‘Except that it means a dangerous paedophile is still out there, unpunished. Unsuspected. Looking out for another victim.’
Ellie shuddered. ‘Yes, and that’s what’s driving me. From Tod’s point of view, it’s probably better to forget about what happened. And who’d want to put him through the trauma of a trial, even if we could find the man responsible? I don’t think I’d want that, if I were his mother. But then I think that if he’s not stopped, the man will go on to harm other children. Perhaps even while we speak, he’s planning to rape another child. I just hope the police will catch him.’
There was a long, companionable silence broken only when someone in the kitchen switched the radio on. Someone started to whistle along to the tune. Gus, presumably. Tod was trying to whistle, too.
‘I’m amazed at you,’ said Kate, in a tone which said precisely the opposite. ‘Leaving those two together.’
‘Good for them both, I think.’
‘The waif and the stray.’ Kate jerked herself upright and glanced at her watch. ‘We’re supposed to be going out this evening. Must keep an eye on the time. You’re probably closer to Tod than anyone else. If he won’t talk to the police, then maybe you’re in a better position to get information out of him? Has he given you any clues at all as to who was responsible? He has, hasn’t he? That’s why you were asking about Armand and stamps?’
‘I could be quite wrong.’ Ellie explained about Tod vandalizing his stamp album and throwing the sheets away. ‘You know how he was always pestering us for foreign stamps.’
‘Do I not! But how could that be linked to …?’
‘I really don’t know, but it’s the only thing I’ve noticed that doesn’t fit in the picture. Also, he doesn’t want to talk about stamps any more.You look tired. Sorry to bother you with my worries. How was your meeting?’
‘Ah, interesting. I’d been asked to look at a possible project for some clients of ours to invest in. I did some digging around and found that behind the first company was a string of other companies, most of them offshore. I didn’t like the smell of it. It seemed to me that there were too many companies involved to be entirely necessary, if you see what I mean …?’
‘Over-egging the pudding?’
‘The main reasons for a multiplicity of companies behind any one project are to launder money or get it out of the country to avoid tax, or to hide something. Yet I couldn’t fault the figures for the project itself. Today I had to present my report to our clients. The board of directors were all the Old School Tie type. All men.’
She laughed. ‘The chairman looked exactly like a tortoise, bald head and all, kept his head down. I thought he’d gone to sleep. Then there was this one chap … he looked like one of those lids of puff pastry they put on top of pies, when it’s risen but not properly cooked. He was Macho Man. He was all for the project. He kept calling me “little lady”.’ She shuddered.
Ellie grinned. ‘He was that stupid?’
‘It was clever of him really, because it riled me. He said, “Well, if that’s all that the little lady can find to report, I vote we go ahead with the project without any further waste of time.” So I said, “All I know is, it smells wrong to me.” At that point the chairman woke up and said, “I agree with her. It does smell wrong. I rang up an old friend last night and he gave me the low-down on J.B.…” Puff Pastry looked as if he were going to have a heart attack, so I knew he’d been hiding something. My guess is he was already on the board of the company that was running the project, hiding behind a nominee. It’s the usual way of getting a kickback from that sort of situation.
‘The chairman went on to say, “Ms Kate may not have been given all the facts in the case, but her instinct is unerring. The meeting is adjourned.”’
Ellie thought that one over. ‘You’re telling me to trust my instinct.’
‘What does your instinct tell you?’
‘That Gus is not a paedophile or a really bad man but that he is weak; that Tod does remember but will continue to deny it, and that I’m not going to force him. That it is something to do with stamps.’
‘And now you’re thinking, Why doesn’t Kate want to talk about Armand and stamps? Well, if you must know, it’s a bit of a bone of contention between us. Armand used to collect stamps when he was in his teens. His collection is still sitting at the bottom of the big wardrobe in the spare room and he’s supposed to have stopped collecting because we need the money for the house and garden. He promised me he’d stopped collecting. But every now and then I find the odd current catalogue around the house, or there’s a letter in the post from one of his old pals in the stamp world. He still goes to the fairs, occasionally. But it’s not him.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Ellie, wondering why Kate had been skirting around the subject for so long that morning. It was absurd to think of Armand abusing children – except for shouting at them. He’d have a mean tongue with a boy who misbehaved at school. But for the rest, a pussy cat. Probably. Even if he had started to hit Kate when they were first married, it didn’t mean he’d abuse children. Did it? His hitting Kate had been out of frustration because she’d suddenly begun to earn so much more than he, and it had continued because Kate had put up with it. Once Kate had refused to go on playing the part of victim, he’d stopped doing it and since then husband and wife had been getting on very well.
Did this mean Armand might have turned to hitting children? Or that Kate feared he might have done so? Ellie needed to think about this.
Kate said, ‘I’ll ask him to talk to you about his stamp collection, shall I?’
The phone and the doorbell rang simultaneously.
Kate said, ‘I must go,’ and reached for her boots. Ellie opened the door to find Mrs Coppola on the doorstep looking anxious, with the longhaired woman detective behind her. Yes, thought Ellie, that colour hair is definitely out of a bottle.
‘You’ve got him here, haven’t you? I’ve been so worried. The police contacted me at work because I wasn’t at home when they went round there and, oh, this is Detective Sergeant …’
‘Willis,’ she said, giving Ellie’s hall the once-over. There was someone speaking on the answerphone but Ellie let them ramble on.
‘We met the other day,’ said Ellie. ‘Yes, Tod’s here. I got him out of bed eventually and we went shopping. Would you like a cup of tea?’
The kitchen door opened and Tod came out, wearing his new clothes. And his baseball cap. He closed the door behind him. To make sure Gus wasn’t seen?
Mrs Coppola rushed to Tod and hugged him. ‘Oh, don’t you look grownup.’
Tod said, ‘Oh, Mum!’ and pushed her away.
‘He’s talking, then,’ said the detective sergeant.
Ellie met her eyes with a warning. ‘Naturally.’
‘Perhaps we can have a little chat now?’ said the policewoman to Tod. ‘Shall we go back to your place?’
‘Well …’ said Mrs Coppola. She shot a resentful look at Ellie. ‘I’m afraid the central heating’s not been fixed yet.’
‘No, I know. I did try, but my man’s hurt himself and the person he’s passed me on to hasn’t turned up yet.’ Ellie held the sitting-room door open and gestured them inside. ‘My friend Kate’s just going and I’ll make you a cuppa if you like. You can be quiet on your own in here.’
Tod gave Ellie a straight, clear look. Angelic, if you didn’t know better. ‘I can’t remember anything, I’m afraid.’ He turned the same clear gaze on the detective sergeant. ‘It hurts my head to try to remember.’
‘Yes, tea would be good, milk no sugar.’ And to Tod, ‘Never mind, we’ll get at it somehow.’ She put her arm round Tod’s shoulders and steered him into the sitting room. Mrs Coppola followed, saying, ‘Do try, dear.’
Kate came out, holding her boots in her hand. ‘Can’t squeeze my feet into them again. Have to make the trip next door in my stockinged feet.’ She kissed Ellie’s cheek. ‘Have fun.’ And disappeared out into the night.
Ellie found Gus still sitting at the kitchen table; crouching, rather. ‘That the police again?’
Ellie nodded. She thought, Why is he keeping his voice down? Why are we trying to hide Gus from everyone? This is madness. He’s not doing any harm.
The doorbell rang again. Gus jumped, jarring the table on which she was just laying out tea for the policewoman and Mrs Coppola. Ellie said, ‘That might be Kate, always forgetting something, that girl.’
Leaving him in the kitchen, she took the tray into the hall and called out, ‘Wait a minute!’ to whoever was at the door. As she backed into the sitting room she saw that Tod had sunk down into one of the big armchairs, his eyes lifeless. He had disconnected, as it were. Mrs Coppola was stroking his hand, looking anxious. The policewoman was watching him. Getting nowhere fast.
The doorbell rang again. Ellie dumped the tea tray, muttered an excuse and left, closing the door carefully behind her. It wasn’t Kate. Alas, no. It was their curate, Timid Timothy, all ruffled sandy hair and slightly anxious blue eyes behind fashionable glasses. Wearing his cassock, clutching a large golfing umbrella and an impressive new briefcase. Ellie thought, I can’t cope – police in the living room and Gus in the kitchen …
‘At last I find you at home.’ He dumped the umbrella and prepared to step inside but Ellie forestalled him.
‘I’m so sorry, I’ve been out all day and now I’ve got visitors …’
‘Oh.’ He took a hasty step back and nearly fell off the porch into the drive.
‘So it’s not convenient to …?’
‘No, I’m afraid it’s not. Perhaps later …?’
‘Later on this evening? Seven o’clock, say? That would be best for me. We eat at six and there’s a meeting at eight. Right, seven it is.’
He gave a sort of salute, wheeled around and stalked back up the driveway to the road, leaving his umbrella behind him. Ellie eyed the umbrella, considering whether to call him back and deciding not to. She closed the door on the outside world thinking, This is all very reprehensible but Gus could do with an umbrella and dear Timothy didn’t exactly pull his weight when asked to help him.
Ellie shook her head at herself. Was she actually aiding and abetting a thief in her old age? Well, not exactly a thief, perhaps, but perhaps not far from it. Gus opened the kitchen door a crack, and whispered, ‘All clear? Shall I pop upstairs?’
Ellie nodded and he scuttled up the stairs, carrying his shoes in his hand so as not to make any noise.
How did I get into this madhouse situation? Ellie wondered. She knocked on her own sitting-room door and went in. The tea had been drunk. Tod was in the same position but looked asleep, half buried as he was amongst the cushions. Mrs Coppola had stopped stroking his hand and was sitting back, biting her lip.
Detective Sergeant Willis looked relieved to see Ellie. ‘May I have a word?’
‘Of course.’
Mrs Coppola got to her feet and coaxed Tod awake, pulling him upright. ‘This little one ought to be in bed, I think. Also I must see if I can find someone reliable to deal with the central heating.’
‘So sorry,’ said Ellie, really meaning it. ‘I’ll try again tomorrow if you like. Everyone seems to have gone sick all at once. Tod will tell you we bought him a new computer this morning. I hope you don’t mind. I promised it him when he was in hospital.’
Mrs Coppola flashed her teeth at Ellie. ‘Of course I don’t mind. I can’t possibly afford to give in to his every whim. Or clothe him in designer wear.’
‘Anything I can do, really. Anything.’
The woman hesitated. ‘Well, there is one other thing. I’m supposed to go to the school tonight, I’m late already, should have been there at half five, parents’ evening, you know.’
‘You want me to keep him here till you’ve been?’
‘No, not exactly. The head knows Tod’s not fit to go back yet and I’m sure they won’t be expecting me or him. But the thing is, he left his best jacket that I gave him for Christmas at school …’
‘Jacket?’ asked the detective sergeant ‘What kind? Was he wearing it when he went to school that morning? Did he wear it to go to the swimming baths? You told me that nothing was missing, apart from his swimming things.’
‘Well, yes, I did say that, because it’s true. He’s left his jacket at school several times before, I don’t mind telling you. He says he keeps forgetting it because he doesn’t like the colour would you believe. So I asked him if he’d left the jacket at school again and he nodded, so that’s where it is. So if Mrs Quicke could ask his form teacher for it that would help, and maybe he could cope with some homework if she can find him some.’
‘You want me to go instead of you?’ Whatever would the woman ask of her next?
‘Oh, I’d be so grateful. So would Tod, wouldn’t you, Tod?’
Tod flicked a glance at Ellie and yawned. Unresponsive.
‘I suppose I could,’ said Ellie. Quarter to six, get there straight away, hang around, talk to the teacher, find his jacket, get back here for seven when the curate comes. I could just about do it, but there’ll be no time to eat.
‘Bless you,’ said Mrs Coppola, torn between her need to thank Ellie, and her dislike of a woman who was so much loved by her only son. She hurried Tod into his ancient anorak and they left. It had started to rain again.
‘Just a word, Mrs Quicke,’ said the detective sergeant, showing no sign of leaving herself. ‘You seem very close to the boy. Before the incident did he say anything to you, anything at all, which might help us?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that but he really didn’t. I had the builders in, you see, and they tend to mop up your time. Tod was around and about much as usual, I think, but …’ She gestured her helplessness.
‘Well, how is he with you since the incident?’
‘Up and down. One minute much more grown-up than he was, the next he regresses to an earlier age. I can see he sometimes feels anger, wants to lash out … and then he’s more or less himself again.’
‘He’s talking to you, though – which is more than he is to me. What has he said to you about it?’
Ellie shook her head. ‘Nothing. He just cuts off. I think he’s deliberately burying it. Too painful. I’m not inclined to dig deep.’
The policewoman sighed. ‘Meanwhile, the man who did this to him is still out there, maybe targeting another small boy.’
‘I know,’ said Ellie, feeling the anger burn in her again. ‘May I ask …? You’ve talked to the boys he went swimming with?’
‘Our enquiries are continuing.’
Ellie pulled a face. ‘I suppose you have to be circumspect but if you want me to help you – and I will if I can …’
The detective sergeant bridled. ‘They told me about you at the station, said you liked to dabble in detection. Well, I don’t hold with that. The truth is that enquiries are continuing. Everyone who has been known to be in contact with the boy has been questioned or is about to be questioned. That’s all I can say.’
Ellie thought about that. ‘So I can assume that all his friends at school have been interviewed, and that none of them saw or heard anything. Presumably they don’t know why he was late leaving the baths. I can also assume you’ve checked out the swimming instructor and staff at the baths, and the teachers at school. You have a list of paedophiles in the area? Of course, that’s the first thing you’ll have checked. Now you don’t know which way to turn. Is that about right?’
The detective sergeant didn’t like this. ‘They told me you’d want to interfere.’
‘Oh, no!’ said Ellie. ‘I know nothing about police procedures and I am sure you are all really thorough. The only thing I can think of that might have a bearing on it is – Tod’s stamp collection.’
‘Stamps?’ Incredulous.
‘He used to collect them. I think there was a club run by someone at school. He used to spend a lot of his pocket money on them besides badgering everyone he knew to give him their foreign stamps
. Since the attack,’ she faltered, but continued. ‘He’s torn up his stamp album and I can’t think why he should do that unless it’s connected in some way with what’s happened to him.’
The detective sergeant shook her head. ‘We haven’t come across anything in that direction. I expect he just grew tired of them and chucked them.’
How inadequate and foolish she made Ellie feel! And she’d badgered Kate for information about Armand’s stamp collection. Oh, dear. ‘I expect you’re right.’
‘Well, if you think of anything else, or if he starts talking to you about it …’
‘I’ll let you know straight away.’
Ellie held the door open for the woman to go. The umbrella was still in the porch. It had started to rain again. Sighing, Ellie dumped the tea tray in the kitchen, pulled on her hooded raincoat and shouted upstairs to Gus that she had to go out for half an hour. Out of the back door she went, down the garden path and across the churchyard to the pedestrian crossing opposite the school.
How often she had made this trek when Diana had been a little girl, before she’d gone on to the High School! The school buildings hadn’t changed much in the intervening years, except that there was a new block of classrooms on the right where the wet-weather playground used to be.
Luckily it wasn’t far to go, though the wind was keen. Yuk. She hated getting her ankles wet. Like a cat, she thought.
The parents’ evening was winding down. How well she remembered the big hall with its lofty plasterboard ceiling, its scent of meals served and hastily cleared away, of dust, of hundreds of children passing through. Today it was decked out with displays of children’s work, and the door to the new computer suite was open to show how up to date they were.
Two long tables of books had been laid out for parental scrutiny; hopefully the parents would choose to buy a suitable tome or two for the school library. One of the school governors was also a member at church. She pounced on Ellie and dragged her over to the book table. Ellie bought them a couple of large reference books. Well, why not? She’d never had any money to spare when Diana was there, so she could make up for it now.
Murder of Innocence Page 11
