That didn’t make sense either. Malcolm didn’t have a scratch on him. He could have been poisoned, but I thought that should have left some sort of mark too. A purple tongue or swollen face or something. My knowledge came a little short. I’d never had cause to research poisoning methods. And Neil hadn’t been there. Which might make it something slow acting, that had been targeted at Malcolm so that no one else was affected. And that Malcolm knew who did it.
Oh, stop it, I thought. This isn’t Agatha bloody Christie. Malcolm’s brain was addled. He didn’t know what was going on.
I finished the coffee, then returned to the counter for another one.
I still hadn’t spoken to Jillie’s brother, Samson. I’d left him a message, but he hadn’t rung back. I dialled his number again, but it just rang and rang then went to voicemail. I left another message.
I needed to go about finding Ben logically and methodically. Adam was searching the hotels and going door to door. Obe was holding the Lipscombe Fort, and I’d put out feelers to every contact I had.
Ben had participated in the Teen Outreach Programme. The queries I had sent out had come up with nothing, but Jillie said Malcolm had taken him somewhere else. It seemed like a long shot, but I didn’t have any other ideas.
The Wi-Fi connection was erratic, but I managed to locate at least four youth centres within a mile radius of Malcolm’s house. None had websites, and one had lost its campaign to stay open. I only found one phone number—a mobile number that was no longer in use. I jotted the addresses down in proximity order. I sent Adam a text giving him the address of the first one.
Next, I searched for Malcolm’s postcode and pulled up a map of the area together with the little pins that designate places of interest. A quick plug-in at the counter and a payment of 50p, and I had a print out.
Almost no matter where you are in London, everything is built up closely, the houses packed on top of each other. Few spaces are like the old car dealership and unused for years – space is too valuable in a crowded city. If Ben had done three or four flying hops, it was still a lot of buildings and houses for Adam to search, but I was looking for arcades and malls, in case the youth centre didn’t pan out. I marked them on my map with red pen. I packed up my laptop and made my way to the station. There was no sign of the suited ghost or anyone else, but my back prickled all the way down the escalators.
The first youth centre on my list was situated just off the high street in a shop front between a kebab place and a closed estate agent. The inside was hidden from public view by a set of dusty curtains. A pile of post and takeaway flyers was stacked against the glass door. I squinted and made out a postmark dated November. I scribbled a note on the back of a business card just in case and pushed it through the post flap.
‘Nothing here, huh?’
I jumped. Adam was walking towards me. He wore black jeans, a black coat, and a black beanie over the remains of his hair. He looked like a big pasty ninja.
I shrugged. ‘These places only last as long as the funding.’
We checked my map, then started walking east.
‘So, I met your father,’ I said.
He looked at me. ‘And how did that go?’
‘Not well. He threw me out.’
Adam laughed, but there was no humour to it. ‘Don’t take it personally. He’s like that with everyone. He can be a bit of an asshole at times, but it’s been worse recently. And Malcolm being dead isn’t going to help.’
‘Why recently?’
‘He’s got a disciplinary hearing at work coming up, although he should be used to it. He’s always getting into fights. He’s been round the HR carousel a good few times.’
‘That bad?’
He laughed. It sounded bitter. ‘Yeah, they’d have sacked him long ago, but he’s too good at what he does. He was the one who dealt with that water sprite in Brixton last year. If it wasn’t for him, half of London would still be swimming. He specialises in both water and earth.’
‘Rare combination.’
‘Doesn’t stop him getting the occasional black eye.’
We fell silent. I had the impression Adam had told me more than he’d meant to, but I understood. When it came to family, sometimes you just needed to vent.
‘He said something about Ben killing your dog.’
Adam grimaced. ‘Yes, that was nasty, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. Ben did do it, but he didn’t know any better. You need to understand what it’s like up there. They live off fish, sea birds, and rabbits. Ben’s not like modern kids who don’t know where the packages in the supermarket come from. His stepdad had just started taking him out to hunt rabbits. It was an unfortunate misunderstanding.’
I slowed to a stop in front of the second centre on the list. It was church affiliated and run in the hall of St Joseph’s, a Catholic church situated just off the main drag of the high street. It was a new brick building—spacious and airy—not like the one I went to growing up, which was ancient and smelled a bit like damp and old lady.
My mother wasn’t a big fan of modern religion. She missed the old religions and was known to wax nostalgic about the days when blood sacrifice was the done thing. Although I suspect she may have done it just to annoy Stanley.
The side door to the hall was open, so we let ourselves in. I gave out a friendly ‘Helloo.’
Two middle-aged women were setting out chairs in the centre of the hall. Another shook out a large mat to go in the middle. The closest, a well-padded black woman in a print dress, gave me a friendly smile.
‘I’m afraid the Mummy and Me class doesn’t start until one-thirty, but you’re welcome to hang about and have a coffee while you wait.’
I held up my arms like she was pointing a gun at me. ‘We actually wanted to ask some questions about your youth group.’
She peered a bit closer, then looked at Adam. ‘Oh, you don’t have a baby, do you? This is what happens when I don’t put my glasses on. I’m so sorry,’ she said, as if accusing strangers of parenthood was a terrible faux pas. ‘I’m happy to answer any questions as long as you don’t mind watching me get the tea ready.’
We followed her into a tiny kitchen area separated from the main hall by an open window. She turned on an urn big enough to cater for Hogwarts and began pulling mismatched mugs from a cupboard above the sink.
She introduced herself as Linda. I told her my name in return and showed her a copy of the most recent Polaroid of Ben I had, the especially sulky one.
‘Bless,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t he look like he’s in a funk? Yes, I know him, I thought he was a hunchback until I saw him on the news. Boy never took his coat off. What’s your interest in this?’
Adam leaned back against the kitchen counter. ‘I’m his cousin. We’re worried about him.’
She didn’t turn around. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘We just want to find him to make sure he’s safe,’ I said.
‘Isn’t that for the police to do?’ Linda started setting the mugs out on trays on a table just outside the kitchen.
‘No. Ben’s...’ I hesitated, not sure of the right word to use without being obvious. ‘I’m from the Lipscombe Trust. He mightn’t want to contact the police.’ I showed her my ID. She peered at it.
‘May I?’ she asked and held out her hand.
I gave it to her, and she disappeared through a door to the right, presumably to make a phone call and verify my identity.
Adam raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged. Family doesn’t come with an ID badge.
She was back within five minutes and handed my badge back. ‘Sorry, can’t be too sure. You never know what people want with the kids we have here.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Have you seen him recently? Or can you give me contact details for anyone he was friendly with? I’m hoping he’s gone to one of them.’
Linda appeared to be thinking about it. I pulled my backpack off my shoulder and handed her a small pack of my cards. ‘If you could maybe just pass my c
ontact details on to his friends... I don’t know if he had any particular friends.’
She snorted and seemingly made up her mind. ‘He was probably friendliest with Andy, and Ben’s definitely not with him because Andy’s my son and I would have noticed an extra mouth at the dinner table yesterday.’ She leaned over the kitchen counter, opened the window, and shouted out, ‘Andrew, get in here!’
Within a minute, a skinny teenaged boy, his face cratered with acne, appeared round the corner. ‘What?’
‘Not “what.” Yes, Mum.’
The boy rolled his eyes, ‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Have you seen your friend Ben?’
The boy looked from me to Adam to his mother. ‘Why, who’re they?’
‘Never mind why. Answer the question.’
Andy shrugged. ‘He was here last Wednesday when we had the table tennis tables up. I haven’t seen him since then.’
‘Do you know where he might have gone? Can you give me the names of anyone he’s friendly with?’ I asked.
Andy looked to his mother again before answering, ‘He’s not that friendly with anyone here. Most of ‘em didn’t want to get too close in case he was a mutant. Maybe he went to his brother’s.’
‘His brother’s? Finn?’ That didn’t make a lot of sense.
‘No, his big brother. Oliver.’
The expression on our faces must have been betrayed our reaction because Linda went pale. She put her hand on Andy’s shoulder. ‘Ben doesn’t have a big brother?’ We shook our heads in unison. ‘What brother, sweetheart? Did you get his surname?’
Andy looked suddenly unsure. ‘No.’
‘What did he look like?’ Adam asked. His pale skin was flushed red.
‘Uh...’ Andy fumbled in his pocket and produced a mobile. He skimmed through photos until he found the one he was looking for. I took the phone. Adam peered over my shoulder.
It was fuzzy, but showed Ben and an older boy playing table tennis. The ‘brother’ was aged around eighteen—tall and whip thin, with the tips of his brown hair dyed green. He was grinning, showing a slight overbite. His green eyes looked directly into the camera. I glanced at Adam. He shook his head.
I got Andy to text us both the picture.
We left them with my card and instructions to call if they heard anything. I turned back at the church door. Linda was hugging her son in a way that indicated she wasn’t going to let go for some time.
26
Adam grabbed my arm the moment I was out the door. ‘Do you have any idea who he was talking about?’ He didn’t wait for me to answer before he began to swear.
A middle-aged woman pushing a stroller tutted at him. He glared at her.
I mouthed an apology then pulled him back into the lee of the church out of the spitting rain. ‘Malcolm’s always been free with his oat sowing. Could be possible.’
He pulled the beanie off his head. The charms on his cuff trailed across the brush cut as he rubbed his scalp with one hand. ‘I don’t think so. If some kid turned up claiming to be his son, I’d have heard about it.’
‘So maybe just a friend then.’
‘So why would Ben say they were brothers?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, but I could think of a half dozen reasons. The first was that a lonely boy who finally made a friend might want to make out that the relationship was a lot closer than it was. The only other reasons I could think of were a little more sinister.
‘Look, I better go. Thanks for your help.’ Adam didn’t wait for me to respond. He stalked off in the direction of the train station, his head down.
I stood in the drizzle and watched him go. Not even an excuse as to why he needed to rush off. Adam Brannick wasn’t telling me something, but I had no idea what it was.
I spent the next half hour looking into the final two places on my list but came up with nothing and had to rush for the train so I could catch Sigrid’s carer before he left.
I squashed up in the carriage next to a swaying group of ogres who smelt a lot of beer and a little of sick and was profoundly grateful when they exited at Clapham Junction and I managed to get a seat.
I like the train. Not in rush hour when you’re nose to armpit—I’m not insane—but in the quieter times in between. The rattle and the roar knocks out all inconsequential sounds, and if you sit still on your seat and close your eyes, it rocks you gently as you go along. Everyone is on their way somewhere. Everyone has something to do or something to see, their lives moving on in a small way or a big one, but ultimately they’re journeying through life a little at a time. I like the feeling of going somewhere even when I’m sitting still.
At Sydenham, I left the hot confines of the crowded carriage and stepped out into cold air. The drizzle had turned to sleet, and it dripped down the back of my collar.
By the time I got home I was soaking wet, and my fingers and toes were painful with cold. I caught the carer just as he was leaving, and he gave me a quick update. I said goodbye, closed the door behind him, then stripped off my wet clothes and dumped them into the washing machine. I grabbed a clean shirt and jogging bottoms from the dryer next to it. The cold felt as if it had leaked into my bones, and I made a mental note to eat something sugary or fatty before I went to bed. Anything to put a little blubber on my frame.
When my phone rang, it took me a few minutes to locate it at the bottom of the washing machine, and I gave a silent thanks to the caller that they’d dialled before I had a chance to switch the machine on. The name on the screen was Samson Comfort. Finally.
‘Vivia. Sorry for not calling back. It’s been a difficult couple of days. I’m sure you can understand.’
‘Of course. My condolences about your brother-in-law.’
‘What? Malcolm? Ha! I really don’t give a shit about that old ballbag. This is the best thing that’s happened to Jillie in years. She’s upset now, but she’ll get over it.’
Okay then. I got to the point. ‘Ben Brannick’s still missing. Do you have any idea where he is?’
‘No. I don’t see the boy that often. Last time I saw him was Christmas Eve over at Jillie’s.’
It had been a long shot, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. ‘Thanks for getting back to me. Tell Jillie I’m thinking of her when you see her.’ I thought about what she’d said about the meat in the freezer. Had Ben given it to her, or had Malcolm? ‘Actually, there was something I wanted to ask her about.’
‘I’m picking them both up from quarantine tomorrow morning. They’ll be staying at mine. I’ll ask her to give you a call.’
I thanked him, and we said our goodbyes. I put on a pot of coffee, then spent the next half hour on phone calls, to Obe, to Annie, to people I’d already called. No one had any new information or knew anything about a boy claiming to be Ben’s brother.
The evening was taken up by feeding and cleaning up after my sister, who generated a ridiculous amount of washing for someone who didn’t even know she was alive. I completed it in a daze. Not even copious amounts of caffeine were enough to make up for being up so early and the emotional toll of the day, and I toppled into bed at eight. I was asleep before I could pull the duvet up around my shoulders.
I woke in the dark to someone shaking me, accompanied by the smell of stale cigarette smoke and unbrushed teeth.
‘Vivia, I need a change of bedding.’
I rubbed my eyes groggily. Stanley stood over me. He wasn’t wearing any pants. Skinny old man genitalia dangled centimetres from my face.
‘God, Stan. Do we need to have another conversation about boundaries?’
He sniggered. ‘I’ve had enough of those, missy. I’ll have a cup of tea while I wait.’ He sat down next to me, indicating quite clearly who was supposed to make the tea. I groaned and reached for my phone to check the time. Four a.m.
‘Uh-uh. I’m not your live-in servant. If you strip the old sheets off, I’ll help you shift the mattress. If you say please. And you can make your own tea.’
He
grumbled, but stalked off upstairs. Because I’m a sucker and I really wanted a cup of tea anyway, I helped Stan with his bed while the kettle boiled, then took my tea back to bed with my laptop and a box of chocolates I’d received for Christmas. Sleet dripped down the window, and the cold air sneaking under the frame was fresh and exhaust free.
I sat cross-legged in bed with the duvet around my shoulders and logged into the Lipscombe systems to check my email. There were a few email responses relating to other case files which I replied to, but nothing about Ben. There was one from Samson Comfort letting me know they’d be holding a memorial service for Malcolm on Thursday.
I wasn’t quite sure where to look next. I’d drawn up a to-do list before I’d gone to bed, but it mostly involved going over the same ground. I checked the time on my laptop—five thirty. Forty-eight hours since Jillie and Finn had been taken away. As I sat in bed, they were likely going through their final medicals and being prepared for release.
I took a last sip of tea and inspected the chocolate box. I’d eaten all the nice ones and was feeling a little sick. I ate another anyway.
At seven, I reluctantly got out of bed to shower. The phone rang while I was rinsing my hair. I dried off, but before I had the chance to rub the steam off the screen and check for a message, it rang again. It was Dunne calling to tell me they’d found Ben.
But not all of him.
27
I tugged on my clothes without drying properly, and my shirt stuck to my back. I found Stanley at the back of the house poking holes into compost pots with a pencil, a pile of seed packets next to him. He was the reason the garden at the back of the house was once pictured in Gardener’s World. If it were left to me, it’d be nothing but weeds and snails. He let me borrow his van with only minimum argument, and I was out the door ten minutes after I got the call.
The pavement was slick and shiny, but the sleet had stopped. Stan’s white van was parked two streets up, sandwiched between a Prius and an ancient Toyota parked almost close enough to touch bumpers.
The Secret Dead (London Bones Book 1) Page 13
