A Velvet Scream

by Priscilla Masters

  ‘Not bad, thanks.’ She answered in a small voice.

  ‘Did you tell your mum we sort of bumped into one another at the nightclub the other night?’

  Christine was watching warily. ‘No, she didn’t tell me that,’ Christine said sarcastically. ‘Did you, darlin’?’

  ‘Didn’t seem important with what ’appened after,’ Kayleigh responded sulkily. ‘I sort of half forgot.’

  Harrison settled down on the seat beside his daughter. ‘Sorry to ’ear,’ he said.

  They left them to it.

  Joanna called Clara and her mother in next. ‘Clara,’ she said. ‘The people outside: did you know any of them?’

  The girl hesitated.

  ‘Or think you knew someone?’

  ‘I think I’ve seen the girl somewhere,’ she said, frowning. ‘Probably at the club. She looks familiar but I can’t be absolutely sure.’

  ‘And the man?’

  Clara shook her head. ‘Not that I remember. Sorry,’ she said helpfully. ‘I wish I could help to find—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Joanna said. ‘It’s OK. Really.’ She smiled. ‘I promise.’

  Rosa Williams spoke next. ‘Have you any better idea what’s happened to Molly?’ She glanced at her daughter. ‘This is awful for my daughter. She feels responsible.’

  ‘We’re following a few leads,’ Joanna said.

  ‘Surely you’ve got CCTV footage?’

  Joanna sighed. ‘Cameras are seen as a panacea for all evils,’ she said. ‘The easy solutions to all crimes, but the images weren’t brilliant and haven’t helped us as much as we’d hoped. Is there anything,’ Joanna appealed desperately, ‘that you can remember? Anything you can think of that’ll help us move forward?’

  Clara shook her head. ‘I’ve tried really hard,’ she said. ‘I’ve gone over and over and over that night – and other nights, but I can’t think of anything else. I’m sorry.’

  ‘OK. You can go now.’

  When they rejoined Kayleigh and her parents the air was still a little frosty and O’Connor was looking bored. But Kayleigh’s eyes were sparkling. Joanna noted that now Harrison’s arm was slung casually round his daughter’s shoulders. But the situation didn’t suit everyone. If Kayleigh looked a bit more animated and Harrison a little less sheepish, Christine looked positively po-faced. In fact, father and daughter appeared to be getting on rather better than mother and daughter ever had, considering . . .

  NINETEEN

  Thursday, 9 December. 9.25 a.m.

  Joanna hadn’t really wanted to visit the school, but Molly was still missing. Clara had failed to provide another lead. Someone, somewhere out there knew something and the person Molly was most likely to have confided in would have been a school friend; probably a girl. So she was pulling the dragnet via the school assembly. She was not above using every weapon at her disposal, so she’d brought Korpanski along with her. Young girls were bound to be susceptible to his rugged good looks and powerful frame. Besides, she needed him for moral support. Her own memories of school were not good. She had been bored, frustrated, disruptive and frequently in trouble through her high spirits. In fact, truth be known, she was dreading this return to the chalkboard. Even now, years later, the thought of going into a school made her feel queasy. But she had no option. She must explore all avenues. So at nine thirty, she stood, facing rows of scrubbed faces, and could almost read some of them reflecting her own cynicism towards the educational system.

  Using a laptop she made a presentation with photographs of Molly, Clara; stills of Patches et cetera et cetera.

  She used the usual line, addressing the entire school in a specially convened late assembly.

  ‘As you probably know, Molly Carraway, one of your school-fellows, disappeared from a nightclub in Leek on Friday night and hasn’t been seen since. Another of your school friends was with her at the club that night but they lost sight of one another during the evening.’ Joanna moved the picture on to a few grainy portrayals of Molly dancing with various people; sometimes alone, in a dreamy, jerky movement, hands describing vague floating gestures; sometimes stamping and shaking her body around then later walking shakily underneath a tall chandelier, and she continued. ‘Obviously we are concerned about Molly and very much want to find her.’ She looked round the faces. She had all their attention. They were hardly blinking and the room was still and very quiet.

  The question, as she looked from face to face, was did anyone have any useful information? Now she was here she wasn’t quite so sure that it was such a good idea. The faces looked so honest, so without deceit. She continued. ‘If any of you knows anything that might help us find Molly or wants to make a comment in private Detective Sergeant Korpanski here,’ Mike gave the room a big, friendly grin, ‘and myself will be waiting in the rooms along the corridor. Your head –’ a glance at the man sitting motionless on the platform – ‘has allowed you time off from classes. Please help us,’ she appealed. ‘We don’t have a lot to go on and as every day goes by we are more and more concerned for your schoolmate’s well-being.’

  Again Joanna surveyed the ring of faces. They were bright kids. They would be able to read between the lines and know there was an above average chance that Molly Carraway’s body was lying somewhere, as yet undiscovered.

  It seemed the pupils of Newcastle school were only too anxious to help. An orderly queue had formed outside the doors even before Joanna and Mike had reached their allocated rooms. Most, it turned out, had little of significance to add, but after three quarters of an hour hearing various bits of tittle-tattle, Joanna hit a vein of pure gold.

  Salena Mistry was a petite Indian girl; very smart with a long black plait and a short grey skirt, spotless white blouse and maroon tie. She knocked on the door and walked in, a shy smile lighting her face. She was neat and very pretty.

  ‘Sit down,’ Joanna invited. The girl sat almost primly and Joanna waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, she prompted: ‘You are a friend of Molly’s?’

  ‘Yes, I certainly am.’ The girl had an attractive voice with a singsong intonation.

  ‘Your name?’

  ‘Salena Mistry.’

  Joanna waited but the girl still hesitated. ‘Salena,’ she prompted, ‘what can you tell me?’

  The girl blinked. At first she said nothing. Then she leaned forward and fixed Joanna with a stare from large liquid-brown eyes. ‘I wouldn’t dream of telling you anything,’ she said primly, ‘except that Molly is in big trouble. She must be or she would have texted me or something.’

  Privately Joanna agreed. This was nothing new. But she sensed there was more. ‘What is it, Salena?’

  The girl leaned forward further and pushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes. ‘Molly was seeing someone,’ she said.

  ‘She had a boyfriend?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Do you mean the guy she was flirting with over the Internet?’

  ‘No. Not the guy from Young Hearts. Another one.’

  Joanna leaned forward. ‘And Clara didn’t know?’

  ‘She wouldn’t have dared tell Clara in case they bumped into him.’

  ‘Where?’ She already knew the answer.

  ‘Patches,’ the girl said simply. ‘Molly would have been frightened that they might have bumped into him there. It was supposed to be a secret,’ she added.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he was married.’

  ‘Married? How old was he?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly but quite a bit older than her,’ the girl said correctly.

  ‘How did she meet him?’

  A moment of doubt. ‘At Patches, I think, or one of the other nightclubs.’

  The other nightclubs. Joanna could have smacked her forehead for her stupidity. ‘Did Molly ever go to Lymeys?’

  ‘A few times, yes. We went there together a couple of times and then she stayed over at my house.’

  ‘Did you meet him?’

  ‘I met him
once,’ the girl said, ‘but it was at the club in Newcastle. It was dark and noisy. I couldn’t swear I’d know him again.’

  ‘OK. Just as much as you remember.’

  ‘Tall, slim . . .’ Salena’s description ticked all the boxes.

  ‘How long has it been going on?’

  ‘At least six months that I know of.’

  ‘Were they sleeping together?’

  Salema lifted her heavy lashes and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, protesting. ‘I did warn her but Molly – she’s a law unto herself, that one.’

  ‘What do you know about him?’

  That was when the disappointments began. ‘Very little, I’m afraid.’

  ‘His name?’

  Salema shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t tell me.’

  ‘Was he from Leek or the Potteries?’

  ‘I think Leek but I’m not sure. Molly thought Clara would disapprove and that is one of the reasons why she did not confide in her.’

  Joanna looked at the girl curiously. ‘Clara was supposed to be her best friend. Yet she didn’t confide in her?’

  Salena shook her head.

  ‘But she told you? She thought you would – approve?’

  ‘I am not judgemental,’ Salena said with dignity.

  Clara hadn’t struck Joanna as being judgmental either but she let the matter drop.

  ‘Can you remember anything else? Anything,’ she emphasized. ‘Any small detail?’

  ‘No,’ Salena said flatly.

  Joanna smiled. The girl was holding something back but pursuing it would not prise it out of her. She was going to have to bide her time. ‘Thank you.’ She stood up and gave her a card with her telephone number on it. ‘If you remember anything else please do get in touch.’ The girl returned a beautiful smile as she left. ‘I certainly will.’

  Salena proved to be the last in her queue and there was no one standing outside Korpanski’s door so Joanna knocked and went in. He was talking to a geeky-looking youth with a pointed chin and pale intelligent eyes.

  ‘This is Kieran,’ Korpanski explained. ‘He’s in Molly’s class.’ The youth grinned at Joanna. He had an eager, engaging face.

  ‘Hi, Kieran,’ Joanna said. ‘Here to help?’

  The youth nodded. Joanna raised her eyebrows to Korpanski, who gave a weak smile and a faint shake of his head. He stood up and slapped the boy on the shoulder. ‘Thanks, Kieran,’ he said. ‘Really appreciate it.’

  ‘You think I’ve helped?’

  Korpanski was too honest. ‘Bit soon to say yet, mate, but well, hey.’ Another clap on the shoulder. ‘We’ll see. OK?’

  Kieran grinned at him, smiled at Joanna and scuttled off.

  Korpanski watched him go with an indulgent smile. ‘He wants to join the police when he leaves school – or college,’ he said. ‘Nice lad – but a bit fanciful.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I think he’s making things up.’ Korpanski turned his dark eyes on her.

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘A telephone conversation he “overheard”.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Molly arranging to meet someone – he thought it was a bloke – at Patches on Friday night.’

  ‘Really?’ It was the missing thing Salena had kept to her chest.

  ‘You look as though you’ve come up with something, Jo.’

  She related the conversation she’d had with Salena and saw him smile. ‘I wondered if there was something like that,’ he said. ‘I just wondered. I mean, Molly was an attractive, available girl.’

  ‘Was?’ she quizzed.

  ‘OK, is, if you like, but we both know there’s a distinct possibility that she’s a corpse. What do we know anyway?’ He hesitated. ‘Actually I don’t want to sound a wet blanket, Jo, but a “married man”, well, it doesn’t exactly narrow the field, does it?’

  ‘Doesn’t it?’

  Korpanski gave a blokish grin. ‘There must be lots of married men going to Patches on the razzle.’

  She simply gave him a disappointed, quizzical look before saying, ‘It gives us a lead – and possibly a reason – for her disappearance other than a connection to the other two assaults.’

  ‘If you like, Jo.’

  She went outside into the corridor and asked one of the teachers if she could speak to Clara again.

  ‘With a teacher present, of course,’ the teacher said severely.

  ‘Of course,’ echoed Joanna.

  A minute later Clara was ushered in, a female teacher at her side. Joanna waited until the girl was sitting down before she dropped her bombshell. ‘Clara, one of your schoolmates has told us that Molly was seeing a married man. Did you know anything about this?’

  The girl’s eyes widened. ‘No, I didn’t. Who told you?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s true. She would have confided in me.’ She tried again. ‘Who told you?’

  ‘We’re not at liberty to tell,’ Joanna said, ‘but do you know anything about it?’

  ‘She went missing a couple of times before,’ the girl admitted, ‘when we were at Patches. Once or twice it was for ages. An hour or so but she always said she’d been just chatting to someone.’

  ‘Have you any idea who it was?’

  The girl put her hands up in a defensive gesture. ‘How can I know,’ she said, ‘if Molly, my best friend, didn’t tell me?’ Her face changed. ‘But I don’t approve. If she’d have asked me I’d have told her married men who cheat are cheats.’

  Joanna gave a weak smile. ‘Tell me a bit more about your nights out.’

  Clara made a face. ‘It was all a laugh, really. We made a pact. We didn’t want boyfriends. We were set on going to uni so if boys made a pass at us we’d just laugh it off. They were just local yobs as far as we were concerned. Chavs.’

  Joanna was surprised at the girl’s snobbery. ‘So if they were ‘‘chavs’’ why would Molly have been seeing one of them?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’ She put her elbows down on the desk with a stroppy thump. ‘We went because we were bored. We had to have something to do apart from school and schoolwork.’

  Next to the elbows Joanna put on the desk a couple of grainy photographs of Molly with various dancing partners. ‘Do you recognize anyone here? Did you ever see Molly talking or spending much time with any of these blokes?’

  Clara gave the pictures a thorough look. ‘No,’ she said, puzzled. ‘I don’t know any of these guys.’

  ‘Look again at these.’ Joanna placed a couple of photofit pictures from descriptions the public had given them.

  The girl looked instead at Joanna and snorted. ‘They’re a bit vague, aren’t they?

  ‘The photofits? Yes. They’re not brilliant but they give a general idea and a sort of picture, stance, clothes et cetera.’

  Clara just laughed. ‘They don’t even look human, Inspector Piercy. More like someone from Dr Who.’ She laughed but it quickly turned to tears as she put a hand on each of the photofits. ‘You think one of these has her?’

  Joanna put her hand out. ‘We don’t know,’ she said, ‘yet.’

  The girl’s face looked sad and hopeless and Joanna saw that underneath the bravado, the snobbery and the front Clara was worried, unhappy and now hurt because Molly, her friend, her best friend, had not confided in her. She felt a wash of sympathy.

  ‘OK, Clara,’ she said softly. ‘You can go now. But I just want to say something.’

  The girl lifted her eyes.

  ‘This isn’t your fault, you know.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. Whatever Molly did, it isn’t your fault.’

  The girl gave a meaningful glance at the teacher, which Joanna interpreted correctly. ‘You want to speak to me alone?’

  ‘Please.’

  The teacher was short, plump; in her forties with a calm, intelligent face. ‘If that’s what you want, Clara,’ she said, ‘that’s fine.’ She smiled at her pupil, then
at Joanna and left the room.

  When the door had shut behind her Clara spoke. ‘There was one guy,’ she said. ‘He was there on Friday and I have seen him before.’

  ‘Was he there the night Kayleigh was assaulted too?’

  ‘I think so. I couldn’t swear to it, though.’

  ‘Did he look like any of the pictures?’

  ‘Not really. But he was sort of confident, a bit older and he asked us if we wanted anything.’

  Joanna lifted her eyebrows.

  ‘I thought he meant drugs, Ecstasy or something like that. I looked at Moll and I shook my head but she didn’t. Later I saw her talking to him and I was worried.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Brown hair, tallish, slimish. He had a sort of cheeky face and a confident smile.’

  ‘Age?’

  ‘He was about thirty, I think.’

  ‘Would you know him again?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What was he wearing?’

  Joanna risked a look at Korpanski and gave a slight nod. This was her man. Not shadowy or insubstantial any more. It was a solid lead which Clara had kept back until the affair with a married man had come out. Then her loyalty had snapped. She thanked the girl, resisting the temptation to ask her why she had kept this important detail back for five whole days and she and Mike left.

  They picked up some sandwiches at the BP filling station and arrived back at the station. Joanna shut the door on their office. She wanted to speak to Korpanski alone.

  ‘Mike,’ she said slowly, ‘I’m beginning to understand why this case is proving so difficult. Three young girls: teenagers, all of them clubbing. One dies, another is found almost dead, the other one is currently missing. Naturally we have threaded the three cases together.’

  Korpanski nodded.

  ‘But what if they are not connected, not even three crimes – rather three separate incidents, the only connection being the obvious ones: girls, clubs, alcohol, sex. Should we have dealt with it like that?’

  Korpanski frowned. ‘It was a natural way to go, Jo,’ he said. ‘So will it lead us to Molly?’

  ‘Oh, I think so, eventually. We’ll get there, Mike, in the end. A few phone calls, a few more interviews, some surprises, some shocks. At the end of this case,’ she said prophetically, ‘some people will be happy, even, while others will be sad.’