Adrian Magson - No Help For The Dying

De Haan took several seconds to answer, as if willing himself under control. ‘Some do, of course. But it is not and never has been a condition of supplying our expertise. That would be little better than bounty-hunting.’ His mouth clamped shut on the words in evident distaste.

‘And Mr Quine?’

De Haan frowned. ‘Mr Quine is a valuable asset. He has a great deal of experience in this area. I would be foolish if I denied anyone the opportunity to use his skills. I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with Henry Pearcy?’

‘Where does he get them?’ Palmer put in, taking the lead.

‘Get what?’ De Haan looked confused by the switch.

‘His skills. Finding missing kids isn’t something you get through the Open University or as an NVQ. What is he — ex-police?’

‘I really have no idea. I seem to recall he may have once worked in the law enforcement field, now you mention it. As far as our work is involved, he has an understanding of the habits and networks in current use among the young, which is invaluable. As I said to you before, over the years we have built up some expertise at tracing runaways. It’s not our main activity, but I’m proud to say we have an enviable record of success… when we’re permitted to work freely, that is.’ He bit the words off with a snap, which Riley took as a sign that she was finally getting under his skin.

‘Permitted?’

‘Unhappily, not all those who are found wish to go home.’ He shrugged impatiently, wanting rid of the subject and, no doubt, the two of them. ‘There’s very little we can do to force them, under those circumstances. We do our best, but sometimes prior… events are against us.’

‘Such as?’

‘Family matters. I’m sure I don’t have to go into that. Adults, you see, usually find their own solutions, Miss Gavin. One way or another. The young do not have that luxury, and it is they who have most need of guidance when they feel the need to tread their own paths. But you probably know that already.’

Riley felt the sudden force of de Haan’s anger. From irritation at being questioned, he now looked as if he had stepped over an invisible line he had not intended to cross. Or was it the passion of the true believer? He ducked his head, his cheeks showing a sheen of perspiration, and Riley wondered if he was always this affected by his own rhetoric. ‘Forgive me,’ he added lamely. ‘It’s simply that I feel… very strongly about what we do here.’

‘I can tell. Thank you — you’ve been very helpful.’ She turned to go, then paused. ‘By the way, has Mr Quine been to the Suffolk coast recently?’

De Haan’s eyes flared in surprise before he clamped down on his reactions. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Suffolk. It’s on the east coast. Has he been there?’

‘I have absolutely no idea, Miss Gavin. You’ll have to ask him, won’t you?’ His expression was suddenly ice cold, all attempts at geniality gone.

‘Maybe I will.’

Riley turned and walked out, leaving Palmer to follow. Her head was ringing with the echo of de Haan’s words: ‘But you probably know that already.’

She had deliberately not told de Haan about Katie, yet she was certain that he knew. Could Henry have told him about her? She wondered if it was the real explanation for his unease. Pastor de Haan had allowed his control to slip a fraction, letting Riley know that he knew more about Katie’s past than he had any right to.

Back in the car, Riley glanced at Palmer. ‘What do you think?’

Palmer toyed with a cigarette, flicking it against his thumbnail. He wore a slight frown. ‘If I was a betting man,’ he said finally, ‘I’d say Pastor de Haan, along with his changeable accent, is as bent as a dead dog’s dick.’

‘How quaint. Should we tell DS McKinley? He might be able to force them to produce Henry. At least then he might take me off his list of possible suspects.’

Palmer shrugged and said nothing, so Riley stopped the car by the gates and took out the card the police officer had given her. He answered after three rings. ‘McKinley.’

‘You asked me to call if I heard anything about Henry Pearcy,’ Riley announced.‘

Did I?’ McKinley sounded tired. ‘Yes. Sorry, that’s no longer an investigation.’

What?’ Riley was surprised. ‘But you said his disappearance was suspicious.’

‘So it was. But not any longer. Word came from on high; Mr Pearcy had some kind of breakdown. As a result of taking some anti-depressants, he had a fall in his hotel room. He’s now staying with friends. There’s nothing more I can do, I’m afraid. Now, if that’s all, I have an urgent call.’

‘Breakdown? But that’s crazy-’ But the line was dead. McKinley had hung up.

Riley switched off her mobile and dropped it in her lap. ‘Do you believe that? What does that mean, word from on high?’ She drove out of the gates, causing a spurt of gravel behind her.

Palmer pulled a face. ‘It means a senior person on the totem pole pulled rank. You don’t argue with that if you value your pension. De Haan must have got to somebody.’

‘And that’s it? That’s all you’re prepared to do?’ She looked at him in exasperation. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and light your cigarette; it might give you some inspiration.’

‘Well, if you wanted me to tie de Haan to a chair and beat him over the head with a rubber hose, you should have said. I said he’s bent, but that doesn’t mean he’s involved in Katie Pyle’s death. And if he’s convinced the Met that Henry’s safe, there’s nothing we can do.’ He gave a wry smile and put the unlit cigarette back in the packet. ‘All the same, it might be interesting to go back and take a quiet look around.’

Riley smiled with relief and put her foot down.

When they were close to Uxbridge, Palmer gave her directions to s small block of flats set in a leafy back road. He asked her if she wanted to come in.

‘I don’t know. Is it safe?’

‘Perfectly. Why shouldn’t it be?’ He gave her a shark-like smile. ‘If I’d wanted to tie you up and do unspeakable things to you, I’d have done it before now.’ He punished her by taking out a cigarette and lighting it, and blowing the smoke around the inside of the car.

Riley ignored the provocation and tried another tack. ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to risk upsetting your girlfriend. Or doesn’t she mind you inviting strange women into your lair?’

He gave her a sideways look. ‘God, you women are so transparent. Actually, my girlfriend, as you insist on calling her, doesn’t mind. In any case, she’s a lot stranger than you are.’ He opened the door and got out. ‘Tea, coffee or see you tomorrow?’

‘Palmer, you’ve got a real way with women. Make it tea.’ She followed him into a two-storey block of apartments, where he led the way to the first floor. He unlocked the door and ushered her into a neat, well-ordered sitting room with a small kitchen. The furniture was good quality and comfortable, and the colour scheme pleasing if unspectacular. Riley was surprised by how tidy the place was, in spite of needing a dusting.

Palmer noticed her look as he walked through to the kitchen. ‘I don’t do dust. I prefer to wait for the local electricity sub-station to build up a bit of static.’ While he made tea, Riley nosed around, peering at bookshelves and out into the rear gardens. She resisted the temptation of intruding into the bedroom. When he came in with two mugs of tea, she sat and sipped hers.

‘You just don’t get this, do you?’ said Palmer with a smile, stirring his tea. ‘You’d have been happier if I’d turned out to be a slob with pizza boxes piled up on the table and empty beer bottles rolling around on the carpet.’