘Assuming your aunt approves, I’d like to know more about Lacey and how she reacts to situations.’

  ‘That makes sense.’

  ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

  ‘Working. What else would I be doing?’

  ‘Why don’t you come over to the hall when you’ve finished. I’ll make dinner. I know you were desperate to look around when you were there before.’

  He wasn’t wrong about that. She’d fallen in love with the old hall he was staying at and would love to see more of it.

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘Can you get hold of the CCTV footage from Saturday around the time around Lacey witnessed something? If we could work out what, or who, she saw that would help.’

  ‘Leave it with me. Expect me around five-thirty tomorrow. You won’t regret it. You know you love working with me.’

  Chapter 7

  ‘I want someone on the phones at all times today. DI Curtis is giving a press conference in an hour regarding the carjackings, using the images Twiggy and Birdie found of our culprits. Surely someone will recognise them, even if all we have is a rear view. You can take it in turns,’ Sarge said.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Birdie said, scanning the room and seeing all eyes were suddenly focused on her. ‘What? I don’t mind sitting behind the desk sometimes answering the phone.’

  ‘It’s unnecessary. You can take it in turns. It’s a shame Rambo’s not back yet, as he could’ve done it,’ Sarge said.

  ‘Really, I mean it. I’ll do it. I’m sure Twiggy won’t miss me being with him for one day. It means he won’t have me nagging when he wants to make a detour to the nearest bakery.’

  ‘I resent that,’ Twiggy said.

  ‘Even if it is true.’ She smirked in his direction.

  ‘If that’s what you want, then fine. Birdie, you can stay on the phones. I don’t have time to debate this.’ Sarge frowned, before turning and leaving the office.

  ‘What are you up to?’ Twiggy said, once the coast was clear. ‘No way would you ever offer to sit on the phones without there being an ulterior motive.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She’d have to tell him eventually but didn’t intend to yet, not while there were others around. Not that she didn’t trust Sparkle and Tiny because she did. It was more she was worried it would get back to Sarge. Even though he wasn’t in the room, she’d have sworn sometimes that he’d bugged the office. How else would he know what they were up to without being told?

  ‘What about when you were on permanent desk duty the other month? You moaned about it non-stop.’

  ‘Because I was being punished for something that wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Oh. Did someone else write-off the police car after driving into a skip?’

  ‘You know what I mean. Anyway, it turned out okay because I ended up working with Clifford on his case and we all know how that ended.’

  ‘That’s beside the point. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never offered to sit on the phones. I know we all have to take our turn, but you hate it and you’ve always made sure we all know your feelings. So, come on. Spill. I repeat, what are you up to?’

  She loved the closeness of being part of a small team, except at times like this, when she wanted to be discreet about what she intended to do. Hiding under the radar was all but impossible in these instances.

  After checking whether the others were listening, she leant in towards him and lowered her voice. ‘I’ve got things I want to do today, and it’s best you don’t know what they are. I don’t want you to be incriminated, which you might be if I told you, and then you’d lose your spot as Sarge’s favourite.’

  Although their boss did like Twiggy, in truth she wasn’t sure about him being the favourite, as he treated them all fairly equally. Twiggy was the longest serving on the team, so he often had Sarge’s ear. But he wasn’t really thought of any differently from the rest of them. Not that she’d tell Twiggy that. She loved winding him up about it because he usually took the bait.

  ‘You drive me mad, sometimes. You’re like a child going on about who’s favourite. And if Sarge has a favourite, it’s not me. If anyone, it’s Tiny.’ He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.

  ‘Yeah. No. It’s you. Most definitely. I don’t know why you don’t accept it. I bet you buy him birthday and Christmas presents, don’t you? No point in denying it.’

  ‘Give it a rest, Birdie.’

  ‘Whatever. But we can agree on one thing. It’s not me. I’m way down the pecking order in this place.’

  ‘Could it be your dislike of rules and your poor timekeeping, do you think?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She shrugged.

  ‘You and Sarge have a different type of relationship than the rest of us. You somehow get away with stuff that we don’t. Though, it’s probably because you do things that none of us would. ’

  ‘You’re talking rubbish. You do know that, don’t you?’

  ‘We’re going around in circles. What are you getting yourself involved in now? There’s got to be a reason for wanting to stay in the office today.’

  ‘If I tell you, then you’ve got to swear not to say anything to anyone.’

  ‘Cross my heart,’ he replied, doing the sign of a cross with his forefinger against his chest.

  ‘I’m preparing my application for the Sergeants’ exam,’ she whispered.

  Twiggy’s jaw dropped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Are you sure you’re ready, because not wanting to put you down … but … I …’

  ‘Oh my God, Twiggy. Look at your face. Do you really think I’d be applying? You’re such a pillock.’

  ‘I knew you didn’t mean it. Anyway, I’m over your secrecy. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t. I’m going.’

  She’d upset him. It was written all over his face.

  ‘Okay. This really is the truth. I’m working with Seb on Lacey’s case. I’m doing it on the side and I thought I’d use my time today to check out what happened last Saturday when she had that shock. The one I told you about.’

  ‘Clifford. I should’ve guessed.’ He turned up his nose.

  ‘I don’t know why you have a problem with him.’

  ‘I think he’s trouble, that’s all. How come he’s back here, anyway?’

  ‘He’s moved down to East Farndon for a while. I couldn’t believe my luck when I found out. So now you know. Okay?’

  ‘No, it’s not okay, but you won’t listen to anything I have to say. Be careful and don’t let Sarge find out what you’re up to, or you’ll end up on desk duty for your entire career.’

  ‘I know what I’m doing. I’m not stupid, you know.’

  ‘Stupid, no. Headstrong, yes. I hope you find something. I feel sorry for the kid.’

  ‘Thanks, Twig. I’ll see you later.’

  He pulled on his jacket and left the office, closely followed by Sparkle and Tiny.

  With Sarge in a meeting and the rest of them out she was free to do whatever she wanted. She glanced at her watch, it was only a few minutes after nine, and the press conference wasn’t until ten, so that gave her plenty of time before the phones rang.

  She opened her email and sent a request to the Leicestershire secure control room, which operated twenty-four-seven, for the CCTV footage from Saturday around the time when Lacey went into shock from what she’d witnessed. If they could identify w
hat it was the child had seen, it would make their job so much easier.

  She clicked send and then sat back in her chair. What should she do next? There was always the never-ending stack of paperwork relating to cases they were working on. Except she might not have much time, as the phone would ring following the press conference.

  Or … she could use the time to do some research into her birth mother. All she had from her birth certificate was a name. Kim Bakirtzis. She’d been living in Leicester when Birdie had been born, twenty-six years ago. If only she could use the PNC database, her search would be so much easier, but she could be fired for using it without good reason. And as much as she wanted to know about her mother, there was no criminal offence involved and so she couldn’t justify it. Fortunately, there were the online electoral registers which were available to everyone.

  Bakirtzis was an unusual surname and after looking it up on the register she came up with a list of four people with that name who lived in the Leicester area. All she had to do was contact them to find out if any of them knew of her mother. She couldn’t believe her luck when she managed to find phone numbers for all of them using both the landline and mobile phone directories.

  Her excitement was short-lived, because the first three she called had no knowledge of a Kim. Despondency washed over here. Was she wasting her time?

  She keyed in the number for the last name on the list and a man answered.

  ‘Hello, my name’s Lucinda Bird from Market Harborough. I’m trying to trace someone called Kim Bakirtzis, can you help? Is she by any chance a member of your family?’

  She cringed at the sound of her real name, which no one was allowed to use, but she couldn’t say DC Bird, as it wasn’t a police matter, nor could she use the name Birdie, as it seemed too familiar.

  ‘I’m sorry, no, she isn’t.’

  Birdie’s heart sank. ‘Thank you—’

  ‘But I do know who you mean because people often asked if we were brother and sister as we went to the same school,’ he interrupted.

  Birdie grabbed a pen, her heart thumping in her chest. Was this her mother? A few more questions and she might find out.

  ‘What school was this?’

  ‘Why do you want to know? Are you the police?’

  ‘I am actually a police officer, but this isn’t official police business.’

  She might not be allowed to play the police card, but him knowing that was her occupation couldn’t do any harm.

  ‘Okay. The school was St Augustine’s. Kim was in the year below me.’

  ‘What dates were you there?’

  She didn’t know the exact age of her mother, but assuming she’d been a teenager when she’d given birth, would put her at school in the early nineties.

  ‘From 1989 to 1996.’

  The dates fit. It could definitely be her mother.

  ‘Did she have red hair, by any chance?’

  ‘No, she didn’t.’

  Damn. But that didn’t mean this wasn’t the right Kim.

  ‘Do you have her contact details?’ She sucked in a breath and held it.

  ‘Not now. The family moved to Canada in the mid-nineties.’

  She gripped the edge of her desk. Canada? It would be impossible to find anyone there.

  ‘Do you know where they lived when they were here?’

  ‘Yes. Saffron Lane. Number 981, I think.’

  Okay, so her mother might now be abroad, but at least she now had a lead, and knew more now than she had only a few moments ago.

  ‘Thank you very much for your help.’

  Someone at their old address, or who lived close by, might remember the family. She called up Google Maps, checked the location, and then went into an online database to find the name and contact details of the people who lived in the house presently, and those from next door.

  There was no landline number listed for 981, but there was for next door. It rang for ages, and she was about to hang up when someone answered.

  ‘Hello,’ a woman with a thin and breathy voice said. She sounded very old.

  ‘This is Lucinda Bird from Market Harborough. I’m trying to trace the Bakirtzis family, I believe they lived in the house next door to you until the mid-nineties. They had a daughter called Kim. Do you remember them?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I knew them very well. A lovely family. They moved to Canada a long time ago, but they still send me a Christmas card every year.’

  Her eyes widened. This woman knew her mum and maybe where she now was.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs …’ She paused.

  ‘Davis. But you can call me Marie, dear.’

  ‘I’d love to come round for a chat about them, if I may, Marie.’

  ‘Um …’

  ‘I understand you might be reluctant as you know nothing about me. But I am a police officer, even though this isn’t an official matter. I can show you my police ID when I get there to prove who I am.’

  ‘In that case, I’d be more than happy to talk to you. I’ve been on my own since my Rodney died and few people visit these days. I’m going away for a couple of days tomorrow to see my son. Is it okay to wait until I come back?’

  As much as Birdie would like to rush off to see her straight away, waiting a few more days really wouldn’t matter.

  ‘Yes, that’s perfect. Do you know the people who live next door now?’

  ‘The Robinsons. They moved in last year. They’re friendly people with three teenage children, but I don’t see them much because they’re always so busy.’

  Damn. They won’t know anything. But at least this woman does.

  ‘May I see you on Sunday, if you’re back from your son’s?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be home then. Come round in the morning, and we’ll have elevenses together. I might be getting old but, according to my grandchildren, I still make the best chocolate cake.’

  ‘My favourite. I can’t wait to try it.’

  Birdie had no time to ponder their conversation as after saying goodbye to Marie, her email pinged with the CCTV footage. After taking a quick look, she downloaded it to her phone, not wanting to risk checking it in the office in case Sarge came in and spotted what she was doing. She’d wait until after work when she was with Seb.

  Chapter 8

  Birdie drove through East Farndon until reaching the edge of the village where Rendall Hall, the place Seb now lived, was situated. She turned up the long winding drive which led to the main house. Either side of her were well-maintained fields with sheep in them. She’d visited and fallen in love with the hall when they were working for Seb’s cousin, Sarah, investigating the death of her husband, Donald.

  She parked on the gravel at the front of the 17th century stone house and knocked on the door, using the large brass knocker. After a couple of minutes, Seb answered. His dog Elsa bounded up behind him and poked her nose around his legs. On seeing Birdie, she got very excited and pushed in front of Seb.

  Birdie crouched down to Elsa’s level and rubbed behind her ears. ‘Hello beautiful, I bet you’re loving it here. This is such an amazing place.’ She stood and looked at Seb. ‘I hope you’re still going to give me a tour. All I saw before was the kitchen and the drawing room.’ She stepped inside into the large rectangular hall, admiring its vastness.

  ‘Later,’ Seb said, as he closed the front door behind her. ‘I assumed you’d want to eat straight away. I’ve made us a chilli.’

  ‘Perfect. I haven’t had time to eat since breakfast, it’s been so busy.’

  ‘Aren’t you busy every day?’

  ‘Well, yes. But today I volunteered to stay in and answer the phones, which were ringing off the hook all day after a press conference about a spate of carjackings we’re investigating. We finally have some CCTV images of the culprits which we put out there.’

  ‘You volunteered to answer the phones?’

  ‘Don’t you start. Yes, I did. But that was because of our work. I got hold of the CCTV footage from when I was out with Lacey.’
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  ‘Was there anything of use on there?’

  ‘I haven’t had a proper look yet, in case I got caught. I downloaded it to my phone and also brought the case file with me, which I sneaked out of the office.’

  ‘That’s a splendid start, well done. We’ll look after dinner.’

  ‘I’ve also got a lead in the hunt for my birth mother,’ she said, dying to share it with someone. The someone having to be him as he was the only person who knew about her search.

  ‘That’s excellent.’

  ‘I spoke with an elderly neighbour who remembers the family. It turns out that the family moved to Canada a long time ago and she keeps in touch with them. I’m going to see her on Sunday morning, after she gets back from visiting her son, to find out more about them.’

  ‘That was most fortuitous.’

  ‘I know, right? I’m hoping she’ll have an address and some photos for me to see.’

  ‘So, you’re definitely not giving up?’

  ‘No way. Why did you ask me that? You know why I need to find out about my mother. And you never know, she might have come back after being overseas. Anything could have happened. All I know is I’m not giving up searching.’

  ‘Good for you. I’m here anytime you wish to talk it through.’

  ‘Thanks. I want to find out if my real mother had timekeeping issues like me.’

  ‘You believe it’s genetic?’ He frowned.

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, think about this. My mum and dad are obsessive about timekeeping, and my brothers are, too.’

  ‘But you’re not.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Have you ever thought that you deliberately engage in poor timekeeping at a subconscious level because you’re trying to distance yourself from them.’

  She had. But had dismissed it.

  ‘Why would I do that? I love my parents. They’re the best. And so are my brothers.’

  ‘Because you know you’re different.’

  ‘Well, maybe. But I’d never want to hurt my parents. It was bad enough when I told them about searching for my birth mother. They said nothing, but I know they were unhappy.’