by Rob Roughley
19
‘Is there any news, Jonathan?’
Ramsey plucked the bundle of mail from a letterbox attached to the stone plinth.
‘Nothing yet.’
Christy Reynolds was wearing a pair of flimsy yellow running shorts and a matching Lycra top that left her midriff bare. Popping the lid from a bottle of water, she took a long swallow, Jonathan watched from beneath lowered lids as her breasts rose and fell. Snapping the lid closed, she wiped a hand across her brow.
‘How’s Suzanne?’ she asked.
‘Coping, I suppose.’
‘I keep trying to pluck up the courage to come over, but I wouldn’t know what to say.’
Jonathan shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun. ‘Probably best if you leave it for a while, besides, she’s just on her way back up to the school.’
She blew a strand of golden hair from her eyes. ‘Well, have the police said anything?’
‘Not much, then again, we’ll probably be the last to know,’ he ran a hand across his eyes, the sun blasted down onto the back of his head like an accusation. ‘Did Kelly ever say anything to you about a boyfriend?’
Christy looked at him in surprise. ‘Never, why do they think she might have been seeing someone?’
Ramsey sighed. ‘I haven’t a clue Christy; it’s just me clutching at straws.’
She looked down at the floor and chewed her lip; the sweat glistened on her long tanned legs.
‘Listen, I don’t know if this is relevant, and I don’t want you to think that there was ever anything going on...’
‘What are you talking about?’
In the trees, the crows began to call to one another, like spectators gathering for the humorous punch line to a bad joke.
‘It’s just that, I don’t think Kelly was really interested in boys.’
Jonathan blinked, he heard the words clear enough, but couldn’t fathom the meaning. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Come on, Johnny, don’t be naive.’
The crows laughed louder.
‘I...’
‘I think Kelly was confused about her sexuality,’ she paused and thought for a moment, ‘or then again maybe she wasn’t.’
Ramsey rocked back on his heels, the letters slipped from his fingers and scattered onto the ground. ‘What are you saying?’ he took a backward step in shock.
‘Listen, I wouldn’t mention it if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure.’
‘But how do you know?’
She pursed her lips and tried to think of a way to explain that didn’t sound weird or in some way offensive. ‘Let’s just say I’ve dabbled, and I recognise the signs.’
‘Dabbled?’ His face crumpled with confusion.
‘Look, under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t even dream of telling you this, but maybe it could help. If you tell the police it might make them think differently.’
‘Tell them what, that my daughter’s gay, is that what you’re saying that she likes girls and I didn’t know?’
Christy shrugged. ‘I can only tell you what I know.’
Jonathan thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘So come on tell me, what makes you so sure?’
‘Because she made a pass at me.’
A bee droned past and Jonathan Ramsey’s legs suddenly felt unsteady. ‘You’re lying.’
Christy shook her head in annoyance. ‘What kind of person do you think I am? Your daughter’s missing, do you think I’m doing this as some kind of sick joke, I am trying to help you.’
‘But...’
‘Last summer when we had a barbecue, you and Suzanne were there, do you remember? Steve had just won a big contract and he came home with a crate of champagne.’
He did remember – they’d all got royally pissed.
‘Go on.’
‘I noticed Kelly had been watching me all evening...’
‘What do you mean, watching you?’
‘I was wearing the red bikini; you said I looked like something off Baywatch, whatever that is.’
It was all coming back to him now, Christy had been sprawled on a sun lounger and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
‘I went into the kitchen to grab some drinks, Kelly followed and,’ she paused, ‘she tried to kiss me.’
‘But why would she do that?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘I presume it was because she fancied me.’
Jonathan swallowed. ‘So what did you do?’
‘I told her I was flattered.’
‘She was fifteen for God’s sake!’
‘You think I didn’t realise that?’
‘Oh, so if she’d been sixteen what would have happened then?’
Christy looked up at the cloudless blue sky; a couple of vapour trails crossed one another, like a crucifix in the sky. ‘Nothing would have happened, you and Suzanne are our friends, and so is Kelly. I mean, I am not some predatory female trying to corrupt the young and innocent. When I was at Uni I had a couple of gay relationships, it’s nothing new, there’s nothing weird about it, it happens.’
He took a long shuddering breath, trying to get his scrambled brain into some kind of order. ‘OK, you’re right, I don’t mean to sound judgemental, it’s just, this is all a shock to me...’
‘It’s not a problem, but under the circumstances I thought maybe you should know.’
‘How did she react when you refused her advances?’ He cringed at the words, he sounded pompous, like a middle aged stuck up prig.
Christy took another sip of water. ‘She seemed fine about it.’
‘What, that’s it; she just seemed fine about it?’
She snapped the lid closed. ‘Let’s just say I got the impression I wasn’t the first girl she’d ever made advances to.’
‘You can’t know that, I mean, how can you know that?’
‘Because she was cool about it, this wasn’t some infatuation; she wasn’t under any misty-eyed illusion. She simply shrugged and said it was no big deal.’
‘Jesus,’ it was as if he was listening to someone describing a stranger. He could picture it in his mind, his fifteen-year-old daughter, cool and nonchalant, no big deal.
‘Think about it, Johnny, she goes to an all girl’s school,’ she left the words hanging in the hot summer air.
‘The police will want to talk to you.’
She nodded. ‘Not a problem.’
It was like waking from a stupor, he could see Kelly laughing with her friends, smiles hidden behind raised hands, whispers ending whenever he entered the room. The sleepovers both at home and at girlfriends’ houses and for a second, an image of his daughter naked flashed into his mind, entwined with another female form, limbs glistening with sweat.
‘Jonathan?’
He blinked and Christy looked at him perplexed.
‘What? Sorry, I was miles away,’ he could feel his face burning and it had little to do with the blistering sun.
‘I said it looks as if your mail’s been opened,’ she held out the letters.
When he slid out the first of the photographs from the torn envelope he looked at it in confusion. A moment later, he was running to the house.
20
Lasser didn’t bother trying to hide the smile. Every time Fulcom attempted to speak, he could hear Bannister’s deep growl coming from the mobile, cutting him dead.
Fulcom glared at Lasser and then spun away, storming over to the window. ‘I must protest, I...’
More garbled bawling and shouting.
‘But I have a school to run, I can’t simply leave. The Head’s on vacation and I am in charge...’
A few seconds later, Fulcom snapped the mobile closed and skimmed it across the desk; his face dark with fury. Lasser caught it one handed as it slipped over the edge.
‘I’ll be taking this to the very top!’ Fulcom bleated.
‘Good for you, now what did he say?’
The deputy head acted as if Lasser hadn’t spoken. ‘Rachael Sinclair
left Hindley High of her own accord, she wasn’t expelled...’
‘So tell me about this argument?’
‘I can add nothing further to what I’ve already told you. I pulled Rachael to one side and reminded her that even though she had technically left Claremont, she was still a representative of the school and should act accordingly.’
‘And did she take any notice?’
‘Well, the argument stopped, didn’t it?’
‘How can you be sure, I mean, did you keep an eye on the situation?’
‘Of course not, I’d said my piece and as far as I was concerned that was the end of the matter.’
Lasser stretched out his legs. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, that seems a little naive.’
‘I don’t really care what you think. I’ve told you all I know and that’s all I am prepared to say on the matter.’
‘The girl she was arguing with, can you describe her?’
‘No.’
Lasser could feel his anger begin to stir. ‘What, nothing at all?’
‘Nothing.’
‘The colour of her hair?’
‘No.’
‘What about the clothes she was wearing.’
‘She was not my concern.’
Lasser narrowed his eyes. ‘So, if a girl doesn’t attend this institution then she’s unimportant?’
Fulcom pointed a finger across the desk. ‘I never said that, you are putting words into my mouth.’
‘How did you know they were arguing?’
Fulcom blinked in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, were they shouting, pushing one another, what made you realise that something wasn’t right between Sinclair and the mystery girl?’
‘I’ve been a teacher for over ten years; I can tell when students are having a disagreement.’
‘So, this wasn’t your normal debating scenario?’
Fulcom glared across the desk. ‘Are you trying to be funny, Sergeant?’
Lasser sighed. ‘I am simply trying to understand what drew your attention to the situation, and you keep trying to spin me bullshit.’
‘I object to your use of language.’
Lasser had heard enough. ‘Right, get your coat.’
Fulcom looked bemused, ‘What for?’
‘Because I’ve had enough, you’re coming to the station to make a statement.’
Fulcom bolted to his feet. ‘You can’t make me do that!’
‘Do you want me to ring DCI Bannister again?’
‘I...’
‘Because if you don’t like my attitude, I can guarantee you won’t like his.’
Fulcom leant forward, his hands splayed on the glass desk. ‘I can assure you I will be speaking to my solicitor over this.’
‘Good, you can do it from the station.’
Fulcom bowed his head, Lasser could see his reflection in the glass table top, his eyes screwed shut and his teeth locked together in anger. ‘I caught Rachael Sinclair handing over some tablets to one of the other girls.’
‘Drugs?’ Lasser sat up straight.
‘I really have no idea.’
More bullshit. ‘Who was this girl?’
Fulcom chewed at his bottom lip, his eyes flitting around the room. ‘Kelly Ramsey.’
‘You’re a prick, Fulcom, do you know that?’
The teacher looked up, his eyes blazing. ‘I told you, I put a stop to it, now...’
‘The girl you caught Sinclair arguing with, was she about five four with long blond hair, dressed in hippy clothing?’
Fulcom nodded.
‘And how long after you sorted it did Kelly walk out of the door?’
‘Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.’
‘Did Kelly know you’d caught her taking the pills off Rachael Sinclair?’
‘Of course she knew, I told her how disappointed I was in her.’
‘Was she upset?’
‘Well yes, of course she was upset. I mean, she’s been at this school for over six years, she knows the standards we uphold.’
‘What did you do with the pills?’
‘I took them straight to the gents and flushed them down the toilet.’
‘So let me get this straight, you put the fear of God into a sixteen year old girl and then you flush the evidence.’
‘I...’
‘You watched her run from the building knowing she was terrified and didn’t think to go and find her?’
Fulcom jutted out his chin. ‘She’d broken the rules, and she knew the consequences.’
‘What consequences? It’s obvious you were going to keep all this to yourself, you had no intention of going to her parents; otherwise, you’d have kept the pills. You’re full of shit, Fulcom; you don’t want anything tarnishing your reputation but its backfired, sunshine. Now, thanks to you, Kelly Ramsey has either done a runner or worse.’
‘Don’t try to lay the blame on me; I did what I thought was best.’
‘Well I’m sure Suzanne Ramsey will see things in a different light.’
‘I...’
‘Now on your feet!’
‘But I’ve told you all I know,’ he pleaded.
‘That’s what all the lying bastards say.’
21
Carl from forensics held up the clear plastic evidence bag and Bannister peered inside.
‘How long has it been there?’ he asked.
Carl pursed his lips. ‘Not long.’
‘Could it have been dumped last night?’
‘Possibly, the material is still fairly dry and there are no signs of mould on the fabric.’
Bannister ran a hand across the back of his neck and then looked around the courtyard. The estate manager was standing by his car, looking nervous, two men were leaning on the tailgate of a white flatbed transit; the elder of the two pulling hard on a hand rolled cigarette.
‘Who found the dress?’ Bannister asked.
‘His name’s Finch, he’s the young lad by the van.’
‘Right, get that back to the lab,’ he jabbed a finger at the sack. ‘I want to know everything by five tonight.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Carl hurried over to the small white van parked by the gates, his white SOCO suit gleaming in the sunshine.
A dozen uniformed officers stood shuffling their feet by the summerhouse. Bannister ignored them for the moment and walked over to the transit.
‘Mr Finch?’
The boy looked up his face flushing red. ‘Er, yeah, yeah, that’s me.’
He was big boned – a man’s body with a young head on his shoulders, teenage acne and blackheads peppered his broad forehead. ‘I believe you were the one who found the dress?’
Bobby nodded. ‘I was shovelling leaves and it got snagged on the spade.’
‘What time was this?’
Finch looked at the old man. ‘What time was it, Stan?’
‘Don’t act dumb, you know it was eleven o’clock.’ Stan grumbled and threw the boy a dark look full of malice.
Finch shrugged. ‘It must have been eleven, then.’
‘And what time did you start work this morning?’
‘We got here about quarter past nine, we had to get all the leaves shifted and the blower had packed in, so I was trying to do it all by hand.’
‘Arse licker,’ the old man mumbled.
Bannister turned to him. ‘Is there a problem, Mr...?’
‘Burrows and no there’s no problem here.’
‘And where were you when the dress turned up Mr Burrows?’
‘Having an argument with that bastard over there,’ he nodded towards Jansen, who glared back at him.
Banister raised a hand and beckoned the estate manager over, Jansen virtually jogged across the courtyard, wellies flapping as he ran.
‘Mr Burrows says that you two were having a disagreement, Mr Jansen, is that true?’
Jansen ran a hand through his wavy hair. ‘It has no relevance to what has happened here, I can assure you of that.’
/>
‘Can you explain something to me, Mr Finch says he found the evidence at eleven o’clock and yet we only received a call at twelve thirty-five.’
Jansen swallowed. ‘Yes well, to tell you the truth we’re always finding all sorts of rubbish around the estate and I wasn’t convinced that this was any different.’
Stan snorted and dropped the roll up onto the cobbles, grinding it with the heel of his boot. ‘I told him to ring you lot but he wouldn’t listen, he never listens.’
Jansen spun towards the old man. ‘None of this is your concern, Burrows, as far as I’m concerned you no longer work for this company.’
‘I told you, you can’t sack me I’ve done nowt wrong.’
‘We shall see about...’
‘I think we’re getting off track here,’ Bannister looked at the two men, Stan glared back, Jansen looked away, his jaw clenched in anger. ‘Now, how far are we from the main house?’
‘Five minutes’ walk if you go through the woods,’ Stan offered.
‘And if you stick to the path?’ Bannister asked.
The old man shrugged. ‘Ten maybe fifteen minutes at most.’
Bannister looked at the wall that circled the courtyard, the bricks russet red and crumbling in places like angry scabs that had been picked once too often.
‘What is the building used for?’ Bannister nodded at the summerhouse.
Jansen cleared his throat. ‘Well as it happens, we should be having a wedding here today, in about,’ he checked his watch. ‘Three hours...’
‘Out of the question, this is a possible crime scene.’
‘But...’
‘Don’t even go there, Mr Jansen, the Hall, the gardens and this place are all out of bounds until I say otherwise.’
Stan grinned as he saw the look of horror on Jansen’s face.
Bannister turned away and headed over to the uniformed men. ‘Right, Black, I want this place sealed until forensics has finished with it, and I want a thorough search of the path that leads from the house to here, that includes the shortcut through the woods. Mr Burrows, could I have a word?’
Stan strode over the smile still locked in place. ‘What can I do for you, governor?’
‘How long have you worked here?’
