by Sue Fortin
‘No. One of my officers went down there yesterday to have another chat with her. We thought we might be making a breakthrough. Stella Harris was starting to get small flashbacks. Anyway, it got a bit much for her, the stress brought on a flippin’ asthma attack. The doctors have said we’ve got to lay off her for a bit longer.’
Donovan looked at the detective. His mind was whirring. ‘Wait a minute.’ He put his hand up to halt Ken from continuing. ‘Stella Harris is asthmatic?’
‘Yes, that’s right. What of it?’
‘She uses an inhaler, right?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Presumably she used her inhaler at the hospital when she was being questioned.’
‘Presumably …’.
‘What colour was the inhaler?’ Donovan could feel the anticipation building up inside him. This is what had been bothering him. ‘Where’s the police officer who interviewed her at the hospital? Get hold of them. Ask what colour the inhaler was.’
‘What’s this all about, Donovan?’
‘Humour me for a minute,’ said Donovan. ‘Get hold of Lampard’s GP. Find out if he is asthmatic or has ever been prescribed an inhaler.’
‘But it’s the weekend,’ protested Ken.
‘That’s never got in the way before, has it?’
‘All right, I’ll do it, although I have no idea where all this is leading.’ Ken turned and picked up the telephone. ‘While I get on with this, haven’t you got a meeting with CID?’ He nodded towards the door. Donovan took the hint, although he knew it would take all his powers of concentration to get through the meeting without his mind wandering back to the results of Ken’s enquiries.
Toby sat in his car watching the skate park. He scanned the kids on their skateboards, BMXes and scooters racing up and down the ramps, attempting turns and spins, with varying degrees of success. He was looking for one lad in particular. Patrick, Kate’s younger brother.
He was certain that in the past Helen had said how Patrick loved to take his scooter on the ramps. He hoped the boy was still as mad about it as ever.
His hunch paid off when he caught sight of a dark-haired lad with distinctive curls scoot down a ramp, gaining enough speed to take him to the top of the opposite ramp, whereupon he gave a fancy little turn in mid-air, before mistiming his landing and taking the down slide on his backside.
Toby checked his watch. He still had enough time to convince Kate to go along with his plan. It was a shame she had refused earlier, just when he thought he was getting somewhere with her. He had been sure she had believed him about Helen’s state of mind but at the last minute she’d had second thoughts. It was annoying and frustrating all at the same time. However, it was a good job he had plan B. It would be getting dark soon and Patrick would, no doubt, head home.
His patience was recompensed about twenty minutes later when he watched Patrick complete one last attempt at the taller ramp, only to fail again. Clearly having had enough, judging by the way he kicked his scooter, Patrick bumped fists with his friends and scooted out of the park.
He darted out through the gates and headed along the pathway, weaving in and out of pedestrians. The street lights had come on a few minutes ago and Toby was able to track Patrick’s progress from his car. As the lad turned the corner out of sight, Toby started his engine and drove off after him.
Toby knew that Patrick would have to cross the road at King’s Street and being a teenager, guessed he probably wouldn’t use the zebra crossing. That would be far too nerdy for a cool skate-ramp kid.
Aware that he was driving slower than the traffic required, Toby pulled over and let a few cars pass him. He couldn’t have planned it better. The lull in the flow of cars gave him the opportunity to pull back out onto the road. He could see Patrick through the glass of the parked cars, turning and looking over his shoulder. He too was seeking out a break in the vehicles. Toby slowed right down. Patrick darted out of sight between two parked cars. Toby accelerated.
He had to congratulate himself on his driving skills. Any faster and he would surely have had the boy on his bonnet, any slower and Patrick would have scooted off, oblivious. Instead, Toby slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt centimetres away from Patrick’s right leg.
Patrick’s look of fear and frozen body had Toby leaping out of the car and running around to the boy.
‘Bloody hell! What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed?’ A car was stopping on the other side of the road. The driver wound down his window. Toby called over. ‘It’s okay, mate. All good. No damage. Just this little shit scooting out between parked cars.’
He waved his thanks to the driver, who continued his journey.
Toby turned his attention back to Patrick.
‘Now, lad,’ he paused. ‘Wait a minute, I know you. You’re Patrick Gibson, aren’t you? Kate Gibson’s brother.’
Patrick nodded. ‘Yeah.’ He was beginning to regain a bit of colour to his ashen face.
‘You remember me?’ continued Toby. ‘I’m Helen’s old boyfriend. Toby. You know, Helen Matthews, best friends with your sister?’
A look of recognition swept over Patrick’s face. ‘Oh yeah. Toby. Yes, I remember.’
‘Good lad. You are okay, aren’t you?’
‘I think so. Sorry about that.’
‘No problem. Look, I tell you what. Why don’t I give you a lift home? I need to speak with Kate anyway.’ Toby took Patrick’s arm and eased him off the scooter. ‘Come on, sit in the front and I’ll show you how fast she goes. Bit quicker than your scooter.’
Driving the long way home to impress the lad was actually quite enjoyable, thought Toby as twenty minutes later he pulled up outside Kate’s house. Now, he just had to hope she was in.
‘Go on then, in you go,’ he said to Patrick, passing him the scooter from the boot of the TT. ‘Tell Kate I’m outside.’
He watched Patrick scoot up the path and disappear around the back. A few minutes later Kate was at the front door. She looked over and stood there looking at him for a moment before coming to the pavement.
‘What are you doing bringing Patrick back?’ Her voice was guarded.
Toby shrugged and gave her his best innocent smile. ‘Nothing. I saw him down on King’s Street. Nearly ran him over, actually. You should be thanking me for getting him home safely.’
‘He’s quite capable of getting home himself. He’s not supposed to get in the car with strangers.’
‘Come on, I’m not exactly a stranger.’
‘Still, he’s been told about accepting lifts,’ said Kate, her brow furrowing.
‘Fair enough. I apologise,’ said Toby. ‘Look, I wanted to catch up with you anyway.’
‘What for?’
‘I wanted to chat to you about helping me find Helen.’
‘We’ve been through this before,’ said Kate. ‘I can’t help you.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’ He started the engine and spoke again. ‘You know, the roads are really dangerous. You should tell Patrick to be more careful. Wouldn’t want anything like that happening again. The next car might not be able to stop in time. I’ll be in touch about Helen later.’
Putting the Audi into first gear he held the clutch down, hit the throttle and revved twice before releasing the left pedal and speeding off down the road. He checked his rear-view mirror and was pleased to see a distressed-looking Kate standing at the end of her path watching him go.
The house felt eerily quiet. Ellen was grateful that Ben was still about. She wasn’t keen on being in the house on her own. She knew it was foolish but, all the same, it was nice to know he was there. The sound of the doorbell made her jump.
Going downstairs, Ellen saw Ben was already opening the door.
In breezed Amanda with Izzy.
‘I’ve brought Isobel back,’ said Amanda, giving her daughter a gentle nudge in Ellen’s direction who, by now, was at the foot of the stairs. ‘Something’s come up and she can’t stay with me overnight any more.
Right, Izzy, give mummy a kiss.’ Ellen watched as Amanda knelt down and offered her cheek to her daughter. Izzy stood still, not moving or speaking. ‘Isobel. Give Mummy a kiss,’ repeated Amanda.
Izzy looked back over her shoulder at Ellen.
Ellen nodded silently, trying to look as encouraging as possible. With obvious reluctance, Izzy gave her mother a small peck on the cheek.
Amanda stood up. ‘Be a good girl now. Next time I’ll make sure nothing gets in the way and you can spend the whole weekend with me. Bye, bye, darling.’
Ellen exchanged a look with Ben as the door shut behind Amanda. No words needed. Ben’s expression clearly matched her own thoughts on Amanda’s parenting skills. Ellen skipped over to Izzy and took her by the hand. ‘Come on, why don’t we do some painting or something?’ she suggested. She received a grateful look from Izzy. ‘And you, Ben. You can join in as well.’
‘I’m not sure painting is really my thing,’ said Ben.
‘Oh, I don’t know. You made a good job of Izzy’s bedroom walls. Didn’t he Izzy?’
‘Yeah, but that was different,’ said Ben.
‘Nonsense. Come on. Do as you’re told. You might actually enjoy it.’
‘Okay, you were right. This sort of painting isn’t so bad after all,’ said Ben as he sat back and admired the picture of a tank he had been creating for the last twenty minutes.
Ellen smiled. ‘It’s very therapeutic.’ She dropped her brush into the murky glass of water. ‘What do you think to my vase of flowers, Izzy?’
‘Very pretty,’ said Izzy. ‘I don’t like Ben’s tank.’
‘No, I think Ben should have painted it pink, don’t you? Brown is a bit boring.’ Ellen laughed at the mock look of disappointment on Ben’s face. Izzy giggled too.
‘Yucky boy’s colour,’ she said.
‘Tanks can’t be pink!’ exclaimed Ben.
Ellen’s phone rang out and made her jump. She looked at the screen. ‘Kate calling’. A little butterfly of fear flapped in her stomach. They had agreed to only ring in an emergency. Ellen hit the accept button.
‘Hello. Kate? You okay?’
‘Listen carefully. I need to meet you. Today.’ Her voice was full of anxiety; she sounded as though she had been crying. The butterfly flutter in Ellen’s stomach morphed into a flock of squawking seagulls. Something was clearly wrong.
‘Kate, what’s the matter?’ Ellen was now standing. Alert and anxious.
‘I can’t tell you over the phone,’ replied Kate. A sob was muffled. She spoke again. ‘I’m in a taxi on my way over to Felpham. Meet me at the duck pond at the top of Sea Lane.’
‘You’re here in West Sussex?’ Not only was Ellen surprised but she was alarmed too. ‘Kate, please tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you. Meet me in ten minutes.’
The line went dead. Ellen looked at her phone as if it was going to give her some sort of explanation all by itself.
‘Problem?’ asked Ben. Ellen looked up at him. He had slipped back into professional mode. His eyes alert, his body tense.
‘I’m not sure. I’ve got to meet my friend. Something’s happened. I don’t know what.’ Ellen looked at Izzy and smiled at her. ‘You stay here with Ben, I’ve got to pop out for a minute.’ She dropped a kiss onto the child’s head and hurried out of the kitchen.
Ben followed her. ‘Ellen. Wait. You can’t go on your own.’ He stood in front of her. ‘I can’t let you go rushing off like this.’
Ellen sidestepped the ex-soldier. ‘I’ve got to. My friend needs me. Something’s wrong.’
This time Ben put his hand over the front-door handle. ‘I’m under orders from Donovan. Why don’t you ring your friend back and tell her to come here?’
Ellen sighed. She quickly called Kate’s number. It went straight to voicemail. She tried again. And again. ‘She’s not answering. I’ll have to go and meet her. Look, I’ll bring her straight back here. How about that?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Sorry, Ellen. No can do.’
‘You can’t hold me hostage, you know,’ said Ellen, trying to keep her voice down. Ben said nothing, merely raising his eyebrows. He probably could keep her here against her will, she thought. ‘Okay, plan B. You drive me down there to meet her and we all come back to the house?’
‘That’s more like it.’ Ben smiled. ‘Go and get Izzy, I’ll get the car started.’
Something about the phone call was bothering Ellen. It wasn’t just that Kate was in some sort of trouble or had bad news. It wasn’t that she was in West Sussex. It was something else. She pushed the niggle to the back of her mind as they approached the duck pond at the end of Sea Lane.
‘She’s not here yet,’ said Ellen, scanning the area. ‘Why don’t you park up round the corner on the main road, where there are some parking bays. I’ll get out and wait by the pond.’
For a minute, she thought Ben was going to be as stubborn about this as he was about letting her come, but then he relented. ‘Okay. But I tell you what, me and Izzy will wait by the pond so that we’re near you. We can feed the ducks.’ He pulled a sandwich bag from his pocket which held a couple of slices of bread.
Ellen raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘You’re such a Boy Scout. Always prepared.’
‘Dib-dib. Dob-dob,’ said Ben.
Donovan took the steps two at a time as he made his way up to Ken’s office. The meeting with CID had gone on for longer than he would have liked but his professional integrity hadn’t let him cut any corners, despite wishing he could. Happy that he had everything he needed to begin profiling a suspect, he was eager to hear what Ken had found out.
He knocked and without waiting to be invited in, opened the door and stepped into Ken’s office.
‘So? What did you find out?’
‘Ah, come on in Donovan, don’t stand on ceremony,’ said Ken with a wry smile. ‘Let’s cut to the chase, no preamble.’
‘Sorry, Ken,’ said Donovan sitting down in the chair. He waited patiently for the DCI to speak.
‘Right then. The most commonly used inhaler is the blue one. Ventolin …’
‘Used to dilate the airways to aid breathing,’ interrupted Donovan, trying to reign in his impatience.
‘Yes, exactly,’ said Ken. ‘Now, Stella Harris uses …’
‘A brown inhaler. Steroid-based,’ finished Donovan, his impatience galloping away. ‘What about Lampard – is he asthmatic?’
Ken Froames shook his head. ‘Nope. Not according to his GP. Never has been. In fact, he hasn’t visited his GP in over eighteen months.’
‘So, we have Lampard, into his mountain-biking and long-distance running, hasn’t been to his doctor in ages; an apparently fit and healthy man. Agreed?’
Ken nodded. ‘Agreed.’
‘Yet, he has an inhaler. A brown one. The sort of one Stella Harris would have.’
Ken looked confused. ‘I’m not following you. When did Lampard have this inhaler?’
‘When I first interviewed him. Here at the police station. He was fiddling around with it.’
‘You think it belonged to Stella Harris?’
‘I’m certain it belonged to Stella Harris. No one would have realised it was missing because no one was looking for it.’ Donovan sat forwards in his seat. ‘Lampard took that as a trophy. And my bet is he still has it, somewhere in his flat I would imagine. Somewhere where he can look at it and admire it – a trophy prolongs the crime, nourishes the fantasy. It’s a symbol of power and conquest. That’s Lampard’s prize. He’s gets a kick out of just looking at it. It empowers him. Find that inhaler and that will link him to the attack. He would have no reason to have it, other than as a trophy for what he did.’
Ken was already reaching for the phone. ‘I’ll get a warrant to search his flat arranged right now.’
Chapter Thirty
Ellen positioned herself against the flint wall at the top of Sea Lane. Here she had a clear view down Middleton Road
. She glanced back over her shoulder at Ben and Izzy by the pond. Ben was watching her. Ever the professional, he wasn’t really duck-feeding but keeping an eye on his charges.
‘Any sign of her?’ Ben called over.
‘No, not yet.’
Ben walked across to her. ‘Has she been here before?’
‘No, never. That’s why it must be important.’
‘And she suggested that you meet here?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I suppose it’s because she wants to talk to me in private. She probably didn’t want to turn up at the house in case I wasn’t alone. Especially if she’s upset.’
‘When she suggested you meet here, what exactly did she say?’
Ellen frowned. ‘To meet her at the duck pond at the top of Sea Lane. And that’s what we’re doing. What’s wrong with that?’
‘You’re missing the point,’ said Ben. He looked serious. ‘If she’s never been here before, how does she know about the duck pond?’
A feeling of unease crawled across Ellen’s skin. Her voice was bleak. ‘She wouldn’t have known about the duck pond, not unless someone had told her.’
‘Someone who has been here before,’ said Ben. ‘Someone who knows her. Someone who also knows you. Someone like Toby.’
Ellen felt physically sick but before she could say anything, the tooting of a car made her turn away from Ben and look back across the road. A BMW had pulled over. From the passenger side emerged the blonde head of Kate, looking extremely distressed. Their eyes met across the roof of the car. There was such sadness in Kate’s eyes, it almost broke Ellen’s heart there and then.
Ellen pushed herself away from the wall. Kate’s face was so sad. A mark, maybe a bruise, sat under her eye; it was hard to see clearly from across the road. Her bottom lip looked swollen. What on earth had happened? Ellen attempted a smile. Kate looked back. Her eyes bore into Ellen’s as if they were trying to tell her something.
It was then Ellen noticed someone else getting out of the driver’s side and walking round to Kate.
Dear God. No.
She felt her stomach turn and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. Standing next to Kate, sneering in her direction was Toby. Ellen looked at Kate. Distress oozed from her friend. Ellen could see that Toby had his hand firmly around the top of Kate’s arm.
