Luke Delaney - The Toy Taker

‘How did he get their addresses?’

‘Had them fill in some forms for a bogus competition. Everything he needed to know, the families gave him themselves.’

‘You know they all did this?’ Donnelly asked.

‘Yeah, I confirmed it on the way here. The bastard broke into their homes the night before he took the children and stole their favourite soft toy or doll — learned all he needed to know about the inside of the house, then the next night he comes back, with the same toy — gives it back to the kid and makes himself an instant hero. No wonder they went with him so easily — so quietly.’

‘Fuck me,’ Donnelly answered, trying to understand the mind of a man who would do such things. ‘So what now? Surveillance?’

‘No. Won’t tell us anything.’

‘Could tell us if the children are here, assuming they’re-’

‘They’re here,’ Sean insisted. ‘I know they’re here.’

‘Maybe he keeps them somewhere else,’ Donnelly suggested. ‘Just in case anyone comes sniffing around the shop. Maybe he lives somewhere else himself?’

‘No,’ Sean told him. ‘Zukov checked the local retailers’ register. The same man who owns the shop is shown as owning and living in the residential property above it: Douglas Allen, male, white, fifty-eight years old. He’s our man.’

‘But why?’ Donnelly asked. ‘Why take these children if he’s no paedophile or child-pedlar?’

‘That’s what I intend to ask him,’ Sean told him while looking in the wing mirror of the car until he saw what he was waiting for — a mother entering the shop with her two young children. ‘That’s what I intend to ask him right now.’ He tried to spring from the car, but a heavy arm from Donnelly stopped him.

‘Last time you took one of these psychos on alone it didn’t end too well, I seem to remember.’

‘This is different,’ Sean insisted.

‘All the same, I think I’ll tag along with you.’

‘No,’ Sean ordered. ‘I need to see him alone with a family. Once I’ve seen that, I’ll call you straight away. I promise.’

Donnelly released his arm and sank back into the seat, resigned to Sean’s intentions. ‘Just … just don’t push your luck, guv’nor. OK?’

Sean looked him in the eyes for a brief moment. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’

Donnelly’s quiet reply was lost to him as he opened the door. ‘Aye. Of course you will. Of course you will.’

Sean moved quickly along the pavement, clocking Sally and Zukov parked at the other end of the street. He reached the Rocking Horse and entered, scanning the shop without making eye contact with anybody — he wanted to get his bearings and settle his mind before engaging anyone in any way. He ignored the displays of ornate, traditional and clockwork toys and headed for a corner of the shop seemingly set aside for the more modern — Lego, Duplo, Airfix and even Action Man. There was a distinct lack of anything computer-based.

Once he felt comfortable in his surroundings Sean began to covertly look around the shop, his attention closing in on a short, stocky man dressed in grey flannel trousers with a maroon V-neck jumper pulled tight over a white shirt and red tie. The man had to be at least fifty-five, with a small gut, but he looked nimble and strong, although Sean noticed he was stooping slightly. As he talked to the mother and her two young children the shopkeeper maintained a constant smile, but his face wore a troubled expression, as if he was bearing some great burden. Sean knew what it was. Douglas Allen , he spoke silently inside his mind, I’ve come to take you away, my friend. It’s time to go. It’s time to end this ugly game .

He listened in to their conversation, watching every move Allen made, waiting for him to turn round and see him standing there, instinctively aware of who he was. But Allen was no Sebastian Gibran or John Conway — ready and willing to kill at the drop of a hat to save his own skin. This was an individual who was broken inside and confused about the world around him. Nevertheless it was Sean’s job to bring that world crashing down.

‘These are very popular,’ Allen told the tall, well-spoken woman who held on to her children as they tried to pull away from her. He held out a porcelain-faced doll in a lace dress. ‘I import them from Paris. They’re handmade — their faces painted by true craftsmen, so each has its own expression and personality.’

‘A bit like a Cabbage Patch Doll,’ the mother told him unwisely, wiping the thin smile from Allen’s face.

‘Quite.’ He bent down to show the doll to the eldest girl, who Sean guessed could only be five or six. ‘And what do you think?’ he asked her. ‘Do you like this dolly?’

‘I think she’s beautiful,’ the little girl answered, her wide smile revealing perfect white milk teeth as her blue eyes sparkled with happiness.

‘Yes, she is, isn’t she — almost as beautiful as if she was alive. But who’s this we have here?’ Allen asked, gently touching the small, beige teddy bear, almost squashed flat through years of being held too tightly by the little girl.

‘That’s Mr Teddy,’ the mother answered for her with arching eyebrows. ‘Mr Teddy goes everywhere.’

‘Then he must be very special?’ Allen asked.

‘Mr Teddy’s the most special,’ the little girl told him.

‘Of course he is, but I bet you’d like this doll?’ he suggested.

‘I’m not sure,’ the mother interceded. ‘It looks very expensive, for a young child’s toy.’

‘You can’t put a value on quality,’ Allen argued. ‘You can’t compare these beautiful Parisian dolls to the cheap rubbish they mass produce in Taiwan, or China I suppose it is now. These dolls were made to last a lifetime.’

‘So long as they’re never played with,’ the mother joked, but Allen wasn’t laughing.

‘Please, Mummy,’ the little girl pleaded, tugging at her mother’s coat. ‘Please can you get her?’

‘No, darling,’ the mother insisted. ‘It’s not even a toy. It’s more like an ornament. Pick something you can play with. Look — they’ve got Lego over there.’

‘Yes. Yes,’ Allen agreed, carefully placing the doll back on its shelf. ‘We have some Lego. In fact, we’re having a little competition at the moment. First prize is quite a collection of Lego, or you could always choose the doll as a prize.’

‘Mummy, Mummy, I want to win the dolly,’ the little girl chirped excitedly.

‘Wait. Wait,’ the mother told her. ‘Fine. How do we enter? What do I have to do?’

‘Just fill in this form.’ Allen held out a piece of paper, but the mother stopped him.

‘I really don’t have time to start filling in forms. I’ve kind of got my hands full here.’

‘Of course. Then please allow me to fill it in for you,’ he offered, hurrying behind the counter to retrieve a pen. He looked at Sean for the first time since he’d entered the shop. ‘I’ll be with you in one moment, sir.’

Sean nodded turning away to examine the Lego, allowing Allen to focus on the mother.

‘Now, if I could just take your name, Mrs …?’

She barely paused before answering. ‘Mrs Orwin — Carine Orwin.’

‘And the names of your children?’

‘This is Anarra,’ she told him, pointing to the older girl. ‘She’s almost six. And this is Lucy. She’s still only three.’

‘And your address?’

‘Nassington Road, next to the Heath.’

‘A beautiful street,’ he added. ‘Your husband must have a wonderful job?’

Her pride overcame her suspicions. ‘He works in the City.’

‘A banker?’

‘No,’ she answered, keen to avoid the stigma of being associated with that profession. ‘He’s a trader.’