Acid Row

by Minette Walters

  Tyler reminded himself that his MO was to persuade women to posture naked in front of a camera. He would certainly know how to fend off awkward questions about predecessors. The voice was still edgy with irritation, but he had it well under control.

  Tyler leaned forward. ‘You seem very impatient,’ he murmured. ‘Why is that, sir? The child’s in desperate trouble and you said you wanted to help her.’

  The reaction was stronger than he was expecting. A flash of steel. ‘Some of us have to generate our own salaries instead of relying on the state to pay us,’ he snapped. ‘You’re delaying my meeting. I understand the reasons for it, and I’ve expressed my willingness to answer your questions, but I would appreciate some urgency. What can I tell you about Amy that Laura and Martin don’t know?’

  Tyler raised a placatory hand as if to admit fault. ‘We’ve been told Amy made a reverse-charge call to someone named “Em” about two weeks ago. Do you know who that might have been, sir?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Would you mind taking a little time to think about it? Did she mention any friends while she was living with you called Em or Emma?’

  ‘Not that I recall. She was a great little chatterbox, but I didn’t often listen. If anyone knows it’ll be her mother.’

  Tyler gave a tired sigh. ‘It is important, Mr Townsend.’

  The man steepled his fingers under his nose and took a deep breath. ‘I realize that, and I’m sorry. Amy came as a package with her mother. I was pleasant to her, spoke to her on the few occasions I found her still up, made one or two films of her singing and dancing, and, as far as I was able, provided for her. Laura had some confused reasons about not accepting maintenance payments from her husband . . . She talked about a clean break but, in reality, it had more to do with giving Martin a poke in the eye. I can manage without you. That sort of thing. After six months I recognized that I was just a convenient stepping-stone on her route out of marriage. We had a row about it, and by the next evening she and Amy were gone. I haven’t seen or spoken to either of them since.’

  ‘Cutting up tapes of her daughter and leaving them scattered across your floor suggest there was a little bit more to it than that, sir.’

  Townsend tapped his forefingers against the sides of his nose and took another glance at the DCI. ‘What do you want me to do? Blacken the woman’s name? She’s just lost her kid, for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘We’ve heard her version. I’d be interested in yours.’

  He lowered his head into his hands for a moment. ‘OK, she was jealous,’ he said bluntly, looking up. ‘It was absurd. She’d come from a marriage where the child’s father barely recognized his daughter, and she thought it was sweet to hook up with a man who treated Amy with kindness. That mindset lasted all of about four months. Laura had had the kid entirely to herself when she lived with Martin, and she didn’t like it when Amy started to share her affection with me. She became thoroughly possessive, resented every bit of attention I showed Amy, particularly the videos, and started accusing me of fancying the child more than her. We staggered on for another two months – with me giving Amy the cold shoulder in order not to antagonize her mother . . . and the poor little kid getting really upset about it – then I said I’d had enough. End of story. Laura took herself off the next day.’

  Tyler nodded. ‘Did the same thing happen in your two marriages?’ he asked.

  He’d caught the man off balance. There was a flicker of uncertainty. ‘What the hell have my marriages got to do with Amy?’

  ‘Just interested. Neither of them lasted very long either.’

  Townsend moved his mouse to bring the clouds back on to his screen. ‘I played away from home,’ he said curtly. ‘Neither of my wives liked it. I’d have done the same to Laura if she hadn’t left. I’m not husband material, as most of the women I know will tell you.’

  ‘Does Mr Rogerson know that?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘It occurred to me that Laura and Amy were on loan till your infatuation ran its course.’

  Another flash of steel. ‘That’s offensive.’

  Tyler shrugged and reverted to the subject of the telephone call. ‘Laura believes Amy said “Ed” not “Em”, which I’m told is what she called you, Mr Townsend. The sounds are similar, and the children who were listening to the conversation weren’t concentrating particularly well.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve already said I haven’t spoken to Amy since she left.’

  ‘We’ve only your word for that, sir.’

  The man assessed Tyler for several seconds with a remarkably steady gaze. There was no liking in the pale eyes, but no mystery either. ‘Do you think I had something to do with Amy’s disappearance?’ he demanded. ‘Is that what these questions are about?’

  ‘Why assume that a phone call two weeks ago had anything to do with what happened yesterday, Mr Townsend? All we’re trying to find out is what was in the child’s mind. She was obviously unhappy, because she was crying throughout the conversation, and it was someone she knew well, because the transferred charges were accepted.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t me. I’d certainly have accepted a call if she’d tried to contact me – God damn it, I felt sorry for the kid – she was completely at sea. Didn’t know if her mother loved her . . . if her father loved her . . . no contact with any extended family because they all disapproved of the marriage. What kind of life is that for a ten-year-old?’

  There were so many echoes of Tyler’s own thoughts that he was inclined to call a halt. He knew better than anyone that this was a fishing trip, and so far he’d come up with nothing. ‘Would you be willing to confirm that by giving us access to your telephone accounts?’ he asked. ‘If no charges show, then it was someone else and we’ll leave you in peace.’

  Townsend nodded. ‘Sure. Whatever you want.’ He scribbled three telephone numbers on the notepad in front of him. ‘Those are my accounts. Home. Work. Mobile. I’m happy to authorize access to all three.’

  Tyler reached for the pad.

  Gary Butler stirred himself. ‘You have five separate numbers attached to your house, Mr Townsend. I ran a check last night to see if there was any way we could contact you. I hoped we might be able to patch through to your mobile. No luck. One’s a fax, one’s a modem, the other three are dedicated call lines. We need authority to access them all.’

  Townsend’s eyes slid towards him.

  ‘We’ll be happy to apply for a warrant,’ continued Gary without hostility. ‘Perhaps you’d like a solicitor present while we explain the procedure?’

  ‘You don’t have grounds for a warrant. I’ve already told you I haven’t spoken to Amy since she left my house.’

  ‘A child matching her description was picked up by a car similar to yours outside the Catholic church in Portisfield at lunchtime yesterday.’

  No hesitation at all. ‘Those aren’t grounds,’ he said forcefully. ‘I wasn’t in Portisfield yesterday.’

  Butler looked at Tyler, who gave him the nod to continue. ‘Can you prove that, sir?’

  ‘I can certainly prove I was somewhere else at lunchtime.’ He felt in his jacket pocket for his wallet and produced a receipt from one of the flaps. ‘I bought lunch at the Fleet service station on the M3.’ He looked undecidedly between the two men, then offered the slip of paper to Tyler.

  Tyler placed it on the table and smoothed it out. ‘It was an early lunch. This is timed at eleven forty-three.’

  ‘I hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. I was on my way to Guildford for a meeting with my foreman.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘As far as I remember it was about one fifteen. His name’s Steve Ablett. Address: 12 Dock Way, Millbrook. His number’s in the book.’

  It was what he’d been leading up to. The perfect alibi. Not even Michael Schumacher could drive from Fleet to Portisfield and up to Guildford in one and a quarter hours. ‘What did you order, Mr Townsend?’
/>
  ‘Lasagne and coffee.’

  Correct, but hardly difficult to memorize. ‘Lasagne £6.25. Coffee £0.95.’ There were faint lines on the surface of the paper as if it had been crumpled, then ironed. Tyler nodded to Butler, who took out his mobile and left the room to make the call to Steve Ablett in the corridor.

  ‘How did you know lunchtime was critical?’ he asked Townsend. ‘The only time we’ve given out is ten o’clock, which is when Amy was seen leaving the Logans’ house. Did Martin Rogerson tell you?’

  The man shook his head. ‘I didn’t know it was critical till the sergeant mentioned it.’

  ‘Do you keep all your receipts?’

  ‘Anything I can claim against.’

  ‘Show me some others.’

  He made a pretence of searching his wallet. ‘I emptied it recently. I don’t have any with me. There might be some in the car.’

  ‘You can’t claim for lunch, Mr Townsend. Everyone has to eat. Why keep that receipt? Were you expecting to be asked for an alibi?’

  ‘It’s the last thing I bought. I tuck all receipts in here then sort them out later.’

  ‘Were you driving south or north on the M3?’

  ‘South.’

  ‘Then why go to the Fleet service station? Your best route to Guildford was to leave at the Camberley turn-off . . . a good ten miles before Fleet. There are plenty of petrol stations along that road, and they all sell sandwiches.’

  ‘I needed a break from the car.’ He looked amused again. ‘The development’s on the Aldershot side of Guildford. It’s almost as quick to come off at Hook . . . and it’s a pleasanter drive.’

  Tyler gave an easy smile in response, then looked at the tracery of lines on the slip of paper again. It had clearly been screwed into a ball then flattened out later. He thought of the litter that accumulated in the car parks of service stations. It wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that Townsend had driven in on spec – after visiting Guildford – to see what he could pick up. Quite unprovable, though, unless Fleet had CCTV cameras. Even then the chances that Townsend’s number plate had registered out of the thousands of vehicles that visited the site each day was unlikely.

  ‘Fair enough.’ He leaned forward again. ‘So where did you stay last night, Mr Townsend? You didn’t spend it at your house, because we’ve had a police car parked outside since Martin Rogerson gave us your address at nine o’clock. We hoped Amy might have been heading your way.’

  ‘I was with a girlfriend.’

  ‘May I have her name?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not without her permission. She’s married and I don’t want her involved unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’ve given you the proof you asked for, Inspector. If you want anything else you’ll have to go through my solicitor.’

  ‘Meaning Mr Rogerson?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘It’s an interesting relationship, sir. Why does he continue to represent you? Most men in his position would bear you a grudge for stealing his wife.’

  He didn’t answer immediately. ‘I’m a good client. I put a lot of business Martin’s way. Why would he cut off his nose to spite his face when Laura had left him anyway?’

  Tyler chuckled. ‘Human nature isn’t quite that civilized, though, is it? Particularly when passions are involved.’

  The man shrugged. ‘Any passion Martin had for Laura died a long time ago. She’s not easy to live with, Inspector. Far too clingy for someone like Martin, who needs his space. It’s attractive to begin with. Vulnerable women always are – they make men feel powerful. But it soon becomes wearing when the jealousy starts.’

  Tyler thought of his own failed marriage. The psychology of its breakdown wasn’t so different. ‘So why did you continue to employ him?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’d stolen his wife and daughter. Weren’t you worried about that?’

  ‘Why should I have been?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want an enemy for a lawyer.’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘But perhaps he isn’t an enemy? Perhaps you and he have too many common interests to fall out?’

  Townsend smiled. ‘Perhaps we do.’

  ‘So what are they, sir? What’s all this business that you keep putting his way?’

  ‘Property development.’

  ‘You’re talking about Etstone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mmm.’ He studied the man for a moment. ‘Then why did Franny Gough tell me it wasn’t in very good shape? She said someone was stealing from you and you went ballistic every time the subject came up.’

  The eyes started to roam again, but whether at the mention of Franny Gough or the reference to the state of the company, Tyler couldn’t tell. ‘It’s no secret we’re looking for new investment. That’s what this meeting’s about. My suspicion is that Steve Ablett and his crew have been skimming off the top. It’s the reason I went to see him yesterday. I warned him there’d almost certainly be sackings and prosecutions as soon as the company’s position was stabilized.’

  Strange answer, thought Tyler. ‘Suspicion . . . ?’ ‘Almost certainly . . . ?’ ‘Did you leave your luggage and camcorder with your girlfriend, Mr Townsend?’

  The change of direction was so abrupt that the man was off balance again. It was another question he hadn’t prepared for. Tyler could almost hear him tossing up between ‘Yes’ and ‘No’. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Won’t her husband wonder who they belong to?’

  ‘He’s away,’ he said curtly.

  ‘Then you must be planning to spend tonight with her as well. You’ll be wanting your toothbrush and razor at the very least. Will you agree to one of my officers accompanying you? All we require is confirmation of where you were last night . . . and if her husband’s away, there shouldn’t be a problem.’

  He shook his head but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to consult your solicitor?’

  Again Townsend didn’t answer, and this time the silence stretched interminably. Tyler was interested in why the man was so determined not to summon Martin Rogerson to the room. Did he know that Rogerson wasn’t there? Had he guessed it wasn’t his lawyer who’d phoned his mobile earlier? Or did he not want Rogerson to hear his answers? It was another five minutes before Butler returned and it was arguable which of the two men at the table was the more relieved to see him. Tyler knew his sergeant well enough to know he’d have given him the nod if there was no more mileage in questioning Townsend.

  ‘Mr Ablett remembers the time as one thirty,’ Butler said without emphasis. Unhurriedly, he resumed his seat. ‘There’s a message from the super,’ he told Tyler, pushing a folded piece of paper across the table. ‘He wants an answer PDQ.’

  Tyler held it up so Townsend couldn’t read it. ‘He’s lying. I need a word outside.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he told Townsend, tucking the paper into his pocket. ‘This will only take a minute. I’ll have to ask you to wait a little longer.’

  Townsend’s jaw jutted angrily. ‘You’re being unreasonable, Inspector. I’m fighting for my company’s life here. I need this meeting. If any of those potential backers leave, Etstone could be wound up.’

  Tyler remained seated. ‘Is that why you came home from Majorca in such a hurry?’

  ‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘Martin phoned to tell me the bank’s refusing to cover the wages. That’s what this meeting’s about. I’ve been busting a gut for the last twenty-four hours trying to hold things together.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell Mr Rogerson you were back?’

  ‘I didn’t want to put him in a difficult position. There are laws about trading while insolvent, and he might have felt he had to act in the interests of creditors by closing us down yesterday.’

  Tyler glanced at his sergeant and saw him give a tiny inclination of his head towards the door. ‘Why did you leave Franny Gough behind?’

  A spark of anger flared in the pale eyes. ‘She was
drunk. I couldn’t even get her to her feet, let alone to the airport.’

  ‘She was stranded there. You left without paying the bill.’

  ‘I didn’t have much choice. After Martin called I was afraid the credit cards had been stopped. I told her to sneak out, take a taxi and change her flight when she reached the airport. She had enough money to cover that. It was the best I could do. If she was too drunk to take it in, that’s her problem.’

  Tyler didn’t try to hide his scepticism. ‘If things are as bad as you say, why were you in Majorca at all? Why didn’t you stay at home and sort it?’

  He had an answer for everything. ‘I thought I had. This has been going on for weeks. I’ve spent every waking hour trying to keep the show on the road. By the end of last week, I had a promise from a punter that half a million would be transferred at open of business on Monday. I believed it was signed and sealed, and in the circumstances I thought a short holiday was reasonable. Martin phoned on Thursday to say the backer had failed to come through and the bank had withdrawn its overdraft. Crack of dawn yesterday morning, I took the first flight out.’

  Tyler stood up, nodding to Butler. ‘I’m still going to have to ask you to wait, Mr Townsend.’

  The jaw jutted more aggressively. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not satisfied with your answers.’

  His frustration boiled over as he slammed his palm on to the table. ‘Then you’ll have to wait till after the meeting, because I’m damned if I’ll lose everything because of some fucking Woodentop with a power complex.’

  ‘Do you wish to consult a solicitor, sir?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said abruptly, snapping down the lid of his laptop and reaching for his jacket. ‘I do. I’ll talk to him outside.’

  ‘Please remain seated, sir. If you try to leave the room before the sergeant and I return, you will be detained for further questioning and almost certainly removed to the nearest police station. Meanwhile, these gentleman –’ he gestured towards the uniformed constables – ‘will assist you in finding a duty solicitor.’