Little Girl Lost (Detective Robyn Carter crime thriller series Book 1)
Page 16
Ross allowed himself a smile. ‘Anyway, he attempted to baffle me by talking computer gobbledygook about the laptop and what he’d done to it, then charged me sixty quid and handed it over. Couldn’t have been simpler.’
‘Fantastic! Now I just need to get into it and we might have some answers.’
‘Shall I bill Staffordshire Police for the sixty pounds?’ he asked with a grin.
‘Tell you what. I’ll give you the money and I’ll wait until Mulholland is in a cheery mood and claim it back.’
‘You’ll be waiting a while. Might get it about the time you’re due your old-age pension,’ he quipped, leaving her to work out how to obtain the information she needed from the laptop.
* * *
She had managed a brief meeting with her small team that morning before leaving for Farnborough. Walking back through the station, Robyn had felt a comforting familiarity. Ross had been correct when he had said it would be as if she hadn’t been away. Most of the officers were holed up in the large briefing room, several scribbling on pads as she walked past. She glanced through the large glass door. Sergeant Phil Clarke spotted her and lifted a hand in greeting. She headed for her office at the end of the corridor. It was the same office she had been using before she left. She half expected to see the same calendar on the wall that she had hung up the year Davies was killed. She took a deep breath as she entered. The office had received a makeover and had been recently painted. There were new swivel chairs, and the old filing cabinet with paint peeling from it and drawers that stuck had been replaced with an up-to-date one. Large files marked with cases and dates were on new shelves.
‘Morning, ma’am,’ Mitz Patel said, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘Good to be working with you again.’
‘Nice to see you again too, Mitz, and you can drop the ma’am, as you well know. You know the routine, Carter or Robyn, or if you must, call me boss.’
Patel was an eager 34-year-old who still lived with his parents. Like her other colleagues, she was surprised Mitz had not yet met his ideal partner. He was bright, good-looking and very considerate. He took all the banter about living at home from those at the station in good spirit, often adding to it. Tales of his failed blind dates were frequently a topic of conversation when it was quiet.
‘Coffee?’ He pointed at the coffee machine in the corner. ‘It’s brand new. No more boiling a kettle in the canteen.’
‘No, thanks. I need to leave in a minute.’
‘Shame, it’s rather good although I wouldn’t bother with the cappuccino, if I were you. It’s like drinking soapy water.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind. You’re being ultra considerate today, Mitz. You must be extremely pleased to see me.’
‘Just setting a good example, boss,’ he replied, pointing towards the stern young woman with her black hair scraped back in a tight ponytail. Her face was free of make-up but she was attractive with large almond-coloured eyes and dark eyebrows, and she stared keenly at Robyn. She stood behind her desk like a schoolgirl waiting permission to sit.
‘Morning, you must be Anna Shamash. Nice to meet you. Okay, here’s how it works. Don’t question anything I ask you to do and we’ll get on fine. I work fast and I don’t suffer fools. If in doubt, ask Mitz here. He knows how I operate – oh, and I like my coffee black with no sugar.’
The girl nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And never call me ma’am. It makes me feel ancient. I’m just an officer like you, doing a job. We work together on my watch. Okay?’
The girl managed a tight smile. ‘Yes, boss,’ she said.
Robyn gave her a smile.
‘We’ve got a missing man, Lucas Matthews. I’ve handed over details to our paedophile unit too as he might be involved in some ring but at the moment we are focused on unearthing him. I have reason to believe he is in Farnborough and I need you two to track down some people who might know him or be associated with him.’
She handed out the list of names compiled from her search of Paul’s browsing history. It included Natasha Matthews, Jane and Jack Clifford, Josh Clifford and the elusive Christina Clifford née Forman, the woman who had once been Paul Matthews’ fiancée.
‘Keep in touch with me and see what you can find out about these people and I want addresses too. DCI Mulholland says you can assist me but I’m to make sure I don’t abscond with you halfway around the country. I’ve got my hands on this laptop which might have more useful information. So far I’ve succeeded in getting into Paul Matthews’ email account and checked on his Internet searches. Have a look. Anna, you any good at this sort of thing?’
‘Yes, boss. I’m a dab hand.’
‘Okay, I’m impressed. I’ll be even more impressed if you find anything else on that laptop. So, I’ll leave this with you.’ She placed the laptop in front of Anna and grinned at them both. ‘Try to behave, children, and I’ll talk to you later.’
* * *
Dark grey clouds rolled in from the south as Robyn joined merging traffic on the M25 past Heathrow. Forecasters had promised storms and it seemed that, for once, their predictions would come true.
Traffic was heavy and the journey was taking her longer than she thought. She ran through the events of the last few hours as she snaked down the motorway along with frustrated holidaymakers and commuters. Getting into Paul Matthews’ email account had been simpler than she anticipated. Robyn had considered what was important to the man before typing in his wife Linda’s name and date of birth. It was surprising how many people used that method to create a password for accounts. Davies had told her that, one day as she logged on to her own emails. Davies had worked in Intelligence for years and knew all about sequences and passwords. He had cracked her own email password in only a few minutes, guessing correctly that she had used her first car’s make and number plate.
‘You should use a combination of random letters, numbers and symbols,’ he said. ‘People use familiar names and numbers because they can’t remember odd sequences but you can. You’ve got a great memory.’ She had changed her password that day.
Paul Matthews was not one to use his laptop often. His inbox had only a handful of emails and all of them were correspondence between him and Lucas. There was not much to go on but at least she now had a smattering of names and clues. The first email, sent two months earlier, had been terse and proved there was little affection between the two men. Lucas had written to his father:
* * *
From: LucasMatthews@BlinkleyManorPrepSchool.com
To: TwitcherPippin@hotmail.com
Subject: News
Date: Fri, June 3, 2016 at 11:18:08 + 0100
Dad,
* * *
I understand it has been a number of years since we spoke and we didn’t part on the best of terms but something that affects us both has happened and I need to talk to you urgently.
Please can we arrange to talk? I can come to the house if that is convenient. Wednesday mornings are free. I don’t work then.
* * *
Lucas
* * *
From: TwitcherPippin@hotmail.com
To: LucasMatthews@BlinkleyManorPrepSchool.com
Subject: News
Date: Mon, June 6, 2016 at 19:39:00 + 0100
* * *
Dear Lucas,
* * *
What a surprise to hear from you after all these years. I see you still have little time for small talk and have not even asked how I am.
I can’t imagine what has spooked you so much you suddenly need to speak to me or indeed how it affects me but I suppose, given I am your father, I ought to hear you out.
Make it ten o’clock this Wednesday if it is urgent.
* * *
Dad
* * *
The next email was sent over a week later and more intriguing:
* * *
From: TwitcherPippin@hotmail.com
To: LucasMatthews@BlinkleyManorPrepSchool.com
S
ubject: News
Date: Fri, June 17, 2016 at 12:25:00 + 0100
* * *
Dear Lucas,
* * *
Further to our conversation, I have deposited the amount you requested in your account at the Leek United Building Society. I suggest you do what you have to although as I told you, I am most unhappy you have involved me. You brought this on yourself.
Please do not ask me to help you again. I have done more than my fair share to assist you. I have stuck up for you far too often in the past and I don’t wish to be party to any more of your outrageous conduct.
This is not really my problem, however, I feel duty bound to offer you this help, even though it sickens me to do so. I hope this brings an end to it all.
Handing in your resignation to the school will be the only option. You need to cease your tasteless behaviour. Get some professional help. See a psychiatrist and sort out your life. You are a married man with responsibilities now. Live up to them for goodness sake.
* * *
Dad
* * *
Three emails followed.
* * *
From: LucasMatthews@BlinkleyManorPrepSchool.com
To: TwitcherPippin@hotmail.com
Subject: News
Date: Tues, June 21, 2016 at 08:03:00 + 0100
Dad,
* * *
I did everything as instructed but I fear it has not been enough. I can’t write down what has happened in an email. I desperately need to see you again. I shall come by tomorrow when I finish work, after six o’ clock.
* * *
Lucas
* * *
From: TwitcherPippin@hotmail.com
To: LucasMatthews@BlinkleyManorPrepSchool.com
Subject: News
Date: Fri, July 01, 2016 at 19:39:00 + 0100
* * *
Lucas,
* * *
I’m sticking to my decision. I’m not giving you any more money.
You ought to report this all to the police, although I appreciate that will only make your life worse.
I don’t know what else to suggest. Maybe you should talk to your wife about it.
* * *
Dad
* * *
The last email was from Paul sent five days before he died:
* * *
From: TwitcherPippin@hotmail.com
To: LucasMatthews@BlinkleyPreparatorySchool.com
Subject: News
Date: Wed, July 20th 2016 at 20:12:30
* * *
Lucas,
* * *
I’ve stumbled across something and I think I know where we might find her. If we can track her down we can stop this once and for all.
Come by tomorrow and I’ll explain.
* * *
Dad
* * *
Paul Matthews had died on 25 July and Lucas Matthews had gone missing the very same day. Robyn trawled through Paul’s browsing history and examining only the days between the last email he sent to his son and his death, she unearthed searches for Christina Forman, Jane, Jack Clifford and Josh Clifford as well as for shops, schools, dentists, doctors and businesses in the Farnborough area.
Paul had created a document entitled Farnborough in which he had listed addresses and phone numbers for various locations in the town. Many had the word ‘no’ typed next to them, leading Robyn to assume Paul had contacted them and not come across who or what he wanted. A few remained as possibles, and so her first stop was at the Keep Fit Gym.
Paul had been on various websites, learning about the town. Consequently, Robyn discovered that one of Farnborough’s famous citizens was exiled Eugénie, wife of Emperor Napoleon III, and Empress of the French who purchased Farnborough Hill, a large property which was to be her home until her death in 1920. The house had an interesting history and was even a convalescent home during the Great War. It then became a leading independent Catholic day school for girls, and, more interestingly for Robyn, appeared in Paul Matthews’ document where he had not only put the name of the school in capital letters but also added a date – 28 July. She would investigate it further.
* * *
The first fat raindrops spilled from the heavens as Robyn pulled into the shopping centre car park at the Meads. She wondered what the French empress would make of the place now. It was difficult to imagine what it might have been like centuries ago although the clock house on the roundabout gave her an idea of a sleepier place, most unlike this modern-day version. Farnborough had seen many changes over the years with the rapid growth of the town. The international airshow brought thousands of people to the town, and it had grown accordingly, with huge redevelopment in the shopping centres. If Empress Eugénie had been alive today she would have been able to shop until she dropped. Robyn pushed open her car door and prepared to run to the fitness centre as heavy rain began to fall.
The gym was much smaller than the one Robyn used. A lean girl with her hair scraped back in a ponytail stood behind a reception desk tapping at her phone. She wore a bright yellow T-shirt emblazoned with the Keep Fit Gym logo and shorts that showed off sculptured, unblemished legs. She looked up as Robyn entered.
‘Horrid day, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Are you my new client?’
‘It is and no, I’m not,’ replied Robyn, wiping drips from her face with one hand. She pulled out her warrant card and showed it to the woman.
‘I wonder if you can help me. I’m looking for a missing man. Would you mind looking at a photograph to see if you recognise him?’
‘Go on. I’m not sure I’ll be much help, unless he’s one of my clients.’
Robyn extracted a copy of the photograph of Lucas that had been in Mary Matthews’ lounge. The girl looked at it and immediately shook her head. ‘Never seen him. Try asking Martin. He’ll be back in a minute. I’m covering the desk while he gets something to eat. He usually mans reception.’
Stacey’s client arrived and she ushered her into the office behind the desk and turned back to Robyn. ‘He’ll only be a minute. Depends on the queue in the supermarket. You can wait here.’
She was correct for within seconds a bedraggled figure appeared through the door, dripping water. The young man shook a soaking wet umbrella that had blown inside out and muttered, ‘Useless. I may as well have not had it, or gone out waving a daisy over my head.’ His voice was light and his face broke into a cheerful grin as he caught sight of Robyn. ‘Won’t be a sec,’ he said. His trainers squelched as he moved across the room, the noise making him grimace dramatically, and in one fluid movement he bent down and removed his footwear.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t bear wet feet.’ He dried his feet with a towel hidden behind the desk. ‘Okay, that’s better. What can I do for you? Are you interested in signing up? We have an excellent spinning class. Although I’m a little biased – it’s my class.’ He grinned, revealing a gap between shining white teeth. ‘I’m Martin,’ he added.
Robyn smiled at him. He seemed a nice lad. He leaned towards her as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘Actually, I’m after your help. I’m Detective Inspector Robyn Carter and I’m searching for a missing person.’ She slid her identification across the desk and he examined it before returning it with lips pressed together and a more serious demeanour. Robyn continued, ‘I believe the person was in this area a while ago and maybe even came in here. Stacey told me you were really good with clients and had a great memory and I wondered if you had seen him.’
She pushed forward the photograph. Martin’s eyes lit up immediately and he nodded.
‘I definitely remember this man. He didn’t give a name but I christened him Mr Creepy. It was a week ago today when I saw him. That was Thursday the twenty-eighth of July. I remember it well because I’d just finished taking a body-pump class for Stacy because she’d called in sick, and I was filling my bottle of water up over there.’ He pointed at a large water dispenser. ‘I was parched. It’d been really hot in the studio. The
air con wasn’t working, you see. I was dripping sweat and about to grab a shower when he marched in and asked to sign up with a personal trainer. Tonya was supposed to be on the desk, not me, but she’d gone off somewhere, so I dealt with him. Before I opened my mouth, he said it had to be Zoe. He was adamant he wanted Zoe and said his friend was currently training with her and had highly recommended her. Now that seemed strange to me because Zoe hasn’t worked here since January. His eyes weren’t right either, one of them didn’t move. I didn’t know which eye to look into and he kept staring at me. Made me feel really uncomfortable and gave me the creeps, hence the nickname. I’m a very good judge of character and people like him don’t come here and ask to sign up just like that without checking out what we have to offer or what it costs.