Creeping Ivy (6 page)

‘There’s probably a simple explanation either way, and we’ll find out what it is. Don’t you worry.’

‘But how? How will you find out whose blood it is? Let alone how it got there?’

‘We’ve officers out now, working to identify the boy and his mother. When they’ve been tracked down, we’ll check whether the blood is his. In the meantime, Ms Weblock, could you give me the name of Charlotte’s doctor? We’d like to have a word with him or her.’

Antonia dictated the name and address of the local surgery.

‘But they won’t have any samples of her blood there. It’s not that kind of place. And anyway, I don’t think she’s ever had any blood taken; not since those tests just after she was born.’

‘We wouldn’t expect blood samples, Ms Weblock. It’s just routine in a case like this. We always have a word with the doctor.’

In case the child has been taken in with unexplained injuries in the past, said Trish to herself. She could see from Antonia’s grey face that there was no need to say it aloud.

‘Will you tell me when you know?’ she asked, staring at the floor. With what looked like enormous effort, she raised her head and met Blake’s eyes. ‘When you know if it
is
the boy’s blood?’

‘Of course. Now, I’ll be off to have a word with Mr Hithe. And …’

‘But what are you going to do about Nicky?’ All the attempts Antonia had been making to sound calm had failed. Her voice was shrill and urgent. ‘You can’t go now. I mean, if there’s any possibility that she’s been … hurting Charlotte, you must talk to her.’

‘We will, Ms Weblock. Don’t worry. I’ve just had a word with my colleagues at the station, and they said she’s already left, intending to walk back here. I’m going to leave Constable Derring here to wait for her while I talk to Mr Hithe. Is that convenient?’

‘Oh, I see. All right. Yes, if you like. Whatever you think’s best.’

‘Good. Thank you. I’d like her to start telephoning your friends and relations to check that none of them have seen Charlotte. You said you could give me a list.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Antonia put a hand to her forehead. She seemed to be having difficulty thinking. ‘It’s so hard to know … I mean, who … how many …’

‘Look, why don’t you just give them your address book?’ said Trish. Then they can work their way through it, checking all the possible addresses.’

‘Good idea, Ms Maguire. Thank you,’ said Blake.

‘All right. Will you wait? It’s upstairs.’ When he nodded, Antonia left the room.

‘How hopeful are you?’ asked Trish very quietly.

‘It’s hard to say,’ admitted Blake. ‘But it doesn’t look good.’

Antonia came back and handed him a big address book bound in the softest black leather.

‘Thank you, Ms Weblock. Now, where would you like Constable Derring to wait? You won’t want her disturbing you by telephoning in here.’

Antonia looked round the drawing room, a puzzled expression in her eyes, as though she did not understand the question.

‘I don’t know,’ she said after a moment and then shook herself. ‘Why not in the kitchen? Then you can have a cup of tea, Constable, couldn’t you? I’ll take you down and show you where everything is. Trish, you’ll wait, won’t you?’

‘OK.’

Even from the drawing room Trish could hear the click of the cameras outside as DCI Blake let himself out of the house and the shouted questions. After a minute or so Antonia was back, still looking ill.

‘Oh Trish, what am I going to do?’

‘Try to hang on. They’ll find out what’s happened.’

‘But they think she’s dead, don’t they? The constable wouldn’t say anything just now, but that’s why they went upstairs, wasn’t it? To look for signs that she’s dead. It must be.’

‘I don’t know, Antonia.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, don’t lie. You must have seen it in their faces when they came downstairs again, just like I did. And like I can see it in yours now. They’ve always thought she was dead and now they don’t think it was a stranger who killed her. They think it was Nicky, don’t they?’

‘It may not be as bad as that,’ said Trish.

‘It nearly always is, though, isn’t it? When the children are as young as Charlotte,’ Antonia’s voice was quivering again, ‘and when they’ve been lost for this long?’

Trish put both arms around her.

Chapter Four

‘Chief Inspector Blake?’ asked Robert Hithe as he came running lightly down the spiral staircase into the atrium. ‘What is all this? Didn’t Antonia tell you I was busy? Couldn’t you have waited until I was back at the house?’

Blake suppressed a sigh.

‘Mr Hithe,’ he said patiently, ‘your stepdaughter has disappeared in exceedingly worrying circumstances. We have to find her. To do that we have to talk to everyone who saw her yesterday, however busy they may happen to be.’

‘But Antonia knows exactly what I was doing for the whole day, and so does Nicky Bagshot. Either of them could have told you. You didn’t need to come barging in here.’

‘It’s always better for us to hear evidence directly, sir. Is there somewhere we could talk?’

Robert Hithe tossed his black hair away from his face and looked round the gleaming glass and steel hall. Then he glanced back at Blake, a malicious little smile tweaking at the edges of his mouth.

‘No gags that I can see, no scold’s bridles either; not even “No Talking” signs. What’s stopping you?’

‘There must be somewhere less public we could go, sir,’ said Blake, determined to take charge of the encounter.

‘What – tea and biscuits in the boardroom? Is that what you’re angling for?’

‘The boardroom sounds fine.’

‘Tough luck, old bean,’ Hithe said, slipping so easily into a parody of Bertie Wooster that Blake assumed it was one of his party tricks. He resumed his own voice to add irritably: ‘There’s a meeting going on up there. A fucking important one, too, which you dragged me out of.’

‘No meeting is more important than a missing child. Have you any idea what Charlotte could be suffering at this moment, sir? Would you like me to tell you what we’ve seen when we’ve finally tracked down abducted children in the past?’

Robert Hithe shrugged, but Blake thought he could detect a hint of shame behind the casual gesture.

‘No, of course not. I know as well as you what may be happening. And it’s … hideous. But I don’t see what you think
I
can do about it. Still, if you’re determined to waste your time and mine asking questions, you’d better get on with it. What is it you’re so anxious to know?’

‘Could we sit down?’ DCI Blake gestured to the row of dark-green leather chairs ranged on the far side of the pool that took up an expensive amount of space in the middle of the atrium.

‘No, we could not. There isn’t time. Ask your damned questions and let me get back to work.’

He looked very nervous, Blake thought, but that could have been because of the meeting, whatever it was. His long fingers were constantly twitching, either adjusting his cuffs or smoothing the lapels of his jacket or else pushing back his dark hair. When you looked carefully at him, you could see his face was weaselly, but because of the flamboyance of his hair and the whiteness of his dazzling smile, as much as the in-your-face self-importance you didn’t notice at first.

‘Very well, sir. Could you run through everything that happened yesterday until you left your stepdaughter alone with her nanny.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t call her that. It’s so laden with fairy-tale nastiness. I refuse to be anyone’s wicked stepfather. She’s my lover’s daughter. Nothing to do with me.’

Blake could not think of a much more inappropriate tone for Robert Hithe to be taking in the circumstances, and he wondered what it was supposed to conceal. Well, he’d just have to find out. He hid his revulsion behind a polite smile and set about it.

‘Very well, sir. Would you just tell me everything you did with them both yesterday.’

‘I didn’t
do
anything with either of them. I escorted them both to the swimming pool at eleven-thirty. Charlotte has a private lesson every Saturday morning. I then took them to McDonald’s for an early lunch.’ He directed a winsome grin in Blake’s direction and added: ‘Which is something I’d rather you didn’t tell Antonia; she doesn’t approve of feeding burgers and chips to her precious daughter. Can I rely on your discretion?’

He waited as though he really expected an answer. Blake stared him out. Robert shrugged and laughed.

‘Have it your own way. Anyway, after lunch I drove them both home before negotiating with Nicky about how much I’d have to pay her to work overtime on Saturday afternoon so I could get back here. OK? Is that clear enough for you?’

‘Remarkably straightforward, sir.’ Blake saw with satisfaction that his little gibe had got through. ‘What time did you leave the pool?’

‘I’m not sure. The lesson’s half an hour, then a shower and dressing, say twelve-fifteen; twelve-thirty.’

‘And you went straight to the McDonald’s in the High Street, did you?’

‘Yes. I can’t tell you precisely how long it took Charlotte to absorb her lunch.’

‘I imagine you must have been home by about two o’clock.’

‘About that.’

‘I see. And how was Charlotte? Did she seem normal? During the swimming lesson, for example?’

‘Perfectly. She’s taught by a charming young woofter, who’s done wonders with her. She used to be afraid of water, which is why Antonia insisted on the lessons in the first place, and young Mike Whatsisname has got her well sorted. He’s good with kids. Charlotte swims like a little fish now.’

‘She liked her lessons?’

‘That’s right. And they were useful for me too. It was sitting there, breathing in all that chlorine, that gave me the idea for the Fruititots bathing babies.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s only the most successful TV commercial this year. Haven’t you seen it?’

‘I can’t say I have, sir.’

‘Well, take it from me it’s a small masterpiece. Fruititots are our biggest account, and fucking pleased with the way the bathing babies campaign has gone. I owe Lottie that.’

‘It’s beginning to sound as though you attend the lessons regularly.’

‘Not regularly, but I go fairly often.’ Robert’s voice had lost its self-conscious striving note. ‘It’s a way of giving Nicky a bit of a boost. She gets lonely with no one but Charlotte to talk to, and Antonia can be a bit sharp with her. I do what I can to make her feel loved and wanted. It’s a small price to pay for domestic harmony. Nicky’s very good with the little brat, you see.’

‘Little brat, sir? That sounds as though you dislike your step— sorry, Charlotte.’

‘Not at all, Chief Inspector Blake. Or no more than any child. But she’s a demanding creature, given to tantrums. Perhaps they all are at that age; I wouldn’t know.’

‘Right, sir,’ said Blake, making a note. ‘Now Ms Weblock has told us she saw some bruises on Charlotte’s arms a few weeks ago. Did you notice them yourself?’

‘Bruises? No. I haven’t seen anything like that. What are you talking about? What sort of bruises?’

‘As though someone had been holding Charlotte too tightly about the upper arms,’ said Blake, looking closely at him for signs of guilt, amusement, satisfaction or even fear. All he saw was surprise. ‘You didn’t see anything like that? Not even at the swimming pool? They must have been visible.’

Robert Hithe was silent for a moment as though genuinely searching his memory, but then he flattened his lips, squeezing them together in a horizontal pout and shook his head. ‘No, can’t say I did. But then I never get all that close to the brat – I never dry her or dress her or anything. I might well have missed them. Did Antonia say they were bad?’

‘No. Could you give me the name of the swimming teacher, sir? And the address of the pool.’

‘He’s called Mike. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his surname. But the pool’s easy. Hang on, it’ll be in my Psion.’ He pulled the little computer from his pocket, pressed a few keys and then dictated the postal address and the telephone number of the pool. ‘No. No record of young Mike’s surname, though. But they’ll be able to tell you at the pool.’

‘Presumably, sir. Now, is there anyone who can confirm exactly where you were yesterday afternoon?’

‘Why?’ The sharp features twitched. It was a moment before Blake realised that Robert was laughing at him. ‘Don’t you believe I was working? That’s a bloody good joke under the circumstances.’

‘Why’s that, sir?’ Blake resented the way Robert kept trying to make him feel like the dullest, thickest plod on the beat.

‘Because we had an almighty screaming match that could probably have been heard streets away. The whole cast is upstairs now. You’d better come up and meet them. You’ll get to see the boardroom after all. Lucky old you. And lucky them. They’ll be thrilled to know I’m being accused of child murder now.’

If he had been talking to the man in his private capacity, Blake thought he might have hit him at that point.

‘May I remind you, sir,’ he said, putting all the suppressed violence into his voice, ‘that we’re not asking these questions for fun. We’re trying to find Charlotte before harm – or more harm – comes to her. It’s no laughing matter.’

‘Except that the idea that
I
could have done something to her is ludicrous. About as ludicrous as some of the things the dear colleagues accused me of yesterday. They’ll love you. And you them, probably. Well, come on if you’re coming. I haven’t any more time to waste.’

Blake was coming to the conclusion that Robert was one of the most unpleasantly self-important, twisted little pricks he’d seen in years.

‘Before we go up, sir, can you tell me why, if your crisis was so important, you chose yesterday for one of your irregular visits to the swimming pool?’

Robert stopped with one foot on the bottom stair. After a second, he turned back. Only the anger was left in his face. All traces of nervousness seemed to have been wiped away.

‘You really have got it in for me, haven’t you? Who’s been winding you up?’

‘No one, sir. Would you just answer the question?’

‘If you must know, my fucking fellow directors couldn’t get their arses in gear in time to meet in the morning. Since that would have been a hell of a lot more convenient for me, I happen to think they must have done it on purpose to get me on edge. They want me out, but I’m not going without a bloody good fight. It’s my ideas that have kept this place afloat so far. And if they’d done as I said and stayed in our old offices instead of committing themselves to this expensive monstrosity, we wouldn’t be in the shit now. Every time they look at me they’re reminded of how stupid they’ve been and so they detest me. That’s why they’ll love the idea that you think I’m a child murderer. Satisfied?’