by M A Comley
“Interesting. I don’t suppose the bank would say what the loan was for?”
Karen shook her head. “No, they wouldn’t divulge that information. It certainly looks like a renovation amount to me. If they haven’t splurged on a new car recently, which is certainly the case, then what else would they spend that amount of money on?”
“A holiday?” Lorne suggested.
“Nope. I took special note of the activity on their account. The loan was in Mr. Platt’s name. Right after the loan was granted, some large amounts started to be withdrawn from the account. The odd thousand here and there.”
“Payments for work carried out on the sly? Cash-in-hand payments, is that what you’re surmising, Karen?”
“Yep. I studied the statements more and also spotted several purchases the couple had made by cheque to B&Q, too.”
“A DIY outlet. Now that is interesting, considering they clearly stated they hadn’t done any work on the house lately. The plot thickens. Has Stephen come up with anything about the kids yet?”
“Not yet. I think he’s on his fifth call. Keeps getting put on hold and forgotten about, I think. Bloody social services!”
“They’re under pressure, just like the rest of us. Okay, let me know when that information is available. Thanks, Karen, great work.”
When Karen left the office, Lorne tried to concentrate on the paperwork but failed wretchedly. Her mind spun off in different directions. Most prominent was the fact that the Platts had tried to dupe them. Sneaky shits! What are they up to? Did they carry out the work at that property or somewhere else? Lorne had an inkling the truth would turn out to be the latter, but she had no idea where. What were they missing? More to the point—what was she missing?
That afternoon, Stephen finally received the news from social services he’d been impatiently waiting for. Lorne came out of her office just as he answered the call. She perched her backside on the desk next to his and listened to the conversation on speakerphone.
“So the couple are foster parents. Okay, and do they have any children of their own?”
Lorne heard paper rustling on the other end of the line before the woman spoke again. “Yes, they have a grown-up son. At the moment, they are fostering three children.”
Lorne’s eyes grew wide. “Sorry, this is Acting Detective Inspector Lorne Warner here. My colleague has you on speakerphone. Can you tell me what sort of age these children are?”
“Sure, just a second. Here we are. There are two girls. Emily is six, Colette is five, and the little boy, Dwain, is seven. All members of the same family.”
“Really? And how long have they lived with the Platts?” Lorne asked.
“For the past three months. They were taken away from their mother.”
Lorne frowned at that piece of surprising news. “For what reason?”
“The mother stabbed the father repeatedly. He died at the house. The kids were all traumatised at the scene. They saw the attack.”
“That’s awful. I’m sorry to hear that. Can I ask why the Platts were considered to be suitable foster parents?”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at? In what respect?”
“Sorry, the Platts seem to be of a certain generation. How would someone of their age be expected to take care of three traumatised youngsters?”
“Are you telling me they’re not coping with the situation? Because that’s news to me. I only visited them last week, and everything seemed just fine then.”
“No. Nothing like that. I just wondered why social services would place three young siblings at a home of an older couple. Wouldn’t it be better to place the children with a younger family?”
“It depends. We’re under pressure to home the children as soon as they come to us. If a younger family isn’t available at the time, then we place them where we can, with reliable families we’ve worked with in the past.”
“I see. So you’re telling me the Platts have always been dependable in your eyes?”
“Yes. Seriously, I have no idea why you’re questioning this family’s trustworthiness.”
The woman’s voice rose to a shrill, proving how irate she was becoming with Lorne’s intrusive questions. Lorne decided to back off just in case the woman considered ringing the Platts to make them aware of the conversation they were having.
“Thank you. I’m only asking because the couple’s name has been highlighted in a case we’re working on at the moment.”
“Do you think our department should be concerned by your investigation?”
“Not yet. To be honest, we have a media plea going out in the next few days. We’ll know more after that has aired. I’ll get back to you if I believe the children in the couple’s care are at risk. One last question, if I may?”
“Go ahead.”
“When you visited the house last week, did you hear or see any sign of renovations going on at the house? Or did either of the Platts mention they had purchased another house and were doing it up at all?”
“I don’t recall hearing any noise resembling any form of work going on at the house, and as for the second part of the question, why on earth would they bring that sort of information into a conversation with me?”
“It was a long shot, I know. Sorry, I promise this is my final question.”
The woman let out a long sigh. “I have to get on.”
“Just a quick one. What condition was the house in when you last saw it?”
“I don’t understand? I’ve already said that I didn’t see any work in progress at the house.”
“Sorry, I didn’t make myself very clear. I’ve just visited the property and found it in immaculate condition. No sign at all that any kids lived there. Was it like that when you visited them?”
“Yes, it’s always spotlessly clean. What can I say? Mrs. Platt takes pride in her home. In my experience, that is a rarity. Between you and me, I wish we had a hundred families like the Platts on our books. Sadly, we don’t.”
“Well, thanks for your time. Our little chat has been most helpful.”
“My pleasure,” the woman replied before the line went dead.
Lorne exhaled a large breath that puffed out her cheeks. “This couple is becoming more and more questionable to me. Is there some kind of major cover-up going on at their house, or what?”
Stephen shrugged. “I wouldn’t like to say at this point, boss. I know when I’ve visited my mate’s house—he has three kids—his house always has that ‘lived-in look.’ Hey, Graham, when was the last time you saw the colour of your living room carpet?”
Graham’s brow furrowed. “What the fu… sorry, boss. What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“We’re having a discussion about house tidiness when you have kids. Care to share your experience with us, for research purposes, of course?”
“Ah, I see. Well, I regularly go home after a shift and think I’ve entered a war zone. Actually, that’s my first job when I get in—tidy up the living room. Neither Liz nor I can stand watching the TV after the kids have gone to bed with every toy they own surrounding us. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though.”
“My point exactly. With kids around, there is never any harmony in the living area, and quite often, their bedrooms can be far worse,” Stephen added, sounding like a leading authority on the subject.
“Thanks for that insight, Stephen.”
The team spent the rest of the day digging into every crevice of the Platts’ past, and by the time the end of the shift came around, Lorne’s frustration was almost at a tipping point. She drove home, the CD playing extra loud while she tried to flood out the thoughts that kept spiralling like a tornado in her mind. She made a conscious decision to make a detour on the way home and stopped by her good friend Carol’s house. After reflecting upon the last spiritual encounter she’d
had in her psychic friend’s living room, she almost changed her mind and drove straight home. Instead, she plucked up the courage and knocked on the door to Carol’s house. Onyx, the rescued boxer dog that Carol had taken a shine to at the kennels, barked until the front door opened.
Lorne squeezed past the enthusiastic dog and attempted to kiss Carol on the cheek, but her friend pulled away. “Don’t, I’m full of a million germs. I’d hate for you to pick up what has had me bed-ridden for days. I should be better by Monday, if that’s why you’ve come to see me.”
“Don’t be silly. You get yourself well first. Charlie can handle the kennels by herself for an extra few days. Tony and I are on hand, helping out where we can, too.”
“Oh great, now I feel doubly guilty. You guys have enough to do in your own busy work schedules without carrying out my chores, too.”
Lorne waved away Carol’s apology. “Nonsense. It’s you who’s doing us the favour, remember? Have you visited the doctor?”
“Yes, I’m due to have a chest X-ray on Tuesday. I feel tons better. Think it’s probably run its course by now, but the doc just wants to make sure.”
“Very wise. Look, there’s no point coming back to work on Monday if you’re not a hundred percent better. Take another few days off.”
“If that’s okay? I’ll come back on Wednesday. Maybe I can work the weekend and give Charlie a break. She could go away for a few days with her friends, perhaps?”
“We’ll see. How are you apart from having the flu?”
“So, so… I was going to ring you later about something I’ve picked up recently.”
“Oh, sounds intriguing.”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up too much. It might not come to much, what with my brain being super fuzzy right now.”
“Anything you can give us at this stage would be great, Carol. This is a rather perplexing one.”
Carol sniggered. “Aren’t they all? Sit down. I’ll see what I can do.”
They sat opposite each other at the large dining table, and before long, Carol started rocking back and forth as the information came to her from the spirit world. A pained expression twisted her features. Lorne took out her notebook, ready to jot down anything Carol threw at her.
“My guides are showing me a dark place, stone walls, wet walls. A river, a drunken man, exposed electrical wiring, smoke, some form of pipe—not the smoking variety, before you ask. A heart attack. A hospital. That’s all.”
Lorne wrote the information down as quickly as it was delivered. “Some of it rings true with the case I’m working at the moment. Damn, I should have told you when I arrived. Katy has returned home to Manchester—it’s her dad.”
“No. Don’t tell me he’s the heart attack victim?”
“Yep, I’m afraid so. He’s in a critical condition… I don’t suppose you can work your magic and tell me what the outcome will be? I promise not to tell Katy.”
Carol shook her head and closed her eyes. “No. I can’t get past him lying in a hospital bed.”
Lorne gasped.
Carol was quick to counter her morbid assumption. “Get that thought out of your head. It doesn’t mean the news is bad. It’s just that I can’t see past his illness at this present time. You, of all people, should know how this works by now, Lorne.”
“Phew… that’s a relief.”
“What about the other things I gave you. Any good?”
“Some I can make use of. Others are pretty obscure but could come to light further on in the case.”
“Good. I’m glad I can be of some help again.” Carol pointed her finger at Lorne. “Of course, some of those clues could refer to Tony’s case, too. You know we sometimes get crossed wires now and again. That’s up to you to sift through the relevant details.”
“Tony and I will put our heads together over the weekend.” Lorne let out a breath. “Boy, am I ready for some time off. It’s been a hectic week so far, what with Katy abandoning ship.”
Carol tutted. “Lorne! I’m surprised at you, saying such an appalling thing.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. Merely stating facts. And to crown it all, I’m now lumbered with Chief Roberts as a partner.”
“Ah, now we’re getting to the crux of the matter. It’s not so much Katy’s desertion that’s bothering you; it’s having to deal with Sean questioning you every five minutes. That’s the real bugbear, yes?”
“You can be too smart sometimes.” Lorne laughed, ruffled Onyx’s fur, and stood up to leave.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Carol said as they walked to the front door.
“Give me a ring over the weekend. Let me know how you’re feeling, all right?”
“I will. Make sure you tell Charlie what I said about filling in for her next weekend. It’ll do her good to get away. The poor child hasn’t had a break in months.”
“Crap. You’re right. If anyone deserves a break, she does, especially after all the emotional crap she’s had to endure with Henry’s passing.”
“Precisely, although Sheba has taken the sting out of that particular problem, hasn’t she? Those two have a bright future ahead of them, once the real training begins.”
“The obstacle course training? Do you really think that? I’d love her to have an outside interest. I’d prefer if it was away from the dogs. She’s not been the same since she lost her friend last year. Tends to steer clear of going out with her mates now, fearing further problems, I guess.”
“You’re right. We’ve discussed it. Give her time. That’s why I think she should take off for the weekend. She’ll be right soon.” Carol tapped her nose and winked at Lorne.
“What are you saying? That there’s a new romance on the horizon?”
“Might be. Let her go to the training with Sheba, join the local dog training club, and we’ll revisit this conversation after that, okay?”
“Interesting. I’d love her to settle down with a nice boy. She deserves to be happy more than any of us, after all she’s encountered in her short life.”
“She’ll be fine. Don’t force her. She’ll find love when she’s ready to accept it. Hey, look at it this way—if she does fall for a boy at the training club, at least you’ll know he’ll have a genuinely kind heart. Anyone who works with dogs has an abundance of love to give.”
“That’s so true. Right, I better get home and see what hubby has attempted to cook for dinner.”
“You’re in for a surprise,” Carol called after her as she closed the door.
Lorne wasn’t keen on that kind of surprise. Tony’s prowess in the kitchen department was severely lacking at the best of times. Maybe I should stop off at the chippie on the way home, just in case!
When she walked through the back door of the house, billowing smoke greeted her. “Tony! Get in here, quick.” Inserting her hand into the oven glove, she yanked open the oven door and wafted smoke away from her face.
“What? Shit! How could I forget that? Sorry, I was on the phone to Joe and…”
“Just get the bloody dish outside. No, leave me to do it. Open the back door for me.”
Lorne removed the casserole dish from the oven and, with outstretched arms, carried it outside. She placed it on the gravel by the back door and turned the outside tap on to douse the flames.
“Another successful Tony dinner hits the dust,” Charlie said.
Lorne shook her head. “I should be grateful he tries to help us out. Most men wouldn’t.”
Tony marched out of the house and called over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Lorne and Charlie laughed. “Yeah, laden with fish and chips, I bet,” Lorne retorted sarcastically.
After a chip-shop dinner, Charlie escaped to her room with Sheba, and Lorne and Tony snuggled up together on the couch. He started the conversation off with a complaint a
bout how frustrating his day had been and how he hated questioning folks for a living.
“It goes with the territory, love. I don’t know what you can do about it. How does Joe feel about that side of things? Maybe you could split the chores up? He questions people while you do all the research needed to crack the case. Would that work?”
Tony shook his head. “I don’t think that would be fair. He feels the same way as I do about it.”
“Poor you. You’re so used to going into a situation with all guns ablazing. It’s hard to change to a softly, softly approach, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
Lorne kissed his cheek and added, “It will soon become second nature to you. Hang in there. You’re doing a great job so far.”
The music started for the nightly news programme, and they eagerly awaited the plea Karen had instructed the show to air. It turned out to be the final item just before the credits ran.
“Great, that was a half-hearted attempt to help on their part. What’s the betting we get very little from that?”
“At least they aired it. Try not to be too dismissive about the plea yet, Lorne. What’s on the agenda for this weekend?”
“Are you working at all?”
“No. Joe and I decided there wouldn’t be any point. We’ll hit the trail hard again on Monday morning.”
“Same as us, really then. Well, I dropped in on Carol on the way home. She’s not coming back to work at the kennels until Wednesday and has promised to give Charlie a break next weekend. I’m going to do my best to try and persuade Charlie to go away for a few days.”
He glanced down at her through narrowed eyes. “And?”
“Well, I thought if we have a quiet time this weekend, we could make the most of having the house to ourselves next weekend when Charlie’s away.”
“You’re presuming she will go away, of course.”
“A couple of gentle persuasive remarks during the next few days will help sway her, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, those kinds of remarks usually have a way of working their magic on me from time to time.”
She kissed him hard on the mouth then snuggled up against his chest as the film, a romcom Charlie had picked out for them, started.
