Abigail

by El Edwards

  I’d reached the top of the hill and was about to call Missy back to start the walk home when my mobile rang. This time it was a number I’d been sure to store on my phone: Abigail. I felt a flutter of nerves as I swiped the screen to take her call.

  “Hi Abigail, how are you?”

  “Not great Charlie. I just got back from picking the kids up from school. There was a parcel waiting for me on the doorstep. It’s got a phone in it.”

  “A phone? You mean like a mobile phone? Or a landline?”

  “Mobile. One of those cheap ones. A Nokia.”

  “Okay. Anything else?” My mind was racing over the possibilities of what this could mean. I assumed it was from the same person who sent the note but sending a mobile phone to make contact was a new one on me.

  “Just a note. Same writing as last time.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Just two words. ANSWER ME. Oh Charlie, what do I do?” All her frustration from the day before seemed to have melted in light of this new development.

  “Answer it I guess.”

  “But what if I’m not home when they ring? Am I meant to cart this around with me everywhere? What if I forget it?”

  “I imagine that’s unlikely under the circumstances.” I had a sudden thought. “Do you want me to look after it for you? I could answer when they ring, pretend to be you.”

  “Oh would you?” The relief in her voice was palpable. “Thank you so much. I’ve just been so worried about what I would say, and if they rang when I was driving or on the school yard.”

  Since I was back in Abigail’s good books I decided to press home my advantage. “Have you given any more thought to how you might pay the ransom? You still want to pay?”

  “I don’t want to, I can’t think of anything worse, but I need Toby home so of course I’ll pay.”

  I spoke my next words very gently. “Where will you get the money?”

  There was silence for a moment but when Abigail spoke again she sounded more confident than she had in a long time. “Would you do me a favour Charlie?”

  “Of course, anything.”

  “Could you ring Saul and Carol, invite them over to tea on Monday?”

  “If you’re sure that’s what you want?”

  “They’re not short of a few quid. If they want to help, who am I to stop them?”

  It took all my self-control not to jump up and down with happiness. If she was ready to forgive Toby’s parents whatever grievances she had against them, I was off the hook. She’d also unwittingly saved me from making the one phone call I’d been putting off. The last thing I’d wanted to have to do was ring Carol and Saul and tell them their son’s wife wouldn’t see them and now I didn’t have to. All we had to do now was hope the ransom demand wouldn’t need paying before Abigail and her in-laws were reunited.

  I was so lost in my thoughts it took me a second to realise Abigail was still speaking.

  “Sorry Abigail, I missed that. The signal went funny.”

  “I was just asking if Monday teatime would be alright for you?”

  “Alright for me to do what?”

  “For you to come to tea, with Saul and Carol. You will come won’t you? It’ll be so much easier with you here.”

  After being given a reprieve I could hardly say no so after promising to call round later to pick up the phone and assuring her that I’d ring her in-laws right away and come back to her with a time, we said our goodbyes and I headed back towards home to find the piece of paper Saul had given me with his number on it. As I walked I rehearsed over and over in my mind what I might say. I knew Abigail was only inviting them because she wanted their help with the money and the last thing I wanted to do was give them false hope about being reunited with their son’s family but ever the optimist, I had to believe some good might come of it all.

  FORTY-THREE

  My nosy neighbour Julie was waiting for me outside the house when I got back with Missy. I groaned and thought about turning round and sneaking in the back way but she’d already seen me and was waving. I stood up straight, took a deep breath and smiled.

  “Good afternoon Julie. Fancy seeing you here. And how are you this fine day?”

  Julie faltered and I felt a wave of guilt with the realisation that she’d never seen me jolly. “Very well thank you Charlotte. I saw your van outside so I knocked but no-one was home.”

  “That’s because I was out with Missy. Here now though,” I added. “What can I do for you?”

  “Got another delivery for you. A package this time.” It was then that I noticed the heavy looking package she was holding in front of her. “It’s pretty heavy.”

  “Sorry, let me just take that from you …” Missy pulled at her lead making it difficult to grab the package. After a bit of back and forth though, eventually I found myself the proud owner of both dog and package and I went inside. I turned the package over but there was no return address. The hand-writing looked vaguely familiar though and with a jolt of recognition I remembered exactly where I’d seen it before. The ransom note.

  I hurried to take Missy off the lead then carried the package through to my office. I gave it a shake but it didn’t tick and sniffing it offered no clues either so I found myself with no option but to open the mystery delivery and hope the sender hadn’t invested in the latest odourless explosive devices.

  I pulled out the contents but they were so heavy, I nearly dropped the whole lot on the floor. Covered in bubble wrap was a red house brick. I carefully folded back the bubble wrap and inside was the first page of my missing case notes. On top of the paper was a note, printed in the same handwriting as on the outer packaging, with just four words: Piss off or else. Despite the seriousness of the situation I couldn’t help but smile. I’d seen my fair share of threatening messages over the years, although admittedly few that were directed at me personally, and this had to be one of the most succinct. If I hadn’t known better I’d have sworn our perpetrator had been watching too much Scooby Doo. I already had the van and a dog. All I needed was the technicolour paint job and a handful of pesky kids and I’d be all set.

  Remembering that this was in fact a very serious situation and not to be taken lightly I decided to invite Rob round for dinner again. It was time to get some help from the firm arm of the law and I knew exactly where I wanted him to start.

  “Wow Mum, this is lush!” said Grace later that evening when we were all sitting round the table.

  I blushed and kicked Rob who was smirking. He’d accepted my invitation for dinner on the condition that he bring food and after confirming that my microwave wasn’t harbouring any toxic by-products, arrived with an assortment of high-end options for us to prick and ping. Not that my girls knew that of course and I was perfectly content to bask in their appreciation of my culinary skill.

  “Which book did you get this from?” Louise asked. She looked at me, her face the picture of innocent enquiry and I knew in that second that I was totally busted.

  “Oh all right, it was from Marks. Rob brought it.”

  “I knew it!” Louise looked jubilant and turned to Rob. “Nice choice, thanks.”

  “My pleasure.” Rob said. “Your mum’s been so busy lately, I thought it would be nice to have an easy dinner. Plus I have an appointment next week that I really can’t risk missing because of suspected food poisoning.”

  “Oi!” I tried to punch him on the arm but he swatted my hand away. “Gotta admit though, it is nice.”

  The rest of the meal passed with the same playful banter as Rob told the girls stories about his week. They were the perfect audience, wide-eyed with wonder, although I was sure he had to be making at least half of it up. When dinner was finished I excused the girls from helping with the cleaning up. I wanted to talk to Rob and washing the dishes gave us the perfect excuse.

  “What’s up then?” he asked when the sink was full and the plates were soaking.

  I told him about my mystery parcel, the letter and my note
s.

  “You think whoever sent you them is responsible for Abigail’s letter and phone?” he asked.

  “Seems highly likely, don’t you think? It’s like he’s taunting me!”

  “Maybe. Probably. But from what you’ve told me of that kid, I can’t imagine him wanting to hurt Toby. What’s his motivation?”

  “Other than oodles of cash you mean?”

  “Well yeah, there is that,” he conceded. “It just feels too random. How did Ryan know that Toby would be in Barnstaple?”

  “I don’t know but he’s the only connection I’ve got. I know he had my paperwork, I saw him drive off with it. Maybe he’s not working alone but he’s got to be involved.”

  “Okay. So now what?”

  “That’s where you come in.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” He smiled. “Come on then, let’s get it over with.”

  “Can you check Ryan’s previous?”

  “What’s his surname?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Date of birth?”

  “Pass.”

  “You’re not giving me a lot to go on.”

  “I know. But if I got you that stuff, you could find him?” In my head I was already planning my trip back to Barnstaple. His employment record would have all the information I needed and I was sure I could sweet talk someone into helping me.

  “I dunno Charlie. It’s a bit dodgy.”

  “A bit?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “Data protection’s a big deal. I don’t fancy getting sacked because of some kid.”

  “But what if this is our only hope of finding Toby?”

  “Yeah but if that were true it would be a police matter. It isn’t because it’s not.”

  “But …”

  “No buts Charlie. I need an awful lot more than a hunch for me to go out on a limb for you.”

  We finished the washing up in silence while I sulked. I’d been so excited and now I was right back to square one.

  FORTY-FOUR

  I wandered through the next couple of days on autopilot. I’d collected the phone from Abigail as promised, arranged the tea-time meeting with Toby’s mum and dad and all parental responsibilities were met, but everything felt difficult and I found my attention waning when the girls were talking to me. If I were them I’d have been far less patient. As it was they allowed me to drift into the weekend without making too many demands of me. The one expectation that none of us could avoid arrived far too swiftly: dinner with my mother on Sunday afternoon. It was with a mixture of shock and horror that I’d listened to her accept my invitation. Louise had been planning the menu ever since and I’d never seen her look so stressed, poor lamb. Her exams last summer had been more fun than cooking dinner for my mother and I’d resolved to wait at least another decade before inviting her again.

  At four o’clock on the dot there was a knock at the door. We’d been tidying and cleaning all day, there wasn’t a centimetre in the house that hadn’t been wiped or rubbed or polished. All the same, as soon as my mother walked through the door I made the usual comment about excusing the mess. She didn’t say anything, just ran her finger along the pot cupboard.

  Louise was the first to greet her grandmother. “Gran! Hello!” My mother offered the side of her head but Louise wrapped her in a hug. “Merry Christmas!”

  “Christmas isn’t for another ten days young lady.” She looked around at our decorations and frowned. “When your mother was a child the tree went up on Christmas Eve. Traditions are important, don’t you think?”

  I couldn’t agree more, we’d just chosen to create our own traditions instead of rehashing the same old tedious ones. Not that I said that to my mother of course. I just smiled and offered her a drink.

  “I’ve got some mulled wine if you like. It’s only from Asda but it’s quite tasty.”

  “Wine Charlotte? On the Lord’s day?” She wrinkled up her nose like she’d just been forced to smell a pair of Grace’s old trainers.

  “Oh Mother, you haven’t been to church since about 1987. Have a glass of wine and stop being such an old misery guts!”

  Damning verdict delivered I flounced into the kitchen to get us both a warming mug of wine. Louise caught my eye as I headed out the door and I gave her a wink. I was determined to have a nice evening and if that meant standing up to my mother a little, so be it. I walked into the kitchen to see Grace flapping her hand in front of her mouth. Louise had already warned her that the muffins needed to cool but Grace, true to form, hadn’t wanted to take her sister’s word for it.

  “Serves you right,” I said as I warmed the wine in the microwave.

  “I’ll tell Gran you used the microwave!” she said, when she could finally speak again.

  “You wouldn’t dare?” I feigned horror. “What are you doing hiding out here anyway? Come and say hello to Gran.”

  I opened the door of the microwave when it had counted down to its final seconds so the noise of it beeping wouldn’t give me away then, wine in hand, took it and Grace through to the front room where Louise was doing her best to be entertaining. I handed a mug to my mum with a smile.

  “Merry Christmas Mum!” I said, daring her to start complaining again.

  “Hmph!”

  Three glasses of mulled wine later and we were both starting to feel a little more relaxed. Louise’s baked goodies had been well received so she was smiling and Grace, having transformed into some kind of magician with stories that became increasingly ridiculous with every passing minute, had even managed to do the impossible: she made my mother smile. Once she got over the shock of seeing her Gran grin, Grace warmed into the role of entertainer and the evening couldn’t have been going better if I’d written it.

  After dinner, as if sensing we might be in danger of having just a little too much fun, my mother turned the conversation round to work and in particular, my latest case. She was always doing things like this and I should have known better than to let my guard down and actually enjoy her company but, naive fool that I am, I’d thought we could all simply enjoy a relaxing pre-Christmas evening together, but it was not to be.

  “How’s work going Charlotte?”

  “Good thanks Mum.” I resisted the urge to remind her that I preferred to be called Charlie and got a thumbs up under the table from Louise by way of reward.

  “What did you say this latest one was about?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “There’s no need to take that tone. I was only showing an interest.”

  “You know I can’t talk about it. Client confidentiality.” I sighed. We’d gone over this many, many times before.

  She ignored me and turned to the girls. “Does your mother really not tell you anything about her work? Such a shame she can’t share with you. It would be a great example to you both, she works so hard.”

  “Oh she tells us some stuff,” Louise said. “She’s a great Mum! Isn’t that right Grace?”

  “Sure is. Just great,” said Grace slowly. Unlike Louise, Grace was only too aware what my mum was trying to do. I saw her giving Louise the evil eye but Louise only looked confused.

  “If you can talk about it to your children, you can talk about it to your mother. I don’t understand why you insist upon being so secretive Charlotte.”

  “Right, that’s it! I’ve had quite enough of this crap for one night. I’m not being secretive, I just don’t want to talk about my case to you, and if you can’t handle that, that’s your problem. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to phone you a taxi.”

  With that I stormed out of the room. When I looked back over my shoulder, Grace was giving me a thumbs up with something that almost looked like respect in her eyes. Well would you look at that, I do have a spine after all.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Joy at having stood up to my mother did nothing to help shift the mulled wine induced headache that greeted me on Monday morning but it did give me a certain spring in my step and I took great delight in havi
ng been elevated in my teenage daughter’s eyes. I almost dropped the toast when Grace offered me a cup of coffee but I recovered quickly enough to accept. After tasting the coffee I made a mental note to teach her how to use my coffee machine properly but I decided that was a lesson that could wait for another day. I was content to enjoy the moment, although when she offered to make me a second cup I politely declined, explaining that she needed to get dressed for school.

  While she and Louise were dressing I made myself that second coffee and thought about the teatime visit to Abigail’s house later that day. When I’d spoken to Carol and Saul Rogers they’d been delighted to hear from me. I’d done my best to set their expectations around seeing Abigail and the children. They weren’t stupid people, I imagined they knew only too well how tricky things could be if we didn’t all behave like grown-ups but it was clear Abigail needed their help so I had to hope she was ready to play nicely.

  I was so engrossed in my thoughts that when my mobile rang I jumped and smacked my knee on the table. Ouch! I groaned and rubbed my knee with one hand while using the other hand to answer the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Charlie? Is that you? Are you okay? You sound all funny.”

  “Hi Abigail. Yep I’m fine, just bumped my knee. What can I do for you?”

  “Sorry to phone so early. I just wondered if you’d be able to come over? Those guys who came before, about Toby’s debt? They’re back.”

  “What do they want? They wouldn’t speak to me last time.”

  “I’ve told them I won’t do anything until you get here. They say I’ve got thirty minutes then they’ll start taking stuff away.”

  “I’m on my way.” I sighed. “But you’re going to have to stall them.”

  After saying bye to the girls and wishing them a lovely day I went straight round to Abigail’s house. Thanks to a rush of early morning commuters it took me almost twice as long to reach Abigail as it had over the weekend but there was nothing I could do other than keep my foot flat to the floor at every opportunity and offer my apologies. Thanks to Abigail’s stubborn refusal to let them in until I arrived, the bailiffs were still outside when I pulled up in front of her house.