Ramsay 06 - The Baby-Snatcher (28 page)

But if this was the scene of the crime he believed, it had happened weeks ago and contamination would have already occurred. And he was curious.

He started with the shed. In the compartment half filled with coal there was a tin bucket and a shovel. He moved the coal from one corner to another until he was satisfied that nothing had been hidden beneath it. He rummaged through the pile of discarded clothes. There was nothing but a short piece of bamboo which had fallen from the kite David had been flying. He must have held on to it while he was carried away.

Ramsay remembered what Emma had said: ‘His speech is very poor for his age. They say there’s nothing really wrong. Boys are often slow developers. But he gets frustrated when he can’t communicate.’

It seemed unlikely then that David would be able to tell them who had abducted him. They would have to work that out for themselves.

Ramsay returned to the yard. His back ached. The shed wasn’t quite high enough for him to stand upright. He noticed that since his last visit the plants in the ceramic tub had come into flower. There were early polyanths, yellow and deep scarlet.

On impulse he took the bamboo cane and poked it into the loosely packed compost and soil in the tub, prodding carefully through the roots, trying not to disturb the flowers. Then, when he was sure something was hidden there, he fetched the trowel from the shed and lifted out each polyanthus separately and set it on the yard. He took a pair of disposable gloves from his pocket and pulled them on, then fished in the tub with his hands. Despite his care, loose soil spilled on to the paving stones.

He reached into the tub like a child in a lucky dip and pulled out a kitchen knife. An ordinary bread knife with a plastic handle and a serrated blade. The knife that had killed Kathleen Howe. He replanted the polyanthus and went back to the house to await the arrival of Bernard.

When Ramsay got back to the police station he saw Marilyn sitting in the waiting room. She was reading a magazine which must have been left by another visitor. It was full of glossy pictures of filmstars, articles on fashion and shopping and ‘How to Keep Your Man’. She seemed engrossed. She looked very tired. Her face was the same colour as her white hair.

‘They’ve finished with me,’ she said.

‘I’ll get someone to take you to your gran’s,’ he said. ‘Your dad’s there.’

‘What about Claire?’ She didn’t ask what Bernie was doing at his mother’s. Ramsay didn’t explain. Bernie could tell her what was happening in Cotter’s Row, about the scene of crime officer in the back yard, the constable at the front door fending off the neighbours and the press.

‘Don’t worry about Claire. I’ll bring her over later.’

‘How’s the little boy?’

‘He’s fine.’ He had spoken briefly to Grace. She’d told him that the Coulthards weren’t demanding explanations at this stage. They were just relieved that the ordeal of waiting was over. He knew he would have to visit the Coastguard House – he was starting to suspect how much Emma Coulthard had deceived him – but he could allow them time with their son before he intruded.

In the Interview Room he found Claire with Sally Wedderburn and Newell, another member of his team. He gave his name for the tape and sent Newell away, then sat impassively and let Sally get on with her questions.

‘Why did you do it, Claire?’ Sally asked wearily. It wasn’t the first time the question had been asked.

‘Why did I do what?’ Claire wasn’t intimidated by the surroundings or the questions. She certainly wasn’t intimidated by Sally Wedderburn. In her stolid, solitary way she almost seemed to be enjoying herself, to be enjoying at least Sally’s discomfort because the interview wasn’t progressing as she’d hoped.

‘Why did you bring David Coulthard down the hill and lock him in your shed?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘So how did he get there?’

‘You tell me. You’re the police officer.’

Ramsay could sense that Sally was on the verge of losing her temper but he didn’t intervene. She’d come across more irritating suspects than Claire Irvine in her career and he wouldn’t always be there to bail her out. She took a deep breath.

‘You’re not suggesting that a three-year-old locked himself in your shed?’

‘Why not? He could have. As a sort of game. Hide and seek. I’ve told you he was that sort of kid.’

‘And locked the padlock from outside?’

‘Well, someone else could have done that, couldn’t they? Not realizing he was there.’

‘What sort of someone else are we talking about here, Claire? You don’t exactly get a stream of visitors through your back yard, do you? Or have I missed something?’

‘It could have been Marilyn. Or Bernie.’

It could have been Bernie, Ramsay thought. His taxi didn’t collect him until after David Coulthard went missing. He said, ‘ We’ve talked to Marilyn and Bernie. Neither of them touched the padlock this afternoon.’

‘Well, it wasn’t me. What would be the point?’

And that had been troubling Stephen Ramsay all afternoon. He couldn’t work out what was the point of the abduction. And where it fitted in with Kath Howe’s murder. If it did.

‘Perhaps you didn’t mean any harm,’ Sally said. ‘Perhaps you just wanted to teach David a lesson, a bit of discipline, while Mrs Coulthard was out of the way and couldn’t interfere. Because he’s a naughty boy, isn’t he? Not just lively, but naughty. And Mrs Coulthard won’t have it, will she? She talks about his frustration but that’s just an excuse. She doesn’t have to cope with his tantrums day after day.’

Ramsay sat forward, impressed. This was more the sort of performance he’d been expecting from Sally. She continued, ‘Perhaps this afternoon was the final straw. He was excited, let out on the Headland, suddenly with enough space to run around. I bet he went wild. So you thought you’d have to put your foot down. You’d see it as your duty almost, part of your job to teach him some respect. You told him if he didn’t behave you’d shut him up in the dark. But he didn’t behave, did he? So you had to carry out your threat. You’ll have been told that at college. Don’t make threats you’re not prepared to carry out. You didn’t mean to leave him there though, did you? Not all afternoon. Just while you took Helen up to the Coastguard House to change her nappy. You knew he’d be safe in there.’

Claire sat very still. She stared ahead of her and said, nothing. Encouraged, Sally went on, ‘Then Mrs Coulthard spoiled it by coming home early. You couldn’t tell her you’d locked David in a coal hole as a punishment. She wouldn’t have been very impressed by that. My impression is that she doesn’t have time for old-fashioned discipline. I don’t suppose she even lets you smack them. So on the spur of the moment you made up a story about him disappearing. After all these child abductions she believed it. And worried herself sick all afternoon.’

Claire began to clap her hands, very slowly.

‘Very good,’ she said. ‘Oh yes, very good. I almost believed it myself.’

‘Do you admit that’s what happened?’

‘Of course not.’ Claire was dismissive. ‘I love kids. I’ve been properly trained. I wouldn’t treat any child like that. Besides, Miss Clever Clogs, when Mrs Coulthard got in she sent me out down the Headland to look for David. If it happened like you said, why didn’t I just let him out of the shed and pretend I’d found him wandering? He couldn’t tell her any different. He can’t talk. Anyway, what were the other kids doing while all this was going on?’ She paused, then shot a knowing look at Sally. ‘Your dad lock you in the coal shed when you’d been bad, did he? That’d explain a lot.’

Suddenly and shockingly Sally blushed.

‘Could we go back to the padlock, Claire,’ Ramsay said gently, as if he were musing to himself. ‘ You do admit that you bought that?’

‘Yeah. I didn’t like Bernie’s bike in the hall. It left mud on the carpet. So we thought we might persuade him to leave it outside if we had somewhere secure.’

‘But this afternoon his bike wasn’t in the shed.’

‘No. He must have forgotten when he got in last night.’

‘You didn’t remind him?’

‘Na! He’d had enough nagging from Kath.’ She must have thought that sounded callous because she added limply, ‘You know what I mean.’

‘But when I came to talk to you a couple of nights ago his bike was in the hall then too.’

‘So? It’s going to take him a while to get used to it.’

‘There’s a stain on the shed floor,’ Ramsay said. She didn’t answer. ‘At first I thought it was oil from Bernie’s bike, but now it seems Bernie doesn’t keep his bike there very often. For some reason he seems to have taken a real dislike to the shed.’ He paused, but still she didn’t speak. ‘So I took a closer look at the stain and it looks much more to me like blood. We think it might be Kath’s blood. We’ll be able to tell. There are tests now. You know what that means, don’t you, Claire?’

‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’ But despite the flip response she watched him anxiously, frowning so the thick eyebrows met.

‘We think that’s where Kath was killed. Or if she wasn’t killed there she was put there soon after she died. Are you surprised about that?’

‘Of course I’m surprised. If it’s true.’

‘Then later, when the tide was high, she was moved to the jetty and thrown into the water. That’s what we think must have happened. I’d say it would take more than one person to do that. Or someone who had a car. Have you any idea who that might have been, Claire? How do you think the body was moved to the jetty?’

‘How the hell would I know?’ She glared at him.

‘But you must have noticed the stain in the shed?’

‘Of course not. It’s got a mucky floor. What’s one more stain? Anyway, I don’t go in there very often.’

‘But you must go in every day. To fetch coal.’

‘Na!’ she said. ‘That’s one of Bernie’s jobs. When he remembers.’

She gave a little cry and put her hand to her mouth in a gesture of dismay.

‘You’ve been trying to make a nice home for Bernie and Marilyn, haven’t you? Since you took over the running of it. You want everywhere to look nice. Is that why you planted the tub of flowers in the yard? That was you, Claire, wasn’t it? Kath would never have thought of it.’

But before she could answer there was a knock on the door and Hunter came in.

‘Could I have a word, sir?’

He kept his voice even but Ramsay could tell he was excited.

‘Why don’t we take a break now, Claire?’ Ramsay said. ‘I’m sure you could do with a break. Sal, you make certain that Claire gets a cup of tea.’

In the corridor Hunter couldn’t keep still. He paced backwards and forwards, talking all the time.

‘I’ve been taking the statement from Hooper,’ he said. ‘The child abductor. I know we’ve cleared him of the Coulthard abduction but I started the interview…’

And you wanted to be sure the arrest was down to you, Ramsay thought.

‘… so I decided I’d take him over that Saturday when Kath Howe was murdered. All along we thought he might be a possible witness.’

‘Did he see anything on the Headland?’

‘Not exactly. When he left Kim Houghton’s house he went to the phone box by the club to call his wife. To check she was all right, he said, but it was to establish his story about him working away for the weekend, to say he was on his way home. He chatted for a few minutes then he left the Headland. Guess what he did next?’

Ramsay had begun to guess what Paul Hooper had done next but he was a kind man and he didn’t want to spoil Hunter’s story. At the end he even pretended to be surprised.

‘Has anyone tried to contact Mark Taverner this afternoon?’ he asked.

‘Aye. Like you said. But all we get is the answering machine.’

‘He’ll be at home. Fetch him in. I want to talk to him before I go.’

‘And where will you be off to then, sir?’

Ramsay smiled, pretending again. Letting Hunter believe he was relishing the job. ‘Where do you think?’

He took Sally Wedderburn with him to Newcastle. In the car he explained to her what it was all about, but since Claire’s dig about her own childhood she seemed to have lost interest in the case. She wasn’t even shocked.

Ferndale Avenue was full of parked cars and they had to stop in the next street and pull up on to the pavement. As they walked to the house they had glimpses through an occasional uncurtained window of family groups gathered round Saturday evening television. At Mrs Howe’s the curtains were drawn. There was a curtain at the front door too and they waited for Bernard’s mother to draw it back before she let them in. She seemed too excited to be surprised to see them.

‘Come in, come in,’ she said, sounding almost jolly. She was wearing a maroon velveteen dress – a best frock put on for the occasion – and held the cat to her shoulder so it looked like a fur stole. It stared at them with watery eyes. Its fishy breath wafted to them across the doorstep.

‘Come in,’ Mrs Howe said again with a touch of impatience. ‘We’re having a little recital. Bernard has often told me how musical Marilyn is but I hadn’t realized until now the extent of her talents.’ They stepped into the hall and they did hear rather plodding piano music coming from the living room. ‘If we’re lucky we might persuade Bernard to do some magic for us later.’

She released the cat, leaving it stranded on her shoulder, and clapped her hands in appreciation and as a childish gesture of delight at the piano piece which had just stopped. Ramsay realized she had achieved just what she had always wanted. Her son was back home with her. For a while at least. Through an open door Ramsay saw a Victorian dining table laden with the remnants of a high tea.

The living room was as hot as it had been on his previous visit, but Bernard was sitting with his chair pulled up close to the fire. He was wearing carpet slippers. When he had returned to Cotter’s Row after performing his magic tricks to the children of Gosforth Ramsay had explained that he and Marilyn might be more comfortable if they moved elsewhere for a while. It seemed odd that he had chosen to bring carpet slippers with him, then Ramsay realized that these slippers had been bought by Mrs Howe and kept at the house in Ferndale Avenue for Thursday evenings. And in readiness for the time when Bernard, as he surely would, recognized his mistake and returned home.