Mark Pearson - Hard Evidence

'According to Ella Stafford, the officer involved, there was no provocation at all.'

'Can we speak to Ella Stafford?'

'I fail to see how that can help you find the missing girl.'

'I don't know either, if I'm honest. That's what police work is.' Delaney shrugged. 'Turning over stones. You turn over enough…'

'And soon enough something unpleasant will come crawling forth.'

'About the size of it. So can we speak to her?'

'She retired shortly after the incident and moved to New Zealand.'

'Can you get me her contact details there?'

'I'm sure we'll have a record. For her pension if nothing else.'

'We'd be grateful. What about Candy Morgan's counsellor?'

'What about her?'

'Can we speak to her? I presume she still works here.'

'She does, but she won't be able to tell you anything. The women who speak to counsellors have to know that whatever they say is entirely confidential. You can understand that?'

Delaney let a little anger slip into his voice. 'I understand that a little girl is missing from her family, is in the care of a very dangerous and disturbed woman and we all have very serious fears for her safety.'

The governor considered for a moment and then nodded, conceding. 'I'll see what I can do.'

'Thank you.'

Sally flipped the page on her notebook. 'Can you tell us who she shared cells with whilst she was here?'

'Of course.' He picked up the phone and pushed a button. 'Louise, could you dig up Candy Morgan's file again for me? Thanks.'

'We appreciate the help.'

Alan Bannister looked at Delaney thoughtfully. 'I know it sometimes doesn't look that way, but I hope we're both on the same side.'

'I hope so too.'

A short while later the governor's PA had returned with the name of Candy Morgan's cellmates written on a piece of paper. Delaney read quickly through the list, stood up and thanked the governor, gesturing to Sally that it was time to leave.

Outside, as they walked back to the car, Sally had to lengthen her stride to keep up with Delaney's fast pace.

'Not much to go on.' He held up the piece of paper. 'I know Stella Trant. Her last cellmate.'

'How come?'

'She was a sex worker. Probably still is.' He pushed the button on Sally's key ring to open the locks.

'Why don't I drive, sir?'

Delaney didn't answer for a moment as he looked further down the list, then he turned to Sally, tossing her the keys. 'I won't be long.' He walked back towards the entrance.

'Sir?'

'Just wait in the car. There's something I forgot to ask the governor.'

Alan Bannister looked a little surprised to see his assistant Louise showing Delaney back into his office.

'Inspector. Something else I can help you with?'

Delaney picked up on the hint of irritation in the man's voice, but ignored it and leant back against the door frame. 'It's about Jackie Malone. She was an inmate here a couple of years ago. I see she shared a cell with Candy Morgan.'

Bannister considered for a moment, looking off to the side.

'I remember her. What about her?'

'She was murdered a few days ago.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'A particularly brutal murder.'

'Do you know who did it?'

'Not yet.'

'And this has something to do with Candy Morgan?'

'Maybe nothing.'

'But…?'

'But Jackie's son is missing too. Well, not missing exactly, but we can't locate him.'

'You think there's a connection?'

'I don't know. I just wondered if you knew how close they were? Candy and Jackie.'

'I can't help you on that. Sorry, but it was a long while ago they shared a cell.'

'If anything occurs, you'll call me?'

'Of course.'

Delaney stood up and walked to the door.

'Inspector?'

Delaney stopped and looked back at him.

'May I ask why you didn't mention this earlier when you were here with your constable?'

Delaney didn't have a problem with lying. 'I hadn't remembered the connection.'

Delaney looked out of the passenger window as the car passed St Pancras station on his right and turned left past an Irish pub that stood on the corner. A pub he'd spent many a Saturday afternoon in watching rugby and drinking poteen from the hip flask of a septuagenarian regular. Just the thing on a cold winter's day, but too much even for Delaney in the blaze of the summer heat. Sally made a couple more turns and parked outside a row of mid-Victorian terraced houses. Delaney opened his door and got out, his knees still a little stiff, one of these days he was going to get down to the police gym and start exercising again. He walked up to a yellow door that desperately needed a new coat of paint and leant on the doorbell. After a short wait and no response he leant on the doorbell again.

'All right, all right give us a bleeding chance.' The voice was muffled but the Irish accent was clear. The door cracked open and a woman peered out, her hair flashing amber gold in the bright sunlight and her frown deepening as she took in Delaney and Sally Cartwright, recognising them immediately for what they were.

'Shit.'

Delaney held up his warrant card to her. 'Yeah, it's the filth, Stella. We'd like a word.'

Stella turned back resigned into the flat, slouching down on the threadbare sofa with barely disguised boredom. Delaney and Sally followed her in. Sally stood by the door and Delaney sat in the faded yellow armchair opposite the sofa. Stella Trant was a flame-haired woman in her late twenties. Medium height and pencil thin, she wore blue jeans that clung to her body like the skin of a snake with a pale shirt and a green striped tank top. It was pushing thirty-five degrees outside but she wasn't even breaking a sweat. She reached down to pick a can of Special Brew off the floor and took a swig. She had startlingly green eyes and a smoky southern Irish lilt in her voice. 'I'd offer you one, but I know you're on duty.'

'Right.' Delaney looked about the shabby flat and smiled, sliding a bit of charm into it. 'I guess anywhere is better than your last accommodation.'

Stella laughed, a dry, rasping sound, as she flicked a roll-up between her finger and thumb. 'I wouldn't bet on it.'

'No.'

'This is about Candy, right? I had a call.'

Delaney was annoyed at that; he'd speak to the governor later, but let it pass for the moment. 'You were cellmates for how long?'

'The last six months.'

'And you got out when?'

'Two weeks ago.'

'Planning to go back?'

Stella fixed him with a flat look. 'What do you think?'

'You're aware of the conditions of your parole?'

'Yeah. And I'm doing nothing to jeopardise it.'

'That's good.'

'What's this all about?'

'Candy has disappeared. She's moved from where she's supposed to be.'

'She'll show up.'

'She's taken a twelve-year-old girl with her.'

Stella looked up, surprised.

'Have you spoken to her since she got out, Stella?'

'I haven't heard from her and I don't expect to.'

'You were quite close on the inside?'

'Yeah, well the inside is the other side of the world and another century ago, if you know what I mean.'

'You mean things are different now?'

'You'll make commissioner yet, Sherlock.'

'Yeah, I'll be made commissioner and you'll be made a Dame of the British Empire.'

'Nah. We Irish… we're citizens of the world, isn't that right?'

Sally smiled tolerantly from the door. 'Tell us about your relationship with Candy?'

Stella reacted. 'Relationship? You implying something by that?'

'Just asking questions. That's what we do.'

'Yeah, you ask questions and answer them yourselves. And innocent people end up in prison.'

Delaney flashed some teeth at her. 'You innocent then, Stella?'

Stella smiled slowly. 'I've had my moments.'