“They were being obstreperous, MacFadyen?”
“I wasn’t allowed to see Ruby Grummett until her husband arrived. I suppose that was fair enough, given her precarious state of mind. When Bob Grummett arrived he was clearly furious that I was there. He said he’d forbidden anyone to speak to her about the accident without a solicitor present. I told him I was there to tell them that Philippa had disappeared. This came as a bolt out of the blue – I’m certain he wasn’t pretending – but he seemed to be shocked for the wrong reasons, as if the girl’s disappearance would get him into trouble in some way.”
“How could you know that?”
“I don’t know it, sir, it’s just a feeling. That’s how it struck me.”
“I thought the same thing when I spoke to him later,” said Tim.
“OK, Yates, do you want to tell us the rest of the story now?”
“There’s just one other thing,” said Ricky. “I asked to see the other daughter – Kayleigh. Bob had already told me that Philippa wouldn’t have tried to contact her mother and now he said he was certain she wouldn’t contact Kayleigh. I thought this was very odd.”
“Extremely odd. What did you think, Yates?”
Tim decided he wouldn’t tell Superintendent Thornton that Ricky had allowed Bob Grummett to forewarn Ruby about Philippa’s disappearance. As Juliet had said, Ricky hadn’t had much choice and Tim didn’t want to provoke Thornton’s ire. It would be bound to make him go off at a tangent.
“By the time I spoke to them, the whole family had gathered. Kayleigh Grummett was there as well as her uncle and aunt, Ivan Grummett and his wife Elsie. I didn’t get any more out of them about Philippa than he did. I’d agree with him, though, that they seemed to be concerned about something other than her welfare. And that was before we told them about the infant remains.”
“I’d almost forgotten about those. We’re here to focus on the kidnappings, but just briefly, Yates, do you think the dead baby is connected with them?”
“We can’t prove a link at the moment. The baby’s skeleton was found in one of the Grummetts’ outbuildings, but they’re saying it must have been there since before their tenancy. We can’t confirm this either way, yet: Ms Gardner has sent the bones and the other materials she found with the child to Forensics for testing. My guess is that there may be some connection, but not directly related to the kidnappings. The bones were almost certainly found after Philippa Grummett left the Cushing house.”
“And did we get any further with sifting through the Grummetts’ possessions?”
“Not yet, sir. Both DC Carstairs and DC MacFadyen have been busy with more pressing matters today, as you know.”
“Yes. Well make it a priority now, will you? Sort out something after this meeting. I think there’s just MacFadyen’s account of his visit to Boston High School left for us to listen to now.”
“There’s not much to tell. Everyone at the school was extremely co-operative – more so, from what I’ve just heard, than at Spalding High School. Both Philippa Grummett’s form teacher and her headteacher seemed to be genuinely concerned. They said they’d do everything we asked. They had no inkling there was anything upsetting her: rather the reverse. They thought she preferred staying with the Cushings to being at home. Talking of people knowing each other, the headteacher said he knew DI Yates. His name’s Alex Cooper.”
“Oh?” said Tim. “That’s where he went, then. I said to PC Tandy earlier this week that I didn’t know he’d left Spalding High School. I’m surprised he’s gone to Boston, though: it strikes me as a bit of a sideways move.”
“He said he didn’t see eye to eye with the governors, sir.”
“We might like to find out a bit more about that, when we have time.”
“Yes,” said Superintendent Thornton, fixing Tim with his eye. “But that isn’t now. My instructions are as follows: MacFadyen, I want you to make a start on working through the Grummetts’ stuff. Chakrabati can come with you. Carstairs, I’m going to call Spalding High School to tell them to go ahead with the netball event. After that, I want you to visit the school with Tandy and find out who’s going to be there tomorrow, as far as they know, and, if you can, who’s going to be at the Bricklayers’ meeting. And I’d like you to contact Ms Greaves to ask her what she knows about them. Yates, make sure that all the roadblocks will be manned all night and supervise the door-to-door enquiries we’ve started. Continue until about 8 p.m. We’ll start them again tomorrow. Armstrong, you can help Yates.”
The other officers began to leave. Juliet caught Tim’s eye.
“There’s just one more thing, sir,” he said, when only the three of them were left. “I know we have to focus on the missing girls at the moment, but you asked me to find out more about the woman in a coma who was taken to the Pilgrim Hospital earlier today.”
“As you say, we have other priorities. But was there anything?”
“Not a great deal, except that she’s very ill – she may not pull through – and she’s been kept in conditions of extreme privation for a very long time. Imprisoned, probably.”
“Good Lord! But she’s safe for now, isn’t she? So we can get on with . . .”
“She’s safe as far as we know. It might be wise to put a police guard on her ward. But what I wanted to remind you of, even if you don’t have time to bother with his genealogy, was that the person who took her to the Johnson Hospital this morning was Matthew Start, the son of Councillor Start.”
Superintendent Thornton looked thoughtful.
“Councillor Start seems to keep on cropping up all over the place. And I know you feel the same way about coincidences as I do, Yates. By all means put a watch on the sick woman. And get on to Start as soon as you can. Not this evening, though. We have to focus on getting those girls back alive.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Wearily, Tim and Juliet climbed the stairs that led to their office space. Directing operations from a desk was just the kind of work that Tim hated. He realised he had no cause for complaint, particularly as the Superintendent had now put him at the centre of the search operation, but he was champing at the bit. He wanted to involve himself in something more hands-on. He thought he might carry out some door-to-door enquiries himself later, though he knew Thornton wanted him to stay in the office to provide co-ordination and support. He sighed and looked at his watch. It was almost 6 p.m.
“It’s going to be a long night,” he said to Juliet. “I’d better give Katrin a quick call before we get started.”
“Do you want me to leave you to it for a couple of minutes?” she asked, glancing up at him. He noticed with some curiosity that, although she’d switched on her computer, she’d actually started riffling through the cold case file again.
“God, no. I doubt we’ll be exchanging intimacies.” He managed a brief grin. “I’m much more likely to get an earful. But I’m sure you won’t be embarrassed if you overhear.” He moved a few yards away from his desk and was just in the act of speed-dialling his home telephone number with his back to Juliet when he heard her draw in her breath sharply. He cancelled the call.
“You OK?” he asked.
“Yes. But look at this!” She held out a sheet of paper. Clipped to the top of it Tim saw the photograph of the missing Finnish au pair they’d shown to Verity Tandy a few days earlier.
“What are you looking at that for? We need to . . .”
“Look at the name!”
Tim moved closer so that he could read where her finger pointed. “Helena Nurmi. Rings no bells. Should it?”
“Not the surname. But the mother whose daughter Matthew Start took to Spalding Community Hospital signed the girl’s name as Ariadne Helen and her own name as Lucy Helen.”
“Weird, I know – we agreed on that. But how . . .? Oh, I see what you mean.” Tim whistled. “Matthew Start was the last person who saw Helena
Nurmi before she went missing, wasn’t he? And now he turns up with someone who calls both herself and her daughter Helen. Why not Helena, though?”
“I don’t know. A clumsy attempt at a covert SOS message in case Start read what she’d written?”
“Could be. We’ll need to speak to him this evening now. I’ll go and find Thornton.”
“As it happens, I’m right here, Yates. I’ve brought you these schedules. What was it you wanted?”
Tim jumped like a schoolboy caught in the act. When he’d recovered, he explained briefly.
“All right, Yates, I agree that what Armstrong’s just found may put a different complexion on matters. But only because there’s now a somewhat stronger case to fear the mother of that girl is being held by Start against her will. I still think your story’s far-fetched. If he’s been holding that woman for the past twenty odd years, where has he been keeping her? And I understand that he’s married,” the Superintendent concluded sagely, as if that exonerated Matthew Start from suspicion. “But you’ve sown the seed of doubt in my mind. You may go and speak to him. But no histrionics with warrants etcetera, unless you’re convinced – and I mean, absolutely convinced – that he’s guilty. I don’t want you barking up the wrong tree, chasing red herrings,” he finished, mixing metaphors magisterially. “You’d better take Armstrong with you. She can pacify the wife.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“And come back here when you’ve finished. And, Yates, it’s Superintendent Thornton to you.”
Chapter Forty-Five
IT WOULD HAVE been pitch black as Tim drove his ageing BMW down Blue Gowt Lane if the fog hadn’t returned, enveloping the whole landscape in smoky grey. It sprang out of the night like a spectre, hurling itself against the windscreen in flurries that alarmed him both by their intensity and the sudden obliteration of visibility they brought. Suddenly Tim saw a blurred shape dashing across the road, close to the car but still at the outer reaches of his vision. He stamped hard on the brake. Juliet lurched forward before springing back against her head restraint, mercifully held by her seat-belt.
Tim’s speed had been around fifteen miles an hour. Now he stopped the car completely.
“Are you OK?”
She nodded. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. Some creature I didn’t recognise. I’d have said it was a sheep or a large dog, but it moved more like a wild animal. It was probably a deer.”
“I didn’t know there were deer round here.” Juliet thought of the folk tale about the witch who had turned into a wolf that she’d heard at Fenland Folklore and shuddered.
“I believe so,” said Tim absent-mindedly, starting up the engine again. “They’ve enjoyed a come-back. I think there’s even some local group protecting them.” The fog had begun flinging itself at the windscreen again.
“I think you’ve just passed the Starts’ house,” said Juliet. “There’s a wall back there that looked very like the one on the Streetview picture.”
“Fuck,” said Tim. “If you’re right, I’m going to have to turn round. I should have used this before. I did key in the address.” He tapped his sat-nav. It took a while to prime itself. Then the chirpy Joan Baker voice instructed him to ‘turn around when possible’.
“Can you see out of your side window?”
“Yes. There’s a dyke there. A deep one.”
“All the dykes in this area are deep. We don’t want to end up in one. I’m going to drive very slowly. Can you keep a look-out for a bridge over the dyke, or a farmyard?”
Juliet pressed her face against the glass, shielding her forehead with one hand.
“There’s a kind of plank bridge alongside us now.”
Tim stopped the car.
“How wide is it?”
“Tractor width, I’d guess.”
“OK. Get out and direct me, will you? I need to reverse on to it. It’ll be safer than doing a three-point turn.”
Juliet climbed out of the car, taking a torch from the glove pocket, and went to inspect the bridge. The small areas she could illuminate in the circle of white light thrown by the torch looked slimy, possibly rotten, but when she kicked at the side of the one nearest to her it seemed solid enough.
Tim opened the driver’s door and half-stood to poke out his head.
“What are you doing?”
“Just making sure this will take the weight. I think it’s OK. If you want to drive forward now and start to reverse, I’ll bang on the side panel if I think you’re too far over.”
Tim got back into the car and reversed carefully on to the makeshift bridge, Juliet guiding him. He’d just swung the car round completely and was waiting for her to get back into it when a large shape came running from the road ahead of them and disappeared into the murk, in the direction of Matthew Start’s house. Juliet clambered into the car quickly and shut the door.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know. A big dog, probably.”
“Was it the creature we saw earlier?”
“Could have been. I don’t know.”
“This place gives me the creeps. It reminds me of when I was bitten by the rat.”
“I’m not surprised, but let’s get on, anyway. I doubt if many cars come this way on a winter evening. I don’t want Matthew Start to be too prepared for us when we reach him.”
They drove the few hundred yards back up the road in silence. Matthew Start’s house stood back from the road, on the other side of the dyke. It was accessed via a sturdier and more elaborate bridge than the one they’d just used, and surrounded by a high wall.
Tim parked at the side of the road. He and Juliet walked across the bridge, huddling into their jackets. It was bitterly cold. A tall and solid double gate opposed them.
“I’ll bet this is locked,” said Tim, eyeing the small silver intercom box built into one of the gateposts. “If so, we’ll have to take our chance with the buzzer. Wait a minute, though, there’s a pedestrian gate in the wall here, too.”
He turned the black wrought-iron ring set into the smaller gate. The latch lifted and he was able to push it open. Through the swirling fog, he and Juliet caught glimpses of the house, still some distance away. A cacophony of barking erupted as they walked up the double sweep drive towards it.
“Dogs!” said Juliet.
“They can’t be on the loose,” Tim reassured her. “Otherwise they’d have been up here with us by now. Curious that the drive has a double sweep – there must be another gate and bridge over the dyke further back the way we came.”
“I don’t think there is. From what I saw on Google Earth, on that side it turns round the house in a kind of ‘S’ shape. There’s another building at the back of the house. Quite a substantial structure, from the photograph.”
“Nothing dodgy about that. I assume someone like Matthew Start understands the rules of planning permission,” said Tim drily. They’d reached the front door of the house, which was protected by a porch and illuminated by a replica Victorian street lamp. The door was rather pretentious, a heavyweight white-painted portal with a massive central brass doorknob and flanked by two imitation Doric pillars. Tim could find no doorbell, but, looking up, he saw a large brass knocker set high above the doorknob. He had to stretch up his arm to reach it. He knocked twice, noting that a dim light was glowing through the small glass window above the door.
There was no response. Tim waited for a minute or so and rapped the knocker again. Listening carefully, he thought he could hear footsteps approaching.
The door opened. The woman who opened it was standing well back in the shadows of the hallway. Moving to one side of Tim, Juliet could see it was Veronica Start.
Tim took out his identity card and held it out.
“Mrs Start? I’m DI Yates, South Lincolnshire police. I think you know DC Armstrong. We’d like to
have a few words with your husband. Is he at home?”
“I . . . No, no he isn’t, I’m afraid.”
“Could you tell us how long he’s likely to be out? We’d like to call back this evening, if possible.”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think I can help you any further.” Slowly she began to close the door.
Juliet stepped forward, putting her hand lightly against the edge of the door to halt its progress.
“Veronica?” she said. “Your husband isn’t in trouble, as far as we know, but we have to speak to him about the young woman he took to the Johnson Hospital this morning. She’s very seriously ill and he may be able to provide additional information that could save her life.”
The door opened again. Juliet was now closer than Tim to Veronica Start and registered the shocked look on her face.
“Young woman? I know nothing of a young woman. Why was Matthew involved?” Her voice was hoarse and she spoke so quietly that Tim had to strain to hear her words.
“He didn’t talk to you about it? He took a young woman and her mother to the Johnson Hospital early this morning. He said the woman’s mother was an old friend who had called on him for help. We believe the mother’s name is Helen. Perhaps you know her?”
Veronica Start shook her head.
“Matthew knows many people that I don’t know. It’s the nature of his work.”
“Mrs Start, would you mind telling us where you were between about 6.30 a.m. and 7.30 a.m. this morning?”
“I was here, of course, getting ready for work.”
“You’re a teacher, I believe? At the High School?”
“Yes. I leave here at about 7.40. I usually arrive at school just after 8 a.m., which gives me time to do a bit of preparation before my first lesson.”
The Crossing Page 22
