A Velvet Scream

by Priscilla Masters

  ‘Costing me a bloody fortune, this weather is,’ he grumbled as the DC approached. ‘I don’t know what happens out here. I’ve had that many bursts this year with the cold weather I’m keeping the plumber in bread and jam let alone bread and butter. And now I’ll have to call him again. I’ve had him out nearly every day since early November.’

  ‘Couldn’t you lag it?’

  Gradbach looked at him pityingly. ‘I’ve done that.’

  ‘No, I mean double lag it. I’ve had to do it at home. Just put two lots of foam around it.’

  Gradbach studied him. ‘’Appen I will,’ he said, ‘when I’ve had it fixed this time. Now then – what did you want to speak to me about?’

  Hesketh-Brown repeated his questions. Gradbach was turned away, still studying the tap, but Danny had the distinct impression that his shoulders had stiffened. ‘Why do you want to know about that?’

  ‘His daughter has been in a bit of trouble,’ Danny said tentatively.

  ‘Little Kayleigh?’ Obviously Gradbach didn’t know much about his friend’s daughter; his benign response had been very different from anyone who actually had known her in the last couple of years.

  Accordingly Danny had to choose his words with great care. ‘She was assaulted outside a nightclub in Leek.’

  Gradbach looked genuinely shocked. ‘In Leek?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  It took a moment for Gradbach to absorb this information. When he had he said softly, ‘Poor little mite. How is she?’

  ‘Well, obviously I can’t give you all the details, Mr Gradbach. She’s in hospital currently but she’ll be all right. Don’t worry. Now, about Kayleigh’s father, Peter. When did you last see him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Gradbach said grumpily. ‘Couldn’t tell you.’

  ‘Do you know where he’s living now?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Hesketh-Brown had the feeling he should be asking more questions. Maybe more subtle questions but he felt that whatever the truth he would get no more from Gradbach. He had one more try; a stab in the dark. ‘And Christine Harrison?’

  Gradbach still kept his back towards him. ‘Heard she got married again,’ he said. ‘And divorced.’ A pair of bright blue eyes met his. ‘Some women aren’t too lucky in love, are they?’

  This time it was Detective Constable Danny Hesketh-Brown’s turn to shrug.

  Thursday, 2 December. 4 p.m.

  Molly Carraway was Christmas shopping on Stockwell Street with her best friend, Clara. There was a small jewellery shop halfway along what served as the high street which sold inexpensive pieces and Molly had spied a silver bracelet which would be just right for her cousin, Maisie, who at eight years old was becoming quite a child of fashion. She fingered it then turned to her friend. ‘Clara,’ she said, ‘can you keep a secret?’

  The fact was that Clara couldn’t. In fact, telling her a secret was just like putting it on the front page of the Leek Post & Times. However, she looked at her friend and reassured her. ‘’Course I can,’ she said, pretending to be insulted even to be asked. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve met someone really nice over the Internet,’ Molly confessed. ‘He’s just like Robert Pattinson from Twilight. He’s just gorgeous. He lives in London. I think he might come up and see me.’

  ‘You lucky thing.’

  Molly moved a little nearer. ‘Don’t tell Mum and Dad, will you?’ Molly’s parents were well known for being strict with their only daughter.

  Clara shook her head. ‘As if,’ she said scornfully. Then she put her hand over her mouth. ‘Molly,’ she said, ‘be careful, won’t you? Make sure it isn’t one of those paedos.’

  Molly laughed. ‘I’m fifteen years old. Bit old for a paedo.’

  Clara was a little more streetwise than her friend. ‘There’s still girls that get groomed and meet people. I mean it.’ She put her hand on her friend’s arm. ‘Be careful. Don’t go anywhere without telling someone.’ She tried to make a joke of it. ‘Even if it is just me.’

  But her friend was irritated by her concern. ‘’Course. I’m not stupid.’ She paused and couldn’t resist a further airy comment. ‘I might even go down to London to meet up with him. If I do will you cover me – say I’m at your place?’

  Clara looked awkward. ‘It’ll get me into no end of trouble.’

  ‘Please.’

  Her friend was difficult to resist. ‘OK.’

  ‘Thanks. You’re a brick. Now what do you think about this bracelet?’

  SEVEN

  Friday, 3 December. 7 a.m.

  Joanna was standing in front of the calendar. The month was closing in on her. It would soon be . . . She felt a shudder of sheer dread, a sense of nausea and was suffused with an instinct of suffocating panic. She could not breathe. At the same time she was convinced that she would not be able to go through with this. It was as though a dark curtain hung between her life right up until 30 December – and beyond – was nothing. The next second, she was frowning. Whatever was wrong with her? She loved Matthew, didn’t she?

  On cue, he shouted down the stairs. ‘Don’t be late tonight, Jo, I’ve booked a table for eight.’

  She still stood in the kitchen, willing the disturbing feeling to evaporate and for her emotions to return to normal but they didn’t. She couldn’t tell Matthew how she felt. She just couldn’t. He would be both puzzled and hurt. And yet as she saw him rounding the top of the stairs, already dressed in casual trousers and a sweater, she had the feeling that he did know and to some extent understood.

  He reached the bottom step, his eyes warming her. ‘Jo?’

  She managed a smile which didn’t fool him for a second. In two bounds he was folding her into his arms. ‘Jo,’ he said, stroking her hair as though she was a cat or a pony. ‘Hey.’ He tilted her mouth up to meet his. ‘Am I so very scary?’

  Looking into those warm green eyes, beautifully crinkled around the corners from smiling so often, feeling his mouth both hard and soft on hers, the touch of his arms around her, she felt really silly. How on earth could she possibly doubt that she and Matthew loved each other, that their life together would be anything but happy?

  He was waiting for her response. She nestled against him, feeling the power of his arms around her and challenged him. ‘Don’t you think that making a commitment for the rest of our lives is just a little bit scary?’

  He held her tighter then. ‘Yes and no.’ Then: ‘We’ll talk tonight. There really isn’t the time now.’ He kissed her again. ‘Have a good day, darling. I’ll see you later.’

  She left in a fidget of nerves which only steadied as she reached Leek police station and pulled into her parking slot. She could not wait for the spring and to get back on her bike. That was one way to banish the spectres and ghosts raised by peering too far into the future. She sat for a moment, reflecting until she saw Mike Korpanski’s burly shape disappear into the station. When, with a sigh, she finally moved.

  By the time she reached her office Korpanski was already yawning into his computer screen. She hung her coat up. ‘Late night, Mike?’

  He barely looked up. ‘Jossie was being sick all night, poor kid. I hardly got a wink of sleep.’ He yawned again and rubbed his eyes.

  ‘Poor Mike,’ she sympathized and couldn’t resist a quick dig. ‘That’s what comes of having children.’

  ‘She’s hardly a child, Jo. She’s growing up faster than she should. But last night . . .’ His face softened. ‘She seemed a little girl again. Just wanted her daddy.’ He looked pleased with himself. Smug as he basked in the adoration of his “little girl”. Something Kayleigh Harrison had missed out on.

  ‘Come on, sentimentalist,’ she said. ‘I suppose that means I’d better make the coffee this morning.’

  ‘Thanks. You wait,’ he called after her. ‘It’ll happen to you one day and then you’ll be the sentimental mother.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said to the coffee machine.

  As she handed
him his Styrofoam cup he asked her what the plan was for today.

  ‘I thought we’d track down Steve Shand’s little party of men on the pull,’ she said. ‘One, two, three, four.’ She held her fingers up. ‘Also, I want to talk to Kayleigh’s mother again and then I suppose we really should visit young Kayleigh herself. But after the bunch of “mates”. We’ll start with Shaun Hennessey, the guy who was celebrating his big three-o.’

  There was a swift briefing where Danny Hesketh-Brown related his findings. ‘Basically, Jo,’ he said, ‘I drew a blank. Neither of Peter Harrison’s friends appear to have seen him since he left Leek twelve years ago.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well – as Mr Ollerenshaw pointed out – their big hobby was fishing. Without that they didn’t have a lot to share so I suppose it makes sense.’

  ‘OK. What did they say about young Kayleigh? Did they know if she had any contact with her father?’

  Hesketh-Brown made a face. ‘They wouldn’t know if she did.’

  Joanna pursued her point. ‘True. But as far as they knew?’

  Danny shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘OK.’ Joanna scanned the room. Anyone else have anything to add?’

  There was a sea of shaking heads.

  ‘Right. Keep in touch.’

  They tracked Shaun Hennessey down at one of the ‘middle’ schools in Leek where he taught a class of eight year olds. Not wanting to disrupt the class they waited until the eleven o’clock break. The head teacher had set a room aside but seemed concerned that one of his teachers needed to be interviewed by the police. Joanna spent some time reassuring him that the interview was simply a matter of pursuing a routine enquiry.

  Shaun Hennessey was a tall, athletic, handsome man who wore an air of arrogance as comfortably as a well-fitting suit. ‘Inspector,’ he said, with a flash of even white teeth. ‘Sergeant?’

  ‘Hi, Shaun.’ Korpanski gave Joanna an embarrassed grin accompanied by a lift of the eyebrows and a shrug of the shoulders. Joanna could interpret it perfectly.

  I didn’t realize it was him.

  She could even guess where Korpanski and Hennessey had bumped into each other. Judging by their musculature both were men who “worked out”. They’d have met at the gym, of course.

  Hennessey had visibly relaxed when he had recognized Sergeant Mike Korpanski and Joanna took advantage of his composure.

  ‘This is just an informal chat really,’ she said, needing the birthday boy to be at his ease. ‘I take it you know what happened outside Patches on Tuesday night?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s been in the Post and Times.’

  ‘With a description of the person involved.’

  Hennessey nodded.

  ‘Do you know what the young woman was wearing?’

  ‘Steve told me.’

  ‘Did you see her in the nightclub on Tuesday?’

  Hennessey didn’t answer right away. He thought about it. ‘I did,’ he admitted after a pause, ‘but I didn’t take a lot of notice. To be honest . . .’ He gave a swift glance at Joanna, as though wondering whether to proceed along this perilous path. ‘She wasn’t my type. She looked – yes, young. Too much make-up. I didn’t like the way she was throwing herself around. She looked a bit – tarty, really.’

  ‘Did you have a dance with her?’

  Hennessey shook his head. ‘I was at the bar most of the evening,’ he said. ‘Everyone seemed to be buying me drinks and I was enjoying chatting.’

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘Next April. Tying the knot.’ Again Hennessey grinned.

  ‘And your fiancée didn’t mind you spending your birthday evening with your friends?’

  ‘No. Jen’s really easy-going. Besides, I’m taking her out to dinner tomorrow night to a very classy restaurant.’

  Joanna smiled at him. ‘Is there anything else you can add?’

  Hennessey shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’d like to help but . . .’ He gave his disarming smile again. ‘The entire evening is a bit hazy – as you can probably imagine.’ They left the school.

  ‘Sorry, Jo, Mike apologized. ‘I didn’t realize I knew him.’

  ‘It probably didn’t make a lot of difference, Mike,’ Joanna said. ‘It’s OK.’

  Dr Afarim rang late in the morning. ‘I’ve spent considerable time with young Kayleigh Harrison,’ he said, ‘and have formed some interesting conclusions which may or may not have a bearing on your investigation. Would it be convenient for you to come and talk to me at the hospital – in confidence, of course.’

  Joanna was intrigued. ‘Anything that will help take this enquiry further would be appreciated,’ she said. ‘When would suit you?’

  ‘I am free at two o’clock,’ he said.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘If you can come to my office on the new medical wing?’

  Again Joanna said ‘Fine’, and put the phone down.

  ‘Change of schedule,’ she said to Mike. ‘Get one of the others to talk to Shand’s mates. We’ve got other things to do. We’ll talk to Christine Bretby. See if she’s got anything to add. Then we’ll see the doctor and Kayleigh as we’ll be in the hospital anyway.’

  Christine Bretby was no more pleased to see them second time around. She peered round the door, her lips tightening when she saw who it was. She even heaved a theatrical sigh as she stood back to let them enter. ‘You’re back, then?’ Her resentment made her voice gravelly and coarse.

  ‘We won’t be here long, Mrs Bretby,’ Joanna said. ‘We just wondered about Kayleigh and her father.’

  She looked surprised at that. ‘I told you,’ she said. ‘Peter left when Kayleigh was two.’

  ‘To your knowledge have they had any contact since then?’

  She looked very puzzled at the line of questioning. ‘I don’t think so. Not that I know of. It’s possible, I suppose. She probably wouldn’t have told me. Ask her. Why do you ask?’

  ‘The description of the man Kayleigh was with on Tuesday night matches that of your husband.’

  ‘Ex-husband.’ She put two and two together. ‘Look, my ex was no saint but he wouldn’t have assaulted his own daughter.’

  ‘Would he have known she was his daughter?’

  The question silenced her.

  ‘Have you sent him pictures of her over the years?’

  Again she was on the defensive. ‘I didn’t even know his address. How could I? Why would I? He never showed any interest in her.’

  ‘What about the Child Protection Agency?’

  ‘They could never find him. He never paid a penny towards her upkeep. I just had to manage on my own as best I could. In a way I preferred it like that. A clean break. I didn’t have to see him or have anything to do with him.’

  ‘Right.’ Joanna waited before changing the subject. ‘Tell me about Neil Bretby and Kayleigh. How would you describe their relationship?’

  ‘Leave him out of it,’ she said wearily. ‘The poor man’s had enough trouble as it is. He must regret the day he met me.’

  ‘Just answer the question, please.’

  ‘She was jealous of him. She always was. She wanted all the attention for herself. She couldn’t bear to share me. He tried. He really tried to be a decent dad to her but she was off him from the first.’

  ‘Did they talk, laugh, go places together?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Alone or with you?’

  ‘For goodness’ sake. Leave it, will you? He never touched her. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Were you working at the time?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I had a job at the hospital, cleaning.’

  ‘What hours did you work?’

  Christine could see exactly where this was heading. ‘Evenings,’ she said steadily. ‘Five till nine.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you know where Neil Bretby is now?’

  She drew in a deep breath and didn’t answer.

  ‘Do
you have his address, please?’

  Christine’s face became hard, resigned; her mouth a straight, angry line. Without a word she left the room, returning with a piece of paper. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘But I do mean it. Leave Neil out of this. I don’t want him to have any more trouble because of us. Kayleigh’s caused him enough grief already.’

  ‘We won’t bother him any more than is necessary,’ Joanna promised. ‘Thank you for your help.’

  As they left she couldn’t help noticing Christine’s face: hopelessly bleak and sad. And now Joanna couldn’t help wondering: who should she feel most sorry for? Kayleigh or her mother? And was almost glad of the distraction of her own mother’s text on her mobile phone informing her that Lara, her niece, had changed her mind and now did want to be a bridesmaid. Once in the car she rang her back. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘You sort it. Colour, design, dress. You sort it, Mum. I’m just too busy. I’m on a rape case.’

  Her mood was not helped by Mike Korpanski’s bland smile, pretending not to be listening but staring straight ahead with a faint smile pasted on his mouth. He was getting his own back on her for his poor night’s sleep.

  Molly Carraway was sitting in her English lesson but she wasn’t concentrating. When she had gone home after school yesterday evening she had gone straight on to the Internet and there had been a message from her ‘friend’. She had stared at it for a few minutes before reading the text. ‘I’m coming to Leek on Thursday on business.’

  On business. It sounded so grown up. So rich. She read on.

  ‘I’d really like to take you out, Molly. Please say you will. Please.’

  She had typed in her answer.

  EIGHT

  Mike drove her to the hospital to meet up with Dr Afarim. They could kill two birds with one stone: speak to the psychiatrist and visit Kayleigh. On the way they stopped at a newsagents and Joanna picked up a couple of ‘celebrity special’ magazines, sure that Kayleigh would appreciate them.

  Dr Zed Afarim proved to be a handsome African in his thirties with excellent English, impeccable manners, the whitest of teeth and a pair of dark eyes that sparkled with amusement as he greeted her. ‘Inspector Piercy,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I was looking forward to meeting you. And Sergeant Korpanski,’ he added, still in the same polite tone.