The Eyes of the Accused: A dark disturbing mystery thriller (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 2)

by Mark Tilbury

  Ben laughed. ‘You could be right there.’

  ‘Talking of soppy women, where’s mother?’

  ‘Aunt Mary’s. Coffee morning.’

  ‘Coffee morning, my eye. Gossiping about me, more like.’

  Ben smiled. Perhaps he needed to take a subtler approach concerning work matters. ‘About Maddie—’

  ‘The answer’s still no.’

  ‘Please. Just hear me out.’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t like her. She seems a very capable young lady. But her place is at the church, lighting candles and doing Mass.’

  ‘She’s not Catholic. It’s a Pentecostal church.’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  Ben didn’t want to get drawn into a discussion about faith. Especially with an agnostic like his father. ‘She’s not religious. She only helps out because it’s her father’s church.’

  ‘And what will her father do if she comes to work for Whittle Investigations?’

  ‘I told you: he’s got Rhonda and Bubba.’

  ‘Bubba’s mute. As I recall, that lunatic Ebb cut out his tongue.’

  ‘Tom’s teaching him sign language.’

  ‘Useful for making the sign of the cross, then?’

  ‘That’s not funny.’

  Geoff looked away. ‘I meant nothing by it. Bubba’s a good man.’

  After an awkward silence, Ben tried once again to argue Maddie’s case. ‘She really wants to work with us. She wants to do something useful, not just mark time at the church.’

  ‘Are you sweet on her?’

  Ben felt a blush creep onto his neck. ‘No.’

  ‘You fight her corner like someone who is.’

  ‘I like her, that’s all. She’s a good person.’

  ‘She’s put a glow on your chops.’

  Ben felt the blush turn radioactive. ‘Think what you like. She’s just a friend.’

  ‘No one gets that het up for a friend.’

  ‘I’m het up because you’re so damned rude.’

  ‘But you don’t need a partner.’

  ‘We’d work well together.’

  ‘I managed well enough on my own until Ebb and his cronies got hold of me.’

  ‘It might not have happened if you’d had a partner,’ Ben suggested. ‘Someone to watch your back.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have made a scrap of difference. There isn’t a damn thing you can do when some crazy sod has a gun. Not unless you’ve got one yourself, and we don’t want to go down that route, do we? It’ll only make the criminals more inclined to carry weapons. That’s why they don’t arm the police; and as an ex-copper, I reckon they’ve got the balance just about right.’

  ‘They do arm the police. What about that Brazilian bloke they shot on the railway station the other year?’

  ‘That was the Armed Response Unit. That’s something different altogether.’

  ‘Still murdered an innocent man.’

  ‘They were convinced he was a terrorist.’

  Ben thought it was a good idea that they didn’t arm the regular police if that’s what the so-called experts were capable of. ‘And that makes it all right?’

  ‘Don’t judge what you don’t do. Those guys have a split second to make a decision. Sometimes they get it wrong just like everybody else.’

  The phone rang on the desk. Geoff plucked it from its cradle. ‘Whittle Investigations. How may I help you?’

  Ben watched his father nod, tut and sympathise with the person on the other end of the line as he scribbled details onto a notepad.

  Geoff put the phone down and leaned back in his wheelchair. He stared at the ceiling.

  ‘Well?’

  Geoff ignored him.

  ‘Is it a new case?’

  ‘Some girl’s gone missing. That was her mother. But she must have got the wrong number.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She thought this was a private investigation business.’

  Ben was momentarily confused. ‘It is.’

  ‘Really? And how are we meant to investigate without any investigators?’

  ‘Now you’re being childish.’

  ‘Not from where I’m standing. Or sitting, to be exact. As I recall, you said you didn’t want to work for me anymore.’

  Ben tried not to rise to the bait. ‘So what did she say?’

  Geoff looked at the notepad. ‘Hannah Heath. Twenty-five years old. Went missing about four months ago when she was sixteen weeks pregnant. Living with her fiancé. About to get married. Left work one day and just vanished.’

  ‘Does she have any idea what might have happened?’

  ‘It hardly matters, does it?’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘We’re not going to be working the case.’

  Ben walked out of the office. He felt like slamming the door. Shaking the walls and rattling the windows. Sending shock-waves right into the old man’s brain. Instead, he closed it gently behind him.

  Maddie was waiting in the hallway. ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘All this fuss.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. It’s him; he’s like a bloody kid.’

  ‘I ought to go home. It’s youth club tonight. I think I’d be more appreciated there.’

  Ben’s heart dropped into a muddy puddle. ‘Ignore him. He could try the patience of Mother Teresa – and she’s dead.’

  Maddie smiled. A tired smile that slipped away like the sun behind a rain cloud. ‘It is your dad’s business. It’s up to him who he employs.’

  ‘No, it’s not. Maybe before Penghilly’s Farm, but not anymore. He needs me. Needs both of us. He’s just rattling his sabre and trying to lay down the law.’

  ‘So what do we do? We can’t force him to change his mind.’

  ‘We don’t have to. He’s just had a call about a missing girl. He’ll come round when he realises the potential earnings.’

  ‘A missing girl?’

  Ben told her the rather sketchy details.

  ‘She must be just about ready to give birth by now.’

  ‘If she’s still alive.’

  The office door opened and Geoff manoeuvred his wheelchair into the hallway. ‘If you’re interested, the mother lives out at Wheatfield Close. Number fourteen.’

  ‘And Maddie?’

  ‘I won’t stop her if she wants to go along for the ride.’

  ‘Is she getting paid?’

  ‘She can have half of your salary if you want to share.’

  ‘Maddie’s on the same pay as me.’

  ‘For God’s sake! You’ll bankrupt us before you’re finished.’

  Ben wasn’t backing down. If he did, it would set a precedent for any future negotiations. ‘We’ve got the insurance money. And the cash Emily Hunt’s dad gave us for rescuing his daughter from Penghilly’s Farm.’

  ‘And we haven’t worked since Penghilly’s Farm, either. Money vanishes quicker than a liar’s promise.’

  ‘So the sooner we get going, the better.’

  Geoff seemed to consider this. ‘She can work on an hourly rate of five pounds an hour. She’s not on a salary. And I want detailed time-sheets.’

  Ben looked at his father and imagined vinegar running through his veins. ‘That’s slave labour.’

  ‘It’s all right by me,’ Maddie said. ‘I don’t even get paid at the church.’

  Ben thought his father would have fared well in a Charles Dickens novel. ‘It’s not all right. There is such a thing as the minimum wage in this country. It’s to stop tyrants exploiting workers.’

  Geoff didn’t seem too concerned with fairness. ‘Take it or leave it.’

  ‘I’ll take it,’ Maddie said.

  Geoff grinned. ‘Good. That’s that settled. So what are you waiting for? Monica Heath. Wheatfield Close. I called her back and told her you’d be there in half an hour.’

  Maddie touched Ben’s arm. ‘Come on. Let’s go and see her.’

  ‘And make sure yo
u drill down into any family disputes and suchlike,’ Geoff said. ‘Nine times out of ten, these things turn out to be the result of a family squabble.’

  Ben was well aware of the effects of family squabbles.

  ‘Get the boyfriend’s address and speak to him as soon as possible. From my experience, he wouldn’t be the first lover to do away with a partner.’

  Ben wondered if his mother had ever had such thoughts. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’ll give Andy at Oxford nick a bell. See what the cops know.’

  Not very much, considering she’s still missing, Ben thought.

  ‘And make sure you write down everything the woman tells you.’

  Ben walked to the front door and grabbed his parka from a hat and coat stand. ‘Come on, Maddie. We don’t want to waste any of the company’s precious time.’

  Chapter Three

  Monica Heath opened the door before Ben had a chance to ring the bell. She looked as if she’d parted company with sleep a long time ago. Grief had drawn dark circles beneath her eyes. Her grey hair was pulled back from her face and secured in a loose ponytail. ‘Ben?’

  Ben held out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ He introduced Maddie.

  Monica led them along a narrow hallway and into a small living room. She offered them a seat on a worn green leather sofa. She stood in front of them like a waitress not too sure of her job. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to help?’

  ‘We’ll try,’ Ben promised. ‘You told my father Hannah went missing four months ago? Could you give me the exact date?’

  ‘August 4th. Friday. She called me at lunchtime. That’s the last time… I… ever… heard… from… her.’ The last few words were stapled together with sobs.

  Ben took out his notebook and wrote down the date. ‘What did she say?’

  Monica sniffed and dabbed her nose with a tissue. ‘She told me she had tummy pains. I told her to go home if she wasn’t well.’

  ‘How did she respond?’ Maddie asked.

  ‘She said the care manager would kick up a fuss if she went off sick. They were already two staff short. I told her the most important thing was the baby. Bugger Connie Sykes.’

  Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘Connie Sykes?’

  ‘The care manager.’

  ‘Where does Hannah work?’ Maddie asked.

  ‘Sunnyside Nursing Home. She’s a care assistant. – a bloody good one, too. She’s always had a caring nature. She’s been there since she left school. She didn’t sit her A-levels – she’s not particularly academic. That’s not to say she didn’t try, but she’s more of a practical girl.’

  Ben asked where Sunnyside was.

  ‘Tadmarsh.’

  Ben knew it. A small village about six miles out of Feelham.

  ‘Apart from the tummy ache, how did Hannah seem?’

  Monica shrugged. ‘Her usual self, really. Excited about the wedding. Excited about the baby. Fed up with work.’

  Ben licked the tip of his pencil. ‘Fed up? Why?’

  ‘Nothing, as such. It was just getting to be a bit of a chore, what with the morning sickness and stuff.’

  ‘Does Hannah drive?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Yes. She passed her test at seventeen. First time.’

  Ben opened his notebook again. ‘Is her car missing?’

  ‘No. Robert was using it for work the day she went missing.’

  ‘Robert?’

  ‘Her fiancé.’

  ‘So how did she get to work?’

  ‘She got a lift with Seb Smith. They were on the same shift.’

  ‘But she didn’t get a lift home with him?’

  ‘No. Connie said she let her leave about an hour before the end of her shift.’

  Ben wondered why Hannah hadn’t just waited until the end of the shift and got a lift home. Especially if she was in pain. ‘What time did her shift end?’

  ‘Eight.’

  ‘Do you know this Seb Smith?’

  Monica nodded. ‘He’s lovely. Hannah was a bridesmaid when Seb and Kim got married last year. Kim’s Hannah’s best friend.’

  ‘Does Kim work at Sunnyside?’

  ‘No. She’s a hairdresser. She was going to do Hannah’s hair for the wedding.’

  Ben chewed the end of his pencil for a moment. And then: ‘Hannah didn’t phone you for a lift?’

  ‘I don’t drive.’

  ‘So the last person to see her before she went missing was this care manager, Connie Sykes?’

  ‘Yes. Sour old cow reckons she can’t hold Hannah’s job open indefinitely.’

  ‘So much for compassion,’ Maddie said.

  Ben didn’t want to get drawn on protocol. ‘When was Hannah due to get married?’

  ‘August nineteenth.’

  ‘Did she ever mention anything at all that gave you cause for concern?’ Ben asked. ‘Either at work or at home?’

  ‘No. My daughter was happy. She had no enemies. No major worries. I can honestly say I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about her.’

  People hide things, Ben thought. Especially from parents. ‘Are you close to your daughter?’

  ‘As close as close can be.’

  ‘What about the police?’ Maddie asked. ‘Have they given any indication of—’

  ‘The police don’t give a toss. They keep saying they’re doing their best and that she’ll probably turn up. Really? So where is she, then? Hiding in the linen closet?’

  Ben looked around the sparsely furnished room. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight. Just a few cards lining the windowsill. He wanted to reassure this poor woman. Put a tiny spark of hope in her eyes, but no adequate words would come.

  ‘If my Hannah was the daughter of a politician or a celebrity, they’d have searched the rivers and the fields and all sorts by now. No one seems to care about ordinary folk.’

  ‘We do,’ Maddie said. ‘I promise you.’

  Monica plucked a tissue from the sleeve of her jumper and dabbed her eyes. ‘Do you? Do you really?’

  Maddie nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s more than I can say about her father. I called him the day after she went missing. Do you know what he said?’

  Ben didn’t.

  ‘Let the police deal with it.’

  ‘You say you called him the day after she went missing,’ Maddie said. ‘I take it he doesn’t live with you, then?’

  ‘No. He lives in Australia. Buggered off when Hannah was three. Couldn’t handle the responsibility of having a wife and a child to support. He thought life was just a playground set up to suit him. Once it got serious, he was off. And good riddance to him.’

  ‘Does he ever visit?’ Ben asked. ‘Have any kind of contact?’

  Monica shook her head. ‘Birthday cards and Christmas cards. Token cheque stuffed inside. He severed his ties with us. Vic’s Hannah’s dad now.’

  ‘Vic?’

  ‘I remarried four years after His Lordship buggered off. A good man. A proper father. Someone I can trust. Someone who deserves to walk Hannah up the aisle.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Maddie said.

  ‘Except the wedding never happened, did it? And my daughter has vanished off the face of the earth.’

  Ben closed his notebook. ‘I’m sure—’

  ‘How old are you, love?’

  ‘Twenty-two.

  She asked Maddie.

  ‘Just turned twenty-one.’

  ‘Hannah’s twenty-five. It only seems like five minutes ago she was making all the usual plans teenage girls make. She wanted to be an actress. She joined the Feelham Players when she was fourteen. Got a part in a Christmas production of Jack and the Beanstalk. Well, she was the back end of the cow, but as she always said, “everybody’s got to start somewhere”.’

  ‘Is she still a member of the Feelham Players?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Yes. She used to go evenings and weekends, work permitting. Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away. She wasn’t in the Christmas production this year, wha
t with the baby being due in January, so she was just helping out with the costumes and scenery.’

  ‘That sounds so cool,’ Maddie said. ‘I wish I could act.’

  ‘She’s good, too,’ Monica said. ‘Even though I’m bound to say it because I’m her mum, she is. Even Robert thinks she’s good.’

  ‘How long has Hannah been living with Robert?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Nearly two years. I wasn’t too sure about them moving in together at first. Thought it might have been nice to wait until they were married. Just me clinging onto my little girl, I suppose. But they seemed really happy. No big bust ups. No running home to me with a suitcase. Robert’s a really nice mature young man. It’s as if they were meant to be together.’

  Ben glanced sideways at Maddie and felt something squeeze his heart. ‘Could I have the address?’

  ‘96, Heritage Road. That’s here in Feelham.’

  ‘Have you got a recent photo?’

  Monica walked over to a mahogany sideboard. She took an album from a drawer and leafed through it. She took out a photo and handed it to Ben. ‘The police have still got the most recent one of her, but this was taken at Easter.’

  Ben studied the girl grinning at the camera. Her long dark hair was brushed back from her face and secured with a bright yellow headband. She had a pleasant warm face, with a distinctive gap between her front teeth. She was pretty in an unassuming way. ‘Is it all right if we borrow it?’

  ‘Yes. But please look after it.’

  Ben promised he would, and placed the photo in the middle of his notebook. He put the notebook in his parka pocket.

  ‘How much will all this cost?’ Monica asked. ‘We’re not exactly rolling in money.’

  ‘We charge forty-five pounds an hour for searches,’ Ben said. ‘That includes time and equipment and miscellaneous costs.’

  Monica looked doubtful. ‘That could run into thousands?’

  Ben opted to quote his father: ‘You’re at liberty to stop the investigation whenever you want and receive a complete and comprehensive report.’

  ‘I’ll ring her father. It’s about time he put his hand in his pocket.’

  ‘There won’t be any charge for today,’ Ben said. ‘Consultations are free. We only charge when you instruct us to go ahead.’

  ‘I’ve got a bit put by in the bank. Enough to get going. After that, His Lordship can pay.’