Hushabye (2 page)

Casey Fullman was a tiny woman, very childlike in spite of the bleached hair, the breast implants and the false nails. Kate noted the delicate bones of her wrist and ankles. Casey had bunchy cheeks, smooth and round like the curve of a peach, a tip-tilted nose and large blue eyes. These last were bloodshot, tears glistening along the edge of her reddened eyelids.

“I don’t know,” she was saying as Kate joined them. Her voice was high, and she spoke with a gasp that could have been tears but might be habitual. “I don’t know. I didn’t hear anything and when I woke up, Dita,” she drew in her breath, “Dita wasn’t there. She would normally be there with a bottle and Ch- and Ch–”

She broke down entirely, dropping her head down to her bare knees. There was a moment of silence while Kate watched the ends of Casey’s long hair touch the floor.

Anderton began to utter some soothing words. Kate looked around, her eye attracted by a movement outside on the terrace. A man was walking up and down, talking into a mobile phone, his free hand gesticulating wildly. As Kate watched, he flipped the phone closed and turned towards the house. He was young, good-looking and, somewhat incongruously given the early hour, dressed in a suit.

“Sorry about that, I had to take it,” said Nick Fullman as he entered the room. Kate mentally raised her eyebrows, wondering at a man who prioritised a phone call, presumably a business matter, over comforting his wife after their baby son had been kidnapped.
Not necessarily a kidnapping, Kate, stop jumping to conclusions
. She thought she saw an answering disapproval in Olbeck’s face.

Anderton introduced his colleagues. Nick Fullman shook hands with them both, rather to Kate’s surprise, and then finally sat down next to his sobbing wife.

“Come on, Case,” he said, pulling her up and encircling her with one arm. “Try and keep it together. The police are here to help.”

Casey put shaking fingers up to her mouth. She appeared to be trying to control her tears, taking in deep, shuddering breaths.

“Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea?” said Olbeck. He caught Kate’s eye, and she immediately looked away.
Don’t you bloody dare ask me to make it
. He looked around rather helplessly. “Is there anyone who could , er–”

“I’ll make it.”

They all looked around at the sound of the words. A woman had come into the kitchen. Or had she? Kate wondered whether she’d been there all along, unnoticed. There was something unmemorable about her, which was odd because she too was dressed in full business attire, her face heavily made-up, her hair straightened and twisted and pinned in an elaborate style on the top of her head.

“This is my PA, Gemma Phillips,” said Fullman. There was just a shade of relief in his voice. “Gemma, thanks for coming so quickly.”

“It’s fine,” she said with a brilliant smile, a smile that faded a little as she surveyed Casey, huddled and gasping. “It’s terrible. I came as quickly as I could. I can’t believe it.”

“If you could make tea for us all, that would be wonderful, Miss Phillips,” said Anderton.

“It’s
Ms
Phillips, if you don’t mind,” she said, rather quickly. “Or you can call me Gemma. I don’t mind.”

Anderton inclined his head.

“Of course. We’d like to talk to you as well, once we’ve been able to sit with Mr and Mrs Fullman for a while.”

He turned back to the Fullmans. Gemma shrugged and began to make tea, moving quickly about the room. Kate watched her. Clearly Gemma knew her way around the kitchen very well. What, exactly, was her relationship with her employers like? Had she worked for them long? Presumably she didn’t live on the premises. Kate made mental notes to use in her interview with the girl later.

The tea was made and presented to them all. Casey took one sip of hers and choked.

“Oh, sorry,” said Gemma. “I always forget you don’t take sugar.”

There was something in her voice that made Kate’s internal sensor light up. Not mockery, not exactly. There was
something
though. Kate scribbled more mental notes.

Nick Fullman had been given coffee, rather than tea, in an elegant white china cup. He’d swallowed it in three gulps.  Kate noted the dark shadows under his eyes and the faint jittery shudder of his fingers. A caffeine addict? An insomniac? Or something else?

“I heard nothing,” he was saying in response to Anderton’s question. “I was sleeping. I sleep pretty heavily, and the first I knew about anything was Casey screaming down the hallway. I ran down and saw, well, saw Dita on the floor. “

“Do you have any theories as to who might have taken your son?”

Casey let out a small moan. Nick pulled her closer to him.

“None whatsoever. I can’t believe anyone–” His voice faltered for a second. “I can’t believe anyone would do such a thing.”

“No one has made any threats against you or your family recently?”

“Of course not.”

“Who has access to the house? Do you keep any staff?”

Fullman frowned. “What do you mean by access?”

“Well, keys specifically. But also anyone who is permitted to enter the house, particularly on a regular basis.”

“I’ll have to think.” Fullman was silent for a moment. He looked at his personal assistant. “Gemma, you couldn’t be a star and make another coffee, could you?”

“Of course.” Gemma almost jumped from her chair to fulfil his request.

Fullman turned back to the police officers.

“Casey and I have keys, of course. Gemma has a set to the house, although not to the outbuildings, I don’t think.”

“That’s right,” called Gemma from the kitchen. “Just the house.”

“What about Miss Olgweisch?”

Fullman dropped his eyes to the floor. “Yes, Dita had a full set.”

“Anyone else?”

Casey raised her head from her husband’s shoulder.

“My mum’s got a front door key,” she said, her voice hoarse. “She knows the key codes and all that.”

“Ah, yes,” said Anderton. “The security. Presumably all the people who have keys also have security codes and so forth?”

Fullman nodded. “That’s right. There’s an access code on the main gate and the alarm code for the house.”

Kate and Olbeck exchanged glances. Whoever had taken the baby hadn’t set off any of the alarms.

Casey pushed herself upright.

“What are you doing to find him?” she begged. “Why are we sat here answering all these questions when we should be out there looking for him?”

“Mrs Fullman,” said Anderton in a steady tone. “I really do know how desperate you must be feeling. My officers are out there on your land combing every inch of it for clues to Charlie’s whereabouts. We just have to try and ascertain a few basic facts so we can think of the best way to move forward as quickly as possible.”

“It’s just…” Casey’s voice trailed away. Kate addressed her husband.

“Mr Fullman, is there anyone who could come and give your wife some support? Give you both some support? Her mother, perhaps?”

Fullman grimaced. “I suppose so. Case, shall I ring your mum?” His wife nodded, mutely, and he stood up. “I’ll go and ring her then.”

He headed back outside to the terrace, clearly relieved to be escaping the kitchen. Olbeck looked at Kate and raised his eyebrows very slightly. She nodded, just as subtly.

“You two look around,” said Anderton. “DS Redman, I’d like you to talk to Ms Phillips once you’re done. DS Olbeck, go and see how the search is progressing. I want the neighbours questioned before too long.”

The house was newly built, probably less than ten years old. It was a sprawling low building, cedar-clad and white-rendered, technically built on several different levels but as the ground had been dug away and landscaped around it, the house looked like nothing so much as a very expensive bungalow. Or so Kate thought, walking around the perimeter with Olbeck. They had checked the layout of the bedrooms, noting the distance of the baby’s nursery from the Fullman’s bedroom.

“Why wasn’t the baby in their room?” asked Kate.

Olbeck glanced at her. “Should he have been?”

“I think that’s the standard advice. Everyone I know with tiny babies keeps them in their own bedrooms. Sometimes in their beds. Not stuck down the end of the corridor.”

“I don’t know,” said Olbeck. “The nanny was right next door.”

Dita Olgweisch’s room and the nursery were still sealed off by the Scene of Crime team gathering evidence. Kate stood back for a second to let a SOCO past her, rustling along in white overalls.

“I’ll ask Mrs Fullman when she’s feeling up to it,” she said. “Perhaps there was a simple explanation.”

The view from the terrace was undeniably lovely. The ground dropped steeply away from the decking and the lawn ended in a semi-circle of woodland; beech, ash, and oak trees all stood as if on guard around the grass. Kate could see the movements of the uniformed officers as they carried out their fingertip search. Olbeck came up beside her and they both stood looking out on the scene. Kate wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking – that somewhere out in those peaceful looking woods was a tiny child’s body. Her stomach clenched.

“I’ve never worked on a child case before,” said Olbeck abruptly. Kate turned her head, surprised. “Murder, obviously. But never a child.”

“We don’t know that the baby’s…” Kate didn’t want to finish the sentence.

“I know.” They were both silent for a moment. “I hope you’re right. God, I hope you’re right.”

There didn’t seem to be much else to say. They both had things to do, but for another moment, they stood quietly, side by side, looking out at the swaying, leafless branches of the trees.

Chapter Two

Kate found Gemma Phillips in what was clearly a home office, one of the smaller rooms off a corridor leading from the kitchen. There were two desks, filing cabinets, a printer and several swivel chairs. Gemma was typing busily on the keyboard of a laptop. As Kate got closer, though, she could see that all the girl was doing was updating her Facebook status.
What was she putting in her update
? Kate wondered.
Gemma Phillips...is about to be interviewed by the police.

“Hi Gemma,” she said, grabbing one of the swivel chairs and turning it to face Gemma’s desk. “I’d like to have a chat, ask you a few questions, if I may?”

“No problem,” said Gemma, but rather uneasily. Her long fingernails clicked on the edge of her laptop.

“You’ve worked for Mr Fullman for how long?”

“Um, seven years. Almost eight years.”

“Quite a while then. What’s he like to work for? Is he a good boss?”

Gemma looked even more uneasy. “He’s okay. Bit of a slave driver, sometimes, but they all are, aren’t they?”

Kate repressed her answer, which was something along the lines of no, she wouldn’t know, having never been a secretary, thank God. That was mean and snobbish of her. What in God’s name did she have to be snobbish about?

“Could you tell me more about him? I know he’s in property development. What sort of thing does he do?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, what sort of thing is he working on at the moment? Any particular project?”

Gemma frowned.

“Well, he’s got a big residential building contract on the go. Newbuild flats over in Wallingham. Do you mean that sort of thing?”

“Yes, well–” Kate tried a different tack. “What sort of work do you do for him?”

Gemma looked at her laptop screen.

“I do all sorts. Deal with his diary, deal with his phone calls, arrange his travel. Type up the contracts and deal with the rental agencies.”

“Do you do any work for Mrs Fullman?”

“A bit.” Gemma sounded resentful. “Since she had the baby, she’s been asking me to do more and more. That’s always the way. You start off by doing someone a favour and then they take advantage.”

She’d referred to the child as the baby, not Charlie. Was that significant?

“Have Mr and Mrs Fullman been married long?” Kate knew they hadn’t, but she wanted to try and draw a bit more from Gemma on her employer’s wife.

“Not really. Not even a year. She got pregnant before they got married.”

“She was a TV star, wasn’t she, before she got married?”

Gemma’s lip curled. “Well, not really. She was in that reality show about the Mayfair hairdressers, that’s all. She did a bit of modelling after that. She wasn’t really
famous
. Not an A-lister, or anything.” Kate looked her in the eye, and she flushed and dropped her head, obviously aware of the rising tone of her voice. “Anyway, she hasn’t done much since the baby came.”

“Charlie,” said Kate.
He has a name.

“Yes, Charlie.”

Kate paused.

“How did you get on with Dita Olgweisch?”

Gemma looked stricken. Kate saw her throat ripple as she swallowed.

“I can’t believe she’s dead,” she said, almost in a whisper. “I can’t - it doesn’t seem possible.”

“You were close?”

“No, not really. Well, we were friendly. I mean, we’d chat and all that. I didn’t really see that much of her. She was always out with the baby –with Charlie.” The girl’s hands were shaking. “I can’t believe she’s dead,” she repeated.

Her distress seemed genuine. Kate observed her more closely, noting with a stab of pity that despite the carefully applied makeup, the ironed clothes, and the elaborate hairstyle, Gemma was undeniably plain.
Plain.
What a stupid, cruel word – but apt in this instance. There was something forgettable about the girl, something negligible. Was that the root of her resentment against Casey Fullman – the jealousy of the less attractive woman over the prettier one?

“Are you married, Gemma?” she asked suddenly.

Gemma flushed again. “No, I’m not. Why?”

Kate smiled, trying to put her at her ease. “Just being nosy. I’m permanently single myself.”

Gemma half-smiled.

“I’ve got a fella,” she said. “We’re engaged. Practically engaged.”

“Congratulations.” Kate paused for a moment. “Anyway, let’s talk a bit more about Dita, if it doesn’t distress you too much. Are you happy to carry on?” She took the girl’s shrug as assent. “How long had she been Charlie’s nanny?”