Blood Money (23 page)

One of the few officers remaining at his desk was Charlie Glover. He looked up when Mariner walked in. ‘Crap verdict, sir,’ he said.

So news had got around. ‘You could say that.’

‘Still, with luck they’ll stick him somewhere like Broadmoor.’

‘We can but hope. Where’s Tony Knox?’

Glover seemed to choose his words carefully. ‘He’s out. You remember that girl we interviewed when the Klinnemann baby went missing: Christie Walker? There’s been a suicide. Knox thinks it could be her.’

‘Christ. How?’

‘Jumped in front of a train.’

‘Poor kid. What’s happening with the boyfriend, Bond?’

Glover shook his head. ‘He’s out on bail, but if Tony Knox gets hold of him I wouldn’t say much for his chances.’ He said it just as Tony Knox walked in the door.

‘So?’ Mariner said.

‘It’s her all right.’

‘No.’ Mariner grimaced. ‘And Bond?’

‘I’ve just paid him a visit. To his credit he seemed pretty shocked.’

‘Does he think she shopped him?’

Knox considered this for a moment. ‘No. I really don’t think he does. He claims they’d split up.’

‘That puts a convenient distance between them. Did you believe him?’

‘I didn’t want to, but suppose I did. And he’s been away all weekend on a stag do in Blackpool, so he says.’

‘Well, that will be easy enough to check out.’

Knox had gone a funny colour. ‘I was meant to have met her on Saturday night you know. Then I had a better offer, so I tried to rearrange it and it all got messed up. I let her down. She’d probably still be alive if it wasn’t for me.’

Mariner shook his head. ‘Come on, you know better than that. Christie was a responsible adult, old enough to make her own decisions. Do you think she’d made up her mind to bring charges against Bond for what he did to her?’

‘Maybe, though the evidence had faded. Croghan said as much. It was only going to stick if she did it straightaway. I don’t think she did make up her mind about that. It’s what she said. When I asked if Bond had hurt her, she said: “I can’t talk about it on the phone.”’

‘Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable telling you about it that way. Maybe she just preferred face to face contact.’

‘But if that was it, why not just say “yes”. She knew I knew all about it.’

‘So what are you thinking?’

‘That it was something else.’

‘Something else that Bond was into?’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’

‘But we turned over his place and his garage when he was brought in and we didn’t find anything. So all we can really do is watch him.’ Mariner could sense Knox’s frustration.

‘He’s a dodgy piece of work, and look at the history. He’s got a previous conviction, and he made the ransom demand.’

‘You’re still certain that Christie had nothing to do with that?’

Knox was unequivocal. ‘She was too straight. She hated him for it. It prompted her to leave him. And he didn’t make any attempt to incriminate her, did he? No, that was all him. I think it has to be something else.’

‘So if there was something she needed to tell you, why kill herself?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t make it fit,’ Knox said. ‘There was something in her voice on the phone. She didn’t sound like someone at the end of her tether. She sounded resolved, eager even - like she was ready to move on.’ He broke off. ‘Nah, I’m just making excuses because I fucked up.’

‘No,’ said Mariner. ‘If she’d sounded that desperate, you’d have done something about it. Your “better offer” work out?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So maybe you’re feeling bad about that too.’

Knox shot him a look. ‘You’ve been in therapy too long.’

‘Have you told the parents yet?’

‘It’s the next job. I’ve already got her address.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘It’s a bummer about McCrae, boss,’ Knox said when they were in the car.

‘He had a good defence team and they did a sound job. And who knows? Maybe they’re right.’

Knox was surprised. ‘You think he really is nuts?’

‘Truthfully? Maybe. It still doesn’t give him the right to kill.’

‘No.’

 

The address they had for Christie Walker was a modest ex-council property in Weoley Castle. Knox rang the bell and after some delay a woman in her mid-sixties came to the door. She regarded them warily, prepared to ward off their sales pitch. Mariner raised his warrant card so that she could see it.

‘Police?’ the old woman said, looking past them on to the street. ‘I haven’t called the police.’

‘No. You’re Mrs Walker?’

‘No, I’m Phyllis Gates.’

‘Are you Christie Walker’s—?’

‘I’m her nan.’

‘I’m Detective Inspector Mariner and this is Detective Sergeant Knox. We need to speak to you. Could we come in?’

Phyllis Gates was quick on the uptake and her suspicion grew. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Why don’t we go in and sit down?’ Mariner indicated the living room.

Leaving Knox to close the door, she led the way into a neat sixties style lounge, complete with a glass display cabinet of china ornaments, like the one Mariner remembered from his grandparents’ house. There was a big framed photograph of Christie on the mantelshelf. Mariner saw Knox flinch away from it. Inviting them to sit in the armchairs of a brown velour three piece, Phyllis Gates sat on the edge on the sofa opposite. Mariner couldn’t help noticing a pile of
Watchtower
magazines stacked in a corner of the room, still bound in their plastic packaging and awaiting distribution. No wonder she was cautious about doorsteppers. She was probably an expert. By the time they had all settled the air was filled with tension.

‘We were hoping to speak to Christie’s parents?’ Mariner said.

‘Christie’s mum died when she was little,’ Phyllis Gates nervously told him. ‘Her dad’s never been around. I take care of her.’

‘Well, then it’s you we need to speak to.’

‘About what?’ She was making an effort to keep her voice steady.

‘I’m very sorry,’ Mariner said. ‘But the body of a young woman was found on the Bristol to Birmingham railway line, early this morning. We have reason to believe that it’s Christie.’

Her sharp intake of breath resounded around the room, then silence. She dropped her head, and after a moment when Mariner glanced across, he saw her shoulders heaving with grief as she wept silent tears. They should have brought a female officer with them. He reached out and placed a comforting arm on hers as they waited her out. ‘Do you keep any brandy in the house?’ Mariner asked, trying to remember if Jehovah’s Witnesses were teetotallers, and when the response was in the negative he said, ‘Go and stick the kettle on,’ quietly, to Knox.

Five minutes later when Knox returned with tea in a china cup, her weeping had diminished and she took the cup from him with trembling hands. ‘I can’t believe it. How did she get there?’ Her voice was a whisper.

‘We’re not altogether sure yet.’ Mariner spoke slowly. ‘When was the last time you saw Christie?’

‘On Saturday afternoon. She’d finished with her boyfriend a couple of weeks ago, and she was moving her things back here.’

‘How did Christie seem?’

‘She was okay.’

‘Was she upset about the split with Bond?’

‘She was sad, but she thought it was the right thing to do.’

‘So she didn’t seem depressed about it?’

‘No. Not really.’ She was struggling to comprehend.

‘How did you feel about it?’ Mariner asked.

‘It was a nightmare. She’d got so much stuff to move back into her tiny little room we didn’t know where to put it all. She’s had to leave some of it at his house.’

‘I meant, how did you feel about her splitting up with Jimmy Bond?’

‘I was glad really. I always thought he was a bit too old for her.’ No mention of the physical violence. ‘And when he made those phone calls about the baby - Christie was so upset about that.’

So had Christie finally stood up to Bond? He wouldn’t have taken that well. ‘Did Jimmy help to move her things back?’

‘Oh no, she got her uncle to help. He’s got a van.’

‘And you didn’t see Bond at all?’

‘No. Christie said he wasn’t there. But it was Saturday. He was probably at work. Moving back here was only temporary, like. She was going to get a place of her own, a flat. She’d already seen one that she fancied on that new development on the Bristol Road, by the college.’

Mariner had seen that development. It was all luxury jobs. ‘They’re expensive properties,’ he said.

‘I know. But she’d won some money on one of those scratch cards, and she was going to get a pay rise.’

It’d have to be one hell of a pay rise, Mariner thought. ‘Then what?’ he asked.

‘When we’d put her things in her room we had some tea. I went down the road and got fish and chips, and we had it in front of the telly, then she went out about half past six.’

‘Did she say where she was going?’

‘She’s twenty-four years old. She doesn’t have to tell me everything. I suppose I thought it was the girls from the nursery.’

‘And that’s the last time you saw her. You didn’t report her missing. Why was that?’

‘I thought she must be staying with friends. She often did. She’s not a child.’

‘Would she have taken anything with her? A handbag for example.’

‘Oh yes, she always had her bag with her, and her mobile.’ Mariner glanced up at Knox who gave a slight shake of the head. They were both thinking the same thing. ‘It wasn’t with her when it was found,’ Mariner said. ‘It would help if you could describe it for us.’

‘It was one of those Morgan bags,’ Phyllis said, which didn’t help either man in the slightest. ‘It was white leather, with lots of little pockets. She was very proud of it. She got it on eBay. It was a bargain.’

‘Mrs Walker, this may be uncomfortable, but we have to consider the possibility that Christie took her own life. This is hard, but can you think of any reason why she might have wanted to do that?’

‘Suicide? Oh no, Christie wouldn’t. She knows what we think of that.’ A glimmer of hope crossed her face. ‘Are you sure it’s her?’

‘As sure as we can be,’ Knox said, gently. ‘I interviewed Christie during our investigation into baby Jessica’s disappearance. ’

Phyllis Gates fixed him with a bright-eyed gaze. ‘You’re Tony. She told me about you, about how kind you were. She liked you.’

Knox squirmed. ‘She contacted me on Saturday,’ he went on. ‘She said she wanted to talk to me. Do you have any idea what it might have been about?’

For a moment Phyllis stared off into the middle distance, the cup in her hand tilting precariously. ‘No,’ she said, vaguely. ‘I can’t think of anything.’

‘Did you know that Jimmy Bond hit Christie?’ Mariner asked.

‘Jimmy?’ It brought her back to them, but she couldn’t meet his eye. Instead she smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on the arm of the sofa. ‘Oh I don’t think so. Christie was accident prone, that was all. She always was quite a clumsy child. She and Jimmy had their differences at the end, but she loved him and he was good to her.’

Mariner saw the look on Knox’s face. Hard to tell if she really hadn’t seen it or if it was all pretence. Either way it had got to him. ‘Do you think Christie might have been more upset about splitting up from him than she let you see?’ Mariner asked.

Phyllis considered this. ‘They’d been together a long time.’

Mariner gestured to the photograph propped up on the fireplace. ‘Could we borrow that picture to take a copy?’

‘Help yourself.’

‘This is hard, Mrs Gates, but we’ll need someone to formally identify Christie.’

‘I can do that,’ Mrs Gates said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I want to see her, to say goodbye. And to make sure.’

She was still hoping it wouldn’t be Christie, Mariner thought. She wouldn’t be the first. ‘Before we go, would it be possible to just have a quick look at Christie’s room?’

Christie may have moved her possessions back in but she hadn’t got as far as unpacking, and the room was so crammed with boxes and black bin bags that they could hardly open the door to get in. The components of a personal computer stood unconnected on top of a dressing table. If Christie had left a note, she’d made no effort to leave it where it could be seen.

‘This is too big a job,’ said Mariner. ‘We’ll do it later.’ An hour later, after identifying her granddaughter’s body, Phyllis Gates collapsed, sobbing with distress and turned to clutch at Mariner. ‘What am I going to do without her?’

He couldn’t give her an answer.

A new sign was being erected outside Jack and the Beanstalk Nursery renaming it
ABC Nursery
.

‘The abduction must have made an impression,’ Mariner observed. The doorbell had also been replaced by a more sophisticated affair and, unlike the last time, summoned an immediate response. It was Trudy Barratt who let them in and she didn’t seem particularly pleased to see them. The alterations, it seemed, were cosmetic and nothing had visibly changed inside. She returned immediately to her desk in the office, leaving them to follow.

‘What could you possibly want now?’ she asked, already attending to the papers in front of her.

‘How’s business?’ Mariner asked, pointedly.

‘Most of the sensible parents have stayed with us. A handful have chosen to place their children elsewhere.’

‘Any elsewhere in particular?’ Mariner couldn’t help wondering again about rival nurseries.

‘Not as far as I know. The reasons have been varied.’

‘And the staff?’

‘They’ve been more erratic than ever, which is why I’m rather busy just now. Three of them haven’t turned up today—’

‘Including Christie Walker.’

‘Yes.’ That had come out of the blue, and she finally looked up from what she was doing. ‘How did you know?’