The Outcast Dead (25 page)

‘I couldn’t do that,’ says Maddie, as the woman bends backwards into a croquet hoop shape.

‘Why would you want to?’ says Cathbad.

‘I’m not fit enough,’ says Maddie. ‘I used to do Tai Kwando every day.’

Cathbad doesn’t think that Maddie looks strong enough for martial arts. She’s too thin for a start. Cathbad is thin himself but he’s wiry, he thinks of it as a typical Irish peasant’s build. There’s a frailty to Maddie, as if a strong wind would blow her down. As least she’s eating, they stopped to buy croissants and hot chocolate on the way. Cathbad couldn’t eat so Maddie demolished both croissants. She drinks her chocolate the way all teenage girls do, hunched over it like a vagrant. Cathbad is horrified to find himself wanting to tell her to sit up straight. Good God, he’s turning into a fascist.

‘Is there any news?’ Maddie asks. ‘About the little boy?’

Cathbad shakes his head. He, Judy and Darren stayed up all night, sometimes dozing in their chairs but always alert for that knock on the door, the knock that never came. At dawn Judy had become hysterical. Darren called the doctor who prescribed tranquillisers. Two pills washed down with coffee turned Judy back into a living statue, staring blankly out of the window. At eight
Cathbad could bear it no longer. He had called Maddie and suggested a walk by the river. He hadn’t meant to tell her about Michael – now isn’t the time after all – but, draining the last of her drink, Maddie says, ‘This little boy, the policewoman’s son, is he yours?’

Cathbad nods. He doesn’t trust himself to speak.

‘So he’s my half-brother.’

This aspect of things hadn’t occurred to Cathbad. He ponders the self-obsession of teenage girls. Even in this situation, Maddie thinks of things only in relation to herself. But, then again, aren’t we all like that really? It’s just that as we get older we hide it better.

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘He’s your brother. I can’t wait for you to meet him.’

To her credit, Maddie does not betray any unease at this remark. She doesn’t look overjoyed at the prospect, it’s true, but she doesn’t seem to doubt that the meeting will one day take place.

‘I’ve got enough brothers,’ she says. ‘I’d like a sister.’

‘Do you still miss her? Scarlet?’

Maddie turns to look at him. He had forgotten about her extraordinary eyes. Photographs do not do them justice.

‘What do you think?’

‘If one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers but the seed remains.’

‘And that’s meant to be helpful, is it?’

‘You sound like Nelson.’

‘I liked Nelson,’ says Maddie. ‘He was kind to me but he seemed sort of sad.’

‘He’s had a tough few years.’

‘And I love Rebecca. We’ve become like sisters.’

Cathbad wonders if Maddie is going to spend her life in search of sisters. He says, ‘Why did you come back here, Maddie?’

‘You told me to speak to Nelson.’

‘I meant on the phone. I didn’t mean turn up and become one of the family.’

‘Is that what he said? That I’m like one of the family?’

‘I haven’t talked to him about you. He’s got other things on his mind at the moment.’

‘Oh yes. Michael. Well …’ She turns to Cathbad and he can see the sun gleaming through her hair. She looks like an angel. ‘Well, I came because of Liz. I knew she was innocent, you see. And I suppose I always felt guilty about Liz. Because of Bob.’

‘What do you mean, because of Bob?’

‘Bob and I were lovers. Three years ago, when I was sixteen.’

‘Are you joking?’

Clough looks embarrassed, an expression that seems entirely wrong on him. He looks down. ‘It’s just that I promised Judy.’

‘Judy wanted you to consult a psychic?
Judy
?’

‘Cathbad was there. Michael Malone. It was his idea.’

‘It would be. So when is this woman coming in?’

‘This afternoon.’

‘Well, you’d better deal with her. I haven’t got the time to waste.’

‘OK, Boss.’

They are standing by the river bank watching the search teams wade through the shallow water. It’s a beautiful spot, the river winding into the distance, fields lush with summer grass, the castle in the background. But neither Nelson nor Clough is getting any pleasure from the view. This is one of the grimmest parts of any search. The idea that a child may have wandered to an accidental death seems almost worse than the thought of a faceless
abductor. If Michael is with The Childminder, there’s a good chance that he’s still alive. If he’s here, on the other hand, his little body trapped in the reeds or floating unobserved out to the sea, that’s too horrible to contemplate. But the search must be done. Tom Henty, the sergeant in charge, has made his report and is now preparing to brief the group of volunteers who have gathered on the bank, clutching rakes and hoes and anything else they think might be helpful. Nelson appreciates that they want to help but he can see an eagerness on some faces, a suppressed excitement, that makes him want to arrest the lot of them for wasting police time.

‘Come on,’ says Nelson. ‘Let’s get back to the station. We’re doing no good here.’

‘How was Judy when you saw her?’ asks Clough.

‘In a pretty bad way. She’d taken some tranquillisers. I couldn’t get anything out of her. Darren was coping with everything. I only hope he doesn’t crack up too.’

‘Was Malone there?’

‘Apparently he’d taken the dog out for a walk.’

Clough grunts, as if this unsupportive behaviour is only to be expected but, as they approach their car, they see Cathbad coming towards them.

Nelson thinks that Cathbad looks worse than ever. He’s not wearing his cloak and, in jeans and a t-shirt, looks thin and unkempt, an impression only reinforced by the presence of a bull terrier on a string lead. Cathbad must really care about Judy, thinks Nelson, to look so utterly derelict.

‘Hallo, Cathbad. Hallo, Thing.’ Nelson tries to contain
the dog’s enthusiastic welcome. At least somebody’s smiling, he thinks.

‘Any news?’ asks Cathbad.

Nelson shakes his head. ‘We’ve got all teams on to it though. We’ll find him.’ If he keeps saying it, it must be true.

‘I’ve contacted the psychic,’ Clough cuts in. ‘Can you tell Judy?’

The faintest trace of a smile crosses Cathbad’s drawn face. ‘I’ll tell her. Thanks Dave.’

‘Been out for a walk?’ says Nelson.

‘I met up with Maddie in Lynn,’ says Cathbad. ‘Just felt I had to get out of the house for a bit.’

‘She’s a nice girl, Maddie,’ says Nelson. ‘Michelle and I liked her very much.’

‘She likes you too,’ says Cathbad. ‘Thanks for looking after her.’

There’s a slightly awkward pause. A group of policemen pass by with German Shepherds on leads. Thing strains and pants, wanting to follow them.

‘She did say one thing that disturbed me though,’ says Cathbad. ‘I think I ought to tell you. It’s about Bob Donaldson.

*

‘This is police harassment,’ says Bob. ‘I could sue.’

‘I’m simply asking you to account for your movements yesterday afternoon,’ says Tim. ‘That’s hardly harassment.’

‘This is to do with that missing child, isn’t it? You think I did it.’

‘That’s an interesting conclusion to jump to,’ says Tim. ‘Why would I think that?’

Bob looks away. They are sitting in his study, a room crammed with computers, speakers and sundry pieces of electronic equipment. Bob Donaldson has a disconcerting habit of looking at his laptop when he speaks, as if he’s reading the words from the screen. Tim wonders whether this is a distancing device or if it means something more sinister. The laptop is on Bob’s left and, according to a neuro-linguistic programming course that Tim once attended, looking to the left can indicate that the subject is lying.

‘I know you’ve all got it in for me,’ says Bob. ‘You fitted me up for one crime, why not pin every child murder in the last twenty years on me?’ His voice rises hysterically.

‘That seems rather an extreme reaction,’ says Tim. ‘I just asked what you were doing yesterday afternoon.’

Bob sighs and his eyes flick up and left. ‘I was here, working.’

‘Anyone with you?’

‘No. Aliona was at college.’

‘What time did she get back?’

‘She stayed over with a friend.’ There’s a pause and Bob frowns at the blank screen. ‘These last few weeks have been hard on her.’

I bet they have, thinks Tim. Teenage girl shacks up with her lecturer to find that he’s accused of child murder. He wonders whether Aliona will ever come back to the house in Pott Row.

‘So you were on your own?’

‘Yes. Do you want to search the house for the missing baby? Do you think I’ve buried him under the patio?’

‘That’s a very odd thing to say,’ says Tim. ‘What makes you think he’s dead?’

‘I know what you’re doing,’ says Bob. ‘You’re trying to trap me. I’ve studied the lot of you. You’re the clever one, the policewoman’s the nice one and there’s a thuggish one too. Then there’s the boss, DCI Nelson.’ Now there’s real hatred in Bob’s voice. ‘It’s Nelson who’s really got it in for me. He’s in league with her.’

‘Who? Liz?’

‘Liz? No.’ Bob dismisses his former wife with a wave of his hand. ‘Justine.’

‘Justine Thomas? Why would she have it in for you?’

‘Oh.’ Bob’s tone is almost careless. ‘Because I dumped her for Aliona.’

Tim stares at the man opposite him, balding, slightly stooped, dressed in a beige cardigan and jeans that look as if they’ve been ironed. How come I can’t get a girlfriend, he thinks, and this guy has them fighting over him?

Aloud he says, ‘You had an affair with Justine?’

‘Well, it wasn’t really an affair. Just a few nights, you know.’

‘But she took it badly when you left her for Aliona?’

‘Yes. She kept saying that she felt guilty over Liz as if Liz was the only thing that kept us apart. So when I left Liz for Aliona, Justine was furious.’

‘Did Liz know? About Justine?’

‘God no! We kept it really quiet.’

But the partner usually does know, thinks Tim. Even if they don’t know what they know.

‘When you were,’ he pauses to think of the right word, ‘seeing Justine, did you get to know the children she was looking after?’

‘Poppy and co?’ says Bob. ‘Yes, I met them in the park a few times. At least I never saw the older boy but I got to know the younger ones pretty well. Especially Poppy. I had a really soft spot for Poppy.’

*

Tanya gazes at the screen. Registered childminders, childminders’ forum, how to become a childminder. Who knew there were so many of these people out there? She gets caught up in a long forum discussion between mothers complaining about childminders, nannies and nurseries. She wants to post a comment saying 1. learn to spell and 2. why have children anyway, but decides that this would probably be unhelpful. Tanya can’t imagine ever having a baby. She wants to be Norfolk’s first woman police commissioner and to have a penthouse apartment with white carpets and glass furniture. Neither of these ambitions would be compatible with becoming a mother. Luckily her boyfriend, a fitness instructor, agrees. Fatherhood is also not compatible with fourteen-inch biceps.

Despite all the complaints, there seem to be very few cases of childminders actually charged with abuse. Eventually Tanya narrows it down to three in the East Anglia
region. She wastes half an hour looking at a case where a teenage childminder testified against abusive parents before realising that it took place in Boston Massachusetts and not Boston Lincolnshire.

Tanya arranges her three cases in the list format preferred by Nelson.

1. Norwich 2008. Childminder accused of abusing her charges by leaving them outside in the garden as punishment. Margaret Rogers, aged 50, was given a suspended sentence and barred from working with children.

2. Cambridge 2009. Childminder Sally Fisher went on the run with a four-year-old child in her care. She claimed that the child’s Turkish parents wanted to take him out of the country. Given a three-year sentence for child abduction.

3. Chelmsford 2010. Boyfriend of childminder Vicky Lomis found to have previous conviction for sexual abuse. No question of him abusing any of Ms Lomis’s charges but Ofsted were criticised for not investigating his background.

She doesn’t think that any of these will yield useful leads but at least she has something to show for the morning’s work. She sighs. She often finds Judy exasperating (Tanya likes rules as much as the next person but Judy is
obsessive
about procedure) but the thought of something happening to her baby is just too horrible.
That’s another reason for remaining childless, thinks Tanya as she prints out her list, it saves you a whole lot of heartbreak.

*

Madame Rita turns out to be a sensible-looking woman in her mid fifties. She places a large handbag on the desk and puts on a pair of bifocals.

‘Did you get my message? Have you got something that belongs to the little boy?’

Clough hands over a cuddly giraffe. He hadn’t wanted to ask Judy for one of Michael’s possessions so had phoned Cathbad, who turned up at the station an hour later with the giraffe in a plastic bag.

Madame Rita holds the toy to her chest and closes her eyes. Clough watches her nervously. Is she about to go into a trance and start frothing at the mouth? They are in Nelson’s office so at least they haven’t got an audience, but who’s going to help him when she starts speaking in a guttural voice and rolling her eyes? He’s seen
The Exorcist
. He knows what to expect.

‘Why are you looking so nervous?’ Madame Rita has opened her eyes and is regarding him with amusement.

‘Nervous? I’m not nervous.’ Clough attempts a laugh.

‘It’s nothing to be afraid of, you know.’

Clough doesn’t dignify this with a response. Still smiling, Madame Rita closes her eyes again. Clough looks at his watch. Nelson will want his office back for the team briefing at four.

‘He’s still alive,’ says Madame Rita.

Despite his scepticism, Clough finds himself exhaling with relief.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely sure. His life force is strong.’