Unquiet Souls: a DI Gus McGuire case

by Mistry, Liz

  Jessie her voice trembling, nodded and said, ‘Yes, she did. Of course, I didn’t know what was going on at the time. I just thought Beth… Cathy… was ill. She looked terrible.’

  Beth leaned over, took a swig of coffee and grimaced. Gus nodded to Sadia who quickly rose and brought her a glass of water. Beth sipped, then continued.

  Gus digested the information Beth had revealed. How the hell did she cope knowing her husband was a paedophile? What strain did it put on her to continue living with him, having seen the sort of things he had done? His estimation of the woman sitting opposite increased. ‘What did the Cambridge police do next?’ asked Gus.

  Beth took a minute to compose herself before responding. ‘They set up cameras and surveillance equipment throughout our home. They hacked his computer and phone lines. They accessed his work PC and laptop. For seven months, Molly and I lived with him and pretended nothing was wrong.’ She looked down and mumbled. ‘What else could I do? I’d seen those images. I had to help stop them.’ Alex squeezed her arm and she acknowledged his support with a weak smile.

  Gus didn’t know how to respond to the anguish he saw on Beth’s face. What could you say to a mother who’d risked everything, picked herself up and started again, only to have her daughter disappear? ‘That must have been sheer hell for you, Beth,’ he said at last, knowing his words were inadequate.

  Beth snorted and placed her glass on the table. ‘Of course, when it came down to it, they were too bloody clever for the police. After all that sacrifice, and the toll it took on my health, they couldn’t catch the ringleaders. Oh, they caught many abusers and, of course, James, but the ringleaders remained unidentified. Although the ring was disbanded, I knew they’d regroup. My ex-husband warned me after I’d testified that The Matchmaker would get me. That he’d want revenge. Now he’s taking it, isn’t he?’

  As tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks, Gus’s eyes narrowed – The Matchmaker. That was the name Jankowski and Wentworth had argued about yesterday. The name of the man Jankowski was convinced was behind the attic children’s abduction. Now it was clear why Nancy had been so keen for Gus to hear Beth’s story first hand. Taking a deep breath, he kept his voice calm. ‘Nothing’s certain yet, Beth. We just don’t know enough. We don’t even know for sure that Molly’s been abducted. She could just be with friends.’

  Shaking her head furiously, she glared at him. ‘I knew. Deep down in my heart I knew when I heard about those kids in the attic on Monday. It’s him. I’m certain. Molly wouldn’t go off on her own. Don’t you understand? That bastard has taken her.’

  Feeling in his gut that she was right, Gus waited till she was calm before asking his next question. ‘You said your ex-husband warned you about The Matchmaker. Why didn’t he just identify him to the police?’

  ‘According to him, only The Matchmaker and The Facilitator knew each other personally. The rest of them were only contacted online or by phone.’ With one finger she traced a bubble of water as it trailed down her glass. ‘For all their monitoring and everything the police couldn’t seem to access anything to identify the rest of the ring.’ She looked at Gus. ‘They disappeared without trace.’

  Gus sucked in one cheek and bit it as he thought. No wonder she’d gone into witness protection. How could she feel safe otherwise? ‘What did your WP agent tell you?’

  Beth’s shoulders seemed to flop. ‘She told us to sit tight and then contacted your boss. She’s adamant there’s been no breach from their end.’

  ‘I’ll need their contact details.’

  Beth pushed a piece of paper across the table to Gus. ‘She says this is a safe number. Her name is Angelica Battacharya.’ And as Gus scrabbled in his pocket for a pen she added ‘You can keep that. I’ve got a copy of it.’

  Gus folded the paper into four using only the fingers of his left hand, like a practised roll-up maker, then slipped it into his trouser pocket. ‘If they didn’t break the WP, who do you think did?’

  Beth blew her nose and shook her head. ‘I haven’t got a clue. We’re always so careful. Jessie, Molly and I left the country for six months. You may not believe it but I was a bit of a celebrity during the trial. Ended up with the press on my back accusing me of being complicit in James’s actions. I was harangued on my way to and from court. We had to live in a safe house for months. Anyway, when the trial was over I sold my story to the highest bidder and used the money to change mine and Jessie’s appearances. Molly was a baby, so we changed all our names and disappeared. I got a degree and trained as a teacher. I’ve worked hard. We moved to Yorkshire about six years ago. No-one could have found us.’

  ‘Who knows this?’

  ‘Only us and our contact in witness protection. For God’s sake, I only told Alex the truth two years ago, just before we got married. The witness protection people checked him out first.’

  If WP were adamant they’d not breached protocol, then it stood to reason that someone from the Graves’ home had, Gus thought to himself. Was the person even aware that they’d slipped? He decided to pursue that later when he could separate the family. Maybe something would come to light then. But for now, he felt that the sooner he met with this Battacharya woman the better – get an outsider’s view of the family.

  Jessie began to sob again. Gus glanced at Sadia meaningfully and said, ‘Look Jessie, why don’t you let DC Hussain take you to your room and you can have a wee lie down. You’re exhausted and we need you to have a rest, ok?’

  If Sadia was half as good as Alice she’d take the opportunity to get Jessie’s take on things. Briefly he pondered the different reactions displayed by Jessie and Beth. Jessie seemed by far the more emotionally volatile, yet he sensed a brittleness underneath Beth’s calmer exterior.

  Wringing her hands, Jessie reluctantly followed Sadia from the room.

  Gus turned back to Beth. ‘I want you to think really hard now, ok? Has there been anything strange you’ve noticed recently? Anyone following you or anything like that.’

  The couple looked at each other, then shook their heads.

  ‘PC Owens is going to make sure someone stays outside all night. When the Family Liaison Officer arrives she will be your direct link to me. I need you to tell us immediately if you think of anything, no matter how small, that might have a bearing on Molly’s disappearance.’

  Beth and Alex looked crushed. Gus wanted to offer some solace but he felt reluctant to be too positive. ‘Look. Molly may well have just taken off. Lots of young girls her age do.’ But even as he spoke, Gus wasn’t convinced. Sometimes in this job you just knew.

  Alex’s laptop made a pinging sound at almost exactly the same time as a bell sounded in the hallway. Immediately he moved the mouse activating the screen. ‘There’s a car in the drive with a woman in the driver’s seat.’

  Gus moved behind Alex to look at the screen. ‘It’s Janine Roberts,’ he said, ‘She’s the Family Liaison Officer I was telling you about. She’s excellent. She’ll look after you.’

  Alex stood and walked over to a cupboard near the door. Inside were the controls for what Gus assumed was Four Oaks entire security system. Alex pressed a button and the gates opened.

  Minutes later Janine, small, plump and homely, entered; her afro was covered by a brightly coloured scarf. Her calming presence immediately filled the room.

  Chapter 49

  Tuesday 3:15pm, Bradford

  Alice hated schools. She’d spent too many years being shunted from one to another. Her parents had followed one scientific research grant after another, leaving Alice to uproot, re-settle and cope with the ridicule her unfortunate name elicited. Then, to top it all, was the struggle to maintain grades that wouldn’t have her parents pulling their hair out, wondering why, with their above-average brains, their daughter averaged out at no more than a B.

  This one, however, seemed less formal and smelled better than the ones she’d attended as a child. No sweat, no piss, no disgusting boiled veg. Kids these days didn’t kn
ow they had it so good. Nevertheless, she had to forcibly remove her frown and replace it with a smile. The slightly flustered acting head teacher had struggled through the snow to access the records for the building work they’d had done before Christmas.

  ‘The head teacher, Mrs Graves, is on maternity leave. She deals with buildings.’ The woman ran her fingers distractedly through her short spiky hair and opened a filing cabinet. ‘It’s in her remit, you see. I deal with staff and student absence and she deals with buildings and curriculum. Of course, Mrs Jackson, the administrator, would probably know just where it is, but she’s in Tenerife for half-term.’

  Alice smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m sure you’ll find it. Maybe under ‘buildings’ do you think?’

  Flicking through khaki folders that dangled from silver hooks, Mrs Horan nodded. ‘Yes, yes, of course. It’ll be under B. B for ‘Buildings’. That’s if she filed a hard copy. You know, nowadays, we seem to rely more and more on computers. Of course, I can’t access Beth’s computer.’ Finally, her slender fingers found the Buildings folder. She plucked it out of the cabinet. ‘Oh dear, it seems rather thin.’ As she opened it, a single sheet fluttered to the floor. Picking it up, Alice noticed that it was dated 2010. Heart sinking, she handed it back to Mrs Horan.

  ‘Looks like Mrs Graves didn’t keep paper records of the building work? Do you think she kept it in a shared file?’

  Seeming flustered, the other woman bit her lip, then moved over to the head teacher’s desk. Clearly uncomfortable sitting there, she perched in front of the computer. After a few minutes, it booted up. She typed a few words and a file opened on the screen. With a relieved smile, she said, ‘Here it is. Guttering, tiling and an additional classroom added to the annex in the science department.’ She turned the screen to Alice, who took a note of the builder’s name, address and phone number and left the relieved acting head teacher to shut up the school.

  Chapter 50

  Tuesday 3:45pm Fagley

  Jacko Dinwoodie had been a builder for nearly thirty years, following in his father’s footsteps. His office was a small and probably illegally erected lean-to attached to the side of his terraced house. Its position at the end of the row afforded him a large side-garden area denied the other houses in the street. He spent fifteen minutes moaning about the weather and the adverse effects it had on the building trade. Alice listened with impatient sympathy, realising that he was the sort of bloke that would deliberately be obstructive if he wasn’t treated with the respect he felt a man of his professional talents deserved. When he finally wound down and leaned back in his chair, tipping it precariously to balance on two legs, he sniffed, looked her up and down and then said, ‘Right what can I help you lot wi’? I don’t do owt illegal, so I’m betting you’re just gonna waste my time.’

  Smiling her friendliest smile, Alice wondered how many possible building illegalities she’d find if she looked. She said, ‘Oh, I hope not, Mr Dinwoodie.’ Leaning over conspiratorially, she added ‘you see, we really need your help to find this man and we think he may have helped you out on the job up at Carlton Wood Secondary School. Do you recognise him?’ She handed over the photo taken from Jamal’s phone. The older man studied it carefully before handing it back to her. Sniffing a glob of phlegm into his mouth, he swirled it round his mouth before swallowing it.

  Struggling not to retch, she was finally rewarded by an abrupt nod. ‘Yeah, I recognise him. He was one of the subcontractors, I reckon. Lazy sod if you ask me, but I didn’t employ him. It were probably Dougie Kaczynski that pulled him in to help with the labouring.’ He lowered his voice and winked. ‘Between you and me, lass, he probably paid him cash in hand.’

  Having retrieved Kaczynski’s contact details from Mr Dinwoodie, Alice stuffed the photo back in her pocket, thanked him and left his office, noting that it was marginally warmer outside than it had been in.

  She found Dougie Kaczynski on a building site in Fagley. The snow had done its worst and the site was a quagmire of cement-stained mud. Alice found it hard to imagine the 20 one-bedroomed homes that Kaczynski assured her would be there before the summer. In direct contrast to Jacko Dinwoodie, Dougie Kaczynski was angular and gave the impression of perpetual motion. His face was almost fleshless with sharp cheekbones and a pointy chin. From his elongated torso jutted blade-sharp shoulders and spiky elbows. Each gesture was delivered with staccato precision. His arms moved around him as he spoke – a windmill on caffeine overload. Ceaselessly he directed his men using the builder’s equivalent of semaphore.

  ‘He’s going under the name of Sid Smith, probably not his real name. He was employed cash-in-hand for the school job. Didn’t work right hard and disappeared after only a few days’ work.’ Pausing briefly, he scratched his chin and cocked his head to one side. ‘Didn’t collect his pay for the last day either, from what I remember. Not that he deserved it anyway.’

  ‘You got an address for him?’ asked Alice, doubting that any address given would be authentic.

  Kaczynski snapped his fingers. ‘You might be in luck there, you know? We picked him up near the Odeon a couple of times. And if my memory serves me, the address he gave was in that area too. Hold on, love, I’ll just get it.’

  Alice, still not completely comfortable with the Yorkshire ‘love’, bit down a retort. Gus had told her ‘love’ was used regardless of sex, but it still grated. Kaczynski returned from the makeshift office moments later, a piece of paper with a nearly indecipherable scrawl on it, in his hand. She took the grubby sheet, made sure she could read the address and thanked him. As she left, a sudden thought occurred to her. ‘Don’t all your workers need to be DBS checked if they’re working in a school?’

  Kaczynski grinned. ‘Yeah, that’s right. All of mine are.’

  ‘Even Sid Smith?’

  Kaczynski, like a magician produced a piece of paper from the bib of his dungarees. ‘Course he was. More than my life’s worth these days not to comply with the law.’ He handed over a DBS certificate with Sid Smith’s name on it. ‘The school photocopied them for their records, too.’

  ‘But you still thought he was dodgy?’ said Alice, pissed that, whilst she’d nearly forgotten to check the DBS, Kaczynski had been on the ball.

  Kaczynski shrugged. ‘Maybe. But he had the paperwork and that’s all I needed.’

  Chapter 51

  Tuesday 4pm, Ilkley

  On arrival at the Graves’s home, Compo was overcome by an acute case of bashfulness. Never before had he been in such posh surroundings, not even at his graduation ceremony. Thankfully, Gus had appeared at the door as he’d stood, chin hitting his shoes on the drive beside his bashed-up old van. He wanted to rub his sleeve over the more obvious muck and bashes, but realised that, given, the overall condition of the vehicle, he’d be fighting a losing battle. PC Owens helped him into the house with all his equipment and he was soon settled in a spacious room off the main corridor near the kitchen.

  Having glimpsed the homely disarray of the kitchen as he walked past, Compo surmised from its neatness that this room, by contrast, was rarely used. He stood in front of the table, a variety of monitors, PC towers and peripherals surrounding him. Spinning slowly on his heel, he gave a low whistle. Wow! This was posh. Every oversized chair and sofa in the room matched. Each had a liberal dotting of plush cushions in contrasting shades. The carpet was so thick he felt himself sink into it with each step he took and the wooden table was so dense he doubted it could be moved by an army. Hesitant to place any of his equipment on its shiny top, he bit his lip. Then, with a deep breath he left the room and hesitantly crossed to the kitchen. Inside, Gus was still debriefing the parents. Shifting from foot to foot, Compo hovered near the door till Beth Graves looked up with a questioning frown.

  ‘Sorry to intrude, but I wondered if you had a cloth or owt to cover the table in the other room? I don’t want to scratch it with my equipment.’

  Confusion momentarily crossed her face, then, ‘Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s
an old thing anyway.’

  Catching Gus’s grin, Compo raised an eyebrow, nodded and left the room. Bloody hell if that’s an old table, his one at home must be positively antique. Wonder if it’d be worth a bob or two?

  He called Gus and together they watched the girl press the security button to get out the pedestrian exit and turn left. Within a few yards she was out of sight.

  ‘Right, Compo. We know there’s no more CCTV footage along Dales Way Link but what about just at the access point? Is there any there? Can you maybe isolate cars that entered and or left the road in from say nineish this morning?’

  Compo swung round on his chair, plugged in his earphones and began to nod his head rapidly, his fingers flying over the keyboard faster than a granny on methamphetamine.

  Gus tapped him on the shoulder and Compo pulled one bud from his ear releasing a barrage of metallic sound that made Gus take a step back. ‘Christ, Compo, you’ll knacker your ears listening to it that loud.’ Compo shrugged. ‘Have you hooked up their landlines so we can trace any calls that come through?’

  With a smile, Compo nodded, adding, ‘And their mobiles, too, boss. Owt else?’

  Gus smiled and shook his head.

  ‘I’m going to post it all through to The Fort so I can monitor it from there rather than hanging out here. That ok?’

  Sensing the other man’s discomfort at his surroundings, Gus nodded. ‘That’s fine. The FLO’s here anyway.’

  Chapter 52

  Tuesday 4:15pm, Thornbury

  ‘I’m at this Sid Smith’s last known address in Thornbury, Gus. Singh and Dobson are meeting me here.’ Alice sat in a pool car, having elected to leave her distinctive Mini at The Fort. Looking across the road she had eyes on the front door of the grubby property just off Dick Lane. How appropriate she thought, her lips curled in distaste. ‘The builder, Kaczynski, reckons it’s a false address but we’ve got to try. It’s probably a false name, too, but they’re checking it out for me.’