Snow Kills

by RC Bridgestock

‘Hello?’ she said, hesitantly.

  ‘Detective Inspector Jack Dylan, I’m the man in charge of the Kayleigh Harwood enquiry. I’ve been told you want to speak to me?’

  ‘To be honest I was in two minds whether I should ring. I think I know who the two boys are that you are appealing for.’

  ‘You do? Who am I speaking to?’

  ‘Yes, but I need you to promise me that no one will know it was me that told you.’

  ‘I can assure you of absolute confidentiality Mrs...?’

  There was silence.

  ‘There’s nothing at the moment to suggest that these two have done anything wrong. We just know that they were in the area at the time... But we would very much like to speak to them Mrs..?’

  ‘You can say that now, but you see it all the time in the papers, don’t you? People get called a Grass and others make their lives hell. I couldn’t cope with that. No. I can’t. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I wish I hadn’t rung.’

  All was quiet but the caller hadn’t hung up.

  ‘No,’ Dylan said as he stared out of the window. He saw DI Turner, head bowed, strolling across the yard with his hands in his trouser pockets. He swivelled his chair back to face his desk. ‘You’ve done the right thing. We desperately need people like you to come forward. Without calls like yours we may never get to the truth.’

  The caller appeared to be hanging on hesitantly, but she was still silent.

  ‘Please...’

  ‘If these lads were drinking under age, would they be in trouble and have to go to court?’ she said. ‘No, let me assure you that they wouldn’t go to court. That’s not the purpose of our investigation. We are trying to trace a missing girl. Not, I repeat not under aged drinkers. You obviously know who the lads are, are you related?’

  ‘I won’t protect either of them if they’ve done anything wrong. I’m a mother...’

  ‘So, do you want to tell me who you are? Who they are? Or do you want someone to come and see you? I can arrange for my officers to come to your home address or meet you elsewhere?’

  ‘I’ll tell you, but promise me,’ she begged. ‘Promise me, I won’t have to go to Court as a witness because I don’t want anyone to know it was me who told on them.’

  ‘I promise you, you won’t have to go to Court and no one will ever know from me it was you who told us. Now...’

  ‘One of them may have been my son... You see I overheard him on the phone talking.’

  ‘Your son’s name?’

  ‘Ryan, Ryan Merryfield. He’s never been in trouble before, Mr Dylan. Ryan’s a good kid but he’s always been easily led and I’m worried he’s getting in with the wrong crowd.’

  ‘You understand that we are going to have to speak to Ryan, don’t you?’ There was further silence.

  ‘What will you say?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘We’ll tell him that we believe that he is one of the people we have been appealing for, and ask him what he can tell us about the night in question. Is that okay?’

  ‘Yes. You won’t lock him up, will you?’

  ‘No, I can assure you that he won’t be locked up. We just want to know if he was there, who he was with, and what he saw.’

  ‘When will you be coming round tomorrow? I’m off work tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Does Ryan go to school,? Work?’

  ‘No, I’m hoping this might make him think twice about the people he is hanging around with.’

  Dylan picked up his pen. ‘Your name and address, Mrs...?’

  ‘Number five, Wainhouse Road and my name is Mrs Merryfield. Mary Merryfield.’

  ‘Thank you for the call. I know it’s not an easy thing to do, but it is appreciated. I’ll arrange for two of my officers to come round and have a chat with Ryan.’

  ‘I’ve put my trust in you, Mr Dylan. Please don’t let me down.’

  ‘I won’t – and thank you for calling me. You’ve done the right thing.’

  Dylan had a fire in his eyes, Lisa the office girl noted as he walked out of his office. ‘Vicky?’ he called as he scanned the office.

  ‘Still at the Regan house,’ she said.

  ‘What about Ned and Andy?’

  ‘Same, do you want me to get hold of her?’

  ‘No, I’ll do it,’ he said as he turned and swiftly walked back into his own office with long strides. ‘I’d love a brew though,’ he shouted over his shoulder.

  Lisa smiled and shook her head in mock surprise. Dressed, as always, in black, her long black hair fell about her young, thin face.

  ‘Vicky,’ Dylan’s voice rose as the answering message bleeped at the start of its recording. ‘There’ve been some interesting developments this end. We’ll have a scrum down tomorrow morning to review where we are and what our priorities have to be. See you first thing, unless you need me in the meantime. I’ll be on my mobile.’ He hung up. His phone rang, it was Vicky.

  ‘Sorry boss, just missed you. Sounds interesting. There’s nothing new here. This moron gets weirder and weirder. He isn’t talking to us any more, so we’re getting on with the search. Ned wants to kick seven bells out of him – but don’t worry, Andy’s got him under control.’

  Lisa walked in and placed a mug of coffee on Dylan’s desk as he put down the receiver. ‘You look all in’.

  ‘Do I?’ he said. ‘Cheers for the coffee. You on a twelve, eight shift?’

  She nodded and pulled a face.

  ‘Why don’t you get off? I’m going in a minute and the team won’t be back for ages.’

  ‘I might just do that,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

  Dylan sat back in his traditional old leather office chair. He felt glad that he hadn’t let Beaky throw it out when she’d refurbished. The CID office was empty. He sighed and picked up his phone and telephoned Jen. His head was banging and his stomach was rumbling. ‘I’m setting off now so I can bath my little girl.’

  ‘You’ve missed it, and if you want to see her before she goes to bed you better get your skates on. It is nearly seven o’clock.’

  Dylan looked at his watch. ‘So it is. Blimey! I thought it was six.’

  ‘Guess it’s been quiet there then?’

  Dylan laughed half-heartedly. ‘Far from it, but what I haven’t got done today can wait – tomorrow‘s another day isn’t it? I might get a call from the search team, but that should be all.’

  He heard Max bark and Maisy, obviously startled by the sudden noise, let out a long, low wail. ‘Tired?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said.

  Maisy was drifting to sleep in her cot when he looked in on her. The lights were low; her night light shone stars on her ceiling and played a lullaby. She was biting her teething ring like a horse chomping on its bit. Her left cheek was bright red and looked angry.

  ‘It might be a restless night,’ Jen whispered as she took the teething ring away and wiped her mouth with a tissue. The baby started to cry. Dylan watched her expertly massage teething gel onto Maisy’s gums. Her eyes were puffy with crying but she stopped as suddenly as she’d begun, and she sucked eagerly at Jen’s finger. Sobbing pitifully, she gradually calmed down. She could hardly keep her little eyes open.

  ‘I understand you know, don’t worry,’ he said, stroking his hand gently across Jen’s shoulder blades.

  ‘I wish you did,’ said Jen, her eyes filled with tears as she turned to look up at him. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Shh... I know,’ he said, pulling her down to the settee. Sitting alongside his wife he put his arm protectively around her shoulders. ‘I will try to get home earlier and take some of the pressure off you, when it quietens down, I promise.’

  ‘You don’t understand, it’s...’

  ‘Course, I understand. It might be good for you to get back to work – but not yet, eh?’

  Jen shook her head silently as a lump rose in her throat. Tears ran down her cheeks. ‘But...’

  ‘Not now,’ he said, stroking her leg. ‘Yo
u look all in.’

  The night was a long one and Jen walked the floor with Maisy tossing and turning in her arms. Her restlessness echoing Jen’s inner turmoil, ‘Why, Oh why had Shaun called her? After all this time, what on earth did he expect her to say? Didn’t he realise how much he’d hurt her? Why would she have left the family that meant everything to her, if she hadn’t been able to live with the thought that he didn’t want to be with her any more? What did he want from her? She had no intention of seeing him and she’d told him so in no uncertain terms before slamming the phone down.

  Just when she thought Maisy was going to settle, Jen’s arm cramped and the movement made her stir. Jen held her breath. Her daughter was feverish. ‘Please,’ she said, putting Maisy over her shoulder and laying back on the sofa, ‘please go to sleep, shh..’

  At 6.30 the alarm went off and woke Dylan, who looked over at his wife, the baby was sound asleep across her chest, on the settee in their bedroom.

  ‘It can’t be morning already,’ Jen groaned, croakily.

  Dylan reached out to grab hold of the alarm clock.

  ‘Tell me it isn’t time to get up,’ she said, sleepily. Dylan sat up straight, stretched his arms overhead and interlocked his fingers, turning the palms to the ceiling. He yawned loudly and his jaw clicked.

  ‘Jack...shhh...’ she said in a hushed tone. ‘You’re not going in yet are you? I thought we were going to talk?’

  ‘Tonight?’ he said, stumbling over the shoes that he’d discarded at the foot of the bed. He switched the light on and turned the dimmer switch. Maisy stirred once more. Jen closed her eyes.

  ‘Don’t... you dare wake her,’ she whispered through clenched teeth. She got up with trepidation and lay Maisy down in her cot, in the nursery. The infant remained asleep and she patted her soothingly to make sure. Jen licked her dry lips. She had to talk to Jack now. She had to explain, tell him just who DI Turner was, because Shaun obviously hadn’t mentioned it. ‘Why not go in a bit later?’ she said flopping back down on the settee as he sat down beside her pulling up his socks. She watched him tie his shoe laces, her head in her hands, her fingers grasping her hair.

  ‘You know I can’t,’ he said, impatiently. ‘We’ve got a lot on.’

  She sighed. ‘I guess I better go and make a brew,’ she said, making a huge effort to get to her feet. She bent over him, put her hand on the nape of his bare neck and kissed the top of his head.

  ‘Do you remember once upon a time when we used to do breakfast together?’ he said, as he watched her walk out of the bedroom door.

  ‘Yes,’ she said stopping for a moment and looking over her shoulder at him. ‘I do, and it seems like a lifetime ago,’ she said sadly. Her eyes felt gritty. A glance in the hallway mirror as she stepped over Max’s prone body showed a pale face with dark circles under her eyes. Max moaned and rolled over on his back for her to stroke his belly. She smiled at him. ‘It’s alright for you mate,’ she said, bending down to pay him some attention. ‘You want some breakfast too?’ she whispered and Max ambled to his feet and padded after her into the kitchen. He knew the word ‘breakfast’ meant food. ‘What’re we going to do, old fella?’ she sighed, putting his dish down on the floor and ruffling the hair behind his ears lovingly.

  ‘Do about what?’ Dylan startled Jen by coming up behind her as she stood looking dreamily out of the window as she filled the kettle at the kitchen sink ‘Ooh! Don’t do that. You nearly made me jump out of my skin.’

  ‘Guilty conscience?’ he said with a chuckle.

  ‘No. What made you say that?’ she said.

  Dylan put his arms around her. ‘Why don’t you go back to bed?’ he said. She shook her head and smiled weakly, handing him a banana, apple, and a bag of sandwiches she’d made last night.

  ‘Worth a try,’ he said with a smile. ‘Thanks.’ He put her offerings in his overstuffed briefcase. ‘I used to get little notes too.’

  She handed him a steaming mug of coffee. ‘Well, you’ll just have to do with the food today. See you later,’ she said, standing on tiptoes to kiss him on his cheek. She strolled down the hallway and slowly climbed up the stairs. Her legs were like lead and her heart was heavier. The sooner DI Shaun Turner went back from whence he came, the better.

  ‘Bye love,’ Dylan called out.

  ‘Jack, don’t let the door...’ she started and closed her eyes for the inevitable.

  The door slammed shut behind him. Jen cringed and held her breath. Max looked up at her quizzically from the bottom of the stairs. Maisy screamed.

  It was turned half seven and Dylan was sat in traffic on the ring road when a police car whizzed past, followed by an ambulance. He stopped at the traffic lights to let them pass, even though they were at green. Others tried to nip out in front of him but Dylan knew the urgency of that call and what the noise of the sirens getting nearer would mean to someone in trouble.

  Chapter 22

  ‘Substantive Detective Sergeant John Benjamin. It’s great, to see you back, mate,’ Dylan said loudly and with heartfelt enthusiasm. ‘What’s with the new haircut?’ he called over the CID office to his colleague. The team looked up from what they were doing and stared at John.

  ‘Nits going round the school, boss,’ he said, scratching his head. ‘I asked Luigi for a number one for me and Josh,’ he laughed. ‘Maria and Laura weren’t too keen. Haven’t the faintest idea why not?’

  ‘Guess I’ve got that pleasure to come,’ Dylan said, wrinkling his nose. ‘When I was a kid they used to shave patches of hair off our heads and made us sit at the front of the class if we had head lice. Wouldn’t happen these days would it? There would be a hue and cry.’

  ‘Doesn’t Nitty Nora still do the rounds?’ said Vicky.

  John nodded. ‘Yeah, think so.’

  ‘We used to queue up for hours in the hall waiting to see the old battleaxe.’

  ‘I can still smell that coal tar soap,’ said Andy.

  ‘My mum used to have us bending over a sheet of brown paper as she combed our hair with a nit comb after our bath on a Sunday,’ said Ned.

  ‘Jeez, you only had a bath once a week? Suppose it was in a tin bath in front of the coal fire,’ said Vicky.

  ‘Hey lady, we were lucky if we got a bath at all in them days. I had two older brothers and two younger sisters, so invariably I didn’t get a bath, more of a top and toe,’ Dylan said.

  ‘Go on. And I suppose you hid from the rent man and only ate what fell off the back of a lorry? My dad’s poor tale is of how they lived off tins of pineapple rings for a whole week.’

  ‘Actually... never mind,’ he said.

  Lisa walked in with a tray full of mugs of coffee and a plate of warm toast lathered with pork dripping. The smell always reminded Dylan of his childhood. Everyone turned to look in her direction with expectation. ‘What?’ she said, her face flushing a bright shade of red.

  ‘Grab a chair and put your feet up love. The boss was just telling us a story,’ said Vicky.

  ‘The boss wasn’t,’ Dylan said. ‘Get me the updates. I want a meeting in five,’ he said, opening his door and switching on his office light.

  Dylan sat at the head of the group of desks in the middle of the CID office ten minutes later. Some of the team had to perch on desks, some on stools, others leaned on the corner of filing cabinets. Everyone was quiet. Dylan opened his mouth to talk and his mobile rang.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said.

  ‘Sergeant Hornby, boss. Just to update you regarding Longbottom. Because of what Sharon Manning is saying in her statement, we’ve updated his arrest status to attempt rape, as well as indecent assault.’

  ‘Rightly so, I was talking to DI Farren yesterday, Is he talking?’

  ‘No, he was a right twat in the first interview. He said the usual, you know, he’d done nothing wrong. He’s sticking to his story about going for a tattoo when we stopped him. So we put it to him that he didn’t have any money on him when he was arrested, so how was he going to pay?
As expected he ‘no replied’. We asked him if he had an appointment so we could check out his alibi but he said he hadn’t made an appointment. Then he said he wasn’t feeling well. So we had no choice but to stop the interview.’

  Dylan tutted and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘The doc’s been out since, given him a couple of Paracetamols and says he’s fit for interview.’

  ‘Good. What’s his custody time clock looking like? It must be twenty four hours since we locked him up.’

  ‘Whoever came up with the bright idea that you can only keep suspects in custody for twenty four hours before you’ve got to charge or release, eh?’

  ‘Obviously someone who’s never interviewed a suspect for a crime,’ said Dylan.

  ‘We’ve had to get the Superintendent’s twelve hour extension.’

  ‘Who’s his solicitor?’

  ‘Err... it’s someone from Perfect and Best.’

  Dylan put his hands up to his forehead. ‘There’s no show without Punch is there?’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Do you know who from Perfect and Best?’

  ‘I think it’s Lin Perfect. I saw Yvonne heading for the Magistrates’ court.’

  ‘Okay, keep me posted. I want him ultimately charging with attempted rape. Any problems with the Crown Prosecution Service looking to water down the charge to an indecent assault, let me know immediately. This guy’s dangerous. We need to keep him off the streets. Let me know when you’ve finished the next interview. Obviously we need to go for a remand, but CID need to speak to him regarding Kayleigh Harwood’s disappearance like I said.’

  ‘No problem boss, I’ll be in touch.’

  Dylan replaced the receiver.

  ‘No show without punch?’ said Vicky, scratching her head with the top of her pen.

  ‘You mean you’ve never heard that saying before?’ he said. The team looked on, each one shaking their heads.

  ‘You must have seen the Punch and Judy shows?’

  His audience nodded collectively.

  ‘God, I can’t believe you lot have never heard that saying. My granddad used to say it to us kids all the time.’