The Other Child (50 page)

‘Does that mean they know who murdered Amy Mills?' asked Dave.

Chad seemed as unfazed as ever. ‘Maybe.'

‘At least I'm not a suspect any more then,' said Dave.

‘Where's Colin?' asked Leslie, who harboured the hope that the younger man might have more information. She asked herself what all who heard the news asked themselves: if Amy Mills's murderer had been found, did that mean that Fiona's murderer had also fallen into the police's hands?

‘Colin's out with their dogs,' explained Chad.

At the moment it did not seem they were going to find out more. Leslie rubbed her hands on her temples, trying to focus. She had just heard something completely crazy, but as she could not talk to either Jennifer or the police right now and ask them the hundred questions she had, she should remember why she had come.

‘Chad, can I talk to you for a minute?' she asked.

Chad agreed. ‘Come in t' kitchen. I've just made meself summat to eat.'

‘I'll wait outside,' said Dave. ‘I need some fresh air, anyway.'

Leslie followed Chad into the kitchen. A pan with pale yellow, rather slimy scrambled eggs was on the table. He had sliced a few pieces of fatty sausage and added them to the pan. They lay on the top and were probably cold.

‘I'm sorry to disturb you at a mealtime,' said Leslie.

Chad made a dismissive gesture and sat down on the bench. He took one of the plates which had been piled on the table since breakfast, wiped the crumbs off it and shovelled his unappetising meal onto it. ‘No fun eatin' alone. Want some?'

She felt queasy. ‘No thanks.'

He looked briefly at her. ‘You're too skinny.'

‘Always was.'

He made an unrecognisable noise. Leslie sat down opposite him, opened her bag and took out the pile of paper which Colin had put in her hands only a few days ago.

‘Do you know what this is?'

He looked up, munching. ‘No.'

‘Printouts of computer files. The files were attached to emails which my gran wrote you. Over the last half year.'

Chad went rigid for a moment when he realised what she was holding. He lowered his fork. ‘Where d'you get them?' he asked sharply.

‘Doesn't matter.'

‘You were at your grandmother's computer?'

Leslie thought that it would be simplest if he believed this for now, so she did not contradict him.

‘It contains lots of things I already knew. And some things I had no idea about. I had never,
ever
heard about Brian Somerville.'

Her voice rattled as she said the name that now hung, strangely clear, hard and unavoidable, in the air.

‘Brian Somerville,' repeated Chad. He pushed his plate away. As untouched by everyone and everything as he always made himself out to be, this did seem to have ruined his appetite.

‘Yes. Brian Somerville.'

‘What d'you want to know?'

‘What happened to him?'

‘Don't know. I don't even know if he's still livin'.'

‘Don't you care?'

‘I've finished with it.'

‘About sixty years ago, if I'm to believe what's written here.'

‘Aye. ‘Bout sixty years ago.'

They looked at each other across the table. In silence. In the end Chad said, ‘If you've read it all, you know we had no choice in the matter. I'd've never brought Brian here. I had no responsibility for 'im. I made sure 'e found somewhere to stay. A roof over ‘is ‘ead. He couldn't stay 'ere.'

‘You should have informed the authorities.'

‘You know why I couldn't. Easy to come here now and—' He interrupted himself, stood up and went over to the window. He looked out at the motionless scene.

After a while he added, ‘Course, it all looks different lookin' back.'

‘I can't understand that you weren't interested in finding out what happened to him.'

‘Then don't understand.'

‘Who was Semira Newton?'

He turned around. Leslie saw that a vein on his forehead was pulsing. He was more upset than he let on. ‘Semira Newton? She … discovered 'im back then.'

‘Brian?'

‘Aye.'

‘1970?'

‘Don't know exactly. It's a long time ago. Sometime … aye, coulda been 1970.'

‘She discovered him? What do you mean?'

He turned back to the window. ‘What I said. Discovered. Made a right old fuss. Police. Press. The lot.'

‘She
discovered
him on Gordon McBright's farm?'

‘Aye.'

Leslie got up. She was shivering although it was not cold in the kitchen. ‘What exactly did she discover, Chad?'

‘She found 'im – Brian. She saw 'im and 'e wasn't … in the best state. By gum, Leslie, what the ‘eck d'you want to know?'

‘Everything. What happened. The things that Fiona's letters don't talk about. That's what I want to know.'

‘Ask Semira Newton.'

‘Where is she?'

‘Believe she lives in Robin ‘ood's Bay.'

Robin Hood's Bay. The fishing village halfway between Scarborough and Whitby. Leslie knew it. It was small enough that you could find someone just by asking after them in the village.

‘So you don't want to talk to me about it?' she persisted in asking.

‘No,' said Chad. ‘I don't.' He continued doggedly looking out the window.

‘Aren't you at all afraid?' she asked.

‘Of what?'

‘That something terrible has happened, Chad. You can't make it go away by not talking about it. You and Fiona, you were in this up to your necks. Have you considered that Fiona's death might not be unrelated to this whole thing? And that, if it is, you could be in danger too?'

Now he turned around, genuinely surprised. ‘Fiona's murder? But they've got their man now. Man's got nowt to do with Brian Somerville.'

‘The suspected killer of Amy Mills?'

‘That's 'im. Colin said he's some psychopath. Snoops on women an' then kills them. Completely loopy. No idea what ‘is problem is, but it's nowt to do with Fiona and me.'

‘Maybe. But who's to say that Amy Mills's murderer is the same as Fiona's?'

‘Police seem t' think so.'

‘Are you sure they still do? I wouldn't be too sure of this theory, if I were you,' said Leslie. She crammed the pile of paper back into her bag. ‘Be careful, Chad. You spend a lot of time on your own out here.'

‘Where you goin'?'

She rummaged around for her key. ‘I'm driving over to Robin Hood's Bay. To Semira Newton. I'm going to find out what's been going on, Chad. Count on it!'

7

‘We've come up against a brick wall,' said Valerie. She leant on the door and looked unhappily at Sergeant Reek. She had just accompanied Stan Gibson out of the door. Cursing silently to herself, she had to let him go after she had talked to him for two more hours. ‘He hasn't put a foot wrong.'

‘And are you sure it was him?' asked Reek. ‘That he murdered Amy Mills?'

‘Absolutely sure, Reek. The way he grins at me, because he knows that I know, and because he knows that I can't do anything. He's enjoying his game with me. He's polite, patient. Even helpful. And inside he's laughing away.'

‘And your chat with Miss Witty didn't help?'

Before her talk to Stan Gibson, Valerie had talked to Ena Witty for an hour. Nothing new had come up. ‘No. She just confirmed again that he had been in London at the time of the Barnes crime. Apart from that she repeated what she had already said about Gibson's daily life. She's afraid of him, Reek. Or at least, she was on the point of being afraid of him. Gibson really does have a screw loose. She was increasingly aware of that – me too. The man is very dangerous, but he hides it perfectly. Behind his polite smile there's a highly disturbed psychotic. I'd swear my life on it.'

‘A screw loose, psychotic, your sworn oath – the judge will brush that aside in a second.'

‘I know. I've got nothing on him.'

Cautiously, Reek said, ‘You are—' before tactfully correcting himself:
‘We
are at our wits' end with this case, Inspector. A horrific murder and then no lead for months. We shouldn't get fixated on someone just because we …'

She laughed sadly. ‘Oh, Reek! Say what you think! That I'm clinging to Gibson because I've finally got a possible culprit? No. That wouldn't be logical. Gibson has got everything perfectly covered. It would be stupid of me to waste time on him if I weren't convinced he was the right one, because I won't get a conviction. Not now. Not for this crime.'

Reek rubbed his eyes. All the overtime was making itself felt. ‘What are we going to do?'

‘I'm going to dig out every millimetre of soil from around him,' said Valerie. ‘Figuratively speaking. Question everyone who knows him, no matter how distantly. His boss, his work colleagues, the people who live in the same house as him, all his acquaintances, relatives, friends. I'm going to sift through the sand in the hope that I find a nugget of gold somewhere.'

‘Although you are already convinced that you won't be able to get a conviction?'

‘He's too clever. Canny. But he's human. He'll make a mistake one day. And then I'll be close enough to get him.'

‘What kind of mistake?' asked Reek.

Valerie went over to the window, and looked out. She did not know if Gibson had come by foot or car. She certainly could not see him in the car park. Maybe he had already left, probably whistling merrily all the way home.

‘He'll do it again, Reek. For two reasons. He'll want another woman. Not Ena Witty. He'll keep clear of her because he knows we're watching her. No, someone else. And at some point that woman won't want what he wants. And then he'll have a problem. And that's what he can't deal with.'

‘And the other reason?'

‘He's sick enough to not be content with this one success. It won't be enough for him to have given the investigating officer an ulcer because she can't pin anything on him. It's a massive triumph for him. He's almost high on happiness right now, Reek. He'll need to feel that again sometime.'

‘A dangerous game, Inspector.'

She turned around. Reek was startled by the anger burning in her eyes. ‘Yes. It's a shitty game, Reek, you're right. But there's no other way. Except waiting, and then getting him. It's my only chance.'

‘That doesn't clear up Amy Mills's case. At least not officially, and not for her relatives. Her mother and father might not see the guy convicted who has their daughter on his conscience.'

‘Maybe not. And believe me, Reek, I find that as tough as you do. But shit happens. Again and again. We don't get them all. We don't get them all for what they have done. We can't always satisfy the need for justice that the family of the victim feels. It's terrible, but true. In Gibson's case it's just about getting a highly dangerous individual safely behind bars. To prevent any further crimes.' Suddenly Valerie felt exhausted. She guessed that she looked it too. ‘A case which cannot be officially closed. Not exactly satisfying.'

And not good for my career, she thought to herself, before feeling embarrassed for her thought.

‘That's just the way it is sometimes,' said Reek. He could see how down his boss was. ‘Still, Inspector, Stan Gibson's conviction wouldn't have helped us with Fiona Barnes's case. So at least we don't need to worry about whether we've just sent a murderer of one or two people home.'

‘Although Gibson's not Fiona Barnes's murderer, we'll probably never know whether he has another murder or a rape or two on his conscience,' said Valerie. ‘And in the Barnes case we are just as much in the dark as we were at the start. Not exactly comforting. And still no sign of Tanner?'

That morning they had arrived almost simultaneously at the house in Friargate. There they had learnt from the landlady that she had thrown Tanner out the previous evening.

‘I wasn't going to have a murderer in my house any second longer!' she had screamed, still bordering on the hysterical. ‘I threw him out. Him and all he owned. I've got no wish to be the next one, have I?'

‘It's almost certain that he has nothing to do with the murder of Amy Mills,' Valerie explained. ‘And in the Barnes case there is no evidence against him either.'

‘But he crept out on Saturday night, we know that now,' said Mrs Willerton triumphantly. ‘And he claimed something completely different!'

Yes, and unfortunately nor was that his only lie, thought Valerie, but of course she did not share this with the excitable Mrs Willerton.

‘Do you have any idea where he might have gone?' she asked. ‘I mean, he needed somewhere to sleep.'

‘No idea. To his fiancee, I suppose. If she still wants him. You wouldn't feel your life was too safe with a guy like that. When I think about the danger I was in …'

Yet he was not to be found on the Beckett farm, which they tried next. After what Reek had found out that morning, it did not seem likely that Karen Ward had taken him in.

‘Still no trace of him,' said Reek. ‘I've posted an officer at the Friarage School. Tanner has a Spanish class there at six tonight. But somehow I don't think he's going to turn up. Perhaps we should put out a warrant for him?'

‘He's not on the run. He's been chucked out of his room, and had to find a place to stay for now. He has no idea we're looking for him,' said Valerie.

‘He lied to us about his whereabouts on the night of the crime – twice,' added Reek.

Valerie looked at her watch. ‘It's a quarter past five. We'll wait for an hour. If he doesn't appear for his Spanish course, then we'll take things up a notch.'

They looked at each other.

‘That's when we'll put out a warrant,' said Valerie.