Blood Money (28 page)

She glanced across at the empty reception desk. ‘Is someone taking care of you?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘It was wonderful, wasn’t it, that baby Jessica was found safe? I cried when I heard about it. Such a relief.’

‘It was,’ agreed Mariner.

Happily then she took the hint that he didn’t want to chat. ‘Right, well I must get on. Things to do, places to go.’ And with another beaming smile she was on her way.

Moments later the clerk returned. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told Mariner. ‘We have no record of anyone with those names having had a consultation here.’

A thought occurred. ‘Would anyone use a pseudonym, a false name?’ Mariner asked.

The girl looked doubtful. ‘It’s unlikely. We’d need a full medical history. There are several private clinics in the area though. Would you like the details?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

Mariner took the orange flyer out of his pocket. ‘Have you ever seen one of these?’

The woman squinted at it. ‘It’s not one that we give out, I’m sure.’

‘Thanks.’

Calls to the other clinics in the area revealed that Christie Walker and Jimmy Bond had not been patients at any of those either.

‘I think we need to talk to Jimmy Bond again,’ Mariner concluded.

Mariner took Tony Knox along with him to Bond’s garage. ‘His alibi might check out, but he has access to all kinds of cars,’ he remarked as they pulled on to the edge of the forecourt. ‘While I’m talking to Bond, you have a mooch round and see if he’s got a pre-2000 Escort in Cayman green that may have had a re-spray. I’m sure any damage to the car will have been repaired by now.’

While Tony Knox wandered around outside, Mariner joined Bond in a cramped office that smelled of engine oil and body odour. Bond was fidgety, struggling to sit still for more than a couple of seconds and reluctant to look Mariner in the eye, but then, he already had a charge of wasting police time hanging over his head, so Mariner guessed he wouldn’t have been thrilled to see them back again today.

‘You and Christie were thinking of settling down,’ Mariner said, reiterating what Knox had told him.

‘I was. She didn’t want to.’ Bond sulked.

‘Did that include children?’

Bond shrugged. ‘It’s what you do, isn’t it? I wanted to have kids before I get too old to play football with them’

‘So you and Christie were trying for a family?’

‘What the hell’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Just answer the question.’

‘Not really.’

‘So you hadn’t been experiencing any difficulty in that area?’

Bond’s eyes narrowed. ‘What area are we talking about?’

‘Conceiving.’

Bond bristled. ‘Like I said, we hadn’t really been trying, so I wouldn’t know.’ He seemed so indifferent that Mariner had little choice but to believe him.

After the stale office, Mariner was glad to get back out into the fresh air. He met up with Knox back at the car. ‘Any luck?’

Knox shook his head. ‘They’re all too new, and no Fords. Mr Bond prefers Japanese models. You find out anything useful?’

‘Not really.’ Mariner recapped on the conversation. ‘For once I think he was being straight.’

‘It doesn’t mean that Christie didn’t want a baby, though,’ said Knox. ‘She worked in a nursery, she obviously liked kids. Maybe she just didn’t want Bond’s kids and after she’d ditched him she decided to go it alone. It’s very fashionable these days. All the celebrities are doing it, and she reads the magazines.’

‘Taking on a new flat at the same time?’

‘She thought she was coming into some money, thought she could have it all.’

‘Let’s have another word with Trudy Barratt.’

But when they got to the nursery, Mrs Barratt wasn’t there. ‘She’s at Little Beans,’ Samantha told them.

‘Little Beans?’

‘It’s her other nursery. Shall I phone ahead to tell her that you’re coming?’

‘No, thanks. That’s fine.’

‘How well did you know Christie?’ Mariner asked Samantha.

‘As well as anyone I guess.’

‘Did you know that she was to take part in a TV documentary about the kidnapping of baby Jessica?’

‘No.’ If the girl was lying, she did it convincingly. ‘I know someone had approached Mrs Barratt, but she made it clear that we weren’t interested. God, Mrs B would throw a fit if she knew—’ Samantha broke off, suddenly aware of what could be inferred. ‘I mean, she . . . , but she wouldn’t . . .’

‘It’s all right, Samantha,’ Mariner reassured her. ‘I know exactly what you mean. Did Christie ever talk to you about having children, of her own?’

‘Sometimes. We all do. Like, you hear a nice name or something and think, I’d like to call mine that.’

Hopefully not Leopold, thought Mariner. ‘Do you think Christie was planning on having a child any time soon?’

‘She’d have a job, wouldn’t she? She’d just split up from Jimmy and everything. Christie used to say that he wanted kids though.’

 

They were back where they’d started, and in more ways than one. Little Beans turned out to be situated on the corner of Foundry Road, just a few hundred yards from where Mariner and Knox had sat a couple of weeks earlier at dawn for Operation Ocean Blue. It prompted Mariner to wonder how the girls they’d brought in were making out. There was no off-road parking, consequently the street was lined with vehicles and Knox had to drive some way up before wedging the car into a meagre space between an old and battle-scarred Fiesta and a skip. ‘Do you think Mrs Barratt’s aware that six doors down from her nursery there’s a knocking shop?’ Mariner said to Knox as they got out of the car.

‘Ex-knocking shop,’ Knox reminded him. ‘She may know, but I bet the parents don’t.’

‘I’ll go and talk to her. Why don’t you have a look for her car? Give it the once over.’

The building that housed Little Beans was of the same vintage as the other nursery, with the same cartoon characters painted on the windows. The artist had a limited repertoire. The layout inside the nursery was very similar too. Once admitted Mariner found Trudy Barratt in her office shredding paperwork. ‘Data protection act,’ she said, by way of an explanation. ‘It’s a pain in the neck.’

‘Had you any idea that a TV company had been in contact with Christie about taking part in a documentary covering Jessica’s abduction?’ Mariner asked.

‘I knew they were planning a documentary. Some obnoxious young woman accosted me. She wanted to feature the nursery. Put up to it by Marcella Turner no doubt.’

‘You weren’t interested?’

Trudy Barratt regarded him coldly. ‘I’m trying very hard to put the whole episode behind us, Inspector. I didn’t know they had gone after Christie too. ’

‘So Christie didn’t try to blackmail you about it?’

Her eyebrows rose half an inch. ‘Certainly not.’

‘The TV producer seemed to think that Christie might have something else on her mind that would be good for primetime TV. Any idea what that could have been?’

‘Not the faintest.’

The conversation had nowhere else to go, and minutes later Mariner met Knox back at the car. ‘Did you find the four by four?’

‘Not a mark on it, boss.’

‘No, it wouldn’t be her style anyway.’ He looked up and down the street. ‘Do you get the sense that there’s something we’re missing?’

‘A culprit?’ ventured Knox.

 

Mariner was back at Granville Lane wondering where to go next with this when Charlie Glover burst into his office. ‘This gets better and better, boss.’

‘Go on.’

‘SOCO took samples of forensic material from all the places we raided on Ocean Blue, looking for traces of drugs mainly, as well as trying to match the men we arrested with the properties the girls were taken from. They’ve been cross referencing and have found an interesting match.’

‘Which is?’

‘They found some hairs that match with Madeleine’s DNA profile. They’re from the house on Foundry Road.’

Foundry Road. Why did they keep coming back there? ‘So she was a working girl?’

‘She must have been.’

‘Christ, it would explain why no one who recognised her came forward,’ Mariner said.

‘I want to talk to the girls we brought in on Ocean Blue,’ Glover said. ‘Some of them have been in this country a while. They might remember her. I’m asking the DCI if I can go down to the immigration centre.’

Mariner sorted through the papers on his desk, until he came to the Ocean Blue interview notes. ‘You might not need to go that far. How long did Katarina say she had been in this country?’ Finding the right page he scanned it for the relevant data. ‘About a year, according to this. It’s possible she could have known Madeleine.’

‘My God, we might actually find out who Madeleine really was.’ Glover’s enthusiasm was infectious and the possibility of a breakthrough generated an air of anticipation in CID. Not until now did Mariner realise how much the mystery of Madeleine’s identity had affected them all.

Most of the girls brought in on Ocean Blue had, by now, been sent to an immigration centre before being repatriated, but as Katarina had agreed to testify against her abductors, she was staying for the moment at the Daffodil Project hostel. Mariner contacted Lorelei Fielding and made an appointment to go with Charlie Glover to meet Katarina. The hostel was a sixties-built council house in the middle of an estate, and was a refuge for abused woman of all backgrounds. It occurred to Mariner that in different circumstances, Christie may have ended up here too.

They were shown into a sunny lounge to wait and when Katarina appeared Mariner hardly recognised her. Dressed in T-shirt and jeans she looked nothing like the wretch they had interviewed three weeks previously, but like any other nineteen-year-old woman. She’d put on weight and her skin looked healthy, her hair, which had hung lank to her shoulders, was fair and almost blond and seemed to have grown thicker and glossier. Her pocket of her jeans trailed the earphones of an iPod. When Mariner stepped forward to shake her hand she brushed past it and instead put her arms around him and hugged him. ‘Thank you,’ she said, releasing him and stepping back, ‘you saved my life.’

Mariner cleared his throat, discomfited by the display of affection. ‘You’re being looked after?’ he asked, though the evidence spoke for itself.

‘The food is a little—’ She held up a flattened palm, dipping it one way then the other. ‘Not much oysters or caviar.’ She broke into a smile that pricked at Mariner’s eyes; a sense of humour had resurfaced. ‘I’m very good, thank you.’ Her response was to more than just his enquiry.

They sat again around the small low table. ‘We want to ask you about a girl who we believe up until last year lived at the house in Foundry Road, the house we took you from,’ Mariner said.

Glover opened Madeleine’s folder and took out the mocked-up photograph. ‘Did you know her?’ he asked. They had no way of knowing how accurate the picture was, so it would be hit or miss.

Katarina studied the picture carefully and at length before looking up at Glover, a pained expression on her face. ‘I don’t think so. I’m sorry.’

‘She had a baby,’ said Glover eagerly, hoping to prompt something.

For his sake Katarina looked again, she wanted so much to help, but finally shook her head. ‘She’s gone?’ she asked.

‘She’s dead.’

Katarina turned back to the picture, her bottom lip quivering. Mariner knew what she was thinking:
that could have been me
.

‘Will you be showing it to the other girls?’ Lorelei asked.

‘Yes,’ said Mariner ‘It means we’ll have to travel down to the immigration centre.’

‘You’ll need an interpreter.’ She glanced across at Katarina.

‘Well they have access to—’ Mariner began, before catching on to what Lorelei was getting at. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we will. Katarina, will you come and interpret for us?’

The girl’s face lit up. ‘Of course.’

‘Thank you,’ said Lorelei, showing them out. ‘She worries about the other girls. It’ll be good for her to see that they are okay. It will help her to move on.’

‘It seems like you’re doing a terrific job already,’ said Mariner. ‘She looks like a different person.’

‘It’s a job that shouldn’t have to be done.’

‘Yes.’

 

Driving back to Granville Lane, Glover was like a dog with two tails. ‘Sandie will be chuffed to bits if we find out who she was,’ Glover said.

‘How long have you two been married now?’ Mariner asked.

‘Fourteen years last March,’ Glover said.

‘That’s quite an achievement.’

‘You said it. ’Specially in this job.’

‘What’s the most important thing, do you think?’

Glover didn’t miss a beat. ‘Trust,’ he said.

 

It had been a long day. Mariner went home hoping for a shower and an early night. He found Anna getting ready to go out with friends from work. Her greeting to him was perfunctory. ‘Have you seen my phone?’ she asked. ‘I couldn’t find it this morning.’

‘It’s in the pocket of your brown jacket.’ Mariner knew it was a bad idea but he couldn’t resist adding: ‘You’ve had a message, from Doctor Gareth.’

‘Oh.’

‘In fact, you had quite a few messages from him yesterday.’

Her reaction was telling. ‘What the hell were you doing, going through my messages?’

‘I was curious. You two seem to have a lot to talk about.’

She met his gaze. ‘He’s a nice guy, uncomplicated.’

‘As opposed to—?’

She simply shot him a meaningful look.

‘Thanks. What was it that you “haven’t had the chance” to talk to me about?’ Mariner persisted.

Anna coloured. ‘I’ve handed in my notice at work. I’m going to take the receptionist job. It’s a great opportunity and I’d be silly not to.’