Murder Among Us (16 page)

Markby said, "Take it easy, old chap. I'll be right over."

A missing child. One of the worst experiences to suffer. For him this was a special pain, not only because Emma was his niece and godchild but because she was for him the daughter he'd never had and probably now never would. He was in his forties with a childless marriage and long years of being single behind him and he didn't suppose that now, even if he ever managed to persuade Meredith to marry him, there would ever be fatherhood. Nor that now, at his time of life, could he be sure he would be able to cope with the reality of babies, wet and squawling and being sick on one.

Besides the pain and alarm as he drove, he knew too fast, towards his sister's house, he also felt anger. Anger with himself for all the times he'd kept silent when he'd wanted to say that they encouraged Emma in an independence she was too young to manage, and anger with them, Paul and Laura, because they'd let this happen. And yet he knew he was being cruelly unjust, even as these jumbled thoughts filled his brain. Because Emma had not vanished from that lonely country bus-stop or the lane to the stables, but from her own bed beneath her family roof and there was no rhyme, reason or anything comprehensible in it.

Unless it was a childish prank. He found himself clinging to the idea. Yes, a midnight adventure, hiding in the garden, daring herself to be brave .. . She'd come indoors soon, probably by the time he got there she'd be back already. He'd walk in and see her sitting at the kitchen table drinking cocoa and being scolded and kissed alternately by her relieved parents.

And yet some cold frightening little voice inside his head whispered no, that this was a fulfilment of the pre-

monition he'd been harbouring three or four days now, an inexplicable sense of foreboding. He had sensed, know, that some threat hovered over Emma. And he hadn't been able to stop it reaching her

All the lights in the Danby house were ablaze as he drew up. The front door stood open and he strode in. Laura, pale as death, shot out of the sitting room and hugged him wordlessly. He put his arms round her and said, "All right, Laurie, don't break down now. It'll be all right."

What a stupid, feeble encouragement, he thought, but he couldn't manage better.

As his sister broke away and sniffed into a damp handkerchief, he spotted from the corner of his eye his nephew sitting on the top stair in his dressing gown. "Hullo, Matthew!" he called up. "You've got no idea where she's gone off to, I suppose? No secret adventure plan? Nothing she swore you to secrecy about? Because it won't be breaking a solemn oath to tell now. Now's the time to speak up."

"No," said Matthew. "I told Dad and Mum she didn't say anything to me." Passionately he added, "But she's pinched my bike! Dad checked the shed to see if she was hiding there and it's gone! She's got my bike! I bet she writes it off. She wrote off hers—"

"All right, all right!" Paul had come into the hall. "You hop off to bed. Go on!"

Matthew got up and trailed morosely along the landing. "Bet she falls off, bet the chain comes off, bet she scratches the paint—"

His bedroom door closed on this litany.

In the sitting room Markby asked, "You've checked with immediate neighbours? How about her friends? They might have planned some midnight jape as kids do. You know, a feast in someone's garden shed." He heard his voice repeat his hoped-for solution and fought to keep the anxiety out, the desperate desire to hear his own fears assuaged.

mger

"Feast!" Paul's face turned pale with consternation. "Bloody bell! The apples, the baked beans, half a of bread! Stuffs been going missing for a week! She must have been squirrelling it away!"

We have checked the neighbours and her firienc Laura spoke, tense but confrollnd

have gone? You're sure she didn't leave a note?"

ied even-where 1 Of course we're Matt's bike, she could be any-

"Al sure! .And she's take where!''

Markby was only "The chances are dK trusts. Was she in tat herself, been told off high dudgeon but ge known it to happen.'

"Not Emma!" U trouble a: home "

Maridbj frowned. har^ 5;m m is m/. bks?"

The parenti excha: Smuhnmcner giving saad. "Bur she wank n:gh:. sure a' Tne pi; to bed . . . damn it, -Bui Emma woman'

~"Ol id Ma

vs and

next daw I

in ve

ura said firmly. i% She wasn't in

N:t a: .. me but elsewhere, per-on holiday. What about the sta-

ge-d glances. ""She was upset about die stables notice to quit," Lama n': have gene mere at this time of ;e •-• ... :e ■ ma m mm Zm :mm le's mot no nhone m that caravan. go there in die middle of the

:kbv. "I'll phone the stau

now

"No!" Pam snapped "She's on a bike, anyway!" Fair enough. This still could be some childish pranL Famous Five stuff.'' Maridby dialled through and relayed

request "Yes. bicycle, we dunk. She has long fair hair and is probably

wearing jeans, gumboots and a blue anorak. That's right. Yes, her friends have been checked. No, no, I don't think so ..." He glanced at Paul. "Did you try the local hospital?"

"No," Paul said dully and Laura sat down on the nearest chair and put her head in her hands.

After that it was a long wait through the darkest, chilliest and loneliest stretches of the night, a wait for news which didn't come. At four in the morning, the hour when the human spirit is at its lowest ebb, Markby went to Bamford police station to make sure everything was being done which could be until light. The town was empty and desolate. Everyone was abed even the cats. Empty fish and chip wrappers floated down the gutters and a few aluminium lager cans rolled noisily across the shopping precinct. There was a supermarket trolley wedged among bushes on the roundabout and the window of an electrical goods store was cracked. He supposed the night patrol had already seen and reported that.

At the station they were professional and reassuring. He realised with a mixture of irritation and despair that they saw him at this moment not as one of themselves, much less their chief, but as another worried member of the public.

They offered him tea. They said, "It's all right, sir! We've had experience of this kind of thing before! Most runaways return home within twenty-four hours. I expect the little girl will be back in the morning. After all, she couldn't have got far, could she?"

He lost his temper at that, crashing his fist on the counter and yelling, "Don't give me that! She's eleven years old and she doesn't play damfool tricks like this every day of the week! She's got a bike and could have got miles! That's if she hasn't had an accident, been knocked flying by a car which might not even have seen her in the dark! So get moving! This is my niece and I want her found! Got that? Put in a request for that hel-

icopter to be sent up in the morning! Make some use of the taxpayers' money!"'

Driving back to Laura's he paused before the dark front of Needles craftshop. Engine idling, he contemplated the windows of Ellen's flat as the steel grey fingers of dawn touched them. Ellen's death was his main case at the moment but now Emma was missing, how to concentrate on it? Impossible.

He sighed and tapped his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel, a wave of discouragement sweeping over him. It had been a salutary experience to be on the wrong side of the counter in his own station. How many worried relatives were plied with tea and platitudes, unable to do as he had done and bawl out the night team? One thing for sure, he thought grimly, from now on, any worried parent coming to Bamford station was going to get maximum practical assistance and pronto! He'd see to that!

He drew away from the silent shopfront and went to reassure his sister, sounding, he knew, much as the night team had sounded when mouthing their reassurances to him, seeing the frustration and anger on his sister's face and knowing how the parents of the missing child felt, unable to do anything more about it.

When it was light he went home, showered and shaved and prepared to go back to work. He was just drinking a quick cup of coffee when his phone rang.

Markby seized it. "Paul? Has she been found?"

''No. Alan, it's me. Meredith ..."

Puzzled, he tried to adjust, slurring his words with tiredness and mental confusion. 'Tm sorry, I was expecting ... I thought Paul or Laura might. . . why are you ringing?"

'Ts something wrong?" Meredith asked. "I'm sorry to call so early but I'm just off to work . . . Alan?"

He said simply. "Emma's missing."

There was a barest pause. Then Meredith said, "I'D

phone in and tell the office I'm taking a few days off 111 be back in Bamford later on today " y

"Thanks .. . thanks . .." he mumbled, and putting the Phone back on the rest, went into work to org Js? the

Eleven

When Markby walked into the police station, Wpc Jones was on the telephone. He had plenty on his mind without anything new added to it so he walked briskly past her, heading for the stairs. But as he reached the bottom tread, the word "stable" fell on his ear. Markby wheeled about and strode back, signalling his query to Jones.

She put her hand over the mouthpiece and said, "It's the young woman who runs the Alice Batt Rest Home. She's calling from a public phone box on the old Bam-ford road. Someone's stolen an animal, a donkey, and she's in a real old state. She's says the animal's worthless. It hasn't strayed. It was taken from their stableblock last night sometime."

"Let me have that!" Markby almost snatched the receiver from her. "Zoe? Chief Inspector Markby here. What's all this about a donkey?"

"I can't understand it," came Zoe's distraught voice. "Maud's very old and quite valueless. Who'd want her? She's very bad-tempered too and I can't understand her going quietly with a stranger. And another odd thing. There's a bicycle in the barn. It wasn't there last night. It's a boy's bike, quite a nice one. It looks as if someone rode it here last night, took Maud and left the bike. Is it some horrid practical joke? Because if so, it's not funny. But if it isn't, well, it just doesn't make sense!"

"It does to me!" said Markby grimly. "I'll be right there, Zoe!"

Zoe was waiting for him at the gate to the yard. She looked more than usually dishevelled and as he drove

up began to point wildly at the barn and mime her misfortune. The animals were wandering about the yard in a desultory fashion. Markby got out of his car and she dragged the gate open.

"It's awfully good of you to come so quickly and in person!" she began. "I thought just a constable—"

"There's something you don't know!" he interrupted. "Emma's missing."

"Emma?" Zoe stared at him wildly. "You don't think—oh no! Finlay Ross!"

"The vet? What's he got to do with this?"

"Emma was here when he called last and examined Maud. I thought she'd gone over to the caravan but she could just have been hiding and listening. Finlay said Maud might have to be put down. Emma's devoted to Maud—"

Markby heaved a sigh and set off towards the barn. "Where's this bike?"

She showed him. It was Matthew's all right. He recognised the pop group sticker on the saddle bag. Markby swore softly. "Okay, tell me when you found this. What time do you go to bed? Did you hear anything, any noise during the night?"

She appeared overwhelmed by the questions for a moment. Markby made an effort to calm himself. He must put out of his mind that this search concerned his niece and behave as he would if the search were for any child, be concerned but not incoherent, and above all methodical. "Just tell me everything."

"Well, I go to bed early about nine or nine-fifteen, because I get up very early. Anyway, I haven't got any electricity, only a paraffin lamp." She looked guiltily at him. "Actually, Mr. Markby, I haven't really got planning permission for a dwelling. I'm sort of squatting in that caravan. But nothing's fixed permanently so the council haven't bothered me yet..."

"That's not my department, Zoe. I don't care if you're living in a tent. Did you hear anything during the night?"

"No, not a thing. I sleep like a log. It's so dark and quiet out here and I'm always dog-tired."

"Speaking of dogs, you don't keep one? It's lonely here. Aren't you frightened at night?"

"No. I used to have a dog but he was very old and he died. I didn't get another because it costs enough to feed me and the horses without a dog. I got up this morning as usual, about six. I had my breakfast and I came out here. I didn't go in the barn straight away because I wanted to fix a hole in the paddock hedge before I turned out any of the animals for the day. It took me about an hour ..."

She held out her scratched hands as evidence. ' 'Robin said he'd do it, but I couldn't wait for him to come. Then I went to the barn and found Maud had gone— and the bicycle had appeared. I didn't know what to think. I searched all round just in case the person who took Maud had let her loose. I thought then it must be a practical joker, but I couldn't find her. So I ran up to the road to the call box and phoned Finlay because—I don't know—I thought if anyone had seen an animal wandering they might have called him. Then I phoned the nearest farmer and then I phoned the police ... I should have phoned the police first, I suppose, but I couldn't believe it. Maud isn't worth anything and she's got rheumatics."

"So she couldn't have been taken far?" Markby seized on this.

"Well, that depends. Although her legs are wonky, she gets along on them all right. In the course of an hour or two she could wander a long way even if she was just left loose." Zoe bit her Up. "Do you really think Emma's run off with her? It would make sense because if a stranger tried to take Maud, she'd kick up a devil of a fuss and probably bite whoever it was. But Emma could do anything with her."

"It begins to look as if she's taken the donkey. Poor kid." One of the Shetland ponies had approached him

.

and was glaring balefully through a mop of hair over its eyes. Markby prudently edged away.

"But where could she go? Anyway, what did she think she could do? She couldn't stay hidden with Maud for ever!" Zoe wailed.