“Duh, where’s Molly?”
There was a loaded silence. Eddie glanced back towards the door as if the absence of his sister had only just occurred to him. “Well…” He shook his head. “Well, I don’t know, do I? Stupid bint. We know she was here though.”
“How do we know she was here?” The baby was stirring and beginning to grizzle. Gary jiggled him up and down awkwardly.
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? She must have been here to dump her baby on the doorstep. She’s a selfish cow, isn’t she? She’s dumped him here and gone off. She’ll be with some gobshite boyfriend and he’s a pain to her now, so she’s left him for other people to look after.”
“No. You never saw her with him. She loves the very bones of him. She might have been a bit of a divvy in the past but once she had this little lad she changed. He hasn’t been easy, a lot of crying and not sleeping but she’s lovely with him. Mam complained about him, but Molly never did; she just got on with it. No way would she leave him.”
“Absolutely bloody typical.” Eddie rooted in the carton, shifting aside the towel laid in the bottom.
“What’s that?” Gary pointed at his brother’s clenched fist.
“It’s nothing, just a bit of rubbish. She’s dumped him like so much garbage in a litter box, don’t you see. She’s just the same as she always was, spoiled and selfish.”
“No. Look, I’m going to change him, and we need to sort something for a bottle for him for when he wakens up properly. Molly was feeding him herself, you know?” He made a vague motion sweeping his hand back and forth across his chest. “But I think she had some baby milk for when he wouldn’t sleep, top-up she called it.”
“Oh, aren’t you the proper little mother?”
“Eddie, don’t. We need to look after Jakey and then we need to tell that copper what’s happened. This scares me.”
“How do you mean, it ‘scares you’?” Eddie made his voice mocking and high pitched. He waggled his fingers in the air. “Jakey’s back, and he’s alright.”
“It scares me because the only thing that would make Molly leave her kid would be if she had no choice. The only reason she would have no choice would be if someone made her do it. So, where is she and who has made her do this? Or who else has done it because she can’t anymore. It scares me because I think Molly must be in real trouble. She hasn’t just gone away off her own bat. I reckon she’s been taken. It was already on the cards, let’s be honest, and this proves it.” Gary buried his head in the bundle of baby and blanket as he lost the battle against tears of fear and panic.
“I reckon I knew it all the time, when they said about the hotel in Southport and the bloke in the car. Why after all this time?” he murmured. “I thought they’d leave us alone. I thought with Dada gone and all the years past they’d leave us alone.”
“You stupid sod. This has nothing to do with Dada,” Eddie said.
“How do you mean?”
“All of that stuff is well in the past. All those people, they’re either dead or so old they can’t even stand up, never mind go round murdering people. This is nothing to do with Dada. You have to understand. We’re not the Ryan family, not Padraig’s kids from Dublin. We’re just the McCardles from Wavertree.”
“Well, what then? What else could it be about? We’ve never done anything else, just kept our heads down, not made waves. How could it be something else?” Gary paused. “What do you know, Eddie?” He stared across the room. “Shit, Eddie, what have you done?”
Chapter 48
Jordan had bitten off the question he wanted to ask. It was too harsh. He had been on the verge of demanding to know whether the baby was still alive. The words would have sounded cruel, and they would know soon enough.
“Nothing about Molly, though?” Terry Denn asked.
“No, just said the baby was back and in a box.”
“Eeuw, that doesn’t sound good, does it?”
“Let’s not speculate, eh?”
As he spoke, Jordan had a mental image of his own little boy. What would he do if anything ever happened to Harry? It would finish him. Okay, the McCardle baby didn’t have a full-time dad but he was loved. That had been clear from the start. The family had suffered for years because of decisions taken far beyond their control and yet they were still being made to pay for things they had nothing to do with. And Molly – what of the young woman? Despite his terse comment to the DC sitting beside him, Jordan’s mind was racing with possibilities.
He headed back the way they had come, through the town centre and out onto the coast road, but the time for enjoying the driving had passed. He turned towards the Formby Bypass and onto Dunnings Bridge Road, down the M57 to the Tarbock roundabout with its confusing lanes. A huge articulated lorry joining from the Knowsley Expressway blared a horn at him as he swerved in front of it to head onto the slip road for the M62. He was aware of Terry beside him flipping the bird at the driver. Not very professional, and he realised belatedly that he could have turned on the integral blue lights in the pool car. But it was over, and he weaved his way into the outside lane.
“Ring through for a paramedic. No matter what, we should have the baby checked over,” he told Terry. Then a moment later, “Get me Vivienne Bailey.”
“SOCO, boss?”
“Yes, but make sure it’s Viv if at all possible. This child could effectively be a crime scene and I don’t want to waste any time. No matter how he is, we need to process him for evidence. Of course, if he’s… well, if he’s no longer alive, it’ll be Phil Grant’s job.” He knew it sounded cold but there was no choice. He was aware of Terry staring at him across the car. “Just do it, Detective Constable, we’re nearly there.”
The motorway was relatively quiet before the evening rush and in just over three quarters of an hour they were back in Wavertree and parking outside the McCardles’ house.
The door opened as Jordan and Terry walked up the short front path. Gary stood inside the hallway cradling his nephew. Jordan felt the tension leave his shoulders. The man would surely not be cuddling a dead child. “Is he okay?” Terry got the question in first.
“I don’t know. He seems a bit groggy, but I don’t know much about kids.”
“We’ve called for a paramedic. They’ll have a look at him.”
“Oh, right. Good. Thanks.”
They heard the siren in the distance.
“I’ll hang on here, flag them down,” Terry said.
“Good man,” Jordan said. “Now if you and I could just go inside, Mr McCardle.”
Gary led the way into the house. “He was in there.” He pointed to the box on the couch. “He was wrapped up and the lid was a bit closed, but he wasn’t out there long. They rang the bell. What if we hadn’t been in, though, eh? What if we’d not answered? They didn’t think of that, did they? He could have been out there for hours. Poor little sod.”
Jordan had noted the use of the plural pronoun but didn’t comment. Gary moved forward to clear a seat. “I’d prefer you to leave the box where it is, Gary. Let’s not touch it more than we need to, yeah? And the baby, what have you done with him?”
“Done with him, how do you mean?”
“Have you taken any of his clothes off? Did he have a snow suit on?”
“No, he was just wrapped in the blanket. I changed him, he was wet and stinky.”
“Okay, but you haven’t bathed him?”
“No. Give us a chance! I rang you as soon as we found him.”
“Okay, well for now let’s try not to disturb things but maybe let me have that blanket.” He had brought a plastic evidence bag from the supply in the car. “We’ll need his clothes as well, but let’s just make sure he’s okay first.”
When they arrived, the paramedics were quiet and unruffled by the situation. Terry gave them a quick explanation as they grabbed their bags and left the car double-parked outside. “I need to have a listen to his chest, boss,” the older of the two said as he held out his arms for Ja
key.
They were gloved up before they even came into the house and they received the baby onto a plastic sheet.
“Tell you what, Gary. Why not go and get him something else to wear and then when they’ve had a look at him, we can bag up his clothes,” Jordan said.
Gary screwed up his face. He didn’t like being told what to do. But once he had handed over the baby he ran upstairs and they heard his footsteps as he moved into the back bedroom.
“Can you disturb the clothes as little as possible, mate?” Jordan said.
“Yeah, I’ll do what I can.” And true to his word the medic peeled Jakey’s body suit back carefully. He folded it inside out, handing it over to be bagged and followed it with the little white vest.
“Don’t bother about the nappy, he’s been changed already,” Jordan said. “Is he okay?”
“No wounds visible. He’s warm and reacting to stimulus. He’s a bit floppy. Could be something worrisome or it could be that he’s been given something. Best thing would be for us to take him in. Just in case.”
“Can you hold on until my colleague from the crime scene examination section has a chance to get here?”
“Nah, I think we should be heading off. You’ll have to come to the hospital. Sorry, my main concern is this little chap and babies can go off really quickly.”
“Of course. I understand. If possible, can you see that they don’t bath him or anything.”
“Hey, mate. I’m not telling the medical staff what to do. You best come with us.”
“Come where?” Gary was in the doorway with his hands full of baby clothes.
“I’d be happier if a doctor had a look at your baby. Quickest way is to let us take him up to A&E.”
“What and sit there for bloody hours with a load of sick people? I don’t think so.”
“No, don’t worry. We’ll make sure he’s seen quickly, I promise you.”
“Well, where are you going to take him – Broadgreen?”
“No, there’s no A&E there anymore. D’ya know what – I think we’ll take him straight to Alder Hay – what do you think, Stan?” The paramedic conferred with his colleague.
“Yeah, children’s hospital is best, I reckon.”
“Okay,” Gary nodded and held out the things in his hand. “Can you do it?”
“Yeah, course I can.” And in no time the medic had the baby re-dressed and wrapped in the shawl Gary had provided. “There we are. All ready.”
“Thanks guys.” Jordan reached out and touched the tiny downy head. “We’ll be along in a while.” He turned to Terry. “Can you let Viv know?”
“Already done it, boss. She’s going to meet us there. She’s on her way now.”
“Off you go then.”
“I need to lock up,” Gary said.
“Tell you what. Leave it with me. I need to make sure this box is taken care of. Have you got a dead lock?” Jordan said.
“Yeah, course.”
“Well, if you leave me the key. I’ll make sure you’re all secure here and then I guarantee I’ll personally bring the key to you at the hospital. Okay. DC Denn will go with you now, will that work?”
They could tell he wasn’t happy, but the paramedic lifted Jakey in one arm and hefting his medical bag in the other, he turned to the door. Gary had no option but to follow. “Don’t go gegging into my private stuff,” he said. “Just move that box and lock up. Don’t be nosing round the rooms.”
“No. Haven’t got a warrant,” Jordan said. “I’ll just see about this” – he indicated the carton – “and then lock up.”
With a final look around and a nervous glance at the stairs, Gary followed the others out to the waiting ambulance.
Chapter 49
The ambulance didn’t use the siren and blue lights. Jordan took it to be a good sign, but he had asked Terry Denn to keep him updated from the hospital. The baby didn’t appear to have been mistreated and he was clean and warm but had barely opened his eyes. When Gary held him, he lolled loosely in his uncle’s arms. Jordan knew that when babies slept, they took it seriously, but in the middle of all the fuss and disturbance by strangers it was worrying he hadn’t cried.
He stood for a moment in the silence, listening. He didn’t have a warrant and so anything he did now would be inadmissible in a legal sense. He could even have screwed up if ever they brought charges against Gary. But then, he didn’t believe the young man had done anything more than be related to a ‘problem’ family. He walked around the living room rooting among the growing detritus. Jordan wasn’t sexist in any way but he had to admit the loss of the woman’s touch in this place had become very apparent in the last few days. In the sideboard cupboards all he found were two old bottles of spirits, whisky that had been opened but not finished and gin with a peeling label and damaged cork. There was a dinner service, dusty and unused. There was only one bookshelf set in the alcove beside the chimney breast. On the lower shelves were a few romance paperbacks and a little collection of baby picture books. A couple of pregnancy and delivery pamphlets were pushed into the corner. There were a few gossipy magazines on the next shelf and then nothing above but more cheap ornaments like the ones that lined the window ledge. There was nothing to see.
He walked very quietly out into the hallway and stood at the bottom of the stairs. In the street outside there was the noise of the odd car passing and the shouts of children, the thud of a ball. The house began to click and creak as it settled. He reached out a hand to the radiator. It was cooling.
He walked down the hallway and peered into the kitchen. It was messy and there was a smell. The bins needed emptying and there was the fug of hot fat and fried meat. He used a pen to lift the lid of the bin. It was stuffed with pizza boxes, and cartons from the Chinese takeaway. There was more than he would have expected for just Gary. By the door a black bin bag bulged with more rubbish. A box full of empties, cans and bottles, stood alongside, quite a number, and a couple of empty vodka bottles. Either Gary had been knocking it back all day long, which surely would have shown in his behaviour, or he had company to help him polish this lot off in a couple of evenings.
Jordan’s ears felt stretched by the silence. He waited, and then there it was. The quiet creak just above his head. He raised his chin, tensed.
It came again.
He had known all along that the house was not empty. It didn’t have the dead feel of empty spaces. The footling around in the living room and the kitchen had simply been waiting for this – looking for the permissible reason to go upstairs without a warrant. He could call out, climb the steps or run up roaring and scare the shit out of whoever was there. Gary had told him the house was empty, patently it was not – cause for investigation. If asked he could say he thought someone had walked in while they were distracted with the sick child. It wasn’t true but it might fly.
He stood quietly at the bottom of the steps. The sounds from upstairs were louder now, more confident. He heard the click of a lock, the creak of a door opening. Whoever was there had decided there was no longer any danger. They were moving around freely and all he had to do was wait.
The light had changed as evening drew in. It was chilly with a draft from the front door.
He could act and force the issue, or simply wait here in the hallway until whoever it was appeared on the landing. He waited. The toilet flushed.
As he put a foot on the bottom step, the phone in his pocket vibrated. Before there was any chance to stop it, the jolly burble of the ring tone tore through the silence.
“Shit.” He dragged the handset out and glared at the screen. It was Rosalind Searle. He rejected the call and flew up the stairs. The figure on the landing was ready for him, forewarned by the noise. There was a moment of stillness as the two men stared at each other. Assessing distance and possibilities.
“Eddie?” Jordan asked.
The brief scurry of movement came fast and unexpectedly. Jordan was taken off guard and pushed aside easily. He grabbed out at th
e rushing figure, but momentum had its way and he rocked for a moment on the edge of the step. His balance was lost and the next moment saw him rolling and tumbling, legs up and over his head, arms flailing, as he fell and bounced from top to bottom of the narrow staircase. As he lay groaning and befuddled in the hallway, his legs were thrust aside. Heavy feet stomped across his ankles. There was a sharp pain in his back as he was kicked viciously then the door smashed against the wall as the other man broke for freedom. He paused to glance back into the house, highlighted for just a moment in the light from the streetlamp outside. Then he was gone.
Jordan pushed himself awkwardly into a sitting position on the bottom step and poked at the buttons on his phone. He cradled his head in one hand waiting for the response. He didn’t think there were broken bones but his back screeched at him when he shifted his position.
“Despatch.”
“I want an alert out immediately.” He gave them the location. “IC1 male, ginger hair, approximately one seventy metres. Dressed in jeans and a dark jacket, no hat. He’s on foot, get some cars here as quick as you can. This is possibly Eddie McCardle wanted in connection with the murder of Mary McCardle. I’m presently at the McCardle address and I’m going out to find this bastard.”
Chapter 50
The car was only a few metres down the road but by the time he bent to drag open the door, Jordan knew he was in trouble. The pain in his back wasn’t much more than an awkward stiffness, but the fire that speared from his buttock and down his leg all the way to his toes was eye-watering.
He lowered himself stiffly into the driving seat and tried to push aside the knowledge he was hurt. He was the only one close enough to have any chance of finding Eddie McCardle. By the time anyone else arrived he would either be long gone, if he had transport, or he’d be so well hidden they would have the devil’s own job to find him. Eddie knew this area in a way they did not. He had spent his childhood here, playing in the streets and alleys, climbing over the walls into yards and now he was nowhere in sight.
Body by the Docks: detectives investigate a baffling mystery Page 15
