Dead of Night

by Deborah Lucy

  ‘Have you been involved in an accident?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I haven’t—’ She didn’t get a chance to explain before he went on.

  ‘Calypso, has this happened at the home?’ He had taken her by the shoulders and was looking at her face. Temple could smell his strong cologne from where he stood, looking at his surroundings. There were a number of military prints hanging from the walls around him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Father, there’s no harm done. It looks far worse than it is. Yes, it did happen at the home but it’s only bruising. No bones broken.’ She tried to make light of her injuries, but Temple could see he was having none of it.

  He looked over his daughter’s shoulder to Temple. ‘And are you from the home? Is this how you want your staff treated? It’s a disgrace.’

  ‘No, I’m not from the home; I met Callie at the hospital. I’m a police officer, sir.’

  ‘Oh, so the police are involved this time, are they? At last, you’ve seen sense. So, officer, what charges will be brought?’

  Callie quickly cut in. ‘This is my father, Theo St George. Father, this is Detective Inspector Temple.’

  Temple held out his hand, which Theo St George shook with an efficiency that suggested he was a man with a military background.

  ‘I’m just bringing Callie – Calypso – home, sir. I was also at the hospital and just wanted to make sure she got home safely. I’m not here to bring charges; there have been no complaints made.’

  St George turned his attention back to his daughter. ‘Well I’d like to bloody make one. For Christ’s sake, Calypso, I wish you’d give it up.’ Her father looked into her face, his eyes examining the cut on the bridge of her nose.

  ‘It looks far worse than it is, really it does. There’s no need to worry.’ She gently tapped her father’s cheek with her hand and changed the subject by offering them both tea.

  With Theo St George striding behind them, she showed Temple into a drawing room off the hall and made sure he was ensconced on a large, low sofa before going off to the kitchen. Theo St George plunged into a sofa opposite him.

  Temple suddenly realised who he was. ‘You’re an MP, Theodore St George – I thought you were familiar. Sorry, I should have realised.’ There had been an article recently in the local paper regarding St George and a local MP in a spat over immigration that had spilled into the national press.

  ‘Was, Inspector – I’ve been relegated to the House of Lords now. That’s how I see it anyway. What do you make of Calypso’s injuries? It makes me bloody angry. Can I press charges?’

  Temple could see he had clearly walked into an ongoing situation and was now being asked to take sides.

  ‘From what she’s told me, sir, the home where Callie – I mean Calypso – works does a lot of good work with children who badly need their input. She clearly loves her job.’

  ‘That’s as may be, but I don’t like it. I fear for her.’ Calypso was his only daughter, along with two sons. St George still felt protective of her and had never been impressed with her career choice. He knew the pay was awful and he knew that she did it in spite of that. She’d told him it was because she had so much herself that she wanted to help others less fortunate. It was doing something meaningful, she said. He could understand that all right but he drew the line at her getting hurt. This wasn’t the first time and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. That’s what bothered him.

  ‘Look.’ He leaned forward in his seat and shot a look at the door. ‘While she’s out of the room, whatever you can do to influence her to give up this job, I’d be very grateful. She frequently comes home with cuts and bruises.’

  ‘We’ve only just met, Mr St George, and from what I’ve heard Calypso say about her job, I don’t think I’d stand much of a chance.’ Temple found himself enjoying saying her name; he liked the unusualness of it and how it sounded. It suited her.

  ‘I just don’t want her hurt. She’s precious to me. She was once very ill you know, as a child, very ill. I don’t like seeing her like that.’ Theo St George was trying to keep his voice low but couldn’t help himself. ‘Do you have children, Inspector?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ He hesitated before going on. ‘A girl . . . and a boy.’ The question caught Temple momentarily off guard. He was used to talking about Daisy. Now there was Ben. He realised it was the first time he had acknowledged that he had a son and daughter to a stranger. He suddenly thought of Leigh, pregnant with another of his children, and again the realisation hit that they would never all be under the same roof. Breaking this thought, Theo St George continued.

  ‘And what would you do if someone used your daughter as a punch bag?’

  ‘I’d intervene, sir.’ As he said it, Temple remembered Roger Hunt again and how he’d reacted when he thought Hunt had hit Daisy. He’d certainly intervened then, using Roger Hunt as a punch bag only for Daisy to admit that she’d made it all up in an effort to reunite her parents.

  ‘Yes, thought so. This happens at her place of work for God’s sake. Who goes to work to get beaten, I ask you? It’s the twenty-first century, not the bloody eighteen hundreds.’

  Calypso came through the door with a tea tray and had obviously heard Theo speaking.

  ‘That’s enough!’ she chided him.

  Theo crumbled instantly. ‘I’m sorry, darling, really sorry. It’s just. . .’

  ‘I know, I know. Just let’s talk about it later. I’ll listen, but I’m not promising anything.’ She wasn’t angry at all, just apologetic to Temple who had obviously come in on a long-standing issue between the two of them.

  The rest of the time over tea was taken up with keeping off the subject of her work, and Callie and her father both managed to lighten the mood with more general conversation. They were good hosts and Temple could see it put Theo’s uncharacteristic outburst into perspective. They were interested in Temple, his work, his home life. The work bit was fine, he was used to interest in that, but on the home front, the most he confided was that he lived with an au pair who helped him look after his son.

  Their company was easy and Temple found himself becoming increasingly attracted to his hostess as she sat across from him. Despite the evident bruising, she was very attractive, with her red hair in a long bob to her shoulders. She had a ready smile and seemed really pleased for him to be there. She had certainly brightened since she’d been at home and showed no signs of a headache, as she had earlier.

  The room they were sitting in felt very grand and although his hosts had made him feel extremely welcome and relaxed, Temple felt that he’d stepped into a different world. Apart from Callie working at the home, he wondered what worries Theo St George could possibly have as he looked around and admired the comfortable surroundings. After nearly an hour, Temple made a move to return to the station. Callie walked him back to his car.

  ‘Sorry about my father earlier. That’s not how he typically greets people he meets for the first time. I hope he redeemed himself.’

  ‘There’s no need to apologise. He cares, that’s all.’ Temple looked into Callie’s bruised eyes. ‘I can quite understand why he’d want to protect you. It’s easy to see why.’ They smiled at each other.

  ‘Thank you for the lift back, it was really very kind of you.’ She was so glad he’d made the offer.

  ‘That was no problem. I’ve enjoyed myself, meeting you . . . your father. He’s a bit of a character.’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ she said softly. ‘He’s a pussycat really.’

  ‘I’ve also enjoyed finding out that your name is Calypso. I haven’t met anyone called Calypso before.’ He liked saying it again.

  ‘Callie’s a bit more conventional.’ There was a brief silence between them. As they both looked down and back at each other at the same time, they seemed to acknowledge the mutual attraction they felt. They smiled at one another, saying nothing momentarily. Temple noticed the fullness of her mouth and how her teeth were now slightly biting her lower lip. It was Callie who broke the silenc
e with a slight laugh.

  ‘You could always come back later,’ she said slowly. ‘When you’re off duty.’ She’d reinforced the invitation by reaching out and squeezing his hand and holding his gaze for a few seconds. ‘We can continue to get to know each other.’ Temple had been wondering how he could finesse another meeting between them and suddenly it had been done for him. ‘I’ve texted you my number,’ she said.

  He smiled and got into his car.

  Chapter 17

  The sunny day was quickly turning to evening by the time Temple arrived back at the station. The shift was changing and he knew if he was quick enough, he could get inside and speak to some of the local patrol teams to see if they’d seen either China or Gary Lewis.

  Negative. No one had seen either of them.

  He went back to his desk where his files lay just as he’d left them. His heart wasn’t in it to start picking up the threads at this time of day. He logged in to the laptop to check his emails. He scrolled through them, looking for any that might give a clue as to the whereabouts of China Lewis. There was nothing.

  Although he hated working behind a desk, up to now his days had had a quiet monotony of file reading, online form-filling and making phone calls to the Department of Work and Pensions and social services, tracking down the people in his case files. He’d found three of his missing persons were now dead, having drawn their old age pensions in the time they had been reported missing, the consequence of no one taking the time, trouble or interest to make the most basic of enquiries which would have closed the files long ago.

  As he flicked through his inbox, his mind wandered back to Callie and their meeting. He wondered if he could have misunderstood the invitation she had extended – ‘Come back later, when you’re off duty.’ He checked his phone – there was the text with her number. He thought of their meeting. She was obviously from a very privileged background and yet chose to work with children at the opposite end of the scale; in fact, the circumstances of the kids that she’d described couldn’t be more different from her upbringing. And yet she felt she had to help them. He liked her for that.

  He put her name into Google, which revealed some scant details. The Honourable Calypso Andrea St George, 33 years old, daughter of Right Honourable Theodore St George, Baron St George, former MP for South West Wilts. Following his retirement as an MP he was appointed a Life Peer.

  Temple clicked on a few of the online references for Theo, which mainly focused on his past military and political activities. He found a useful biography that told him Theo had been in the 1st Regiment Royal Horse Artillery, ending his career as a captain before following family tradition and becoming an MP. He had been married to Calypso’s mother, Fiona, for twenty-five years before she died in a boating accident off the coast of Corfu during a family holiday. His father, Gerald St George, also an MP in the 1950s, had managed to marry the only child of a rich landowner in 1946, which was obviously where the money had come from.

  Looking at the screen, he could see Callie was in a different league. She’d definitely shown an interest in him, but from what he’d read about her background, he couldn’t think why. They were worlds apart. But then perhaps that was part of the attraction for her. Perhaps that was what she was after; maybe it was a cop thing, a uniform thing?

  He suddenly thought of Leigh. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen her – it must be more than three weeks ago. She dropped Daisy off in the road by the lychgate, which meant he didn’t even get to see her. God, she was angry with him. Just the sight of him was like lighting the touch paper. He didn’t blame her. She’d made it quite clear to him their marriage was over, dead. And he’d killed it; she made that crystal clear. There was no going back. He’d never meant to cause her such pain, but in the circumstances, they were hollow words.

  But Callie, the lovely, pretty Callie with her milky white skin and red hair, was like catnip. It was difficult to fight the attraction and her invitation. Wasn’t he almost a free agent? He knew she was out of his league, that nothing would come of it. Even so. He was intrigued.

  * * *

  With the onset of early evening and still bothered by China Lewis, he left the station and drove round to Linda Davidson’s house. Despite it being 5 p.m., like he’d promised, as he drove by he saw that the house was in darkness. They must have gone to the cinema early, or gone out for something to eat first. He’d have to come back later; he was determined to speak to Linda, but more importantly he needed to speak to Amy to ensure China really did go to the Davidsons’ last night. Temple was not convinced and he wanted to catch Linda in her lie about China.

  Back in the town centre, remembering what Callie had said about where Molly had seen China, Temple parked outside Swindon railway station. The evening was drawing in and it was dark now. There were commuters standing on the platform waiting for trains but it was past rush hour, so passengers had thinned out to the overtime workers.

  He sat on a metal bench on the platform and watched those coming and going around him. Looking around for any signs of China, his mind returned again to Callie. ‘Come back later,’ she’d said. Should he? His thoughts were broken by a loud announcement over a tannoy system of the arrival of the 19.14 train from Paddington.

  As it pulled in, Temple watched as the commuters with their business suits and briefcases stepped from the train. Their breath hit the cold night air as they walked quickly to their cars, some greeted by waiting relatives. Among those that stepped off the train was a hard-faced man in his twenties, a woollen beanie hat pulled over his head. He was with a girl much smaller, younger and more delicate-looking than him.

  She had to be thirteen or younger, in a maroon school blazer with gold trim. He had his hand around her shoulder. Temple watched them walk out of the station, trying to get a look at the badge on her jacket. The colour of the uniform was unfamiliar. In the short time he’d seen them, he knew they weren’t right and he was up on his feet, following them.

  As they walked down the street, the man walked slightly behind the young girl. As they walked on, he dropped his arm from around her shoulder and moved his hand around to the base of her neck. It was clear to Temple that he was controlling her, and in this way he steered her down the streets and across the junctions, walking around the feet of the dossers sitting on the pavements. She was carrying a Marks & Spencer ‘bag for life’ and looked straight ahead. As they walked down the street, they said nothing to each other. There was nothing to give Temple the impression that they were in any way emotionally connected. They behaved like a couple of strangers. He didn’t like it.

  Temple continued to follow them from a distance. They were heading towards Manchester Road. Keeping back, he watched as they turned right out of his sight. He knew Manchester Road so didn’t quicken his pace. He decided to follow them and watch until they went into a premises, and then he could go in. If he could just follow them to wherever they were going, he could check out the address.

  As he went round the same corner, he saw the girl standing alone now in the distance. She’d somehow lost her minder and was standing on the edge of the pavement as if waiting for someone. As Temple went to approach her, he was aware of someone in the darkness appearing out of nowhere from his right. Suddenly, he saw a fist swinging out and the pavement heading towards him.

  Chapter 18

  In deflecting the blow, Temple took a sharp punch to the side of his body, underneath his arm. The suddenness of the movement and awkwardness of the angle made him lose his footing. Before he could understand what had happened, he fell heavily onto the pavement, just managing to avoid his head hitting the side of a wall. When he looked up, a man was standing astride him, with fists clenched.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you perverted bastard.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Temple shouted back angrily as he lay on the pavement, winded. His assailant continued to look down on him as if ready to hit him again, his face contorted as he continued to shout at h
im.

  ‘You scummy shit. Fuck off home, leave these girls alone. Go on, go home, you bastard.’ The man gave him a half-hearted kick while he was still down. Temple looked up at the snarling face. He had to get up.

  ‘I’m not after girls, you fucking idiot.’ Temple scrambled to his feet. He looked down the street to where he had last seen the girl on the pavement. She was gone. There was no sign of the man who was with her. ‘Who are you?’ he asked his attacker.

  ‘Never mind who I am, it’s none of your business. I’ve seen the likes of you. I know what you do and what your game is—’

  Before he could finish, Temple cut in. He’d caught his breath and was back on his feet. With his side still smarting from the blow, he slowly straightened up.

  ‘My “game” is to arrest you for assaulting a police officer.’ Temple took hold of the man’s arm while fishing for the handcuffs in his pocket. The man jerked his arm free.

  ‘Take your hands off me, scum, don’t think I’m falling for that one. Where’s your warrant card, eh? Where is it?’

  Temple pulled out his wallet showing his warrant card and pushed it into the man’s face.

  ‘You are under arrest for assault.’ Temple read the man his rights. Looking at him, Temple could see he was still not clear whether to believe his identification. ‘I am a police officer and you’ll have to come to the station with me. Now, what’s your name?’ Then the man saw the handcuffs in Temple’s right hand. His aggression instantly disappeared and he almost crumbled in front of him.

  ‘Look, mate, officer, I didn’t know, did I? It was a mistake. You was creeping and just about to approach that young girl. I’ve only been here two days and I can see what’s going on here.’

  Temple ignored him. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Paul Wallace. Look, please don’t take me back to the station. I’m sorry I punched you. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were a copper. Of course I wouldn’t. Please just don’t take me to a bloody station. I’m sorry. Please.’ Paul Wallace knew he had to plead his case if he wasn’t going to waste his entire evening stuck in a cell, possibly not getting back to the girls that night. He might even end up on a charge of assault. Worse still, he might miss Megon. If she was here, tonight could be the night that he could find her. He’d get on his knees if he had to.