Reginald Hill - The Only Game

‘What was her name, this girl? And when did she call?’

‘Week before last it was. And her name was Mary Harper.’

‘Did Jane remember her?’

‘No. But the girl was wearing a ring so it seems likely it was her married name. But whether she knew her or not, there was no reason to get in such a tantrum when I told her I’d given this Mary the telephone number. Well, I wasn’t about to be lectured in my own house by my own daughter, I tell you! So we had words and she stalked out.’

‘What time was that?’

‘Not long after they arrived. About half past four.’

‘How did she look, your daughter?’

‘Like she always does. A bit pale maybe. She doesn’t eat enough, never has done. All this athletics stuff, it’s not right for a girl. The men are built for it, well, some men, but it’s a strain on a female, bound to be.’

‘And Noll? Oliver?’

‘Now he looked peaky, I thought. I said to her, what’re you thinking of, putting that child through such a journey …’

And once more she stopped in mid-stride as the fear she was trying to control by words, by anger, by indignation, was edged aside by a darker, heavier terror.

‘All these questions, what have they got to do with anything? What’s really happened, mister? He’s not just wandered off, has he? Well, has he ? What’s really happened, mister?’

He said, ‘We don’t know, Mrs Maguire, and that’s the truth. But we’ve got to face the possibility that your grandson may have been abducted.’

It was a choice of horrors. Little boy lost, wandering around in the cold midwinter weather, or a kidnapped child in the hands of a deranged stranger. She sat there rocking to and fro, in the delusive belief that she was facing the worst. This was no time to hint at the third and most terrible possibility.

The door bell rang. He looked at the woman. She showed no sign of having heard it.

He went out into the tiny hallway and opened the front door.

Father Blake was standing there, his face pale with anger. Before Dog could speak, the priest demanded, ‘What the hell are you playing at, Inspector? Coming here with your stupid lies! What sort of man are you?’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand …’

‘No, you don’t, do you? That’s clear enough. It’s people you’re dealing with … Why couldn’t you come right out and say it? Don’t we have a right to know what’s going on? Suppose that was how Mrs Maguire got to know, for God’s sake!’

His anger and anguish clearly went deep.

Dog said, ‘Please, Father. What’s happened? Tell me what’s happened and maybe I’ll be able to tell you what you want to know.’

The priest regarded him with deep mistrust, but he was back in control of himself.

‘All right, Cicero,’ he said. ‘I’ll play your game a little while. I’ve been sitting in my car listening to the radio, and I’ve just heard some policeman from Essex, Romchurch, isn’t it? That’s where you’re from?’

‘Yes,’ said Dog. ‘What was it you heard?’

‘I heard this man, Parslow, saying the reason you’re interested in Jane Maguire is because her son’s missing, that you believe he’s dead, and that you want to find his mother in order to charge her with murder!’

It wasn’t as bad as the priest made out, but almost. Close questioned, Blake calmed down enough to admit that Parslow hadn’t stated categorically that it was a murder hunt, only that the child was missing, the police were anxious to interview his mother, and the possibility of foul play could not be ruled out.

‘Look,’ said Dog. ‘Why don’t you go in and see what you can do for Mrs Maguire? She knows the boy’s missing and that’s been shock enough. I’ll get onto my office to see if anything else has come up.’

‘And you’ll let me know? The truth this time?’ said Father Blake harshly.

‘I’ll tell you everything I can,’ said Dog jesuitically.

Reluctantly, the priest went through into the sitting room leaving Dog to his thoughts.

The whole thing stank of Tench. He must have decided his devious purposes would best be served by going public. And he’d get no argument from Parslow. Steady Eddie would have made the statement dressed as Santa Claus, so long as his pension rights were safe.

Dog cooled down a little. Perhaps he was being unfair to both Tench and Parslow. Perhaps something new had come up.

He picked up the phone from the hall table and dialled.

‘Romchurch police, can I help you?’

‘CID, Sergeant Lunn.’

When he heard the sergeant’s voice, he said, ‘Charley, are you alone? What’s going on?’

‘Maguire, you mean? There was some kind of media leak, I gather, so they wheeled out the super to make a statement. But why he decided to throw petrol on the fire beats me, specially as I’d talked to the social worker who tried to see Maguire, and while he said a couple of odd things, there was nothing there to reinforce the murder theory.’

‘Tell me,’ said Dog.

‘This chap confirms he rang Maguire’s bell and got no reply. Then he had a word with Mrs Ashley, the old lady who’d made the complaint. He wasn’t all that worried, it seems, ’cos evidently it’s quite a hobby of Mrs Ashley’s ringing up with allegations about domestic mayhem. And in this case he reckoned she’d really slipped over into fantasy land because there was no record of a child living in the flat anyway.’

‘Maguire hadn’t been in the area all that long,’ said Dog.

‘All the same, kids usually figure in the records very quickly. Health, education, that sort of thing. I checked with the DHSS about Child Allowance and there’s no trace there either.’

Cicero said, ‘Would going to a private kindergarten make a difference to the records?’

‘Officially, no. I mean, children have to be accounted for and County Hall would have a record of all the Vestey Kindergarten kids. But until someone bothers to do a cross check, the fact that a pupil at the kindergarten doesn’t figure elsewhere wouldn’t come up.’

‘Whereas if the child had been registered at a local authority nursery school, it would automatically be fed into the whole system?’

‘Right. Why so interested in that aspect, Dog? It was the same when I told Parslow. That chap, Tench, from the funny buggers, was there and he didn’t seem much bothered that the child abuse thing was probably a fake alarm either.’

‘Oh, I’m bothered, Charley. Anything else?’

‘No. Oh yes. Five minutes ago they rang up from the desk to say there was this woman asking for you and did we know when you’d be back. A Miss Edmondson. Said she worked with Maguire.’

‘First name Suzie? Long blonde girl, not bad looking?’

‘Don’t know. Never saw her.’

‘You mean you just let her go?’

‘Of course not. I went down but by the time I got there, your Mr Tench had swallowed her up. Willy on the desk, though, did have a languid look on his face so maybe your description fitted. She’s probably still in the super’s room … hang about, I hear Mr Tench’s merry laugh now … I’ll just have a word …’

‘No!’ snapped Dog, though why the word came out he did not know. But it was too late anyway. There was nothing on the end of the line but background noise of footsteps and a door opening, voices, distant and tinny, silence, more steps, then in his ear Tench, merry and bright.

‘Dog! Just been talking about you. How goes it, my son?’

‘What’s going on?’ said Dog. ‘Why have we gone public?’

‘No choice, had we? Press got onto it, probably one of the mums at the kindergarten tipped them off. You’ve got to cooperate with the media, Dog, or they won’t play ball with yours.’