Sugar & Spice (39 page)

182

“We’re very worried about her, Mrs Epstein,” Matt said in a feeble attempt
at a Welsh accent. “As soon as we heard she was missing classes we drove right
over.”
“What, from Wales?”
“From Rhyl.”
“I used to go to Rhyl when I was a little girl.” She stared into the
distance. “Is that chip shop still there?”
“Still where?”
“In Rhyl?”
Matt had never been to Rhyl in his life. “Yes, it’s still going strong.
Beautiful fish and chips.”
Mrs Epstein glared at him. “They were the worst chips I’ve ever tasted.”
Matt looked bewildered. “It’s under new management.”
Mrs Epstein was studying their faces with a puzzled expression. “And you’re
her brother, you say?” She peered at Danny closely. “You don’t look much
alike.”
“Half-brother,” Danny said quickly.
The old lady considered the possibility. “Ceri never mentioned you.”
“She wouldn’t have,” Danny said. “She prefers her real sister to me.”
“I see.” She still didn’t look convinced.
“Mrs Epstein, you’re absolutely sure Ceri never gave any indication where she
might have gone? You can imagine how worried her mother is right now.”
“I’m sorry, dear, but as I explained to that nice Professor Big this morning,
I really haven’t the foggiest. Her rent’s overdue, you know.”
“Mrs Epstein, would you have a spare key to her room. If we could just take a
quick look around. There may be a clue where she might have gone.”
“Mr Jones, I make it a strict policy never to let anyone into a guest’s room
without permission. I’m sorry.”
“But I’m her father. Surely…”
“You say you’re her father, but you could be anyone. You’re not the first
strange man to turn up wanting to see her recently.”
“Someone else was asking about Ceri?”
“Oh, this was a very refined gentleman, not any old rabble.” She looked the
pair up and down, making sure they knew who she meant. “And so very
well-spoken.”
Matt produced his wallet. “Mrs Epstein, would it help if I offered to pay
Ceri’s rent for her? Would that be proof enough I’m her father? I mean, a
complete stranger is not going to pay someone else’s rent now, is he?”
The old lady’s embattled features softened at the site of the twenty pound
notes. “Well, no. I suppose you have a point, dear. Would it be asking too
much to collect two months, seeing as you’re here. I’m sure Ceri would
appreciate it.”
“Two?”
“Go on, Dad,” Danny said, nudging his arm. “You know she’s worth it.”
“Could I have a receipt?” Maybe he could claim it back off McIntyre as
expenses. “How much was it again?”
“For two months?” Mrs Epstein looked them up and down as if the figure was
an arbitrary one dependant on how much she thought they could afford. “Four
hundred.”
“Pounds? For a bed-sit?”
“Cash, of course.”
“Of course.” Fortunately in Matt’s line of work a wad of cas a tool of the
trade. “The things I do for that girl.”
Mrs Epstein’s hand shot out at a pace that belied her frail appearance.
“You’re too kind, dear. Too kind. One moment, I’ll get the spare key.”
Matt and Danny were whispering together when she returned. Large had given them
the address, but not the room number.
“Here you are, dears. Be sure to lock everything up before you go. Just slip
the key under my door here. I think I need to lie down.”
Plan B came into action.
“What was the number again, son? Room Five?”
“I don’t think so, Dad. I’m sure Ceri said Room Six.”
“No, no, dears. Room Nine. Right at the top.”
“Nine. See, Dad. I told you it wasn’t five.”
“It wasn’t six, either, son,” said Matt, enjoying the subterfuge.
“I was close, though,” said Danny. “Six is like nine, only upside down.”
“A bit less lip, son.” Matt turned to Mrs Epstein. “I do hope Ceri doesn’t
answer you back like this one.”

183

“You’re in no fit state to drive, Claire.” Pitman relieved her of her keys.
“Asthma you say? Are you sure an ambulance wouldn’t have been more
appropriate?”
“I’m fine now. Can we get going, Inspector? Please?”
“Claire, you sound terrible. I just hope this is worth the upset you’re
causing yourself.” Pitman indicated and slowly pulled out of the Bluewater car
park. “You were lucky to have got hold of me. I’d only popped into the Station
to collect some paperwork when your call came through. Now, obviously didn’t
drag me here just for my charming company. So I think some explanations are in
order. If you’re feeling up to it.”
“I’m sorry, Inspector,” Claire’s voice rasped. “The asthma came on
while I was crossing the QE2 bridge. There was no way I could continue driving.
But I have to get to Sevenoaks.”
“With me in attendance.”
“They might take me seriously if you’re there.”
“No doubt. But should I be taking you seriously, that’s the question. I’m
not going knocking on anyone’s door without very good reason.”
“You’ll have every reason, Inspector, once I can speak properly. Just drive,
please.”
As Claire’s stressed breathing eased, she summarised what they had learned so
far. Pitman listened politely, occasionally shaking his head in disbelief.
“And now this girl, Ceri, she’s missing too, you say?”
“Matt’s there now, trying to find her. We think she may have panicked. We’re
all worried sick.”
“Well, there’s one thing you can be sure of. Uncle Tom attacks little
children, not grown women. And if Matt’s there with her, I’m sure she’s in safe
hands.”

184

The building was quiet, most of the resident students either in class or
skipping lectures around town. Mrs Epstein’s kettle could be heard faintly
whistling downstairs.
Matt knocked on the door out of courtesy, but waited only a few seconds before
slipping the key in the lock.
He put a tentative step over the threshold, feeling like a trespasser. Suddenly
things were serious again. He felt Danny behind him, urging him in.
“Don’t touch anything unless you have to. Look for any written notes, press
cuttings, maps, that sort of thing. Anything that might give us a clue where she
might have gone.”
Danny scanned the room with a look of disdain. It was a joint living-room come
bedroom with what looked like a small kitchenette beyond. “And I thought I was
untidy.”
“Students have more important things to worry about,” said Matt. “Just
like journalists. Expect to find a week’s worth of washing up in the sink.”
“So you won’t be stopping for coffee, then?” Okay, so Ceri was no domestic
goddess. Danny wouldn’t hold it against her.
“Let’s jus look round and get out of here. Supposing she walks in now and
finds us here?” Matt was almost praying she would.
Matt methodically worked his way down one side of the room while Danny picked up
and discarded things at random. Any newspaper, notebook or jotting received
their attention. Nothing.
From the kitchenette Matt heard a noise.
A stifled cry.
Then silence.
“Danny?”
No response.
“Danny, are you okay?”
Matt was heading towards the door when Danny backed into him, shoulders slumped,
an arm raised, a quivering finger pointing into the room before him.
Matt leapt across the coffee table and burst into the kitchenette.
He stopped in his tracks, paralysed for several seconds before his knees
weakened and he slumped down, clutching at the door for support.
Ceri’s stripped body was barely recognisable, the face and neck contorted by
ligature strangulation.
But there could be no doubt it was her, and no doubt who killed her.
The calling card was on the floor, weighed down by a pair of scissors arrowed to
the teenager’s coarsely shaven genitals.
But it was the sight of her chest that shook him to the core.
Each breast severed from the torso, the flesh removed and the skin returned,
flattened and stretched out against the body, crudely stitched in place with
black cotton.
The flaming red hair, neatly plaited into pig-tails, completed the imagery.
The body of a nineteen year old, transformed into that of a pre-pubescent
schoolgirl.

185

Danny’s traumatised body shook gently as he sobbed intermittently.
Matt threw the room key on the dashboard . The boy instinctively reached for it,
slipping his finger through the key-ring, clutching the cool metal in his clammy
fist. It was all he had left of Ceri. He held it against his chest, sobbing.
“I didn’t want Mrs Epstein wandering in there.” Matt punched the dial on his
mobile.
No answer. At the Bluewater car park Claire’s phone lay unheard in her car.
Cursing beneath his breath Matt dialled again.
“Gavin, it’s Matt.” A long pause. “I’m sorry, I have some bad news.”
The chewing at the other end slowly stopped. “My God, it’s Ceri, isn’t it.”
Slowly, “She’s dead, Gavin.”
Danny began crying again.
“He found her somehow. We were too late.” Matt’s voice choked over.
“Gavin, I’m so sorry.”
A longer silence. “What did he… No. I don’t want to know. Where are you
now?”
“Just leaving her flat. We’re going back to Claire. If he knew about Ceri he
must know about Claire too.”
“Are the fuzz there?”
“They don’t know yet. Gavin, will you deal with them? I have to get to Claire.
Before he does.”
“I understand. But hell, this will take some explaining.”
“You know as much as we do.”
“I’ll do my best. Just be careful.” Silence, then, “Oh, and Matt…”
“I’m listening.”
“Don’t let anything happen to the kid.”

186

“Can’t you go any faster?”
“Supposing a child ran out in front of me?”
We’re on a motorway for God’s sake. Out loud, “Supposing he kills again before
we get there?
Pitman drew on his unlit pipe. He was too much the gentleman to light up with a
lady passenger present, too much the addict not to need the comfort of the cool
clay between his lips. “I hardly think he’s going to be sitting there waiting
for us, Claire. That’s if he has any connection at all with this clinic. Run it
by me one more time, so I don’t make any slip-ups.” It was partly for his
benefit, mostly for hers, to occupy her mind, to keep her asthmatic breathing
calm.
Claire rehearsed the case again. Ceri’s profile. The pattern of attacks. The
timing. She explained again her visit to see Reynolds.
“I’ve had that pleasure, too, at a Social Services case conference. Not the
person I’d most like to be stranded on a desert island with.”
“But don’t you see, Inspector? The Foundation is the one thread that links all
this.”
“Claire, I think you’re right; up to a point.” Pitman negotiated the
overtaking of an Eddie Stobart haulage vehicle with consummate care. “Heaven
only knows how we missed the connection, but yes, it’s obvious now that someone
was using, abusing, this clinic for their own ends. But to my mind that just
backs the case against Randall. We know he attended the clinic several times. He
would have had any number of opportunities to find out about other patients. I’m
confident this Quinlan fellow will be able to confirm that.”
“And the missing children in Mold and Oxford?”
“The Mold case is intriguing, I grant you. But there is such a thing as sheer
coincidence. Children went missing before Uncle Tom, and will do long after he’s
forgotten. As for this Oxford scenario, all you have is this cryptic message
from your friend. According to your theory there should have been an abduction
at a place beginning with X, yet by your own admission no such place exists.
Don’t you see? Your friend was right all along. But the profile she built up was
of Greg Randall, right down to this suicide complex, that culminated in the body
being found in Woolwich.”
“But the van… It was missing from Leroy McKenzie’s lock-up.”
“There are tens of thousands of white vans out there, Claire. Look, there’s
two now. And another. It doesn’t mean a thing.”
“Not even what those kids told me?”
“They’re just kids, Claire.”
“And the assaults preceding Rebecca? They’re just coincidences too, I
suppose?”
“With all due respect, I know nothing about them.”
“Matt has all the details with him. Danny printed them off last night.”
“Danny?” Pitman shook his head in disbelief. “For heavens’ sake, Claire,
how many more people have you got roped into this little vigilante detective
force of yours?”
“We’re not vigilantes, Inspector. We just want to be certain the man you put
away for killing my daughter is the right one.”
“I can understand that, Claire, believe me. But you have to put your faith in
the criminal justice system.”
“After Thomas Bristow?”
“That was different. But all the evidence says Randall is guilty. Officially
Uncle Tom is safely behind bars in Brixton prison, awaiting trial.”
“And unofficially?”
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t be here with you now if I didn’t have serious
reservations about this whole affair.”

187

Danny clutched the key to his chest, still sobbing gently.
Matt held the wheel in one hand, repeatedly dialling Claire’s home and mobile
numbers. The answer-phone chipped in at the empty house, the mobile unheard in
the parked car.
He hit the number for Margate CID.
“I’m sorry, the Inspector’s off-duty today. Can another officer help?”
“No, it has to be Pitman.” There was no point even attempting to explain.
“Can you get a message to him?”
“Not easily. He’s not in a force vehicle, and doesn’t carry a mobile, as you
may know.”
“Don’t I just. If he calls in again, can you pass on an urgent message?”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Tell him Matt Burford called. Tell him to find Claire and stay with her until
I get there.”
“Claire?”
“Claire Meadows. It’s imperative he finds her. She could be in danger.”
“What did you say your name was again, Sir?”
“Burford. Matthew Burford.”
“And your relationship to Mrs Meadows?”
“A friend. A close friend.”
Hesitantly, “I don’t know if I should be saying this, Sir, but I believe
Inspector Pitman is alreads Meadows. She called earlier today, asking
specifically for him.”
“Thank God. Where are they now?”
“Sir, as I said, he’s officially off-duty. All I know is, he ran off a Google
map before he left.”
“A map?”
“Somewhere in Sevenoaks.”

188

“You obviously have a lot of respect for this girl.”
“She’s incredible, Inspector.”
“And just a student, you say? All the more remarkable.”
“You’ll have a chance to meet her soon. I’ve asked Matt to invite her down
again when her course finishes.”
“I’ll look forward to that, Claire. I bet she found it a contrast to life in
Wales. Which university is she at? Bangor?”
“Liverpool.”
“Liverpool?” A silence. Then, “You said earlier you thought you knew how
Randall might have been fitted up with the DNA evidence?”
“You didn’t want to hear it,” Claire reminded him. “You told me to stick
to reality.”
“Run it by me anyway. I want to be fully armed when I speak to this Quinlan
fellow.”
Claire slowly and methodically recounted her meeting with Leroy McKenzie. The
speedometer slowly crept up as Pitman listened.
“Supposing Greg Randall went through some similar sort of treatment?” Claire
struggled to find the right words, embarrassed to be discussing this with a man
old enough to be her father. “I don’t know quite how to phrase this,
Inspector, but supposing Randall was aroused to the point of orgasm? He cleaned
himself on a tissue or whatever. Could Uncle Tom have got hold of it somehow?”
Pitman shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what to say, Claire. The idea is
so bizarre it could even be true. Could I borrow your mobile phone a moment?”
“Sure.” She reached for her bag. “Oh. Sorry. It’s in my car. Put in on
charge.”
“No matter. I’ll find a pay-phone somewhere. I’m sure there must be one or two
left. I just want to put the Super in the picture. This Quinlan fellow sounds
well-connected. Best I clear it with my superiors before I go making waves.”
A few minutes later Pitman pulled over and made his way to a roadside kiosk.
Claire waited in the car. The radio news was reporting heavy snow across much of
the country, blizzards heading south. She wondered if Matt was caught up in it.
So far they had been lucky in the south-east, with just a light dusting of snow.