Monument to Murder Page 23

  She needed a little nudge.

  Kate looked at her. ‘You told me earlier you do things right. Well, there’s never been a more important time to do that than now. This is a murder investigation, Ailsa. I need your help.’

  ‘I struck up a relationship with Graham and Suzanne. They trusted me, always asked for me personally if they rang the station. My then sergeant cottoned on. He was a lazy git. The shift called him Olympic Torch because he never went out.’ Richards wasn’t smiling. ‘He’s retired now. Anyway, he encouraged me to get involved with the family. When he found out Maxine wasn’t a virgin he made a judgement error, in my view. All of a sudden she was labelled as some promiscuous little slag who liked to put it about. One up from a prostitute.’

  ‘Let me guess . . .’ Kate moved off as the lights changed. ‘He lost interest?’

  ‘In a word, yes. He refused to take her disappearance seriously. I disagreed vehemently and fell out of favour. He accused me of getting too close to the family, marked me down for it too, the bastard. I never told anyone this but I became a bit obsessed with the case. I took the file home, even spoke to Maxine’s mates on the QT when I was on patrol—’

  ‘And when you were off duty too, I bet.’

  The PC refused to be drawn on that. ‘Some of the kids were sixth-formers, a couple of years younger than me. I got on well with them. No one suspected Maxine was going to do one. Run away, I mean. But I couldn’t find any evidence to get the case upgraded to an abduction—’

  ‘Sounds like you’re wasted in uniform,’ Kate said.

  Ailsa’s face lit up. ‘I’d swap with you any day of the week.’

  ‘You’ll get there,’ Kate said. ‘If you want it enough and stick in.’

  ‘Not with a black mark on my record, I won’t.’ Richards tried to keep the bitterness from her voice. ‘Anyway, my sergeant suggested that the kid had run away because she couldn’t face the pressure of the audition. He persuaded Suzanne to take part in a TV appeal. You know the type: If you don’t want to ring us, get in touch with someone: relative, friend, police officer. Tell us something about yourself that only you and us will know. We’re not angry with you. Just come home . . .’

  Richards sighed. ‘It was a load of bollocks. All the local TV and radio stations covered it. Graham was furious. He could see that it was counter-productive, taking everyone’s eye off the ball, making out Maxine had run away and letting the police off the hook in one fell swoop. He suspected something awful had happened to her, but Suzanne wouldn’t have it. She seized on the idea that Maxine had fled from the threshold of fame.’

  ‘And since then?’

  ‘The family have survived. Just. Suzanne has clung on to the ridiculous belief that her daughter is out there somewhere. But now we know she isn’t . . .’ Richards went quiet for a moment. ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand, boss.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Didn’t you recover two bodies in Northumberland?’

  ‘My DC tell you that?’ Kate asked.

  ‘No, I saw it in the police bulletin.’

  ‘Really? I’m impressed. And, yes, we have two bodies.’

  ‘We only had one missing girl,’ Richards said. ‘I checked.’

  ‘There’s information about the case we’ve not yet released.’ Kate eyeballed her Humberside colleague. She seemed like an honest soul, someone she could confide in. ‘I’m going to trust you to keep your mouth shut, Ailsa. If you don’t, you’ll have me to answer to. Is that understood?’

  ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘This is going to sound odd, but was there any mention in the file of pearls?’

  ‘Pearls?’

  ‘Kids’ fake jewellery.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘’Kay . . . forget I asked you that.’

  Again, Richards pointed through the window. ‘This is it, boss. Number twenty-four.’

  Kate pulled up in the quiet street next to a semi-detached local authority home. Curtains drawn. Lights on upstairs and down. She imagined the family round the breakfast table, going about their business, getting ready for work or school. Radio tuned to a local station, kids arguing over the last piece of toast or whose turn it was to use the bathroom.

  Normality.

  ‘Right, you two. Mobiles off.’

  They got out of the car and walked up the narrow path in single file. It seemed to take for ever to reach the front door. Ailsa Richards rang the bell and stepped aside. Kate swallowed hard. Heard a female voice from within. The hall light went on. An indistinct shape appeared through the glass panel. The DCI couldn’t be sure, but the figure seemed to falter as it neared the door and then pick up speed again.

  Her stomach churned as the chain came off and the door edged open. Predictably, the woman knew as soon as she set eyes on them. A strangulated wail cut through the foggy street as her legs gave way and she collapsed in the doorway in a heap, her heart breaking as the truth hit home.

  61

  DANIELS LIKED PC RICHARDS. She hadn’t put a foot wrong all morning. She’d taken the O’Neil children to a neighbour and then done her level best to comfort the family while the SIO delivered the sad news. A newsflash on the radio had already alerted them to the find on Bamburgh beach. The O’Neils had been dreading a knock on the door ever since.

  Kate gave them a moment alone.

  Richards made a pot of tea, then they all sat down around the kitchen table surrounded by cereal bowls, unfinished glasses of juice, abandoned packed lunches and school bags – much as the DCI had imagined while walking up the garden path.

  The relationship between Maxine and her parents had been recorded on the missing-person file as natural but Kate could take nothing for granted and asked the question anyway.

  ‘It’s important to be sure,’ she said.

  Mrs O’Neil confirmed that her oldest was their natural child.

  Graham O’Neil asked why they wanted to know.

  ‘In order to be one hundred per cent certain it is your daughter,’ Hank explained. ‘I’m afraid we need to take samples for comparison.’

  Suzanne O’Neil seized on this, her focus shifting from the DS to the DCI. ‘So you’re not absolutely sure it’s Max? How dare you come here then?’

  ‘We’ve carried out tests,’ Kate said gently. ‘We are as sure as we possibly can be until we compare your DNA with hers . . .’ She paused, taking in the reaction of both parents, checking that they fully understood. Mr O’Neil appeared resigned. But his wife was still clinging to the vain hope that the police were somehow mistaken. The DCI felt compelled to disabuse her of that. ‘For the purposes of identification it would be helpful to know if Maxine ever broke any bones at all.’

  ‘She broke her right leg once, quite badly. She thought it might stop her dancing but . . .’ Mrs O’Neil’s voice trailed off as she realized she’d just confirmed what all three officers already knew. She extended her hand and found her husband’s, her words catching in her throat. ‘When can we see her?’

  It was the question Kate had been dreading.

  According to Ailsa Richards, Mrs O’Neil was already on strong medication for depression, a condition that had deteriorated the longer her daughter had been missing. There was no way she was up to seeing the remains. An image of Bamburgh beach jumped into Kate’s head. She wanted to describe the location to the grieving couple. It was a crime scene, yes. But Maxine had been buried in a place of beauty and solitude, not some ugly, smelly back yard or council tip, a ditch off a main road like other murder victims. However, it was not appropriate to do that now. In time, they would visit the site and see for themselves. Perhaps they would find some consolation in that.

  Kate liked to think so.

  She felt like pleading with the couple – save yourselves the distress – but they just stared at her, waiting to be convinced.

  ‘I appreciate how distressing this is for you, but you need to know that Maxine ha
s been buried in sand for probably the whole time she’s been missing.’ Kate chose her words very carefully. ‘If you’d like me to, I can tell you what her body looks like. But you must bear in mind that whatever I say could never prepare you for what you would actually see. You are Maxine’s next of kin and you have every right to a viewing. I’d never prevent you from doing that. But I’ll be upfront with you: I strongly urge you not to.’

  ‘You’re saying there’s no body to see?’ Mr O’Neil said.

  Kate gave a little nod. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Mrs O’Neil shuddered violently and swallowed back vomit.

  Her husband put his arm around her and spoke gently as he turned to face her. ‘Suzanne, I don’t want to do it. Please, don’t force me to. There is nothing to be gained from it. I want to remember Maxine as she was. We all do. We’ve got the little ’uns to consider now. Besides, you know it’ll make you ill.’

  ‘I think that’s very sensible.’

  Mr O’Neil palmed away his tears. ‘When will we know? For sure, I mean?’

  ‘It’ll take a day or two to compare the samples.’

  ‘But it’s a formality, you say?’

  Again, Kate nodded. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

  ‘Do you want to see Maxine’s stuff?’ her father asked.

  ‘DS Gormley will call back later, if that’s OK.’ Kate was desperate to check Maxine’s journals, notepads, school books, diary, any documentation that might lead to her killer. But first the couple needed a few hours alone. ‘In the meantime, I’ll make sure you are assigned a Family Liaison Officer, someone who’ll keep you posted on all developments as and when they occur.’

  ‘Can’t Ailsa do it?’ Mr O’Neil asked.

  ‘She’ll be helping DS Gormley with enquiries. We need her local knowledge – she’s been a great help to us so far. We have specialist officers on hand to assist you and Mrs O’Neil at any time of the day or night.’ The couple appeared to accept that. They were both close to tears again but trying to be strong. It was all proving too much for them. It felt like an insult asking the next question, but it had to be done. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you before we proceed with the samples?’

  Graham O’Neil pulled himself together. ‘Don’t think badly of us, Inspector, but there isn’t a room for you to search as such. Maxine shared a bedroom with her sister. It was traumatic enough when she went missing without the daily reminder of her things lying about, especially for our younger children. After a while we decided to pack her stuff in boxes. It’s all in the loft, if you want to see it.’

  ‘I understand. DS Gormley will take care of it. Don’t you worry about that.’

  Taking buccal swabs from the mouths of parents within an hour of telling them their daughter was dead was a job Kate found abhorrent, one she’d avoid if there were any other way. Unfortunately, there wasn’t. When she was done, PC Richards stepped forward, asking for a quiet moment with the family.

  The DCI and Gormley gave their condolences and withdrew to the car.

  The fog had lifted slightly but the improvement in the weather wasn’t nearly enough to raise their spirits. It was such a dull, grey morning – such a gloomy, sad street. Kate couldn’t shake the image of the photograph mounted on the wall in the O’Neils’ living room: Maxine centre stage during a local school production with everything to live for.

  Such a bloody waste.

  ‘Hank, I’m going to bugger off back to Northumberland and leave you here to run things this end. I’ll get Lisa to drive down and join you. Stay as long as it takes. Make sure you get an FLO out here to the family right away. I want you to scour those boxes. See if you can find an address book or something. I want you to examine every page in every book. Ask around. I don’t think Twitter was up and running when Maxine went missing. Facebook was. Did she subscribe to it, or any other social networking site? She was an entertainer, so chances are she did. I’m looking for a connection with anyone we already have in the system. I’m thinking John Edward Thompson in particular.’

  ‘I take it you want everybody re-interviewed?’

  She nodded. ‘Starting with the teacher.’

  Ailsa Richards walked down the path, head bowed as she approached the Q5. Her face was ashen. She was physically upset as she got in, pulled the door to and strapped herself in. She was exhausted too. Who wouldn’t be after a twelve-hour nightshift . . . and then some? With no time to indulge her distress, Kate turned over the engine and pulled away.

  ‘You did well in there,’ she said. ‘I’ve known detectives with years of experience bottle it because they had personal history with the family.’ The young PC didn’t comment. After a moment of consideration, Daniels spoke again: ‘I was going to send my DC down here to work with Hank on this. But I have a better idea. How would you like a temporary secondment to my Murder Investigation Team?’

  Richards tired eyes lit up. ‘Really?’

  ‘Why not? It was your incident in the first place. You have local knowledge and I, sadly, have no clue of where the offence was committed. Northumbria has invested heavily in this case. We’ll obviously be the prime mover, even though our area may be nothing more than a disposal site. It’s a linked incident now. So, until we know where those kids were killed, we remain the lead force. I’d be grateful if you’d consider it.’

  The young officer took no persuading.

  Kate made the call immediately, asking to speak to Ailsa’s supervision. After a brief exchange, it was agreed that Richards could act as liaison between the forces for a few days, seconded to Daniels’ team.

  ‘Only a few days?’ Kate queried, pulling a face, Ailsa hanging on her every word. ‘OK, if that’s the best you can do, it’s better than nothing . . . Of course I’ll put it in writing – in triplicate, if it makes you happy.’ She gave Ailsa the thumbs up, then caught Gormley’s eye in her rear-view mirror. ‘Hank, soon as you’re satisfied I want you back in Alnwick.’ She glanced at their new recruit. ‘How are you fixed at home, Ailsa?’

  ‘Fixed?’

  ‘You got commitments, pets, kids?’

  ‘You kidding? I wouldn’t even have to cancel the milk.’

  ‘Win win.’ Kate winked at Hank in the mirror. ‘Bring her too then, Hank.’

  ‘I thought her guv’nor said a few days only?’

  ‘I’ve decided she’ll be indispensable,’ Kate said.

  62

  THE JOURNEY NORTH was trouble free. Not so, the grovelling apology to Jo when Kate found out that Rachel McCann still hadn’t resurfaced. It had been twenty-four hours since her last contact with anyone – the phone call to her college friend, Susan Myers, at four o’clock the previous day.

  ‘Did Emily ring round her friends again?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course she did.’ Jo sounded pissed.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Either they know nothing or they’re not saying.’

  ‘What do we know of the boyfriend? Vic, did you say his name was?’

  The mobile signal was weak. Jo’s voice came and went. ‘Her friends don’t . . . a clue. They aren’t . . . he exists except in Rachel’s imagination.’

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t.’ Putting her foot down, Kate passed a lorry with an unsafe load, a flapping tarpaulin no longer securing a cargo of second-hand furniture. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time a girl invented a boyfriend to impress her mates. I did it myself once. Rachel’s unhappy, Jo. She’s missing Robert. Maybe Vic is her way of keeping her father alive.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re a psychologist now!’

  ‘Don’t get arsy with me. You asked my opinion: I’m giving it to you.’

  Three cars on the inside lane indicated to pull off the motorway at a service station. Kate looked at her watch, her stomach rumbling a plea for food. But the stench from a nearby pig farm made her plough on without stopping. There would be time enough to eat when she got back to the station. Hopefully by that time Robbo would have both food and progress to impart.

  ‘I didn’
t mean to get at you,’ Jo apologized. ‘I’m feeling guilty, that’s all. I’ve known for ages that Rachel was being difficult. Hell, I’ve even witnessed it on occasions. I just didn’t think it was my place to interfere. I gather Stamp tried and wished he hadn’t. So I did sod-all and now . . .’ She sighed. ‘Emily’s in a right state.’

  ‘It was obvious she wasn’t coping,’ Kate said.

  ‘Oh, that’s very helpful.’

  Kate ignored the dig. ‘Did you stay with her last night?’

  ‘I offered, but she wasn’t having any so I went home. When I got to Low Newton I rang her, only she didn’t pick up. I drove over there early this morning and she wasn’t in. One of the locals said he’d seen her acting weird. He stopped and asked if she was OK but she wouldn’t talk to him.’ Jo sighed loudly, her words spoken in monotone almost, evidence of how desperate she was. ‘I don’t think she realizes what an impression she’s giving out. I mean, a lone female standing on a bridge in tears. I gather the local man thought she was about to jump. She was still there when I found her. She’d been out searching. I don’t know what she expected to find, but she just can’t conceive of Rachel eloping with a boyfriend, Valentine’s Day or not.’

  Right now, Valentine’s Day seemed a world away to Kate. So much had happened since their brief encounter at Low Newton-by-the-Sea. None of it good. ‘Look, I’m an hour away,’ she said, trying to take the pressure off Jo. ‘Leave it with me, I’ll try and get hold of her. See if I can talk some sense into her.’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘I just said so, didn’t I?’ Kate needed the distraction like a hole in the head. But having spent time with the O’Neil family, missing girls were high on her agenda at the moment. No matter how busy she was, she couldn’t turn her back on a friend in need. ‘It might not be in person, but I will talk to her. Is she at home now?’