Snow Kills (18 page)

‘Oh, no. They’ll be squashed,’ she said, raising her hand in mock horror.

‘Squashed or not, I’m sure you’ll enjoy them,’ Dylan said as he watched her reach for her handkerchief in her skirt pocket and dab her mouth. He sighed, put his briefcase on the desk and opened it wide. Dawn’s eyes lit up. She took the cellophane container that housed the cakes, opened it and screwed up her face like the cat that had got the cream.

‘What’s up now?’ he said raising his voice.

‘Which is the biggest, do you think?’ she said puckering her lips.

‘I don’t care. Take your pick.’

‘You might not be bothered, but I am,’ she said picking up a slice and putting it to her lips. ‘Mmm..’ she moaned with delight through a mouthful of puff pastry and vanilla custard. She sat down in her chair with a thud and moaned again loudly. ‘You certainly know how to spoil a girl.’ Her eyes flew open as she licked the icing from the top. ‘What was with them poxy Jaffa cake biscuits you brought me when Violet was born?’ she said, words muffled through the mouthful of pastry. ‘Now, if you’d have brought me one of these,’ she said, eyeing up the second vanilla slice that remained untouched, ‘I might’ve got better a whole lot quicker,’ she said through another mouthful.

Dylan laughed heartily. It was so good to have the old Dawn back. He had worried that she wouldn’t conquer her depression after numerous miscarriages and the birth of a much-wanted daughter. She had been the life and soul of his enquiries in the past. His very own Dawn French lookalike; there would never be another Dawn Farren.

‘I thought I’d lost you to the depths of despair at one time.’

‘We got the statue like you suggested, in the garden, to remember the babies that didn’t make it. It helps ... thank you,’ she said covering his hand with hers. He looked at her plump white hands, with soft, blunt fingertips and smiled weakly. Tears sprang to her eyes as she gazed into his. She paused for a moment in reflection. The door opened. DI Turner stood before them.

‘Dawn?’ said Shaun Turner.

Dylan and Dawn turned to face him. Dawn wiped a tear from her eye and withdrew her hand from Dylan’s quickly.

‘Sorry, to interrupt,’ he said with a discreet little cough. There was a brief moment of embarrassment on his part. ‘I’m, off...,’ he said, nodding his head at them both and not waiting for a reply, he promptly shut the door.

Dawn and Dylan looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘Oops! Guess that’s another rumour started,’ she said.

Her face turned serious and her eyes met his. ‘Tell me, how you coping with being a dad? I must admit you had me and Jen questioning whether you were living for this job and nothing else.’

‘Actually you might be surprised to hear that our dear departed colleague Larry Banks actually had something to do with the metamorphosis.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, he wrote me a note, given to me by his solicitor after they found his body and his exact words were that I should work to live, not live to work.’

‘Pity he had to get a poor young woman killed and leave a little girl orphaned to realise that little gem of wisdom, and make a significant impact on your life. Anyway, enough about our dear departed, bent colleague. There is more to life... Maisy?’

Dylan’s face lit up at the mention of his daughter’s name.

‘She’s amazing... she’s going on eight months now,’ he said grappling in his jacket pocket for his wallet and a well thumbed picture to show off.

‘Oh, my God, she’s gorgeous and blonde curly hair.’

‘She takes after her mother, thankfully.’

‘Quite,’ she said raising her eyebrows. ‘You must come around and see us sometime and let Ralph cook you a meal. Mawingo is quiet at this time of year, so it will give my gorgeous hubby a chance to try out his new dishes on you, and give his staff at the restaurant something useful to occupy their idle hands.’

‘That sounds ominous.’

‘Don’t ask.’

‘Well it sounds good to me – sure Ralph won’t mind? I bet the snowdrops are out now, aren’t they? Is that carpet of crocus in the grounds in bloom yet?’

‘Snowdrops are out but I haven’t seen anything of the crocus yet this year. I think the cold snap and heavy snowfall held them back a bit but I wouldn’t be surprised if they aren’t out soon.’

‘I love the Sibden Valley, it’s always picturesque no matter what season we’re in,’ he said dreamily.

‘Yeah, until someone like Larry Banks decides to help get someone torched there. I don’t think the grass will ever grow back in the bottom car park.’

‘That’s the consequence isn’t it, I know. Did you have a good Christmas?’

‘Yeah, we did thanks. Violet actually enjoyed it this year, and you?’

‘Maisy played with the boxes and loved the crinkly wrapping paper and Max’s new dog chain, believe it or not. Jen was frazzled, I got called out during Christmas Eve to a hostage situation and a domestic stabbing on Christmas lunchtime so I was knackered by the time I got back and they were both in bed.’ Dylan shrugged, ‘Well you know what it’s like...’

‘You mean you were doing a Scrooge impersonation?’ she said.

Dylan looked sheepish. ‘More like Jacob Marley’s ghost.’

‘Moody eh?’ she said, with a flick of her head.

‘Seldom seen and yes, moody sounds an apt description,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘To make it worse Cyril, Jen’s Dad, couldn’t make it because he was a bit under the weather. She worries about him being on the Isle of Wight alone and I think she misses the work banter too.’

‘Well, her Dad’s not exactly around the corner for her to visit, is he?’

‘I know, that’s what she says. Maybe I can fix that though. I’ve just had a good idea,’ he raised an eyebrow and smiled.

‘Poor Jen, knowing you that smile means she’s hot-footing it back to work,’ Dawn said, her brows furrowing.

‘She is threatening... but no, maybe an impromptu visit to her dad’s though,’ he said.

‘God willing there’ll be lots more Christmases for you all. Why do you think there’s always an increase in domestic violence over Christmas and New Year period?’

‘Ah, I don’t know. How long’s a piece of string?’ Dylan shrugged. ‘Between December 17
th
and 4
th
January I was called to three bodies, all related to domestic violence.’

‘I wish you’d learn to say no, try the next mug,’ she said.

‘What, me?’ he said.

‘Yes, they’re only little once you know. Before you know it, Maisy will be having kids of her own. I finish at three o’clock these days, every day,’ she said.

‘You do?’ Dylan said. ‘Like I said, you’re not the first one to tell me to slow down and enjoy life.’

Dawn raised both eyebrows. ‘I’m not?’

‘Larry...’

‘Not him again,’ she sighed. ‘You’ll be having him cast as a bloody saint before long,’ she said.

‘No, when Larry wrote to me to try to explain what had happened...’

‘What lies did he manage to spin for that web then?’ she said with indifference.

‘He said he knew the drink was his downfall.’

‘You don’t have to be the brightest button to know that.’

‘And he said he wanted me to know the truth. He didn’t think for a minute that the blackmailer would carry out the threats he made. He said he was sorry for letting the team down and asked for forgiveness.’

Dawn shook her head. ‘Well that sounds about right for him, thinking about himself as per usual.’

‘He was prepared to die. He knew Liz’s husband would be out to get revenge once he knew he was involved.’

‘Big of him,’ she said, flatly.

‘If I can’t trust my own team Dawn, who the hell can I trust?’ he said with a sigh. ‘It seems like a lifetime ago now and her husband Malcolm is still missing. I guess he’ll turn up eventually, one day. His little girl is an orphan until he does.’

Dawn shuddered. ‘Let’s hope he does. Well, by the sound of it Sharon Manning was flaming lucky this morning. The girls are just video interviewing her now,’ she said.

‘It’s a good job people were about at the time,’ Dylan said.

‘And prepared to get involved. Her scalp is very sore where he pulled her hair out.’

‘They’ve got him in for indecent assault at the moment but we’ll run him or for attempted rape or maybe even abduction. That was his intention, after all.’

‘He apparently told her he wouldn’t harm her, he just wanted to give her one.’

 ‘Well that declaration from her should get him remanded so he can’t attack anyone else. How’s Sharon coping?’

 ‘How does anyone cope?’ She’ll have nightmares for years to come, poor thing. I was only talking to a lady the other day at a meeting who had been attacked in much the same way sixteen years ago and she still won’t go out on her own. While the wanker who attacked her feeds on the fantasy, she’ll have to cope with the fear. Not fair, is it?’

‘No, but all we can do is our best to get him put away, and for a long time.’

‘I’ll get them to update you later.’

Dylan’s mobile buzzed and Dawn’s office phone started ringing.

‘Do you think somebody is trying to tell us something?’ Dylan said with the tilt of his head and half a smile. He answered his phone.

‘Boss, just thought you would like to know someone has rang in to say they think they know who the two lads were, seen banging on the car the night Kayleigh Harwood went missing, but they’ll only speak to the man in charge of the investigation.’

‘I’m on my way, have you got contact details?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll call them from the office.’

‘Okay, boss.

’Would it be a crank or a genuine call?’ Dylan wondered as he collected his coat, picked up his briefcase and waved Dawn a silent goodbye.

DI Shaun Turner sat in the coffee bar considering his options. He had thought of Jen every day since he’d learned she had left the Island, compartmentalising the guilt and blaming it on his misguided youth, when the doctor had delivered the blow that his fiancée at that time would never be able to have his child and he ran away. However, the second he’d seen her again with Maisy visiting Harrowfield police station, he knew his feelings for her were as strong as ever. He knew Dylan was dedicated to the Force by the long hours he spent at work, or was dedication the wrong word? Could he have other reasons for staying at work? The girls were awful flirty with him – and look at the predicament he’d found him in today with Dawn Farren. Dawn had given him Dylan’s home number and he truly believed at the time when he called that hearing Jen’s voice, however briefly, when she picked up, would be enough for him. But now he realised it wasn’t, he had to see her and tell her how he felt before he went back home to his loveless, childless marriage. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled Dylan and Jen’s number.

‘Jen,’ he said. ‘It’s Shaun. I have to see you.’

A Harrowfield telephone number had been scrawled across a pink post-it-note and was stuck to his computer screen. Dylan picked up the phone and dialled it hurriedly but it rang out over and over again on deaf ears, as his mum would have said. He put the phone on its cradle, sat down, sighed and checked the written numerals before dialling more carefully this time. A female voice answered this time, taking him by surprise,

‘Hello?’ she said, hesitantly.

‘Detective Inspector Jack Dylan, I’m the man in charge of the Kayleigh Harwood enquiry. I’ve been told you want to speak to me?’

‘To be honest I was in two minds whether I should ring. I think I know who the two boys are that you are appealing for.’

‘You do? Who am I speaking to?’

‘Yes, but I need you to promise me that no one will know it was me that told you.’

‘I can assure you of absolute confidentiality Mrs...?’

There was silence.

‘There’s nothing at the moment to suggest that these two have done anything wrong. We just know that they were in the area at the time... But we would very much like to speak to them Mrs..?’

‘You can say that now, but you see it all the time in the papers, don’t you? People get called a Grass and others make their lives hell. I couldn’t cope with that. No. I can’t. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I wish I hadn’t rung.’

All was quiet but the caller hadn’t hung up.

‘No,’ Dylan said as he stared out of the window. He saw DI Turner, head bowed, strolling across the yard with his hands in his trouser pockets. He swivelled his chair back to face his desk. ‘You’ve done the right thing. We desperately need people like you to come forward. Without calls like yours we may never get to the truth.’

The caller appeared to be hanging on hesitantly, but she was still silent.

‘Please...’

‘If these lads were drinking under age, would they be in trouble and have to go to court?’ she said. ‘No, let me assure you that they wouldn’t go to court. That’s not the purpose of our investigation. We are trying to trace a missing girl. Not, I repeat not under aged drinkers. You obviously know who the lads are, are you related?’

‘I won’t protect either of them if they’ve done anything wrong. I’m a mother...’

‘So, do you want to tell me who you are? Who they are? Or do you want someone to come and see you? I can arrange for my officers to come to your home address or meet you elsewhere?’

‘I’ll tell you, but promise me,’ she begged. ‘Promise me, I won’t have to go to Court as a witness because I don’t want anyone to know it was me who told on them.’

‘I promise you, you won’t have to go to Court and no one will ever know from me it was you who told us. Now...’

‘One of them may have been my son... You see I overheard him on the phone talking.’

‘Your son’s name?’

‘Ryan, Ryan Merryfield. He’s never been in trouble before, Mr Dylan. Ryan’s a good kid but he’s always been easily led and I’m worried he’s getting in with the wrong crowd.’

‘You understand that we are going to have to speak to Ryan, don’t you?’ There was further silence.

‘What will you say?’ she asked anxiously.

‘We’ll tell him that we believe that he is one of the people we have been appealing for, and ask him what he can tell us about the night in question. Is that okay?’