Tightrope

by Andrea Frazer

  ‘Well, we’re at the hospital now. Let’s get on with the job we’re paid to do. There are nurses involved – women in uniform. You’ll like that.’

  Once inside, they headed straight for the relevant nurses’ station and were pleased to discover that those on duty now were the same staff that had been there when Lena was found to be dead. Against regulations, they gathered them together briefly and split them into two groups: those who had to be out on the wards, and those that could be at the station for now.

  Advising them that they would need them to swap positions, they tackled them both in the same way. Who had seen the doctor either entering or leaving the deceased’s room? This narrowed it down to two members of staff, and they let the rest of them get back to normal duties.

  The two who had caught a glimpse of the ‘doctor’ were taken over to a quiet corner where they could be questioned in more detail. Nurses Trafford and Green were like a well-rehearsed double act.

  ‘I only caught a quick look at him.’

  ‘Me too. The only thing I noticed was that he had red hair.’

  ‘And he wasn’t over-tall. Just sort of average height.’

  ‘Or maybe even below it, but he did have a bit of a paunch.’

  ‘And he wasn’t wearing a stethoscope round his neck.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t. And he had freckles.’

  ‘Didn’t he just. He was smothered in them. And I don’t think he had a name badge on either.’

  ‘You’re right. I didn’t see one.’

  ‘Which direction did he come from and which direction did he leave in?’ asked Lenny, happy just to shoehorn a word in.

  ‘He came through the double doors from the main corridor, but I can’t remember which way he left.’

  ‘I can. He went out of the door at the other end.’

  ‘And how did he get on to the ward? I’ve noticed that there’s a keypad so he could only have got in if he had the code.’

  ‘Easy one. He would just have hung around with a chart or something in his hands and then watched when someone else came on to the ward. Some people don’t think to shield the numbers their fingers are pressing. It’s probably easier to get on to a ward these days with the keypads than it was when people had to be vigilant and challenge any unknown person who entered the ward.’

  So much for security and technology being the answer to everyone’s prayers. Lenny held up his hands. ‘All right, where do the double doors come from, and where does the door at the end lead?’

  ‘The double doors lead from the main hospital.’

  ‘And the door at the end – oh God, it only leads to the fire escape. I didn’t even think about that, earlier.’

  ‘You’re right. He must have got clean away.’

  ‘Ladies, was there anywhere he could’ve had a syringe hidden? Quite a large syringe, I’d think.’ Lenny was getting in there while the going was good. Their shock at verbalising exactly what had happened had momentarily silenced both of them.

  ‘He could’ve had any number of syringes in the pockets of his white coat.’

  ‘Or he could’ve had them in whatever he was wearing underneath.’

  ‘Daz,’ said Lenny, in an authoritative voice to cut through the wittering. ‘Get yourself out of that end door and see if there’s any sign of a discarded medical coat, then we can go and check if anyone’s lost one this morning, or reported it stolen.’

  ‘You’ll probably have no luck with lost or stolen coats. The young doctors are always losing their coats and just grabbing any one that’s left around.’

  As Daz went towards the door to the fire escape, Nurse Green suddenly volunteered, ‘Actually, come to think of it, he wasn’t exactly young.’

  ‘You’re right,’ agreed Nurse Trafford with a frown. ‘He wasn’t exactly in the first flush of youth, was he?’

  Good God, thought Lenny, these were another two they’d have to get in to look at mug shots. Perhaps it would save time if they looked only for the red-headed ones. On the other hand, this bloke could have dyed his hair to disguise himself, knowing that people would see the colour, and not notice much else about him. And then there were the freckles. But someone wouldn’t add freckles to their complexion to change their appearance, would they? Of course they would. Unfortunately. The man could actually be as mousey and clear-skinned as the next man.

  All these thoughts went through his mind in a matter of a few seconds, and it then went blank until he saw Daz coming back on to the ward with a white coat in his hands.

  ‘Lucky I thought to wedge the door open with something,’ he said, smiling at his success, ‘Or I’d have had to come back the long way round.’

  ‘What did you use?’ Lenny had been distracted by the back-and-forthing of the two nurses.

  ‘One of my shoes. They’re slip-ons. It’s too warm for trainers at the moment.’

  ‘You do realise what you’ve got there, don’t you?’

  ‘What? A discarded white coat?’

  ‘DNA – that’s what you’ve probably got. Our first breakthrough on the identity of this mysterious redhead.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be buggered.’

  ‘Not in front of ladies, Westbrook.’

  Olivia went out to pick up Carole Shillington again. She did not want to alarm her and would confront her with none of her suspicions. She would just say that they needed to ask her a few more questions regarding the incident the previous morning and would not introduce the subject of there not even being a baby in the car until they were in the station and there was nowhere for her to run.

  Although Carole’s eyes were panicked when she found a police inspector at her door, the cover story worked well, and she was totally unsuspicious when Olivia said they’d just like to clarify a few things in a formal interview as part of the investigation process.

  Once at the station, however, Olivia showed her true colours. ‘Carole Shillington, I am arresting you for attempting to pervert the course of justice …’ taking a huge gamble on the situation. As the caution ended, Carole merely asked her what she was talking about. This woman was so far from being the sharpest knife in the box as to be more of a spoon.

  ‘I would like to inform you that we have a witness who says that there was no baby in your car when you parked in Jubilee Road, and that there never was a baby in it. The witness has stated that no abduction took place and that you have been lying to us. I shall now take you to an interview room and question you on tape.’

  Shillington denied the allegations so vehemently that, for a moment, Olivia’s certainty was shaken. What if this was just the word of a batty old lady? Then she dismissed the thought from her mind. Desai wouldn’t have taken her so seriously if he’d had any serious doubts about her mental health. Perhaps they could get her to do some sort of eye test while she was with them to prove how good her sight was. Shillington was, however, completely unshaken in her story that her daughter had been abducted, and was surprised to be led to a cell after her interview.

  ‘You are currently under arrest, and we can’t let you go until we’re satisfied that you’re telling the truth and we have to test out the reliability of this witness statement,’ Olivia explained, fingers crossed that her gut reaction was the right one. Once they had Baz Bailey in custody the truth was likely to come out, she was certain, but this woman was completely adamant in her denial at the moment.

  Ada Belcher was delivered to the station just before lunch, and treated like royalty because of her age and frailty. When she was shown into the interview room a comfortable chair was brought in for her and tea and biscuits were deferentially administered.

  As Olivia and Desai entered the room, she looked round with bird-bright eyes and a lopsided smile and said, ‘Hello, young man. We must stop meeting like this. And who is this charming lady you have brought with you?’

  Olivia smiled back at her and got down to business.

  ‘You won’t shake me in my conviction that I saw what I saw, and my eyesight�
�s as good as yours – probably better,’ she stated firmly, after they had gone through the events of the morning.

  ‘Can I just ask you something?’ enquired Olivia, quietly plotting a test for the old woman. She rose from her seat and opened the door of the room, just opposite where Mrs Belcher sat.

  ‘Ask away, gel,’ she was told.

  Pointing to the other side of the corridor, Olivia enquired, ‘Can you see that poster on the far wall?’

  ‘The one about Neighbourhood Watch or the one about Colorado beetle infestation?’ asked the feisty old dear. Olivia squinted in an effort to distinguish the two and had to give in. This old dear had really sharp eyes for her age. ‘I had me cataracts done last year and it’s left me with 20/20 vision,’ Ada declared with pride.

  ‘It certainly has, hasn’t it.’ Now, all the inspector needed was confirmation that this woman wasn’t as mad as a hatter – which she obviously wasn’t – and it strengthened her position of believing that Carole Shillington wasn’t telling the truth.

  Leo and O’Brien, meanwhile, took the town centre and its pubs on foot, armed with a photocopy of Bailey’s mugshot with the identifying information at the bottom snipped off. Due to the holiday trade, the pubs in the town were open all day, and they’d have to check them all, as well as the cafes where some of the small-time villains and generally socially dysfunctional hung out, either plotting their little scams or just shooting the breeze. They knew he didn’t work so there was little chance of pinning him down anywhere else.

  Nobody, of course, had seen him, and few admitted to being able to identify him, but they’d expected this would be the case. Anyone ‘known to the police’ or who was homeless, never admitted to knowing anyone, whoever was asking, unless there was a definite sign it wasn’t the filth, and there was money involved.

  There was only so much orange juice a man could drink, so they were glad to finally stumble across him in The Bridge Café, where they had called in to use the facilities. Bailey might not have met them before, but he recognised immediately what they were and, without a second thought, tried to make a break for it out of the back exit.

  They were ready for him, however, and grabbed him, at which point he committed that unforgiveable sin of trying to resist arrest. ‘We only wanted to bring you in for a chat, so why the attempt to run?’ asked Leo, as he clicked on handcuffs, then administered the formula. ‘I am arresting you for –’

  ‘Yes, bloody why? I haven’t done nuffink.’

  ‘Resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law in the rightful pursuit of his duties. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  ‘All right, all right, you’ve got me. So, why were you so anxious to talk to me?’

  ‘We’d like to talk about the disappearance of your daughter from your girlfriend’s car.’ This was O’Brien, who was nursing a bruised chin from the aforementioned resistance.

  Leo finally fastened the handcuffs but, before they could leave, O’Brien turned to Leo and asked, ‘Could you hang on to him for a second while I nip into the Gents? I’m busting.’

  ‘Sure. And perhaps you could do the same for me when you come out. I’m filled to capacity as well.’

  O’Brien went into the urinals shaking his head at the formality of Leo’s phrasing. All he’d needed to say was that he needed a slash too.

  Back at the station, they booked Bailey into one of its luxury accommodations for one, en suite facilities included, and then went back to let DI Hardy know that they’d brought in their man.

  ‘Well done, both of you. O’Brien, that looks sore. What did you do? Walk into a suspect’s fist?’

  ‘Something like that. What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Me? I’m off for some lunch, and I rather hope that my sergeant will join me in a little repast. Lauren? Lauren!’

  ‘What, boss?’

  ‘I was saying that I’m going to leave Bailey stewing for a bit and that I’m off for a bite of lunch for which you might join me?’

  ‘What? Lunch? Yeah, OK. Fine, whatever. Where are we going?’

  ‘Just to the canteen. Is that all right?’

  ‘I’m easy.’ For some reason, Lauren turned as red as a sunset with which a shepherd would have been absolutely delighted, and reached down for her handbag.

  When they’d been served and were seated, Olivia held her fork above her food and asked, ‘What the hell is wrong with you today? You’ve not been right since you arrived.’ Lauren merely forked food, untasted, into her mouth and kept her eyes on her plate. ‘Come on, tell me. Maybe I can help.’

  ‘You can’t,’ she mumbled, not even swallowing before she answered, and went back to shovelling food.

  ‘Is it Kenneth? Has he been hassling you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is it the kids? Is there a problem at school?’

  ‘No.’ Lauren’s plate was nearly empty, whereas Olivia had hardly eaten a bite of her steak and kidney pie and chips.

  ‘Well, is it that woman who looks after them for you after school and in holidays?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Whatever is it then? Not money?’

  Lauren put down her knife and fork and shouted, ‘Why don’t you mind your own damned business and I’ll mind mine?’ This outburst drew eyes from all the other diners, and it was Olivia’s turn to blush.

  ‘Look, I didn’t mean to pry. I’ll back off. But, if you ever feel you want to talk about it, whatever it is, you know you can trust me. I’ll be waiting.’

  ‘I just bet you will.’ Lauren was filled with a rage that was partly inspired by guilt.

  ‘Is it your health?’ Olivia gave it one last shot.

  With a hiss of ‘Leave it!’ Lauren stalked out of the canteen, leaving Olivia to finish her lunch in puzzled silence. She might as well eat, as Hal was unlikely to be back on time to cook this evening.

  Later, the atmosphere across the desk was prickly to say the least, and when Leo asked the DI when she planned to speak to Bailey, she nearly chewed off his face.

  ‘I’ll question him when I’m good and ready and not before: and certainly not on your say so, Constable. Get on with whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing and let me do my job in peace.’

  After this uncalled-for outburst, the whole office was on tenterhooks.

  At last, she couldn’t put it off any longer, and looked across at Lauren’s set face across the desk. ‘Come on, Sergeant. We ought to question this suspect. We’ve no real grounds for holding him overnight, and I don’t want Devenish down on my back again about mistreating a detainee.’

  She phoned down to get Bailey put into interview room three and Lauren rose to her feet in silence. Neither had recovered her good mood, and they walked downstairs in silence.

  The subject of the interview had a face that matched theirs for stoniness and, as soon as they had entered and turned on the tape recorder, he wasted no time in declaring, ‘I haven’t done nuffink. You can’t charge me with anyfink, because I haven’t done nuffink.’

  After the statutory declaration about date, time and those present, Olivia started the questioning. ‘What did you do with baby Stacey?’ she asked baldly.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. The kid was took. That’s nuffink to do with me.’

  ‘She wasn’t taken from the car. We have a witness who’s willing to make a statement to that effect. What did you do with her, Mr Bailey?’

  ‘I didn’t do nuffink with the kid. I didn’t have nuffink to do with it. Ask Carole. She was its mother, and she done all the looking after. I just do me best to get enough to pay the rent, the lecky and feed us.’

  ‘What did you do with the baby, Mr Bailey?’

  ‘Look, how many times do I have to tell you, I ain’t done nuffink.’

  ‘We have a witness who had a good view of your car when it was par
ked in Jubilee Road, and she is willing to swear that there was no baby in the car. What do you have to say to that?’

  ‘I’ve told yer. I ain’t done nuffink.’

  ‘Did you hurt Stacey, Mr Bailey?’

  ‘No comment.’

  Damn, thought Olivia. He’d finally clicked that this was the normal response to questions from the police. She’d have to check his record to see how many times he’d been arrested and charged, and exactly what with. It had slipped her mind earlier, because she was so concerned with Lauren’s uncharacteristically hostile behaviour, and she needed to know exactly what he had on record. It would have a bearing on how they questioned him.

  ‘Interview suspended at …’ Leaving the room, she asked Lauren to check out his previous, and stalked off to see if Shuttleworth was back. He would be at her disposal now, and she wanted to make sure that when he had returned, Buller hadn’t ripped him to shreds.

  With a cruel smile, she asked if Bailey could be returned to his cell for a while. If nothing else that would shake him up a bit more.

  Lauren discovered that Bailey had never been involved in violence before. His record was mainly for petty theft with a smidgen of breaking and entering and a bit of possessing puff. It was nothing big time, and Olivia reluctantly returned him to the interview room to ask him about his previous crimes and just get more of a feel for him.

  Everything she asked him was answered with the standard ‘No comment’ and after a while she began to feel that she would never get any further with him unless they found Stacey. Had she been stolen by a bereaved mother? How could she be so ridiculous? Desai had come up with a credible witness – or was the old dear actually gaga? Had the baby been killed by one of her parents? Hardy had absolutely no evidence whatsoever to back up this latter conjecture.

  Reluctantly, she had the man released, and regretted it only half an hour later.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After Olivia had grabbed a quick coffee to gather her thoughts and get the taste out of her mouth of having interviewed a congenital liar, she returned to her desk to find the phone ringing, and Lauren just ignoring it. Grabbing the handset, she gave her partner a slightly sour look only to find that they had a development in the case involving the alleged abduction of the six-week-old baby.