by Louise Voss
A smiled twitched at the corners of Carmella’s lips. She must be thinking the same as me, thought Patrick. This is Larry being chivalrous.
‘And?’ Patrick said.
‘There isn’t much to tell. I went round about eight, saw Alice, then went home at about eleven before her dad and stepmum got home.’
‘What were you and Alice doing?’
Larry squirmed. Patrick thought he was probably torn between wanting to tell him to mind his own and the desire to show off.
‘We went to her room,’ he said. ‘To … you know.’
Carmella asked, ‘Were you in her room the whole time you were there?’
He shrugged. ‘Pretty much.’
‘What did you do in her room?’ Patrick asked.
Larry avoided his eye. ‘I already told you.’
‘No you didn’t. You said “you know”. You need to elaborate.’
Now Larry looked straight at him. ‘We had sex, alright? Do you want to know what positions we did it in?’
‘And that’s the only reason you and Alice didn’t want us to know you were there that night?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you really think that Alice’s parents would be so freaked out by the thought of you and their daughter having sex that you had to lie about it, when you knew how important it is for us to know exactly what happened in their house that night?’
Larry gnawed on his thumb before replying. ‘I knew we should tell you I was there. But I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything. So I didn’t think it would make a difference.’
‘Did you see Frankie that night?’
‘No. She was in bed when I got there.’
‘You didn’t hear her?’ Carmella asked.
‘No. I didn’t hear or see nothing. As far as I could tell, she wasn’t even there.’
Patrick barely gave him a chance to finish before asking, ‘Were you and Alice drinking that night? And I don’t care about you being seventeen, by the way.’
‘No. Well, maybe a can of beer each. But that’s it.’
‘What about drugs?’
Larry’s answer was a rather unconvincing, ‘No.’
‘You sure about that? You don’t sound very sure. Not even a bit of weed?’
‘Nothing. I swear.’
‘What about Alice?’
Larry shifted in his seat. ‘Alright. We ate some brownies. Hash brownies. But just, like, one each.’
Patrick was tempted to laugh. He remembered eating hash cakes when he was in his teens. It was the closest he’d ever come to having a psychotic episode. No wonder Alice had been passed out on the sofa when Helen and Sean got home.
‘Who baked them?’ Patrick asked.
‘I did. Alice is crap at that kind of thing.’
‘Alright, Larry, thanks for finally being honest,’ he said, and suspended the interview. It was time to go and talk to Alice again, let her know what her boyfriend had admitted.
They found Mike Staunton waiting for them outside in the corridor, pacing anxiously.
‘DCI Laughland wants to see you urgently, sir.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘Sorry, sir. She just said to get you to go straight along as soon as you came out of the interview.’
Patrick frowned. ‘Carmella, do you want to grab a drink or something and I’ll meet you outside interview two in a minute? Assuming Frankie hasn’t been found safe and sound – in which case we can all go home and put our feet up.’
He knocked lightly on Suzanne’s door and went in. His heart sank when he saw who was sitting on the near-side of the desk. Winkler, that insufferable smirk on his handsome, slappable face.
‘Alright, Pat?’ he oozed.
‘Patrick,’ Suzanne said. ‘Take a seat.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘DI Winkler has unearthed some important information about your young suspects. You’d better fill him in, Adrian.’
‘My pleasure, Ma’am.’
As Winkler told him about how he had discovered that Alice and Larry had made a porn video starring two other kids and that on the night of Frankie’s disappearance, they were editing the video, Patrick’s head filled with the high-pitched tremulous hum of his tinnitus. Winkler went through the whole thing, from being contacted by a girl on Facebook to the interview with the school stool pigeon.
‘And that,’ Winkler said, leaning back in his chair and showing off his damp armpits, ‘is the real reason why your number one suspects don’t want anyone to know what they were up to that night. Not because they accidentally killed the kid and buried her in the flowerbeds. I mean, I hate to say I told you so …’
Patrick looked over at Suzanne, at her tight lips, the worry in her eyes as she no doubt pictured herself telling the Commissioner this.
He put his face in his hands and rubbed his brow. Then he lifted his head and said brightly, ‘Thanks, Adrian, that’s brilliant.’
Winkler’s expression changed in an instant. ‘What?’
‘That’s exactly what I needed. You’re a true star.’
He stood up and patted Winkler on the shoulder as Suzanne looked on, shocked.
‘Right, I’m going to get these interviews wrapped up. If there’s nothing else …’
Before either of them could respond he pulled open the door and left the room.
As soon as he heard it click shut behind him he let out a silent scream.
He found Carmella waiting outside interview room two, swigging from a bottle of water.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘This is it. Do or die. The last chance saloon.’
‘What are you talking about?’ she asked. ‘What happened in there?’
‘Someone tried to shaft me,’ he replied. ‘We’re about to find out how successful they were.’
He sat down opposite Alice and started the interview again.
‘The time for bullshit is over,’ he said, forcing her to meet his eye. ‘One, we know Larry was there that night. He just told us. He said that you and he spent the evening having sex.’
‘No way.’
Patrick almost said, ‘Yes way,’ but stopped himself. Instead, he said, ‘Two, and more importantly, we know about the video.’
Alice blanched. ‘What … video?’
‘The video starring two pupils at St John’s that you and Larry made. Don’t even bother denying it, Alice. We know. So, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I believe you when you say you aren’t directly responsible for whatever happened to Frankie. Indirectly – well, yes, you are. But that’s not a crime.’
He willed Alice to refrain from crying before he finished. Her lip wobbled and she swallowed several times, but no tears came yet.
‘The bad news is that making and distributing pornographic material featuring minors is an extremely serious crime, one for which you and Larry could face a pretty lengthy prison sentence.’
This was a gamble. Winkler had said he didn’t know how old the kids in the video were.
Alice let out a terrible keening sound and started to sob. ‘No … No … It’s not fair. I didn’t know how old they were. I didn’t find them, I hardly even know them. I thought they were sixteen.’
‘So it’s all Larry’s doing, is it?’
‘No. He didn’t know them either.’
‘What are you telling me? That they just walked in front of your video camera one day and started getting it on?’
Alice wept into her hands. Janice reached out to comfort her and Alice shrugged her off violently. ‘Get off me!’ But this time she accepted the tissue Janice offered, blowing her nose loudly.
‘It was …’ She hesitated. ‘It was Georgia.’
Patrick checked his notes quickly. ‘Georgia Hardy-Wilson? Your best friend?’
‘Yes. She persuaded the kids to do it. She said they’d get a share of the profits. They were, like, a couple of real, you know, chavs. They don’t actually go to our school – she met them on the Kennedy Estate
and lent them the uniforms. Jerome knew them. But Georgia told me they were sixteen.’
Patrick believed her. She was just a silly girl, who had got herself mixed up in a stupid scheme. He couldn’t stop the anger burning in his veins, though.
‘So, what, Georgia found the kids and then you and Larry did everything else?’
Alice blew her nose again. ‘No, she was there through the whole thing.’ Her eyes glistened. ‘She was there.’
‘Tell me that again.’
‘She was there that night. At my house.’ And she dissolved into another round of wet, gasping sobs.
Chapter 36
Georgia – Day 1
Georgia stood behind Larry and Alice as they stared with a mixture of hilarity and revulsion at the writhing naked limbs on the screen of Larry’s MacBook, a half-eaten hash brownie in her hand. Alice’s dad and stepmum were out but Alice kept looking nervously at the door, flinching whenever she heard a noise in the house, in case they came back early. They’d all seen the video loads of times before, but Larry’s final edit perfectly captured the grossness and ignominy of the whole performance.
‘Oh my god, he’s got a huge zit, on his arse,’ said Alice, clapping her palm over her mouth in horror.
Larry tilted his head to one side. ‘Do you think anyone will be able to recognize him?’
‘What – from the arse zit?’ Alice giggled. ‘Nah. Those bags on their heads work a treat. In fact, they should wear them all the time, they’re so ugly.’
‘Don’t be so mean,’ Georgia said, although she knew she was usually the first to make rude personal comments about people in school.
Alice raised an eyebrow at her in acknowledgement of this fact. ‘Er – pot … kettle?’ she said. ‘What’s up with you today, George? You’ve been in a right strop since you got here.’
‘Nothing,’ Georgia said sulkily. Her phone vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans, a reminder of the reason for her panicked state. That would be Jerome’s fifth text in the last hour. She sat back down on Alice’s bed, waited until Larry and Alice were tinkering around with their video, then slipped out the phone to have a look, bracing herself as she opened the text.
COME ON BITCH, DON’T THINK YOU CAN TALK YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS ONE. AND DON’T IGNORE ME OR YOU’LL REGRET IT. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE.
Tears leaped into her eyes.
Georgia was used to feeling in control. She’d never before been in a situation that she couldn’t either charm or buy – with her parents’ money, of course – her way out of. Why oh why were her bloody mum and dad being so unmoveable about her allowance? She’d thought they were joking when they said that unless she got at least four Cs in her mocks, they were stopping her allowance and freezing her savings account until she was twenty-one. And now, the one time in her life when she really, really, really needed money, urgently, she had none. And she could hardly go to them and say ‘Mummy, Daddy, I need four grand to pay off a violent drug dealer that I’ve upset by losing the weed I was meant to be selling for him, and he’s going to actually kill me unless I come up with the dosh in the next couple of days …’
She couldn’t even bring herself to tell Alice and Larry. She told herself that she was ‘doing the right thing’ by not wanting to involve them, but closer to the truth was that she didn’t want to admit her stupidity. Who was thick enough to leave a bag of weed and pills on the bus? They’d think she was a total moron. Every time she opened her mouth to tell them, her tongue became immediately paralysed at the thought of how much they would laugh at her. And if there was one thing Georgia hated even more than being skint, or having to do homework, it was being laughed at.
Plus, she was afraid that if she told Alice, Alice would do something insane like telling someone, the police or her dad, and then they’d all be even further up shit creek. It would be bad enough if anyone ever found out they were behind the movie.
Georgia managed a brief smile of pride at the thought of her movie brainwave. It was unlikely to raise anywhere close enough to the amount of money she needed to get Jerome off her back, especially when it had to be split three ways, but it was shaping up to be a nice little earner. Everyone at school was talking about it, speculating as to who the shaggers were – before the video had even gone live! There was a special secret Facebook group set up to discuss it, and over three hundred kids had already joined, all of whom seemed completely willing to hand over the ten quid it would cost them to join the Facebook group, watch the movie and place their bets on the identity of the faceless participants. It had been a genius idea. Coerce two gullible kids from the Kennedy into getting high, getting naked and putting paper bags over their heads, and then film them having clumsy embarrassing sex, promising them a share of the profits. Georgia was sure that apart from charging kids at school to view it, they could sell it to some big porn site, maybe in America, and make more than enough to wipe out her problems in one stroke.
Larry had spent ages editing the footage. Alice had done the marketing and PR, anonymously of course. Georgia had been the creative director.
‘Total shame we can’t submit this for our Media portfolios,’ Alice said. ‘We’d get straight A’s. I can’t believe we’re ready to go live! Kind of exciting, don’t you think?’
Larry nodded. He kissed Alice’s cheek and snaked an arm around her neck and down her front to caress the side of one of her practically non-existent boobs.
Georgia felt sick. ‘Oh, get a room, you two,’ she snapped. Her bottom vibrated with yet another text. Jerome wasn’t going to leave her alone.
She was a dead girl.
‘Georgia! You’re really getting on my nerves tonight. What is WITH you?’
Georgia jumped off the bed and grabbed her bag. ‘You know what? I’m going. I’m sick of playing gooseberry to you two.’
Alice put a hand on her sleeve but she snatched it away. ‘Seriously, babe, what’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. I’ll see you around, OK? I’ve got to go.’
Georgia felt as though Alice’s blood-red bedroom walls were beginning to close in on her. Her heart was beating faster than it had done that time she took speed, and she couldn’t breathe.
‘Alright. Maybe it’s best that you do, since you’re in such a foul mood. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ Alice’s voice was cool and unfriendly, and she turned away without giving her a goodbye hug. Georgia knew that they would bitch about her the moment she left – but so what? She had more important things to worry about. Like trying to stay away from Jerome before he killed her.
She stomped down the top flight of stairs from Alice’s attic room, swinging joylessly around the banister and opening the stairgate. She felt so faint with fear that her bowels clenched and she realized she had to go to the bathroom, urgently. Her head was swimming too. How much hash had Larry put in those brownies? Swearing under her breath, she dashed into the Philipses’ bathroom, mindful even in her panic of closing the door quietly so as not to wake Frankie, asleep in her room next door.
Sitting on the toilet, she put her head in her hands, rocking back and forward. Why the hell had she eaten Larry’s fucking hash cakes? She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror opposite and was horrified. Her complexion was greenish instead of its usual, much-praised, English Rose peaches and cream. Her beautiful strawberry blonde hair was matted and dull. Her face looked puffy. She thought of what Jerome might do to it with the Stanley knife she’d seen him with, and moaned out loud. Oh god … The porno wasn’t going to save her. Nothing would. She was going to have to run away, leave the country. She had enough to get her to France, and maybe from there she could hitch south, head for Spain where she could get a job in a bar or a club. She imagined herself for a happy moment sunning herself on a beach – then the vision warped into one of her being forced to work as a stripper or a prostitute, shaking her tits for drunken British tourists and disgusting old men.
Gulping in air, she sat there until her bowels had emptied and her gut spasm
s started to relax their iron grip on her belly. A recent copy of Metro caught her eye, left on the wicker basket full of toilet rolls next to the loo. She picked it up and stared at the headline: SUN NEWSPAPER OFFERS £100,000 REWARD FOR SAFE RETURN OF LIAM AND IZZY.
One hundred grand? She read on. The £100K wasn’t even for physically finding the kids and returning them to their families, it was for ‘information leading to the safe return of either of them.’ Georgia thought hard. Obviously she didn’t have any idea where Liam and Izzy were. She entertained a brief fantasy that Jerome had snatched them and she not only got the reward – would it be two hundred grand for the two? – when she told the police that the kids were in the estate somewhere, but she also managed to get Jerome locked up …
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. But a plan started to form in her mind. She made a mental list:
The police think Liam and Izzy have been snatched by the same person/people – which they could well have been, since they were both taken from this area.
What if another toddler of the same age happened to vanish, from around here? It was obvious what conclusions the police would draw.
If The Sun were offering £100K when two kids had gone, how much more would they, or another tabloid, offer once a third one disappeared?
The reward was for ‘information leading to …’
What if she had that information?
Her stomach clenched again – this time with nervous excitement. She knew how she could get her hands on the reward – and save her own miserable life.
Chapter 37
Patrick – Day 6
Patrick had chewed his e-cigarette so hard on the drive over to Georgia Hardy-Wilson’s house that there were teeth marks in it. He chucked it onto the dashboard, left the blissful air-conditioned sanctuary of the car and stepped out into the suffocating heat. It was 32 degrees in London, even with the evening drawing in.
A middle-aged woman with long blonde hair and a golden tan was in the front garden of what was yet another huge, expensive house, attacking an overgrown vine with a set of shears. Sweat streaked her face as she hacked at the plants, the way she wielded the shears making Patrick want to cross his legs.
