The Eyes of the Accused: A dark disturbing mystery thriller (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 2) (2 page)

‘And Maddie?’

‘I won’t stop her if she wants to go along for the ride.’

‘Is she getting paid?’

‘She can have half of your salary if you want to share.’

‘Maddie’s on the same pay as me.’

‘For God’s sake! You’ll bankrupt us before you’re finished.’

Ben wasn’t backing down. If he did, it would set a precedent for any future negotiations. ‘We’ve got the insurance money. And the cash Emily Hunt’s dad gave us for rescuing his daughter from Penghilly’s Farm.’

‘And we haven’t worked since Penghilly’s Farm, either. Money vanishes quicker than a liar’s promise.’

‘So the sooner we get going, the better.’

Geoff seemed to consider this. ‘She can work on an hourly rate of five pounds an hour. She’s not on a salary. And I want detailed time-sheets.’

Ben looked at his father and imagined vinegar running through his veins. ‘That’s slave labour.’

‘It’s all right by me,’ Maddie said. ‘I don’t even get paid at the church.’

Ben thought his father would have fared well in a Charles Dickens novel. ‘It’s not all right. There is such a thing as the minimum wage in this country. It’s to stop tyrants exploiting workers.’

Geoff didn’t seem too concerned with fairness. ‘Take it or leave it.’

‘I’ll take it,’ Maddie said.

Geoff grinned. ‘Good. That’s that settled. So what are you waiting for? Monica Heath. Wheatfield Close. I called her back and told her you’d be there in half an hour.’

Maddie touched Ben’s arm. ‘Come on. Let’s go and see her.’

‘And make sure you drill down into any family disputes and suchlike,’ Geoff said. ‘Nine times out of ten, these things turn out to be the result of a family squabble.’

Ben was well aware of the effects of family squabbles.

‘Get the boyfriend’s address and speak to him as soon as possible. From my experience, he wouldn’t be the first lover to do away with a partner.’

Ben wondered if his mother had ever had such thoughts. ‘Okay.’

‘I’ll give Andy at Oxford nick a bell. See what the cops know.’

Not very much, considering she’s still missing
, Ben thought.

‘And make sure you write down everything the woman tells you.’

Ben walked to the front door and grabbed his parka from a hat and coat stand. ‘Come on, Maddie. We don’t want to waste any of the company’s precious time.’

Monica Heath opened the door before Ben had a chance to ring the bell. She looked as if she’d parted company with sleep a long time ago. Grief had drawn dark circles beneath her eyes. Her grey hair was pulled back from her face and secured in a loose ponytail. ‘Ben?’

Ben held out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ He introduced Maddie.

Monica led them along a narrow hallway and into a small living room. She offered them a seat on a worn green leather sofa. She stood in front of them like a waitress not too sure of her job. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to help?’

‘We’ll try,’ Ben promised. ‘You told my father Hannah went missing four months ago? Could you give me the exact date?’

‘August 4th. Friday. She called me at lunchtime. That’s the last time… I… ever… heard… from… her.’ The last few words were stapled together with sobs.

Ben took out his notebook and wrote down the date. ‘What did she say?’

Monica sniffed and dabbed her nose with a tissue. ‘She told me she had tummy pains. I told her to go home if she wasn’t well.’

‘How did she respond?’ Maddie asked.

‘She said the care manager would kick up a fuss if she went off sick. They were already two staff short. I told her the most important thing was the baby. Bugger Connie Sykes.’

Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘Connie Sykes?’

‘The care manager.’

‘Where does Hannah work?’ Maddie asked.

‘Sunnyside Nursing Home. She’s a care assistant.  – a bloody good one, too. She’s always had a caring nature. She’s been there since she left school. She didn’t sit her A-levels – she’s not particularly academic. That’s not to say she didn’t try, but she’s more of a practical girl.’

Ben asked where Sunnyside was.

‘Tadmarsh.’

Ben knew it. A small village about six miles out of Feelham.

‘Apart from the tummy ache, how did Hannah seem?’

Monica shrugged. ‘Her usual self, really. Excited about the wedding. Excited about the baby. Fed up with work.’

Ben licked the tip of his pencil. ‘Fed up? Why?’

‘Nothing, as such. It was just getting to be a bit of a chore, what with the morning sickness and stuff.’

‘Does Hannah drive?’ Ben asked.

‘Yes. She passed her test at seventeen. First time.’

Ben opened his notebook again. ‘Is her car missing?’

‘No. Robert was using it for work the day she went missing.’

‘Robert?’

‘Her fiancé.’

‘So how did she get to work?’

‘She got a lift with Seb Smith. They were on the same shift.’

‘But she didn’t get a lift home with him?’

‘No. Connie said she let her leave about an hour before the end of her shift.’

Ben wondered why Hannah hadn’t just waited until the end of the shift and got a lift home. Especially if she was in pain. ‘What time did her shift end?’

‘Eight.’

‘Do you know this Seb Smith?’

Monica nodded. ‘He’s lovely. Hannah was a bridesmaid when Seb and Kim got married last year. Kim’s Hannah’s best friend.’

‘Does Kim work at Sunnyside?’

‘No. She’s a hairdresser. She was going to do Hannah’s hair for the wedding.’

Ben chewed the end of his pencil for a moment. And then: ‘Hannah didn’t phone you for a lift?’

‘I don’t drive.’

‘So the last person to see her before she went missing was this care manager, Connie Sykes?’

‘Yes. Sour old cow reckons she can’t hold Hannah’s job open indefinitely.’

‘So much for compassion,’ Maddie said.

Ben didn’t want to get drawn on protocol. ‘When was Hannah due to get married?’

‘August nineteenth.’

‘Did she ever mention anything at all that gave you cause for concern?’ Ben asked. ‘Either at work or at home?’

‘No. My daughter was happy. She had no enemies. No major worries. I can honestly say I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about her.’

People hide things
, Ben thought.
Especially from parents.
‘Are you close to your daughter?’

‘As close as close can be.’

‘What about the police?’ Maddie asked. ‘Have they given any indication of—’

‘The police don’t give a toss. They keep saying they’re doing their best and that she’ll probably turn up. Really? So where is she, then? Hiding in the linen closet?’

Ben looked around the sparsely furnished room. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight. Just a few cards lining the windowsill. He wanted to reassure this poor woman. Put a tiny spark of hope in her eyes, but no adequate words would come.

‘If my Hannah was the daughter of a politician or a celebrity, they’d have searched the rivers and the fields and all sorts by now. No one seems to care about ordinary folk.’

‘We do,’ Maddie said. ‘I promise you.’

Monica plucked a tissue from the sleeve of her jumper and dabbed her eyes. ‘Do you? Do you really?’

Maddie nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘That’s more than I can say about her father. I called him the day after she went missing. Do you know what he said?’

Ben didn’t.

‘Let the police deal with it.’

‘You say you called him the day after she went missing,’ Maddie said. ‘I take it he doesn’t live with you, then?’

‘No. He lives in Australia. Buggered off when Hannah was three. Couldn’t handle the responsibility of having a wife and a child to support. He thought life was just a playground set up to suit him. Once it got serious, he was off. And good riddance to him.’

‘Does he ever visit?’ Ben asked. ‘Have any kind of contact?’

Monica shook her head. ‘Birthday cards and Christmas cards. Token cheque stuffed inside. He severed his ties with us. Vic’s Hannah’s dad now.’

‘Vic?’

‘I remarried four years after His Lordship buggered off. A good man. A proper father. Someone I can trust. Someone who deserves to walk Hannah up the aisle.’

‘Good for you,’ Maddie said.

‘Except the wedding never happened, did it? And my daughter has vanished off the face of the earth.’

Ben closed his notebook. ‘I’m sure—’

‘How old are you, love?’

‘Twenty-two.

She asked Maddie.

‘Just turned twenty-one.’

‘Hannah’s twenty-five. It only seems like five minutes ago she was making all the usual plans teenage girls make. She wanted to be an actress. She joined the Feelham Players when she was fourteen. Got a part in a Christmas production of
Jack and the Beanstalk
. Well, she was the back end of the cow, but as she always said, “everybody’s got to start somewhere”.’

‘Is she still a member of the Feelham Players?’ Ben asked.

‘Yes. She used to go evenings and weekends, work permitting. Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away. She wasn’t in the Christmas production this year, what with the baby being due in January, so she was just helping out with the costumes and scenery.’

‘That sounds so cool,’ Maddie said. ‘I wish I could act.’

‘She’s good, too,’ Monica said. ‘Even though I’m bound to say it because I’m her mum, she is. Even Robert thinks she’s good.’

‘How long has Hannah been living with Robert?’ Ben asked.

‘Nearly two years. I wasn’t too sure about them moving in together at first. Thought it might have been nice to wait until they were married. Just me clinging onto my little girl, I suppose. But they seemed really happy. No big bust ups. No running home to me with a suitcase. Robert’s a really nice mature young man. It’s as if they were meant to be together.’

Ben glanced sideways at Maddie and felt something squeeze his heart. ‘Could I have the address?’

‘96, Heritage Road. That’s here in Feelham.’

‘Have you got a recent photo?’

Monica walked over to a mahogany sideboard. She took an album from a drawer and leafed through it. She took out a photo and handed it to Ben. ‘The police have still got the most recent one of her, but this was taken at Easter.’

Ben studied the girl grinning at the camera. Her long dark hair was brushed back from her face and secured with a bright yellow headband. She had a pleasant warm face, with a distinctive gap between her front teeth. She was pretty in an unassuming way. ‘Is it all right if we borrow it?’

‘Yes. But please look after it.’

Ben promised he would, and placed the photo in the middle of his notebook. He put the notebook in his parka pocket.

‘How much will all this cost?’ Monica asked. ‘We’re not exactly rolling in money.’

‘We charge forty-five pounds an hour for searches,’ Ben said. ‘That includes time and equipment and miscellaneous costs.’

Monica looked doubtful. ‘That could run into thousands?’

Ben opted to quote his father: ‘You’re at liberty to stop the investigation whenever you want and receive a complete and comprehensive report.’

‘I’ll ring her father. It’s about time he put his hand in his pocket.’

‘There won’t be any charge for today,’ Ben said. ‘Consultations are free. We only charge when you instruct us to go ahead.’

‘I’ve got a bit put by in the bank. Enough to get going. After that, His Lordship can pay.’

Ben stood up. ‘We’ll do our best to find Hannah, Mrs Heath.’

Monica walked them to the front door. ‘Thank you.’

As the door closed behind them, Maddie turned to Ben. ‘Do you reckon we’ve got any chance of finding her?’

Ben shivered. The chances of finding Hannah Heath alive were about as slim as finding his father in a pleasant mood. ‘It doesn’t look too good, does it?’

Geoff studied the picture of Hannah. ‘Are you sure they can pay?’

Ben admired the old man’s compassion. ‘Yes.’

‘I want a cheque for the first two weeks in advance.’

‘A cheque might bounce,’ Anne Whittle said. ‘And those things take ages to clear.’

Ben sometimes wished that his mother would disappear. Or at least keep quiet. ‘I’m sure a cheque will be fine. Hannah’s mum is straight down the line.’

Geoff picked up a cheese straw from a plate on the dining table. ‘You say the mother’s remarried, and hubby number two isn’t Hannah’s real dad?’

Ben nodded and prayed that his father made no derogatory comments. His prayers went unanswered.

‘The mother puts it about a bit, then?’

‘One husband and one ex-husband,’ Ben said. ‘That’s hardly putting it about, is it?’

Geoff took a bite of his cheese straw. ‘I don’t like stepfathers; there’s always something dodgy about them. Especially when stepdaughters go missing.’

‘Monica said Vic’s been a good dad to Hannah. A proper dad.’

‘Don’t take everything as it’s presented. Families paper over cracks.’

‘I don’t think Monica was papering over any cracks. She seemed genuine enough.’

Geoff turned his attention to Anne and waved his cheese straw at her. ‘What are these things supposed to be?’

Anne brushed flour from the front of her apron. ‘You know full well what they are.’

‘Bloody thing almost chipped my tooth. You ought to sell them as weapons.’

Anne’s face crumpled.

‘Don’t listen to him, Mum. They’re lovely.’

Geoff seemed in no mood to patronise. ‘If you’ve got teeth like a bloody beaver.’

Anne scurried into the kitchen. ‘Thank you very much.’

Geoff threw the rest of the cheese straw on the plate and turned his attention back to Ben. ‘You make sure they cough up. We’ve had enough setbacks for one year.’

‘Perhaps I should march them to a cash machine at gunpoint?’

‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. I just want the first payment up front, that’s all.’

Maddie picked up the photo of Hannah and studied it. ‘I might know her. I wouldn’t swear to it, but she looks like one of the sports leaders at school.’

‘Girls always look the bloody same nowadays,’ Geoff said. ‘I’m sure they’ve all been cloned.’

‘It’s the gap in her teeth,’ Maddie said. ‘I don’t know…’

Geoff tossed the photo back on the table. ‘So, to recap, the girl gets a lift to work, leaves early to go home because she’s got a dicky belly, and that’s the last anyone sees of her?’

Ben was tempted to give his father a sarcastic round of applause. ‘That’s about the size of it.’

‘Go down to Thames Travel. She might have caught a bus. If there’s a camera on the bus, there’ll be footage of her.’

‘Won’t the police have looked into that already?’ Maddie said.

Geoff agreed. ‘Probably. I’m still waiting for Andy to get back to me. What time did she leave work?’

Ben referred to his notes. ‘According to Monica, the care manager said Hannah left work about an hour before her shift ended.’

Geoff scowled. ‘Am I supposed to guess what time the shift ended or are you going to tell me?’

‘Sorry. Eight.’

‘Go on the Thames Travel website. Look at the times of the buses. Where is this nursing home?’

‘Tadmarsh.’

‘That’s barely a village. My guess is the buses run little after six. What date did the girl vanish?’

Ben was relieved he’d remembered to ask. ‘Fourth of August.’

‘So who gave Hannah a lift to work the day she vanished?’

‘Seb Smith,’ Ben said. ‘Hannah and Seb’s wife are good friends. Hannah was a bridesmaid at their wedding.’

‘You need to interview him. And the care manager at Sunnyside. And anyone else in that nursing home who was on shift with Hannah that day. See if anything leaps out at you. Liars are easy to spot if you know what you’re looking for.’

Ben wasn’t convinced that anyone at Sunnyside was responsible. It was far more likely to be a chance encounter. Some psycho who had seen her waiting at the bus stop and offered her a lift home.

‘Most times, it turns out the victim knows their attacker,’ Geoff said. ‘In fact, if you want to strip it right down to the bone, the culprit is usually a close friend or a family member.’

Ben was tempted to remind his father of the dangers of assumption.

Geoff stretched and looked at his son. ‘What do you reckon happened to this girl?’

‘I think someone’s abducted her somewhere between the nursing home and her house. Probably a random stranger who saw an opportunity and took it.’

‘Do you think she’s dead?’

Ben looked for something positive to say; it was like looking for a heartbeat in a corpse. ‘I hope not.’

‘The nursing home will probably have CCTV,’ Geoff said. ‘We might see Hannah leaving work. Or, more importantly, if she left one her own.’

Ben nodded. ‘I’ll check.’

‘You need to talk to the care manager about any maintenance men and delivery drivers connected to Sunnyside. Those buggers turn up as regular as clockwork in murders. I’ve lost count of the number of white-van drivers who have appeared in the dock, guilty as charged.’

Ben was reminded of the dangers of assumption again.

‘What you’re looking for when you talk to people is eye contact,’ Geoff said. ‘A lot of criminals have watched all those forensic shows on TV. They know maintaining eye contact is important when telling lies. But forced eye contact is easy to spot. They stare too hard, almost like they’re on drugs. Natural eye contact will break away occasionally. Forced won’t.’

Ben scribbled in his notebook and made a mental note to never maintain prolonged eye contact with his father in future.

‘Next thing is what I call left and right thinking. When they look to the right, they’re making stuff up. When they look to the left, it’s a good indicator they’re telling the truth.’

Ben stifled a yawn.

‘Am I boring you?’

‘I didn’t sleep much last night.’

‘Being tired isn’t an excuse for anything. You need to be on top of your game if you want to be a private investigator.’

‘Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind when I’m tossing and turning at night thanks to Penghilly’s Farm.’

Geoff didn’t seem in a sympathetic mood. ‘You’ve got to let that go. It’s over now. Move on.’

Ben didn’t think it would ever be over. Terrible memories of that place would haunt him forever. Edward Ebb would stalk him until his dying day.

Geoff winked at Maddie. ‘Take a pin with you and give him a jab when he flags.’

Maddie smiled.

Ben didn’t. He excused himself and went to the toilet. If his father had experienced a hatpin being jabbed into the soles of his feet by Edward Ebb, he might not be so flippant with his remarks.