Deadly Revenge

by Leigh Russell

  ‘That’s wrong,’ she said. ‘You ought to chase him for child support, for Lily’s sake. He has a duty to pay maintenance. He can’t just walk away from his responsibilities.’

  Despite her indignation, Jessica felt a twinge of envy on hearing about Ella’s untrammelled status.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Ella muttered. ‘He’s not my husband. We weren’t married.’

  ‘That’s beside the point,’ Jessica said. ‘He’s still Lily’s father. She’s his child too, and he has a duty to pay towards her upkeep. You shouldn’t let him get away with it. The law is on your side. Go and see him and insist he helps you.’

  ‘I might try and chase him if I knew where he was, but he’d be more likely to kill me than part with any money,’ Ella replied, with an angry snort. ‘And anyway, it’s none of your business.’

  Reluctant to antagonise her new friend, Jessica let the matter drop. Ella was right in saying it was not her business and even though she knew her advice was sound, Ella was clearly unwilling to follow it. Jessica smiled sadly. They had more in common than Ella realised, despite the difference in their circumstances. Jason was an evil bastard too. She fervently wished there was a way she could get rid of him. If she could have been certain he would never find her, she wouldn’t have hesitated to pack a bag, walk out and not look back. She would have gone anywhere to keep Daisy safe. But she was terrified of making the situation worse if she tried to run away. And in any case, with no money of her own and no friends, there was nowhere for her to go to be free of him. She did not want to end up penniless on the street, starving, with a baby as spindly as Lily.

  She left the parent and baby drop-in session early, despite Ella’s request that she stay, and hurried home. Jason was at work, but occasionally he appeared in the middle of the day, purportedly to join her for lunch. She knew he was checking up on her. Before going home, she dashed into the corner shop and bought a few pieces of fruit and a bottle of milk, and filled another bag with nappies, although she had plenty. If Jason had come home, she had her excuse lined up for having gone out. He was not there, and he did not return until the evening, and she spent the afternoon comparing her own situation with that of the woman she had met for the first time that morning, the woman who was poor but free. Given the chance, she would swap places with Ella, whatever hardship she might have to endure as a result. At least she would be free of fear.

  5

  Geraldine frowned enquiringly at the constable. ‘And how is that my job, all of a sudden? I do have a workload of my own to get through.’

  As a detective sergeant it was true there was always plenty for Geraldine to do, but nothing on her desk was currently urgent.

  ‘Please, Sarge,’ the constable wheedled, pressing his palms together in mock supplication. There was an edge of desperation behind the comical gesture. ‘I’m convinced that nothing short of your magic touch will be able to get any sense out of her, if there is any sense to be had.’

  ‘Oh, all right, I’ll speak to her.’ With a sigh, Geraldine stood up. ‘It’s not like I’m that busy right now, to be honest.’

  She knew the constable had approached her for help not only because she was an experienced detective sergeant, but because she had a reputation for dealing effectively with hysterical women. It was not a reputation she relished.

  ‘I don’t know why he assumes I’ll be able to persuade her to talk,’ she muttered to Ariadne, the sergeant who sat opposite her.

  ‘It’s because you’re always so calm,’ Ariadne replied. ‘You make other people feel calm.’

  ‘Huh! I don’t know about that.’

  ‘Look how calm I am now that I know you’re going to deal with this, and I don’t have to worry about it,’ Ariadne grinned.

  ‘Wish me luck.’

  Geraldine thought about Ariadne’s comment as she made her way to the interview room. Ariadne had spoken lightly, yet there was an element of truth in what she said. Geraldine had always regarded most of the people she met as moody and emotional. On reflection, she wondered whether she should look at things from a different perspective, and consider that she herself might be unusually phlegmatic. Certainly she had never regarded herself as especially placid by nature, yet she supposed she must be. It had taken a chance remark by a colleague to reveal that aspect of her own character to her. She had always assumed it was her training as a detective that had helped her to remain outwardly composed regardless of circumstances, but she now realised that it was in her nature to control her emotions. At forty years of age, it seemed she still didn’t know herself very well.

  ‘She’s distraught, Sarge,’ a female constable murmured as Geraldine entered the small interview room. ‘We can’t get any sense out of her.’

  ‘OK, leave her to me,’ Geraldine replied quietly. ‘Perhaps you could bring us some tea?’

  The woman they were discussing was sobbing loudly. Thick shoulder-length blonde hair hung down like a veil, concealing one side of her face completely, and the other side was mostly hidden by a large white handkerchief. Geraldine spoke softly to her, and after a moment the woman blew her nose rather loudly, lowered the handkerchief and pushed her hair back off her flushed face. Her lips trembled as she gazed at Geraldine with frightened eyes, her make-up smudged and moist. Despite her strained expression, Geraldine could see she was beautiful, with large blue eyes, a small straight nose, slightly turned up at the end, and high cheekbones. If her looks hadn’t been marred by crying, she would have been exquisite.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the blonde woman stammered, ‘it’s just that –’ she hiccuped, and then said in a rush, ‘my baby’s gone’. Emitting the final word in a low wail, she hid her face in her handkerchief again and sobbed.

  Geraldine felt a stab of fear, but she kept her countenance steady as she responded, careful to divest her voice of any emotion.

  ‘You need to stop crying so you can help us to find him,’ she said briskly. ‘Please, pull yourself together. We can’t help you if you don’t give us any information.’

  Her suspicion that sympathy would only prompt the woman to cry more seemed justified when, with a few loud sniffs, the woman put away her handkerchief and looked up.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Right, now, how old is the missing infant?’

  ‘She’s six months,’ the woman stammered.

  ‘And where did you last see her?’

  ‘I put her in her cot yesterday at about seven, as usual, and when I went in to her this morning, she was gone.’

  Geraldine nodded. She had expected to hear that the baby had been asleep in her pram in the park, or at the shops, that the mother had turned away for only a few seconds, and in that short space of time a stranger had run off with the baby. Someone who had stolen the baby away from her home ought to be easier to trace. She relaxed slightly, while the mother hid her face in her handkerchief once more and wept.

  ‘Now, you need to tell me exactly what happened,’ Geraldine said firmly. ‘Let’s start with your name.’

  ‘Jessica Colman.’

  The constable brought in a cup of tea and Jessica sipped it gratefully.

  ‘I’m sorry if it isn’t very hot,’ Geraldine apologised with a slight smile, maintaining her attempt to normalise the conversation, despite the circumstances that had brought Jessica to the police station. ‘Now, tell me everything that happened, and please be as detailed as you can.’

  Jessica explained how she had woken up late that morning. ‘Usually Daisy wakes me really early. She’s a good sleeper but she’s only six months old.’ A tear slid down her cheek, but she retained enough self-control to continue cogently. ‘This morning I didn’t wake up till half past nine and she wasn’t crying, which was odd, but at the time I was pleased because it meant she was still asleep and not calling out to be fed. But when I went in to check on her, she wasn’t there.’

>   Jessica dropped her head in her hands and began to cry again. Through her sobs, Geraldine made out a few words: ‘disappeared’ and ‘so little’.

  ‘So she wasn’t in her cot?’ Geraldine repeated.

  ‘No. It was empty.’

  Gradually Geraldine learned that Daisy was Jessica’s first baby. Her husband, Jason, was the baby’s father and the only other person living in the house.

  ‘My mother has a spare key,’ Jessica said in answer to a question about who else had access to the house.

  ‘And have you spoken to your husband and your mother?’

  ‘No. I came straight here. Jason’s away. He’s on a stag do this weekend.’

  ‘A stag do? Where is he? Can you call him?’

  ‘I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Where does he work?’

  Jessica mentioned the name of an estate agent in York. Geraldine sent the constable to contact his office to see if anyone there knew where he was, but all they could tell the police was that he had booked that Friday and Saturday off work and was due back early in the week. Meanwhile, Geraldine continued to question Jessica.

  ‘All I know is that he went away with a group of friends. I think they might have gone to Amsterdam but I’m not sure. He did tell me,’ she added quickly, as though realising her ignorance of her husband’s whereabouts might strike Geraldine as strange. ‘It’s just that, I don’t know, I’m in such a state, I don’t know what’s going on. My father’s David Armstrong, leader of the local council,’ she added, as though she thought that might be important.

  Geraldine had heard of David Armstrong, a controversial councillor who was forcing through unpopular cutbacks in local services. He had been the subject of several virulent attacks in the local press for closing libraries and threatening the survival of a local school.

  ‘A lot of people hate him,’ Jessica said, her eyes wide with fear. ‘You don’t think…’ She broke off, unable to complete her sentence.

  ‘I doubt if the disappearance of your baby has anything to do with your father’s activities. Most people probably don’t know about your connection with him. The likelihood is that your husband has taken the baby and left her with someone. Does he have family living nearby?’

  ‘No. He doesn’t see his mother or his brother and his father’s dead.’

  Geraldine spoke gently. ‘Jessica, I suggest you go home and wait there while we speak to your husband and your mother. You’re sure no one else had a key to your house?’

  Jessica nodded. ‘I’m sure,’ she whispered. ‘No one.’

  ‘Well, you can go home now and leave this to us, and don’t worry. It’s unlikely anything has happened to your baby if only your husband and your mother could have had access to her. I expect we’ll find her very soon. This is probably all a misunderstanding.’

  Geraldine spoke reassuringly, but Jessica’s account troubled her. The obvious explanation for the baby’s disappearance was that her father or grandmother had taken her out, and had not wanted to wake her sleeping mother. But if that was the case, they would surely have had the sense to leave a note, or at least have called Jessica by now. They must have realised she would worry. And Jessica not contacting her husband also struck her as slightly odd. Jason must have a mobile phone with him, even if Jessica wasn’t sure where he was, which in itself seemed strange, given they had a six-month-old baby. It was almost as though Jessica was keen to involve the police before approaching her family.

  ‘She’s probably annoyed with her husband or her mother for taking the baby out of the house without asking her permission, or at least informing her,’ Ian suggested, when Geraldine arrived home that evening and told him about the interview.

  ‘To be fair, there’s no way anyone should have removed the baby from the house like that without letting her mother know,’ she agreed. ‘It’s a cruel thing to do. But what I don’t understand is why she didn’t at least try to contact her family before coming to report the baby missing.’

  Ian frowned. ‘If you ask me, the mother’s deliberately creating a fuss to make them feel guilty.’

  ‘That’s harsh,’ Geraldine replied. ‘But in any case, let’s hope you’re right and she’s panicking unnecessarily, and her baby will be found with the father or grandmother.’

  ‘And now, let’s forget about work and focus on what you’re going to make for my dinner tonight,’ Ian said, grinning.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you leave it to me?’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘I just need to pop out for a few things and then I’ll make you an unforgettable curry.’

  ‘Is it a threat or a promise?’

  Geraldine sat on the sofa in her living room, and not long afterwards the front door closed and she heard Ian humming to himself in the kitchen. He brought her in a large glass of red wine.

  ‘All these years I’ve known you, and I had no idea you could make a curry,’ she said.

  He smiled at her. ‘Bev was never happy to spend time in the kitchen unless we had guests,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why really, because when she did cook, when we had her friends or family over, she did a good job of it. But she never wanted to bother when it was just the two of us. So it was a case of necessity, really. If I wasn’t going to starve, and we weren’t going to cripple ourselves financially by eating out every night, which is what she would have preferred, one of us had to learn to cook, and she made it clear it wasn’t going to be her.’

  ‘Poor you.’

  He shrugged. ‘On the contrary, I discovered I enjoy cooking.’

  ‘It’s a good way to relax and take your mind off things,’ she agreed.

  ‘Yes. And if it works, you get a decent meal out of it, which doesn’t happen with meditation. So she did me a favour, really.’

  ‘She certainly did me a favour,’ Geraldine grinned. ‘I don’t know exactly what you’re concocting in there, but it smells wonderful.’

  Ian went back to the kitchen where she could hear him chopping and frying and, she suspected, experimenting. She loved Ian and he was happy and, for one evening at least, nothing else seemed to matter.

  6

  Anne and David Armstrong lived in a large detached house on the outskirts of the city, towards Driffield. Anne came to the door. Slim and middle-aged, she was expensively dressed in a cashmere sweater and pearls, and her short, fair hair was neatly cut. She looked faintly puzzled as Geraldine introduced herself, and smiled politely without inviting her into the house.

  ‘I take it this is about my husband? Did he ask you to call here? I know he’s had some problems recently with political extremists. It’s an unpleasant fuss over nothing, and it’s high time you put a stop to it.’

  Quietly Geraldine explained that her visit had nothing to do with David. ‘But I am here in my professional capacity. Is there somewhere we can talk?’

  ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘Your daughter came to see us.’

  ‘My daughter?’ Anne echoed faintly, her air of slightly righteous outrage fading. ‘Has something happened to her? Is she all right?’

  ‘Your daughter is fine, but she’s very upset. Is there somewhere more comfortable we can talk?’

  ‘I’m sure this must be a mistake,’ Anne said. ‘Jessica would have come to me if there was anything wrong.’

  Still remonstrating, she led Geraldine into a small study at the back of the house.

  ‘Do you know where your son-in-law is?’ Geraldine asked as soon as they were sitting down.

  Anne scowled. ‘I might have known he would be at the bottom of this. What’s he gone and done? If he’s got himself in hot water, I’m afraid he’s going to have to face the consequences himself. My husband and I are not going to shoulder the responsibility for any trouble he’s got himself mixed up in.�
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  ‘Jessica told us he’s away this weekend at a stag party, possibly in Amsterdam.’

  She hesitated before adding that Jason had lied to his wife. A quick passport check had indicated that he had not left the country, and his car had been discovered abandoned not far outside the city. Wherever he had gone, he had not wanted to be followed.

  ‘So what you’re telling me is that he was off enjoying himself with his friends for the weekend, and he didn’t want Jessica to know where he was because he didn’t want to be interrupted at his stag party. I’m sorry to say this, Sergeant, but what you’re telling me doesn’t surprise me. Our son-in-law is a selfish man.’

  Anne gave a dismissive grunt, as if to say that no decent man would be off gallivanting with his friends, leaving his wife at home with a baby. Geraldine inclined her head. It was certainly possible that Jason had lied to his wife about where he was going, but equally, Jessica might have lied to mislead the police for some reason that was not yet clear.

  ‘The problem is, he’s left home and your granddaughter’s missing,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’ Anne shook her head, looking baffled. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean, Daisy’s missing?’ The reality of the words seemed to hit her for the first time as she uttered them aloud. ‘I have to go and be with Jessica… We have to find my granddaughter. Have you spoken to Jason? Where has he taken her? But I don’t understand. Why didn’t he say anything? Have you spoken to him? Please…’

  Her distress seemed genuine.

  Geraldine leaned forward. ‘Please, Anne, take a deep breath. And another. I need you to think clearly. My colleague is tracing your son-in-law right now, and he will most likely clear this up. But we do need to talk to you.’

  ‘I need to be with Jessica. You’re telling me he’s taken Daisy without telling her where he’s gone. He must have planned it. He can’t just take her away from her mother like that, without a word. There must be a law against it. Surely that’s kidnap?’