Luke Delaney - The Toy Taker

‘There’s a type?’

‘Yes, and he’s not it.’

Donnelly reluctantly gave up the line of questioning. ‘But there seems to be a lot of tension between them, don’t you think? Perhaps it’s just the situation.’

‘No,’ Caroline let her guard slip, ‘that was there even before poor little George went missing.’

‘But there’s no suggestion Mr Bridgeman was having an affair with anyone?’

‘No,’ Caroline answered less confidentially, as if Donnelly was wrong, but getting closer to the truth. Donnelly seized on it immediately.

‘So Mr Bridgeman wasn’t playing away from home, but what about … what about Mrs Bridgeman?’

‘All I know is that, since I’ve been here, Mrs Bridgeman hasn’t been seeing anyone else,’ she told him, holding both hands out towards him, palms turned upwards.

‘How do you know?’

‘Trust me,’ she told him, ‘I’d know.’

‘Aye,’ Donnelly agreed. ‘I’m sure you would. But then why all the hostility between them, and why the coldness towards George from Mr Bridgeman?’

‘Listen,’ she whispered conspiratorially, ‘you didn’t hear this from me, and if anyone finds out I told you I’ll lose my job — but if it helps find George then I suppose you need to know.’

‘Need to know what?’ he asked, managing to hide his rising excitement.

‘Tessa told me that while she was working for the Bridgemans there was a suspicion that Mrs Bridgeman was seeing another man. Apparently Mr Bridgeman found out about it and they’ve never been the same towards each other since.’

‘If it spoiled things between them so irreversibly then why didn’t they get divorced?’

‘I don’t know — you’d have to ask them that. Maybe they did it for the children — maybe they did it for appearances’ sake. These people aren’t like the rest of us.’

‘So when was this supposed affair?’

‘Before George was born,’ she answered, but something in her demeanour told Donnelly she wanted him to ask her more.

‘How long before?’

‘Shall we say about … nine months.’

Donnelly paused to take in the implication. ‘I see,’ he eventually told her. ‘That can’t have been easy for Mr Bridgeman — these last few years?’

‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t suppose it has.’

‘I think I need to speak with Mrs Bridgeman,’ he told her. ‘Alone.’

‘You won’t tell her I said anything, will you?’ Caroline pleaded.

‘You can be sure of my confidentiality …’ Donnelly put on his most reassuring tone, inwardly adding the proviso, … until we use the information to bury the Bridgemans, that is . ‘I’ll be very discreet. Best you stay out of the way until I’ve had a chance to speak with her.’

‘Fine,’ she agreed, already regretting letting Donnelly into the dark little family secret.

‘And thanks for your help,’ he added as he squeezed past her and headed back down to the kitchen where Mrs Bridgeman stood in the same spot he’d left her, still staring at the floor, lost in her own excruciating nightmare.

‘How you doing?’ Donnelly asked, to get her attention more than out of genuine concern.

She looked up slowly, staring at him in a state of confusion, as if she could hear him, but not see him. After a few seconds she shook her head quickly and answered. ‘I’m fine.’

‘I doubt you’re that,’ he told her.

‘I meant under the circumstances.’

‘Of course. Would you like to sit down?’

‘No. I’d rather stand.’

‘Can I fix you a cup of tea or anything?’

‘No,’ she snapped, then added in a softer tone, ‘I said I’m fine.’

‘No problem,’ he backed up before beginning to lay his groundwork. ‘Kids — little sods, eh? Drive you mad when you’re with them, then you miss them like hell when they’re not around.’ She didn’t respond. ‘I’ve got five, myself.’ She looked up, an almost puzzled expression on her face. ‘Ten-year-old twins,’ he told her, ‘a couple of teenagers and a wee nipper who’s only four.’

‘That’s a lot of children,’ she finally joined in.

‘Aye. A real handful. The wife’s a saint though — keeps them all on the straight and narrow and somehow juggles the accounts to keep the bills paid, or at least most of them.’

‘Can’t be easy.’

‘You mean on a cop’s wage?’

‘That’s not what I meant. I just meant with five of them.’

‘It’s OK — you’re right — it is bloody difficult on a cop’s wage, but the overtime helps. No such worries for you though, eh?’ he asked, looking around the state-of-the-art kitchen his wife could only dream about.’

‘Money isn’t everything,’ she said as she watched him.

‘Oh, I agree. In fact I’m always telling the wife the exact same thing: money isn’t everything. The most important thing is to stick together when times are tough — just like you and your husband are now.’ She momentarily glared at him, just as he’d wanted her to, her eyes answering questions her lips would never respond to. ‘Although in situations as stressful as this, sometimes the parents can take out their frustrations on each other — it’s neither unusual nor unreasonable. My advice would be, don’t be too hard on yourselves if you have the odd cross word.’

‘Thank you,’ she told him, her eyes still burning with mistrust.

‘Still, I’m a wee bit surprised he’s gone to work today. Would he not rather be here with you — in case we find something?’

‘He had to go to work. He had no choice.’

‘There’s always a choice,’ Donnelly gently tried to provoke her into saying more. ‘Still, if you want a house like this, in a bit of London like this, private school, nanny, top-of-the-range kitchen then I suppose work has to come first, eh?’

‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ she couldn’t help telling him, regretting it as soon as she had.

‘Indeed they can.’ He bided his time. ‘Are you sure I can’t make you that cup of tea?’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’

‘Not much a cup of tea can’t fix.’

‘Will it help find George?’ she demanded.

‘No, Mrs Bridgeman, alas it can’t do that.’

‘Then perhaps you’d have a better chance of finding him if you were elsewhere?’

‘Everything’s covered,’ he assured her, pretending to misunderstand the inference. ‘We’ve got every man, woman and dog looking for him. Right now I’ll best serve George by being here — with you.’

‘How so?’

‘Oh, you know — the more we chat the more I may discover.’

‘How can talking about me help you find George?’

‘Not just about you, but about George as well … and your husband. You may remember some little thing that could turn out to be important.’

‘Such as?’

‘Something from your past, maybe? Something you haven’t told us yet. Something you may have forgotten.’

‘Like what?’ she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

‘Like, are either of your children from another marriage, either yours or your husband’s?’

‘No.’

‘If not a marriage — perhaps a previous relationship?’

‘No. This is ridiculous.’

‘Then perhaps an affair?’

She smiled in disbelief and looked through the ceiling at the nanny who remained two floors above them. ‘Has someone been talking out of school, Sergeant?’

‘Call it my detective’s instinct,’ he lied.

‘And what does your instinct tell you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know — that George is your son, but not Mr Bridgeman’s.’

‘Well then your instinct would be wrong.’

‘And your husband’s instinct — is that wrong too?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’