CRIME ON THE FENS a gripping detective thriller full of suspense (5 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘What do you think of this, Davey-boy?’ Cat threw a catalogue onto Dave’s desk.

‘Whoa! I’m not sure the old ticker is up to looking at that kind of thing! Where on earth did you get it, and what’s it got to do with the investigation?’ Dave tried hard not to look at the abnormally large-breasted woman in the shiny red rubber catsuit.

‘Shot in the dark, but I called into that adult shop down Carvery Lane.’ She threw him an accusatory look. ‘Nothing kinky, just checking for masks.’

‘And?’

‘Well, if they ever send me undercover to an S & M club, I know exactly where to buy my outfit, that’s for sure! But, I digress. The bloke who runs it, Jimmy, he imports all his masks, via a wholesaler, from China. Hardly surprising, I know, but listen to this. Apparently there’s a big market in really scary hand-made ones. Made here in the UK.’

‘I’ve just been looking at them on the web. They are horrific! Look at this one.’

He double-clicked the mouse and a hideous, rubber horror mask appeared full screen.

‘That is kid’s stuff, mate, believe me. Take a look at this, if you’ve got the stomach.’ Cat flicked through the brochure to find the right page. ‘What about that?’

Dave visibly recoiled.

Cat hid a sly smile at his reaction. ‘Effective, isn’t it? Apparently made of quality latex, and all individually designed and hand-painted. They are full head covering and are moulded from a human head to get a life-like effect.’

‘Who the hell would buy something like that?’

‘Any freak who has sixty quid to spare, and fancies looking like a flesh-eating nightmare from hell, I suppose.’

‘Sixty quid!’

‘Get one of your own design made up, and it will be more like a hundred.’

Dave closed the catalogue. ‘Well whoever is spreading ours around the town didn’t spend that kind of money, surely?’

‘Of course not. These tacky things,’ she pointed to the dead-rat-man mask on the desk, ‘are rubber, and nowhere near the quality of this.’ She jabbed a finger at the brochure. ‘What I’m saying is that it
is
possible to get these things made to order. And Jimmy told me you can even get a DVD from the Internet that tells you how to mould and cast your own. Not an easy process, but it can be done. Maybe I’ll download it and find out what equipment you need. Checking out the suppliers could be my next avenue to follow.’ She picked up the magazine and flicked through it. ‘Wow! Gorgeous outfit! I wonder how you would get that on, or more to the point, how you’d get it off.’

‘Please!’ Dave closed his eyes. ‘Remember my heart!’

Cat grinned and shut the book. ‘Okay, in the interests of your cardiac health, I’ll change the subject slightly. Has anyone got any further with the name Griffyx?’

Dave shook his head. ‘No, nothing. I’ve Googled it myself but can’t find anything on any variation of spelling.’

‘Means nothing to me, but I can ask around on the streets.’

‘I wouldn’t, well not until you run it past the guv’nor. Don’t want to give anything away. So far it’s the only info we’ve had on the damned things.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe I’ll try a few searches of my own. It sounds like something from a computer game to me.’ She logged into her computer and while she waited for the search engine, said, ‘So, what do you think of the new boy?’

‘Sergeant Easter? Well, not what I was expecting, that’s for sure. Seems okay. And
so far
, pretty resistant to the boss’s acid tongue.’

‘Well, I think he’s hot! If he’s what religion is about, Hallelujah! I’m converted.’

‘You are a lost cause, Cat Cullen. And I’d keep that observation to yourself, if I were you. If anyone hears you talking like that, they’ll have you up for discrimination of one sort or another.’

‘Okay, okay, you boring old fart! But I still think he’s hot. Now, let
me
try. Come on, Mister Griffyx, show yourself.’ She punched in another search and sat back to watch the monitor screen. ‘You know, it’s weird when you think about it.’

Dave looked up.

‘I mean, it’s just
kids
who seem to have these masks, and it’s not hard to get a kid to fess up if you lean on him a bit.’

‘I catch your drift. You mean that so far, not one has as much as squeaked about where they come from. So . . . ?’

‘So they really
don’t
know, do they? Which begs the question, what the hell is some adult doing scattering nasty masks around for kids to pick up?’

‘Niall Farrow reckons it’s a publicity stunt. Maybe the forerunner to some kind of new gimmick thing. You know, the “must have” gizmo of the month.’

‘So why
give
them away?’

‘A sprat to catch a mackerel. Get ’em hooked, then start charging the earth for them.’

‘Sorry, but I think that’s total crap.’ Cat snorted. ‘What sane parent is going to fork out good money to make their kid’s face look like road kill?’

Dave grimaced. ‘For some of the little shites we get in here, it’d be an improvement.’

‘Maybe, but—’ Cat didn’t have the chance to finish as the desk phone shrilled out.

A moment or two later, she replaced the receiver and bit her lip. ‘That was the guv’nor. She’s on her way back. She wants us in her office in ten minutes.’

Dave pulled a face. ‘That doesn’t sound too good. Is it about the missing girl?’

‘I think so, my chubby little friend. So, if you need a coffee or a bun, I’d go get it now. My gut feeling says we are going to be very busy.’

* * *

Nikki jumped out of the car, leaving Joseph to lock it and chase after her to the back door of the station. She knew that the sooner they acted the better the chance of finding the girl and she was not going to waste one damned second. For once, the drug dealers slipped from her thoughts, and Kerry Anderson moved in.

She punched in the security number and pushed the door impatiently. ‘What was the name of that boy she spends her time with?’

‘Her ‘pod’ neighbour said he’s called Kris, spelt with a ‘K.’’ Joseph breathed hard as he caught the door before it closed on him. ‘Lives in Barnby Eaudyke.’

‘Surname?’

‘Brown.’

‘Does her friend think they are lovers?’

‘Definitely not. She said they are just mates.’

‘Yeah, right, well I wonder if Mr Kris with a ‘K’ sees it like that?’

As they ran up the stairs to the CID room, Nikki’s mind was already in overdrive. Kris Brown was obviously their starting point. And the parents needed to be told. And then . . .

‘Inspector Galena!’ A WPC ran up behind them. ‘Superintendent Bainbridge wants to see you right away, ma’am. He’s in your office.’

Without replying, Nikki turned and hurried down the corridor.

* * *

Rick Bainbridge stood up as they entered. ‘Shut the door.’ His craggy face looked even more war-torn than usual.

Nikki’s jaw jutted forward. ‘What’s happened, sir?’

‘Some ramblers walking the seabank found a mobile phone. They also found this.’ The super placed an evidence bag on the desk.

‘What is it?’ Asked Nikki, peering through the clear plastic.

‘A light meter,’ Joseph said sombrely. ‘Used by serious photographers.’

‘A photographer, like Kerry?’

The super ran a meaty hand through his hair. ‘I don’t think there’s too much doubt about that. Most happy snappers are all digital these days.’ He paused. ‘But we have one piece of good luck here, although the phone was damaged, the lab reckon they will be able to retrieve information from it.’

‘Right, so we now know she’s been abducted.’ Nikki drew in a deep breath, ‘It’s time to get the official wheels turning.’

The super held up his hand. ‘Yes, but before we open the floodgates, Inspector, I want to know, one hundred per cent, that the phone belonged to her.’

‘It has to be hers!’ exploded Nikki. ‘Her friends say she often goes up the seabank, either taking photos or sky watching with her little ‘mate,’ Kris. And she was last seen wearing hiking boots, what more do you want?’

‘Confirmation,’ said the super patiently.

‘Sir! You know the time scale for finding abductees. The first twenty-four hours are crucial! And we’ve already lost valuable hours . . .’

The superintendent reached for the ringing phone. ‘It’s the lab,’ he muttered holding his hand over the mouthpiece. After a few short words, he hung up and looked from her to Joseph. ‘It’s Kerry Anderson’s alright. The last message she received,
and
the last call she made, were both to and from the same person.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Nikki was already making for the door, ‘Kris Brown.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

The word ‘village’ conjures up a certain rural quaintness, but as Nikki and Joseph drove into Barnby Eaudyke, they found nothing of the sort. The cottages and houses were scattered in meagre clusters, and every one of them edged the vast arable fields that ran all the way down to the marsh. The narrow lane that served as the main road was clogged with mud spewed up from the tractor tyres, and chickens roamed at will across the pocked-marked asphalt.

The Browns’ cottage sat a little way back from the road. The front garden had mainly been given over to a shingle car-parking area and turning space, and the cottage itself, although not exactly ramshackle, could have used a hearty dose of TLC.

‘Hardly chocolate box, is it?’ said Joseph, looking at the weather-bleached paintwork.

‘What do you expect!’ Nikki snorted. ‘These are farm worker’s places. And this is the Fens, not the cosy Cotswolds. They work god-awful hours to just about scrape an existence. So, along with the east wind and the North Sea—’

‘Okay, okay, I get the picture.’

Nikki swung the car into a lay-by, intended for church business, and they walked back.

In the absence of a bell, Joseph rapped hard on the wooden front door.

A dog barked sharply, and then they heard a voice call out. ‘It’s open. And Swampy doesn’t bite.’

Joseph pushed the door, and was greeted by a small brown and white spaniel that barked excitedly, then fled back into the cottage.

‘We’re looking for Kris Brown,’ called out Joseph.

‘Then you’ve found him.’ The young man was tall, skinny in the extreme, and had a floppy mop of almost black hair and thin wire-framed glasses. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, mildly suspiciously.

Both Nikki and Joseph produced their warrant cards. ‘We’d like a word please, Mr Brown.’

Nikki watched the eyes. After looking closely at their cards, he looked up and she saw the suspicion had been replaced by confusion. He shrugged, then stood back from the door.

‘I suppose you’d better come in.’

The door led directly into the sitting room. He pointed vaguely towards two armchairs that flanked the fireplace. ‘Sit down, if you want to.’ He perched on the arm of an overstuffed sofa and stared at them. ‘So what’s this about?’

‘You are a friend of Kerry Anderson, Mr Brown?’

‘Yes.’ The eyes narrowed slightly.

‘When did you see her last?’

The vagueness fell away. ‘Kerry?’ He said sharply. Now there was concern, in both his expression and his voice. ‘Has something happened to her?’

‘Well, we thought perhaps you may know the answer to that, Mr Brown.’ Nikki didn’t take her eyes off him. If he was acting, he was bloody good. But then Nikki had seen some award winning performances in her time.

‘Well! Has she had an accident, or what?’

‘Can you tell us when you saw her last?’ repeated Nikki.

The young man’s Adam’s apple jerked convulsively in his throat as he swallowed.

‘I, well, I . . .’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Oh yeah, it was the day before yesterday.’

‘And where was that, Mr Brown?’ added Joseph calmly.

‘At the Hub.’

‘At the university?’

‘Yeah. She wanted to talk to me, and as she had some spare time before one of her lectures, we grabbed a coffee.’ He pushed his glasses further up onto the bridge of his nose and stared straight at Joseph. ‘Look, man, if something’s happened to Kerry, you have to tell me.’

‘We don’t have to tell you anything,’ said Nikki flatly. ‘So what did she want to talk about?’

‘Uh, nothing really, well nothing important.’

‘Let us be the judge of that.’ Nikki’s tone was edgy. ‘What did she want?’

Brown tugged nervously at the hem of his baggy sweatshirt. ‘I . . . I can’t remember.’

‘Oh come on! Kerry asks to see you, to talk, and you can’t remember why?’

‘We just chatted. She talked about her dad, and what she’d bought him for his birthday, and she said she was looking forward to the field trip to the Peak District. I filled her in on some new gamma-ray bursts that have been discovered by ESA’s Integral satellite, and that’s all, really.’

‘Thrilling! And you didn’t think to ask her why she specifically needed to see you?’ Nikki didn’t bother to keep the derisory tone from her voice.

‘But we often have a coffee. It was nothing new.’ He frowned. ‘Kerry sometimes likes to just off-load, you know? And she knows that she can to me.’ He stared directly at Nikki. ‘People think it’s all so easy for her, but it isn’t.’

‘Okay. So what sort of mood was she in?’

Brown thought for moment. ‘Upbeat about the field trip, but . . .’

‘But?’ asked Joseph.

Brown didn’t answer immediately.

‘My sergeant asked you a question,’ growled Nikki.

‘Well, I didn’t think too much about it at the time, but now,’ he rubbed hard at his temple, ‘now, I get the feeling that something could have been bothering her. The fact that she was all fired up for the trip kind of masked it, but on reflection, maybe she was
too
hyped up.’

It was Nikki’s turn to frown. She’d played this all wrong. She’d given Kris Brown too much time to work out a retrospect scenario where Kerry was already worried about something. Time to move on.

‘So, when did you speak to her last?’

‘But I just told you!’

‘No, Mr Brown, you told me when you last
saw
her, not when you spoke last.’

‘That was it! I haven’t spoken to her since.’

‘No phone calls? No text messages?’ Nikki kept her voice expressionless.

‘No, none.’

Nikki frowned. ‘Do you have a mobile phone, Mr Brown?’

Kris Brown looked at her as if she were in need of mental care. ‘Yeah.’

‘Can I see yours, please?’

‘Sure.’ He moved across to a row of coat hooks by the front door and pulled a light jacket down. He plunged his hand deep into the pocket, then pulled it out and tried the other pocket. ‘That’s odd,’ he murmured, almost to himself. ‘I thought . . .’

‘Having trouble finding it, sir?’ asked Joseph. ‘I thought you young people were super-glued to your phones?’

Brown frowned. ‘Not me.’

‘Why? Bit of a loner, are you? Not many friends? Except Kerry of course.’ As Nikki stared at him she saw him begin to gnaw on his bottom lip. And she wasn’t sure if he were nervous, frightened, or just acting at one of the aforementioned emotions.

‘I think I have a right to know what has happened to Kerry.’ There was a tremor in his voice.

‘Where were you last night, Mr Brown?’

He tensed. ‘I was here.’

‘Was anyone with you?’

‘I was alone. My mother was away last night.’

‘And, is there a father?’ Joseph’s tone was gentler than Nikki’s, and it irritated her.

‘No. No father.

‘And your mother was conveniently ‘away’?’ barked Nikki.

‘It wasn’t convenient, whatever that means. She’s a rep, for a sports equipment company. She’s often away. Now will you please tell me what the hell is going on?’

Nikki noted the shaking hands and the reddening cheeks. ‘We need to find your phone, Mr Brown. Perhaps my sergeant should help you look for it?’

‘If it’s not in my pocket, then I’ve lost it.’ Kris Brown sat back on the sofa and stared belligerently at them. ‘I hate the things. I’m always losing it. Sure you need one living in a place like this, but I don’t often use it, and I never text!’

‘We have reason to believe that you texted Kerry Anderson last night.’ Nikki paused to see what effect her next words would have. ‘That would be just before she disappeared.’

The man gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh shit! But I never sent her a text! It wasn’t me!’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Brown, but in the absence of someone to confirm your whereabouts last night, and the fact that you cannot produce your mobile, I’m afraid we are going to have to ask you to come with us to the station.’

Nikki glanced at Joseph. ‘Get him to sort his dog out, then take him to the car, Sergeant. I need to ring for uniform to get out here. I want a thorough search for that missing phone, and any other evidence of Kerry Anderson being here.’ She turned to Brown. ‘Can we have your permission for that? Or do I need to get a warrant?’

The man offered no resistance. ‘Do what you have to, no doubt you will anyway. But I promise you, I haven’t seen Kerry since we met for coffee. And I would never hurt her, never.’

‘Because you love her?’

‘Love her?’ He blinked in surprise. ‘I don’t love her. She’s my friend.’

‘Well, perhaps that’s how she wants it to be, but maybe you’d like a bit more, Kris? Did you make a move on her and she didn’t like it? Is that how it was?’

At first he didn’t answer, then Kris Brown threw her a look of utter disgust. ‘I said she’s my friend. And I meant it.’

As Joseph walked him to the car, Nikki pondered on the intonation Kris Brown had placed on the words,
my friend
. There was a peculiar ‘singular’ sound to it, and she was left with the distinct feeling that Kris’s other friends were few and far between. If indeed, apart from Kerry, there were any.

As she locked the door, she decided that she was going to need a lot more time with that young man. There had been something in his voice when he talked about Kerry Anderson, something clingy and unhealthy. Like he knew her better than anyone else. Like he worshiped her. Nikki shuddered slightly. She knew from past cases, one in particular, that that kind of relationship could go horribly wrong.

* * *

Mickey lay on his side on the unmade bed, and stared at the mask held tightly in his hand. He should never have taken it. The orders were very clear, and if Marcus found out, the older boy would knock seven bales out of him. And that would be the end of all that lovely cash.

He felt the spongy rubber with his fingers, then smiled possessively at it. He’d just have to make sure that Marcus
didn’t
find out. He’d hide it, and wear it when he was alone. Like now.

The boy gave a little shiver of excitement. So far he had not had the opportunity to put it on. Now that his dad was down the social, and his mum had gone off with some friend, he had the place to himself.

Mickey sat up, and taking the mask with him, walked across to the wardrobe. Inside the door was a long narrow mirror. Mickey looked at himself with interest. He sure didn’t look like the kind of kid who had nearly £200 stuffed in a shoebox beneath his bed. He grinned, then pulled the mask over his thick thatch of corn-coloured hair. He positioned the eye slits, then looked once again in the mirror.

The second he saw himself, he gave an involuntary yelp, and breathed in a great gulp of stale, rubber smelling air that made him cough.

It was horrible. And exciting, at the same time. Sort of powerful! He felt a cramp-like thrill grip his stomach and churn his lunch into mush. Yeah, this was so cool! He stared at himself again and knew it had been worth the risk.

* * *

Superintendent Bainbridge was waiting in the CID room when Nikki got back. He seemed to have aged ten years since her trip to Barnby Eaudyke. ‘WPC Collins and I have seen the parents. I don’t have to tell you what kind of state they are in.’

He didn’t. Nikki had dealt with enough frightened and bereaved parents to fill a small theatre. Plus she had had more than her own fair share of heartache with Hannah.

‘Have they thrown any light on what may have happened, sir?’ she asked.

‘Right now, they are too shocked to string a sensible sentence together. WPC Collins and PC Farrow have volunteered to wait with them until the designated Victim Support Liaison Officer gets there.’

‘What about the seabank? Where they found the mobile? Has that shown up anything?’

‘Plenty, and none of it good.’ The super frowned. ‘The whole area has been trashed. Probably to cover up footprints or signs of a struggle.’

‘Yet they left the phone and that gadget thing behind?’ Nikki questioned.

‘The ramblers found those some way down a steep bank that drops away from the path to the marsh. You’d never see them in the dark.’

‘What about tyre tracks, sir?’ asked Joseph. ‘They had to get out to the seabank somehow, and I doubt they walked.’

‘Yes, there are tracks. Too damn many,’ growled the super. ‘Some kids on off-road bikes were out there doing wheelies, or whatever it is they do on those wretched machines.’

‘Convenient.’

‘I don’t think it’s connected. The kids go out there regularly, scaring the shit out of the wild-life.’ The super leaned back against the wall. ‘As soon as Collins and Farrow are back in the station, I’m calling a meeting. This is your case Nikki, but I’m pulling in all the help I can get, and,’ he paused, looking directly at her, ‘I think, under the circumstances, our best hope is to go public immediately, do you agree?’

Nikki thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘It could be costly if she turns up tomorrow with a hangover and a tattoo that she doesn’t remember getting, but I guess we can’t afford not to.’