“Phone call for you, ma’am.”
She checked her watch. It was five past seven. “Who is it?”
The sergeant asked the person on the other end of the line. “It’s a Mrs Bostock, ma’am.”
She sighed. “I’d better take it in my office.”
Charlotte returned to the operations room, chucked her briefcase on her chair in the little side office and picked up the phone.
“Can I help you, Marion?”
“Oh, Chief Inspector, I hope so.”
“What’s the problem?”
“It’s Tracey - my little girl. She hasn’t come home from school.”
“What time does she normally get back?”
“Oh, usually she’s here soon after five. Even if she goes out with friends and forgets to tell me, she’s never got home after seven.” There was a gulp. “That’s why I rang you.”
Charlotte considered. “There have been no reports of any incidents. I don’t think you should get too worried yet. Have you rung the school?”
“I tried them half an hour ago. There’s nobody there.”
“What about her friends?”
“I don’t have any phone numbers for them. And none of them live near, so I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lock up and go off looking for her and not be here if she turns up.”
“What about your husband?”
“He’s not here at the moment. He -.” There was a pause. “After we left you this morning we went home and had a dreadful row. He accused me of asking this - the James man - to have sex with me. He said he couldn’t trust me when he was away so he might as well not be here.” She sniffed. “Then he said I had to stop working at the Red Garter immediately. He wouldn’t even let me give them a week’s notice, even when I told him Mr Martin’s been ever so nice and insists on picking me up and bringing me home in his Mercedes every night now, so there’s no risk. Then he made nasty insinuations about Mr Martin’s intentions.” She took a breath. “Anyway we rowed and he ended up stumping out and I haven’t seen him since about nine o’clock this morning.”
“And you don’t know how to contact him to tell him about Tracey?”
“No. I think he’s left me for good, he was so angry.”
“A blessing in disguise,” thought Charlotte. But she said, “Remind me of your address, Marion.”
“It’s 47 Blandford Crescent.”
“OK. Look, I’ll come round and have a chat with you. I’ll be there in about a quarter of an hour.”
“Oh thank you, Chief Inspector.”
“I’ll want you to give me some information on any special friends to whom she might have given a hint of what she was going to do after school.”
“I’ll make a list. Thank you again, Chief Inspector.”
Ten minutes later Charlotte arrived at the little semi where Marion lived. She had rung her aunt to say she’d be late and had been quizzed as to why she was getting involved. She even wondered herself as she parked the car. When she got to the door it was opened before she could knock.
“Thank you so much for coming, Chief Inspector.”
“Please call me Charlotte. It’s less of a mouthful.” She entered and Marion closed the door behind her. “Now then, I take it you still haven’t heard from Tracey. How old is she?”
“She’s nearly thirteen but she’s quite small and skinny. Unless she does herself up, she doesn’t look much more than ten or eleven.”
“What about her friends? You say you can’t contact them on the phone. I think it might be a good idea if I pop over and see some of them.”
“Her best friend is called Nina Makepeace. I’m sorry, Charlotte, but she lives the other side of town in one of the new estates on the outskirts of Paignton. The address is 11, Rolle Drive. Do you know where that is?”
“I can find it on my GPS in a matter of seconds. You must stay here while I’m gone. You realise that, depending on the traffic, the round trip might take me up to an hour. Here’s my card with my mobile number on it. If Tracey returns while I’m gone, give me a ring. Wait for it to ring a dozen times or so because I may have to find a convenient place to stop before I can take the call. Is that clear?”
“Oh, I quite understand. Thank you again Chief - er - Charlotte. You’re a great comfort.”
“It ought to be your damned husband comforting you,” thought Charlotte, but she just patted the other woman on the shoulder and returned to her car where she fired up the GPS and was soon on her way.
It took over twenty minutes to get to her destination. The traffic in central Torquay and Paignton was still heavy. She guessed it would have been quicker to take the ring road if she’d known her way from there.
Number 11 was quite a posh villa in a quiet estate. She pressed the bell and waited. She hoped, after her long drive, that young Nina was at home. The door was opened by a tall slender woman.
“Mrs Makepeace?”
“That’s right.” She was still chewing something and Charlotte guessed she’d interrupted their evening meal.
“I’m sorry to trouble you. I’m Chief Inspector Faraday.” She showed her warrant card. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, but I wonder if I could have a brief chat with your daughter, Nina.”
“My goodness, what’s happened?” Mrs Makepeace was obviously impressed by the rank and decided the matter was important. “Please come in.”
Charlotte was led through the hall to the dining room where the family of five was eating their evening meal.
“Nina, there’s a police lady to speak to you.”
The youngest of the three children froze, her mouth half-full. The rest of the family put down their knives and forks and gaped.
“I’m so sorry to trouble you when you’re eating,” said Charlotte. “I hope I won’t need to take up more than a couple of minutes of your time. Nina, I believe you are friends with Tracey Bostock.”
Nina swallowed her food in a gulp. “What’s happened to her?”
“As far as we know, nothing’s happened to her, so don’t worry. Her mother’s upset because she hasn’t come home from school yet. Do you know what she was intending to do when she left this afternoon?”
“She wasn’t at school today.”
“What? All day?”
“No. She didn’t turn up this morning. I told Mrs Ellis, the form mistress, that she wasn’t at her desk and she said she would ask the school secretary if her mum had left a message.” She looked worriedly from Charlotte to her mum, “We all assumed she was ill or something like that.”
“So,” asked Charlotte, “you haven’t seen her at all today?”
“No. None of us have. Is she in trouble?”
“I hope not. When did you last see her?”
Nina shook her head. “I haven’t seen her since we left school together yesterday afternoon. We had a lot of homework, so we both went straight home.”
Charlotte took a deep breath. “All right. Thank you for your help.” She turned to the rest of the family. “Once again, my apologies for disturbing your meal.”
There was a number of indiscernible comments from the circle of worried faces round the table as the detective left. The mother accompanied her to the door.
“What do you think has happened to her?”
“I don’t know, Mrs Makepeace. I’ll go back to Marion, her mother, and we’ll see if we can come up with some ideas of where she might be.”
“I hope she’s all right.”
“So do I.”
“Will you let me know what happens?”
“I’ll ask Marion to give you a ring when we’ve sorted it out.”
With that she left for the drive back to Blandford Crescent.
A quarter of an hour later she broke the news to a worried Marion Bostock in her sitting room. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”
“No, Chief Inspector. She’s never done anything like this before. She’s always been a good reliable girl. She has never played t
ruant.” She paused. “Well, the school has never made any complaint to me.”
“When did you see her last?”
“About seven o’clock this morning. I just called in to make sure she was awake. I told her that her breakfast was on the table. It was only cereal and toast and fruit juice. But then I had to go because Gary was insisting we went straight down to the police station.”
“What time does she normally leave for school?”
“About a quarter to nine. She always walks to school. It’s only about half a mile.”
“Does she walk with friends?”
Marion shook her head. “I don’t think she meets anyone she knows until she gets to school.”
“Are there any neighbours or special friends who might have noticed her on her way to school?”
“I can’t think of anyone.”
“And she’d left home by the time you and your husband returned from your visit to the police station?”
“Oh, yes. It was after nine when we got back.”
“OK.” Charlotte looked at her watch. “Well, it’s ten to nine now. It’s too late to do anything tonight. I’ll start a missing persons search first thing in the morning. I’m afraid there’s not much we can do tonight except get the paperwork and the adverts ready. Can you look out a recent photo?”
“Of course. But what can I do, Charlotte?”
“I think you should stay here in case she turns up. Can you ring the Red Garter and explain why you won’t be able to go in to work tonight?”
“I’ll ring him again.” She explained, “Mr Martin called for me earlier and I told him I was worried about Tracey. He understands I can’t do anything until I know what’s happened to her.”
“Very well. I will arrange for the duty sergeant to contact you if there’s any news from our end. And I’ll call you first thing tomorrow morning to see how you are.” Charlotte stood up. “If you think of anybody who might know something about Tracey’s whereabouts give me a ring on my mobile. Or even better, ring them yourself first. When your husband returns send him down to the station. I expect he’ll want to take part in any searches we organise.”
“That’s if he comes home.”
“I’m sure he will.” She held Marion’s hands. “Try not to worry too much. Nearly always these things prove to be false alarms. There’s usually a reasonable explanation for what’s happened when we find the person involved.”
But, as she left, Charlotte herself felt an irrational fear that something awful was beginning to take place.
- 11 -
The whole CID department was gathered early next morning in the general office. Charlotte stood in front of the operations chart which covered the long wall. DI Stafford Paulson stood at the opposite end of the chart beside the details of the case which was his special interest. The other three sat in various poses round the office. DS Greg Mallinson lolled in a chair trying to suggest by his pose that his time was being wasted on these group meetings. DC Bobbie Howell was on the edge of her chair as though she wasn’t really sure whether she was welcome, and DC John Prendergast sat at one of the tables with the computer fired up in front of him.
Charlotte had posted up three cases for them to discuss. “First of all I want us to talk briefly about the rape of Marion Bostock. John thinks he’s located the probable suspect - a Captain James Fisher. Tell us about him, John.”
“Yes, James Fisher.” He consulted the computer screen. “He’s with the Fourteenth Rifles, currently on manoeuvres in Germany. He finished a fortnight’s leave in South Devon on Monday and flew back to his regiment in Germany on Tuesday.”
“Well done, John. That was quick.”
He blushed. “Most of it was down on the computer, ma’am. I just made a couple of phone calls for confirmation of dates.”
“Do you have a contact address for him when he’s in the UK?”
“Yes. The regiment gave me his mother’s address. She lives not far from here in Dartington - a Mrs Grace Fisher, widowed. The address is on the computer.”
“Does she possess a red Ford Mondeo?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave the registration number. “Full details are on the computer.”
“OK. I’d better go and visit her as soon as I can,” She turned to DC Howell. “Now Bobbie, you had the less pleasant task of wading through Marion Bostock’s rubbish bin.”
Bobbie Howell held up a large clear evidence bag. “Mrs Bostock has confirmed this is the bra she threw out. The straps are damaged, just as she claimed.”
“Right. Get that sent to forensics in Exeter. I doubt they’ll find anything there to connect it with the suspect but at least it’s evidence of the violence of the attack.”
Paulson chimed in. “Is that going to be enough for us to get the army to send the man back to face charges?”
“I don’t know, Stafford. Let’s see what his mother has to say first.” She nodded. “But I agree with you that I can’t see the CPS being prepared to take action without a lot more evidence and we can’t ask the army to release him without the CPS go-ahead.”
“I reckon she was asking for it anyway.” Greg Mallinson paused as all eyes turned on him.
“What do you mean?” asked Paulson.
“Have you ever been in the Red Garter? Last time I was in there this Marion woman was working behind the bar and wearing a very revealing dress. Her boobs were virtually falling out, the neckline was so low.”
Charlotte’s eyes glittered. “Were you shocked, Greg?”
“Yes, well.” He faltered. “If you dress like that what can you expect?”
“I would think,” said Charlotte acidly, “that such clothing is worn for the titillation of the customers, not as an invitation to rape. We’re not in the Stone Age any longer - at least, most of us aren’t.”
There was a moment’s pause as Greg tried and failed to think of a suitable response.
“I think that’s all we can say about the rape at present,” continued Faraday. “Let’s go on to Joanne de Billiere.”
“OK.” Paulson took a breath. “I went to see the coastguard again yesterday and he told me he remembers finding a cigarette end lodged between the slats of the duckboards on the afterdeck. The thing is that the cigarette was a very unusual brand - a Gauloises Bleu, which is a very strong-smelling brand traditionally smoked by French workers. I haven’t yet established whether Joanne smoked, but I think it unlikely that she would smoke Gauloises Bleu.”
“Is this important?” asked John.
“It could be. I spoke to Jimmy Tate who is a security guard at the marina and who looks after the Billiere cruiser. He says he cleans the decks every Monday and is confident the fag-end wouldn’t have been there two days before Joanne died. He also says that she was careful about keeping the boat clean. So there’s a possibility (I can’t put it any stronger) that there was a man who smokes Gauloises on the boat with her when she fell off and drowned.”
“So we’ve got to find a bloke who smokes Gauloises,” said Greg. “What hope is there of that?”
“It’s not going to be easy. Jimmy Tate says he doesn’t remember seeing anybody in the marina smoking them but he’s going to keep a more careful check in future.”
“What about tobacconists who stock Gauloises?” That was John. “It’s an unusual brand, so they may have noticed customers who buy them.”
“Sounds like a job for you John, now you’ve become so proficient on the computer,” said Caroline.
“All right. I’d like to do that.”
Paulson continued, “The other slightly odd thing is that de Billiere’s cruiser left the marina some time the night before last or the following morning and hasn’t returned yet. I checked on my way in.”
“Would de Billiere have taken it out?”
“Not according to Jimmy Tate. He says the man always rings him to get it ready before he comes down from London. I tried to ring de Billiere yesterday afternoon to check whether he was using the boat and also about w
hether Joanne smoked and what brand, but his secretary said he was in a meeting.”
“Sounds as if it’s unlikely to be him,” said Charlotte. “Are there any other key-holders?”
“Jimmy Tate thinks he’s the only one locally.”
“I presume you’ll have another go at contacting Billiere this morning. OK, you check the tobacconists, John, and we’ll wait for further information.” Charlotte paused briefly. “Now we come to the most urgent case - the disappearance of Tracey Bostock. At the moment we have very little information on this one. I rang her mum this morning and she’s heard nothing from the girl overnight - or anyone else for that matter.”
“Is the mother the same woman who was raped?” asked Paulson.
“Yes, it’s a very unfortunate coincidence. There doesn’t seem to be any sort of connection between the two cases except Marion Bostock, of course.”
“So what do we do next - inform the media, put up posters in likely locations, organise house-to-house questioning?”
“I’d like you to do that, Stafford. Greg and John can help you and I think we can call on the resources of uniform branch and possibly get some people allocated from Exeter. But I have a few channels I want to explore. The sooner we can crack this, the better for us all.”
“What channels are you going to try?”
“I’m going to the school first thing this morning to have an informal chat with her friends. I’ll take Bobbie with me.” She checked her watch. “We’ll leave about nine. When I spoke to the head just now he suggested the best time would be when Tracey’s class returns to the classroom from school assembly at about 9-30 to 9-45. He said he would be there and so will the form teacher - a Mrs Ellis.”
“Do you think it’ll do any good?”
“I think it’s our best hope. Torbay is a big area. We don’t know where to start looking. If we can get as many of her contact names and places as possible and put them on the computer, it should produce some connections which we can follow up. Tracey seems to be a quiet, well-behaved girl - not the sort of person who would have doubtful contacts behind the scenes.”
“I bet I know who’s got her.”
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