by Roberta Kray
‘Two Specials,’ the girl said. ‘And any more drinks?’
Harry, seeing that his glass was now almost empty, had a change of heart and ordered another Scotch. He wasn’t driving so where was the harm? He had the feeling that Jess might have thrown him an inquiring glance – he deliberately didn’t meet her gaze – but that might just have been his imagination.
After the waitress had left, Jess poured out her beer and took a sip. Then she made a longer more leisurely scrutiny of the room. Harry watched as her eyes slowly travelled over the bare cream walls, the formica-topped tables and the rather worn blue lino. Really, it was more of a licensed café than a restaurant. As if she guessed at his reason for inviting her here, a flicker of amusement passed across her face. Eventually, she looked at him again. ‘So how’s it going?’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Much as it was the last time I saw you.’
‘That good, huh?’
‘I’ve spent the past couple of days in the office. No news of Agnes, nothing on Al.’ He lifted his shoulders and shrugged. ‘All quiet on the Western Front.’ What he didn’t mention, and had no intention of mentioning, were the three hours he’d spent in Berry Square yesterday. He’d walked round in the afternoon hoping to see Ellen again but she hadn’t been in. He should have left straight away but hadn’t. Instead, like a pathetic stalker, he’d hung around, patrolling the perimeter until the cold and a growing sense of hopelessness had finally driven him home.
‘So really,’ she said, ‘when you called and talked about catching up, what you actually meant was catching up on my news.’
He smiled. ‘By which I take it that you do have some news.’
‘I might,’ she said. Lifting the glass to her lips, she drank some more beer. ‘I had another chat with Scott Hall today.’ She paused and looked around, even taking the precaution of glancing over her shoulder. All the surrounding tables were occupied but no one was taking any notice of them. Still she lowered her voice. ‘He remembers The Starlight – you know, the club where Sharon Harper told me that she used to work? It was in Soho. It doesn’t exist any more but turns out that it was owned by … guess who?’
Harry shook his head.
Jess leaned across the table. ‘Jimmy Keppell!’ she whispered triumphantly. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit of a coincidence?’
Harry didn’t. From his experience what most people called coincidence could usually be explained by the numerous laws of chance and probability. ‘But Keppell owned a lot of clubs in his time; through the years there must have been thousands of girls passing through them. If Sharon was moving in that circle, their paths were likely to cross at some point. It’s a tentative connection at best.’
Undeterred, Jess smiled back at him. ‘I think it’s pretty interesting.’
The food arrived, two large steaming bowls along with hefty chunks of bread on a side plate. The restaurant was over three-quarters full now with a pleasant background hum of conversation. For the next few minutes they dug into the stew.
‘This is good,’ Jess said.
‘You say that as if you’re surprised.’
She glanced up at him. ‘Okay, I’ll come clean. It did cross my mind when I first walked in that this could be some kind of subtle punishment for allowing your car to be trashed the other night. I mean, I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover but at first sight this place doesn’t look that enticing.’
Harry put his fork down and laughed. ‘It’s nice to know you’ve got such a high opinion of me. And, incredible as it may seem, I don’t entirely blame you for what happened. Granted, had I been behind the wheel, my reactions would have been a little faster but it’s hardly your fault that you’re burdened with the unfortunate DNA of the careful female driver.’
Jess gave a snort. ‘Yeah, right. I only took my time because I was concerned about your panic threshold. You looked kind of pale when that car smashed into the back of us.’
‘I do have that tendency when faced with imminent death,’ Harry grinned. ‘So did Scott have anything more to add?’
Jess nodded while she chewed. ‘Yes, he was very helpful. He’s been going through his old files, looking at the original case again. Joan Sewell’s husband, Freddie, was something of a rabble-rouser by all accounts. He was a printer, big on the trade union front, but it was all a long time ago; he died before Grace was even born. Their son, Francis, was in trouble a few times too. He was cautioned over several incidents, mainly to do with “inappropriate behaviour”, but he was never charged with anything.’
‘Inappropriate?’ Harry asked.
Jess lifted her shoulders. ‘Seems that some local parents thought he was over-friendly with their kids. They didn’t like him hanging around. His mental age at fifteen was about the same as their seven-or eight-year-olds but physically he was much bigger and stronger.’
Harry thought about it. ‘So how does any of this tally with your theory about Sharon and Jimmy Keppell?’
‘It doesn’t,’ she said. ‘It’s just another avenue.’
Harry finished off his stew and then drank down the rest of his Scotch. He glanced over his shoulder and caught the eye of the waitress. She came straight over. ‘Same again,’ he said, handing her his glass. He looked at Jess. ‘Would you like another beer?’
She shook her head. ‘Just a coffee, thanks.’
After the waitress had left, there was a lull in the conversation. Pushing his empty bowl aside, Harry gazed out through the window. There was a house opposite, its windows decorated with tiny flashing lantern lights. He stared out for a while, watching them flick on and off.
‘So have you got any plans for Christmas?’ Jess said.
‘Not really.’ It didn’t seem likely that he’d be spending it with Val this year – or with Val’s parents. He turned back towards her. ‘How about you? You got family?’
‘You could say that,’ she murmured, raising her eyes to the ceiling. ‘My parents are divorced but they’ve both married again – my mother three times, my father twice. They’re rather fond of the institution of marriage, just not so good at sticking to those old wedding vows.’
‘Hope springs eternal.’
‘Something like that. Mum’s set up home in California, soaking up the sun with hubbie number four. My dad’s in the Shetlands, living on a self-sufficient happy-clappy farm where they all play guitar and think they’re Joni Mitchell.’
Harry laughed. ‘What, even the guys?’
Jess grinned at him. ‘Hey, there’s no discrimination on the happy hippy farm.’
‘You got brothers or sisters?’
Jess’s smile got wider. ‘You’re not going to believe me when I tell you this.’ She left a short dramatic pause before holding up the backs of her hands, folding the thumb inside the left one. ‘Nine,’ she declared with an amused widening of her eyes. ‘Six half-sisters and three half-brothers plus a varied selection of step-siblings – and please don’t ask me who belongs to whom. I lost the drift years ago.’
‘Wow,’ Harry said. ‘That’s some collection. You close to them all?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. I mean we get on okay but we live in different places, even different countries for the most part. I don’t see much of them.’
The Scotch and the coffee arrived. Harry swirled his glass, listening to the chink of the ice cubes, while he thought about what she’d just told him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have such an extended family.
‘And you?’ she said.
‘Only child.’
‘Lucky you.’
Harry’s phone started to ring. ‘Sorry,’ he said, reaching into his pocket. He glanced at the screen; it was a number unknown. ‘Hello.’
There was no response. He could hear the faint sound of music in the background.
‘Hello?’ He held the phone closer to his ear. Now he could hear breathing too, a series of rapid shallow breaths, as if the caller had been running or was scared or … H
is first thought was of the missing Ukrainian girl. ‘Agnes? Is that you?’
Jess, who had been staring out of the window, immediately turned to look at him again.
‘It’s me,’ a distant tiny voice quavered.
Harry recognized the voice as young and female but that was about the limit of it. ‘Agnes?’ he said again.
There was a series of gulps from the other end of the line as if whoever was there was trying not to cry.
‘It’s okay,’ Harry said. ‘Take your time. I’m still here.’
‘It’s me,’ the girl eventually murmured again. ‘It’s Maddie.’
Harry tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. He wasn’t even aware that Maddie Green had his number but then remembered that time she had made him call her mobile in the office. ‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’ he said gently.
‘I’m at Zane’s. There’s a party. I don’t … I …’
‘What’s happened? Can you tell me what’s wrong?’
There was another gulp and then a sniffle. ‘I don’t feel well. I’ve been sick and—’
‘What’s the address?’ Harry said quickly. He could hear the beeps going, an indication that her battery was running low. They could be cut off at any second.
‘I’m in Chingford,’ she said.
‘Do you know the name of the street?’
‘Er …’ There was a long pause while she thought about it.
‘Maddie?’
‘R-Rexley … Rexley Drive,’ she finally managed to stammer out.
‘Okay. You stay there. Don’t wander off. I’ll be with you soon.’
Harry was standing up even as he put the phone away. From his wallet he pulled out a few notes to pay the bill.
‘Problem?’ Jess said, getting to her feet too.
Harry nodded. ‘So much for a quiet Friday night. I don’t suppose you fancy a drive out to Chingford?’
Chapter Forty-Six
Harry hadn’t got the number of the house but, in the event, it didn’t matter. The place was easy enough to find, the loud reverberating music providing a good enough clue for even the most dim-witted of detectives. He was surprised the neighbours weren’t complaining, but then again, complaining about anything the Keppells did tended to have unpleasant repercussions.
Jess swung the car through the gateway and headed up the short gravel drive. The house was detached, a modern two-storey whitewashed building with a large obtrusive satellite dish attached to the front. Despite the cold there were a few kids standing around outside, swigging beer from cans and smoking cigarettes.
Harry got out and approached them. ‘I’m looking for Maddie Green. Have any of you seen her?’
Perhaps suspecting he was a disgruntled father out to spoil his daughter’s fun, they stared suspiciously back at him. ‘Nah,’ one of them said eventually. ‘Don’t know her.’
‘About this tall,’ Harry said, indicating with his hand, ‘slim, long brown hair, grey eyes.’ He paused, realizing that the description could probably apply to any number of females. ‘She’s a friend of Zane’s.’
‘Everyone here’s a friend of Zane’s,’ the same boy replied. He was tall and blond and the victim of some over-prissy hairstyling. He had his arm around an exceptionally pretty girl in a short white dress and was clearly trying to impress her. ‘This is his fucking party, man.’
The rest of the group gave a collective snigger.
Harry glared at them, his patience beginning to wear thin. He didn’t have time for this. It was almost half an hour since Maddie had called and she hadn’t been sounding too good then.
Jess, sensing his frustration, quickly stepped in. ‘So where would we find Zane?’ she said calmly.
The boy gave her a crude assessing look as if toying with the idea of another smart-arse comment but then, thinking better of it, simply gestured with his head towards the house. ‘Where do you think?’
‘Well, thanks for your help,’ Harry said tartly. Walking past, he stepped through the open front door and gazed around. The place was heaving, a crush of teenage bodies overflowing from the rooms and filling up the hall. They were all, he noticed, in their mid-to-late teens, a good few years older than Maddie. The music, this close, was almost deafening. He could feel his ears start to ring.
Jess said something but he couldn’t hear.
He screwed up his eyes and frowned at her. ‘What?’
‘I’ll take upstairs,’ she repeated loudly, ‘if you want to check down here.’
‘Okay,’ he nodded, but then as soon as she started to move away he took hold of her arm. ‘Hang on,’ he said. Something had just occurred to him that, if he hadn’t drunk quite so much Scotch, might have struck him earlier. He turned back towards the door.
‘What are you doing?’ Jess said.
He didn’t answer. Instead, hovering in the porch, he stood and stared at the group they had just been talking to. He watched them for a few seconds, listening to their laughter, before stepping out on to the drive again.
‘Zane!’ he suddenly called out.
Instantly the blond boy turned his head. It was a reaction so immediate, so instinctive, that there was no doubt as to who he was. Harry sprinted towards him.
The boy, not letting anything as outdated as chivalry stand in the way of self-protection, swiftly pulled his girlfriend in front of him. Sheltered by her body, his arms around her, he raised his face and laughed.
‘Where is she?’ Harry snarled. ‘Where’s Maddie?’
‘Who?’
Harry wanted to grab a handful of those over-coiffured locks, lift the cocky shit up off the ground and punch the truth out of him. Unfortunately the girl was standing between them. ‘Tell me where she is!’
‘No idea,’ Zane said.
Harry took another step forward and stared down into his face. Bullying teenagers wasn’t his favoured pastime but he was prepared to make an exception for this piece of slime. ‘Well then, find her,’ he demanded. ‘This is your house. It shouldn’t be too hard.’
‘Find her yourself,’ he sneered.
Jess gently touched Harry’s arm. ‘Come on,’ she murmured. ‘This isn’t helping.’
Zane grinned up at him. ‘You should listen to the little lady.’
Harry stared back at him for a few long hard seconds and then took out his phone. He pressed a few buttons and held it to his ear. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Yes, put me through to the police, please.’
‘Hey,’ the girl said smartly. ‘There’s no need for that.’ She pointed towards a path that ran round to the back of the house. ‘She was in the garden. I think she’s still there.’
Zane glared down at her. ‘Shut your mouth!’
Pulling away from him, the girl glowered. ‘What’s the big deal, hotshot? Would you rather have the cops crawling all over the place?’
Harry didn’t wait to hear the end of the argument. He quickly headed off along the path with Jess following behind. The garden was shadowy with a wide tree-lined lawn but there was a thin light escaping from the open back door. He saw her straight away. Slumped on the wet grass, close to the wall, she had her head down between her knees. The first thing Harry noticed was the jagged rip running up the side of her T-shirt and his stomach turned over. Christ!
He knelt down beside her and gently touched her shoulder. She was shivering. ‘Maddie?’
She stirred but didn’t look up. Her face was still shielded by the curtain of long brown hair. She stank of vomit and booze and there was also the faint but distinctive whiff of cannabis.
‘It’s Harry,’ he said. ‘Are you all right? Maddie, will you look at me.’
Eventually, she raised her head. A pair of tearful grey eyes blinked back at him. Her make-up was smeared and her nose was running. She was like a little frightened kid. But then, of course, that’s exactly what she was – a child dressed up in adult clothing. Harry took off his jacket and placed it protectively around her shoulders. He tried to keep his tone calm and steady
. ‘Maddie, can you tell me what happened?’
Her lower lip trembled. She shook her head, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
He glanced up at Jess. ‘I’d better call Lorna.’
‘No!’ Maddie wailed, suddenly finding her voice. ‘Please don’t ring Mum. Please don’t tell her. She’ll kill me. I’m not supposed to be here.’
‘But—’
‘Please,’ she pleaded again. She grabbed hold of Harry’s wrist as if to prevent him from getting out his phone. Her long red nails dug into his skin. ‘I just … I … She was the one who started it all, that girl, that Cass.’ The tears were starting to flow now, a steady stream running down her face. ‘Zane invited me. I’m supposed to be his girlfriend and then she comes along and …’
Jess hunkered down on the ground beside them. Opening her bag, she got out a tissue and pushed it into Maddie’s hand. ‘Here,’ she said briskly. ‘Wipe your face with this, blow your nose and then tell us what happened.’
Harry glared at her – this was hardly a sympathetic approach – but surprisingly Maddie responded to the rather stern demand. Almost immediately she let go of his wrist, stopped crying and did what she was told.
Jess waited before placing her hands softly on Maddie’s bare arms. She gazed into her eyes. ‘We’re worried about you,’ she said. ‘We just want to know that you haven’t been hurt.’
‘Hurt?’ Maddie repeated dully.
‘Your T-shirt’s torn,’ Jess said.
Maddie glanced down as if she hadn’t realized. ‘Oh.’
‘How did it get ripped?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are you sure that someone hasn’t hurt you? Did Zane—’
‘Jess!’ Harry said, warningly. If she had been assaulted they needed to be careful. It was important they didn’t put words into her mouth.
Maddie suddenly lurched forward, burying her face in Jess’s shoulder. ‘He wouldn’t even talk to me,’ she cried. ‘He completely ignored me and she said I should go home. She said I wasn’t wanted here.’
‘It’s okay,’ Jess said to Harry. ‘I think she’s just had a bit too much to drink.’
