Ann Cleeves - The Baby-Snatcher

‘Yes, folks,’ he said. ‘What can I get you?’ Pretending he didn’t recognize them, that they were just ordinary punters, though the day they found the body they’d been practically camping out in the place.

Brian could tell that the man was tempted. He was gasping for a drink. But the woman said, ‘Nothing, thanks. We’d just like a quick word with Mrs Houghton.’

They took Kim to a table in the corner so that not even the boyfriend could hear what they were saying, then the three of them walked out. The car dealer looked foolishly after them, finished his drink and followed. There was the sound of a car engine. He must have started his company car and driven away.

‘What was all that about then?’ Brian said. ‘Do you think she’s been arrested?’

Les gave a gappy grin. ‘Na!’ he said. ‘No handcuffs.’ He gave a lecherous wink.

Brian felt himself becoming flushed, though handcuffs had never featured in his fantasies about Kim Houghton. He’d imagined a wardrobe full of dressing-up clothes. A school uniform. Black stockings. Tarty red underwear. But nothing really kinky.

He decided he’d go. Emma would appreciate it if he wasn’t too late back. Besides, Les wouldn’t want to risk a lock-in for after-hours drinking with the police on the Headland.

It was even colder outside than in the club and he walked quickly past the jetty and into Cotter’s Row. There were still lights on in Kim Houghton’s house but he was surprised to see that the car the detectives drove was not parked there. It was pulled up right against the pavement outside the Howes’ place. And from inside came the sound of raised voices.

‘How did you know?’ Sally had demanded. ‘How did you know that Bernard and Claire were having an affair?’

‘It was something Bernard’s mother said. I suppose we should have realized before. Considered it at least.’ He saw it as a failure of his, this refusal to consider the obvious. It was another sort of arrogance.

‘It really changes things, doesn’t it? I mean if they were working together we’ve got motive and opportunity.’

‘I suppose we have.’

Although this too was obvious he resisted the enthusiasm. He wasn’t ready yet to make an arrest. She was like a hypomanic kid on the eve of her own birthday party. She couldn’t keep still. She bounced around the office on the balls of her feet and came to rest at last with her bum on the window sill.

‘When you first suggested it I couldn’t believe it,’ she said. ‘ I mean he’s old enough to be her father. What a creep!’

I suppose he is old enough to be Claire’s father, Ramsay thought. Prue’s friends who were into self-enlightenment and therapy would make a lot of that. It was plausible enough. They’d say that Claire, who had recently lost her father, was looking for a substitute. If the couple ever came to trial there would be a probation officer’s report before sentence and he could predict almost word for word what would be said about Claire’s bereavement. But he thought something quite different was going on in the relationship. It wasn’t a father Claire was looking for but a child. Someone to take care of. And Bernard Howe had never grown up.

‘Surely we’ve got enough to bring them in for questioning,’ Sally said. She was as macho as Hunter when the mood took her. She’d persuaded the girl to talk. Now she wanted a bit of glory and a result.

‘Probably.’ Ramsay spoke calmly.

‘We’ll go for it, then, shall we?’

‘No,’ Ramsay replied. ‘Not yet. We’ll talk to them at home. Separately if we can. That shouldn’t be a problem. They’re not sophisticated enough to put up any resistance.’

‘But why not here? Formal questions. In the Interview Room with the tape running. They’ll be blaming each other within minutes.’

‘Because the press will get to know.’ He was annoyed by her callousness, disappointed in her. He’d supposed that because she was a woman she’d look at things differently. And didn’t that make him every bit as much of a bigot as Hunter? He tried to contain his irritation.

‘You know as well as I do that if we say a witness is helping the police with their inquiries the world assumes he’s guilty. There’s the girl to think of. And what if they’re innocent? It’s easy enough for us. We just move on to another case. But they’ll have to put together some sort of life and that’s not easy when the neighbours are whispering murder.’

Sally turned away without saying anything. Sometimes she thought Hunter was right. Despite his reputation Ramsay was getting old and soft. He was perceptive enough but he didn’t have the guts to see a thing through.

‘Where’s Gordon?’ Ramsay asked.

‘In the canteen.’ Sulking, she thought. Because I got the girl to tell me about Bernard and Claire.

‘I want him in on this too.’

She was going to ask why but managed to bite her tongue just in time.

When they got to Cotter’s Row only Marilyn was in. They heard her clatter down the stairs to come to the door. She’d changed from her uniform into washed-out jeans and a sweater. When she turned to let them in Ramsay saw the label on the jeans pocket. It wasn’t one that any of her friends would have recognized. Her mum had probably bought them for £5.99 from a stall on Blyth market. Prue’s daughter wouldn’t have been seen dead in them.

‘Claire’s baby-sitting for Kim Houghton,’ Marilyn said. ‘ Dad’s gone with her.’ Then, speaking directly to Sally, ‘I suppose they wanted a bit of privacy.’

‘When do you expect them back?’

She shrugged.

‘Not till late. They said not to wait up.’

‘Bring them back here now, Gordon.’ Ramsay spoke quietly but they could tell he wasn’t going to be pissed about. ‘Find out where Kim Houghton is and get her home. If necessary Sally can baby-sit until she gets back.’

As soon as he’d spoken he knew Sally wouldn’t like it. She hadn’t joined the force to be a childminder.

‘That is all right, Sally?’ With hardly a trace of sarcasm.

‘Of course,’ she said huffily. She started away from the door then turned back hopefully. ‘Unless Marilyn wants to do it. It might be less awkward for her to be out of the house.’

‘No.’ For some reason he couldn’t even quite explain to himself why he wanted Marilyn there. Perhaps to remind Bernard and Claire of their responsibility. Or to represent Kath Howe. Because no one else had liked her very much and that wasn’t a good enough reason to let a killer get away.

It took half an hour to fetch Kim Houghton from the club. Sally decided that as Kim was just down the road she wouldn’t be needed as sitter. Ramsay could wait that long. In number two Ramsay waited downstairs alone. Marilyn offered him tea. When he declined she went back upstairs to her room. To someone without experience of teenagers that might have seemed strange or rude, but Prue’s daughter ignored all adult visitors to the house as a matter of course. A matter even of honour.

He was glad of the silence and the opportunity for thought. He went into the living room intending to rearrange the furniture to his liking before the interview and he was struck by the change in the place. When he had looked in on his first visit to the house it had been cluttered, uninviting, dirty. It still looked as if it was never used, but much of the junk had been taken away and it was spotless. There was a smell of furniture polish. He thought the carpet had been cleaned. He supposed Claire had been spring cleaning. Her way of making a fresh start? Or something more sinister?

Hunter came in.

‘They’re on their way. Kim and her fancy man were just down at the club.’