Die Twice (14 page)

‘What do you think's happened to her, then?' I asked quietly.

‘I don't know,' she said, looking away.

‘Well, you must have a reason for thinking that way.'

‘Look, stop hassling me with all these fucking questions.'

I paused for a long moment, thinking that I was glad I didn't work with kids. Especially teenagers.

‘I just don't reckon she's gone anywhere, that's all. In fact, I'm fucking positive.' This time I didn't say a word, but I was intrigued. ‘She wouldn't have left Mark. I know that.'

‘Mark Wells?'

‘Yeah. She loved him, you know? She'd have done anything for him, even though he didn't give a fuck about her. He's already got a couple of girls so he didn't need Molly. I mean, he fucked her, but that was it. She was just an earner to him.'

I thought of the smiling face in the photo-me images. She was too young for those sorts of complications. ‘You don't reckon she may have just got pissed off with Wells and decided to sling her hook? From what we've heard, she's walked out and disappeared before.'

‘No, I don't reckon that. The last time she left it was with her old boyfriend, but she hasn't been with him for ages. She wouldn't have gone away on her own. Not without Mark. She was well into him. Talked about him all the time.'

‘Were you and her close?' I'd asked Anne this yesterday and got a negative response, but this time I thought she might tell me the truth.

‘Sort of. She talked to me a fair bit. You know, about this and that. But mainly Mark. She was always talking about Mark.'

‘What did Miriam think about Mark? Do you know?'

She shrugged. ‘She used to fuck him, but that was it. She weren't in love with him. Not like Molly.'

‘And when you saw Molly last … when was that? About three weeks ago?'

She shrugged again. ‘Something like that, yeah.'

‘Was that about the time she disappeared?'

‘I saw her one day in the home and then she went out that night and no-one ever saw her again.'

‘How did she seem when you saw her? Was she in good spirits or was she pissed off about things?'

‘She was normal, you know. Just like she always is.'

‘She didn't say anything about leaving, or anything?'

‘No. Nothing.'

So where did that leave us? I wasn't even investigating Molly Hagger's disappearance and yet here was a girl who knew her, and who knew Miriam Fox, telling me that there was something very suspicious about the whole thing. Once again, I was reminded of my dream. It was as vivid now as it had been when I'd woken up in the darkness, sweating and fearful, but it had lost its power as a premonition. Was there something in what Anne was saying, or was it the imagination of a teenager at work? Molly could easily have taken off somewhere without telling Anne, who admitted she wasn't that close to her. It was also quite feasible that Molly hadn't been as obsessed with Mark Wells as Anne was making out. After all, she was only thirteen years old, and even I knew that thirteen-year-old girls are pretty fickle when it comes to love.

‘You don't believe me, do you?'

‘Yeah, I believe you, but if she hasn't gone anywhere, then where is she?'

‘I don't know.' She shrugged her shoulders and looked at me with eyes that didn't belong to a kid. ‘Maybe she's dead.'

‘Do you think that? That she's dead?'

She nodded slowly and with worrying confidence. ‘Yeah. I think so.'

I cleared my throat, not liking the feeling I was getting. ‘Do you think the person who killed Miriam might have killed her too?'

‘Could be.'

‘The man who attacked you tonight … what happened?'

‘I was standing in my normal spot when he pulls up in this car. I should have been with Charlene, but she didn't turn up tonight so I was on my own. He just beckons me over like a lot of them do, then when I get over there, I take a look and I don't like the look of him.'

‘What was wrong with him?'

‘He just didn't look right, you know? He had this horrible smile and there was something about him. He gave me the creeps.'

‘Go on.'

‘Well, he opens the passenger door and pats the seat, and he's sort of leering at me like some sort of fucking perv, and telling me to get in. But I reckon he's kinky; he looks the type. The type who'll take you out somewhere quiet and really give you a going over, so I say no thanks and start to go. But he just grabs me and starts pulling me in, telling me it'll be all right, that he's not going to hurt me, but he's fucking rough and he's pulling me by the hair as hard as he can, the bastard…' She paused. ‘And then you turned up.'

‘What did he look like?'

‘Biggish guy. Fat. Bald. Fat face.'

‘What sort of age?'

‘I don't know. About fifty or something.' Which probably meant thirty.

‘And you've never seen him before?'

She shook her head. ‘There was just something about him, you know? I don't normally feel that way about punters. I mean, they're all fucking old and ugly, most of them anyway. But this one was different. I just knew he was dodgy.'

I tried to remember the make of car he was driving. It was a Mercedes saloon, not particularly new, and I think the colour was light brown or beige. Not dark-coloured like the one that had picked up Miriam. Other than that I had nothing.

‘It'd be good if you could make a statement.'

‘Why? I've just told you what he looked like. Do you think he could have been the one who killed Miriam?' It looked as if the thought had only just occurred to her.

‘I don't know. I really don't. Maybe.'

She shuddered. ‘Fucking hell.'

‘You'd do a lot better not working the streets, Anne.'

‘I need the money.'

I thought about sitting there trying to persuade her as to the error of her ways, but I'm almost certain it wouldn't have done any good. Change comes from within. You've got to believe that what you do is wrong and needs to stop, and I was pretty sure Anne didn't feel like that.

‘Come on, let's take you back to Coleman House.'

She snorted. ‘Fuck that. I'd only been out there ten minutes when you came. I haven't earned any money yet.'

‘Call it a night off.'

‘My man don't believe in nights off.'

‘And who's your man?'

‘Come on, you're a copper. I ain't telling you that.'

‘Well, I hope he's an improvement on Mark Wells.' As if.

‘Yeah, course he is.'

‘Then he'll understand, won't he?'

She laughed, much too cynically for a thirteen-year-old. ‘He won't be happy if I don't earn him some cash.'

What a gentleman. ‘All right, let me do you a deal. I'll give you forty quid if you go back to the home tonight.' It was a stupid gesture. The money would end up in the hands of her pimp or the local crack dealer, who were probably one and the same. And if Anne chose to put herself in danger, it was hardly my concern. Especially as whatever happened tonight, she'd be back on the streets tomorrow anyway. But I didn't want to be responsible for leaving her out there tonight.

‘Forty quid. And what do you want for that?'

‘Nothing from you. All you have to do is go back home for the night and stay there.'

‘That ain't a lot. Forty quid's fuck all. I could earn ten times that.'

‘It's all you're going to get. And you don't have to do anything for it.'

She thought about it for a moment. ‘Make it fifty, and I'll do it.'

‘You're in the wrong job. You ought to be a trained negotiator.'

I insisted on going back to Coleman House with her as I didn't trust her to go alone. We got a black cab and the driver gave me a dirty look when he saw her in tow. In the end, I felt dutybound to show him my warrant card so he'd know I wasn't some perverted punter who'd forgotten his transport for the night.

We didn't say much in the cab, and when we arrived she jumped out without a word along with her fifty quid, and disappeared inside. I could have just gone back home, but while I was there I thought I'd check to see if Carla Graham was around. Malik was right, she wasn't my type, but there was not exactly a wealth of good-looking women in my life, so I liked to make the best of any opportunities I got in that department. Even if it was just talking.

I had to ring the buzzer to get in. A woman's voice came over the intercom. She couldn't say her ‘r's, and I recognized her as one of the staff members we'd interviewed yesterday. I think she'd called herself Katia, or something equally bizarre beginning with a K. A youngish girl with a revolutionary's stare who'd come across as the sort who thinks all coppers are Nazi stormtroopers just itching to truncheon a few minorities. I told her who I was and asked if it was possible to speak with Ms Graham.

‘I think she's with Dr Woberts,' she told me. ‘I'll just see if she can be made available.'

‘Tell her I'll come back first thing tomorrow morning if it's more convenient,' I said, thinking that that would probably be less preferable to seeing me now.

About thirty seconds passed, then the door opened. ‘Katia' stood there, looking overweight and tired. ‘She's in her office,' she said, glaring at me as if I'd just pinched one of her nipples.

I nodded and walked past her. The place was quiet, making me wonder where everyone was. Up to no good probably. Anne would surely be out again in ten minutes making my cash gift to her an even bigger waste of time than I'd already thought.

I knocked on the door of her office but walked in without waiting for an answer. Carla Graham was standing by her desk talking to a short middle-aged man in a three-piece suit. She was wearing a light grey trouser suit with a white blouse. A simple string of pearls adorned her neck.

She smiled at me, but I thought there was a hint of effort in it which I've learned to get used to – you have to when you're a copper – but which still disappointed me, coming from her. ‘Sergeant Milne. You must be working overtime tonight.'

I smiled back, stepping up to the desk. ‘Unfortunately in our job it's difficult to keep to office hours. Thanks for taking the time to see me.'

‘You only just caught me. This is one of my colleagues, Dr Roberts. He's a child psychologist.'

We shook hands.

‘I'm not actually based here,' he said in a pleasant, almost feminine, sing-song voice. ‘I do work at sites all over the borough.'

‘I expect you're kept fairly busy, then.'

‘We have a lot of children with special needs, but it's very satisfying work.'

‘I'm sure it is,' I said, not meaning it at all.

‘I understand you're investigating a murder,' he said, looking at me with undisguised interest. He had quite a jolly face, which struck me as unusual for his line of business. Most psychologists spend their whole lives with their heads up their arses. For a profession with such a huge and constant failure rate, they take what they do remarkably seriously.

‘That's right,' I said. ‘A girl not much older than some of the people you deal with. Her name was Miriam Fox. She was a runaway.'

He shook his head. ‘It's a tragedy, Sergeant. I always feel if we can influence them while they're young, we can help prevent them taking the path that leads to this sort of thing.'

I felt like telling him that he and his colleagues had always had ample opportunity to do just that, but had clearly failed. But I didn't. The doctor looked a sensitive sort and I didn't want to upset him. For some reason, I actually thought he seemed quite a nice bloke. He reminded me of an eccentric music teacher I'd had in school who used to wear brightly coloured bowties and who was truly enthusiastic about what he did. I'd never liked music at school, it was one of those subjects that seemed to glory in its irrelevance, but I'd always liked classes with him.

‘It must be a frustrating task,' I said.

‘And how is the investigation going?'

‘These things take time, but we're confident of a result.'

‘I understand there's been an arrest.'

I eyed him curiously. ‘That's right. How did you know?'

He smiled. ‘I'm addicted to the news, I'm afraid, and now I have the internet on my laptop, I'm always checking what's happening. The local news said a man surrendered himself to the police today.'

‘That's correct, but I can't comment any further on it, as you can appreciate.'

‘Of course, of course, I understand. Forgive my inquisitiveness, Sergeant, I just always like to know what's going on.'

‘Don't we all?' I told him.

A pregnant pause followed as Roberts presumably tried to think of something else to ask, but I guess he must have realized that he wasn't going to get much information out of me because he called it a day. ‘Well, I mustn't hold you up. Good luck with the case.' He put out his hand and I shook it.

He said his goodbyes, excused himself, and I turned to Carla. She was looking even better than she had done yesterday and I had no choice but to try and picture her naked.

‘I was just about to finish for the night, Mr Milne. It's been a very long day.'

‘And I appreciate you seeing me, Ms Graham. Look, is there a pub near here? Maybe we can talk in less formal surroundings, if that would make things easier?' Christ, that came out easily.

She raised one of her eyebrows and gave me a funny look. Maybe I'd overstepped the mark, but you don't win prizes without buying tickets. ‘Are you suggesting we go out for a drink?' There was enough of a hint of playfulness in her voice to tell me she wasn't offended.

I smiled. ‘Well, technically, I suppose. But please don't feel it's your civic duty. We can talk here if you'd prefer.'