Stone nodded.
“That maid, Gabby, could do with being checked out as well; there was something about her. I’m not sure what, but I’m positive she’s hiding something.”
Mentally, Stone reviewed the interview with the maid; he hadn’t picked up on anything at the time, and still couldn’t on reflection, but he trusted his partner’s instincts. Over the years they had worked together he had learned that if one of them missed something, the other was almost guaranteed to pick up on it; between them, suspects and witnesses were rarely able to get away with anything.
“I think we should have them all checked out,” he said, “just to be on the safe side.”
There was a knock on the library door and Burke crossed to find out who was there – it was Owen Keating.
“Did you find out anything?” Keating asked, his face drawn. He bore only a vague resemblance to the bright and animated games developer who had talked to them about the games his company was preparing to release.
Stone didn’t answer straight away, instead he asked a question of his own, “How’s your wife? What did the doctor say?”
Keating moved into the room and settled into one of the comfortable armchairs near the windows that looked out on the colourful grounds at the rear of the house. “She’s in shock, it’s hit her very hard. I don’t think she ever expected anything like this to happen – neither did I, if I’m honest.” He was silent for a moment. “The doctor’s given her something to calm her down and help her sleep; hopefully she’ll feel better when she wakes.” His tone was positive, but his body language reflected what he really thought.
It was no surprise to Stone that Owen Keating had the air of a man who found himself in the midst of the worst nightmare he could imagine. As a father of two, the possibility of losing one of his children was something that preyed on his mind; to lose one would be bad enough, but to have one taken away – he was sure that must be a thousand times more terrible. His job as a detective made it all the worse because he too frequently saw the evils that men, and women, inflicted on each other and on children.
“Hopefully, by the time your wife wakes, we’ll have some good news. Were you able to get in touch with your son?”
Keating shook his head. “He’s not answering his phone. He’s probably off somewhere being an idiot,” he said disapprovingly.
Stone couldn’t disagree with him – Ryan Keating was a regular at one or other of Branton’s police stations, most often the central station where Stone worked, for he had a propensity for getting into trouble, whether it was for being drunk and disorderly, dangerous driving, or for even more serious matters. The elder Keating child featured in the local papers with greater frequency than the rest of his family combined, and never for a good reason.
“Did you learn anything from the staff?” Keating asked.
“Nothing useful at present, but we haven’t finished with them yet, it’s possible we might still learn something from them. We have leads to be followed up on from the witnesses at the scene as well.”
“So, what happens now?”
“Now, Sergeant Burke and I need to go to the station to get the rest of our team working on their assignments; there’s a lot that needs to be done, and the quicker the better. Once we’ve finished at the station, we need to find your gardener to see if he knows anything.” Stone straightened his jacket in preparation to leave. “Detective Constable Laughton,” he introduced the other man in the library, who had been so silent up to then that he had gone unnoticed, both by Keating and by the servants being questioned, “will remain here as your liaison officer; if you have any questions, or you need anything, before I get back, just ask him.”
19
Together, Stone and Burke searched the pub for Hamish Gordon. They found him after a few moments, seated at a table in the regular’s bar, a half-empty glass in front of him. His flaming red hair and matching beard, tinged here and there with patches of grey, made him easily recognisable.
While his partner ordered them a couple of cokes, Stone made his way over to where the gardener was watching cricket on the large TV screen that hung over the bar. “Good afternoon, Mr Gordon,” he said when he reached the table. “May I sit down?”
“There’s plenty of other seats,” Hamish Gordon said. He showed no curiosity over how the stranger knew his name as he looked pointedly around at the empty tables to either side of him, and at the stools at the bar.
“I know, Mr Gordon, but I need to ask you a few questions.” As he sat, Stone took out his warrant card. “This is my partner, DS Burke,” he said as the sergeant arrived with their cokes.
“What sort of questions?” Gordon wanted to know, exhibiting the first sign of curiosity.
“There was an incident this afternoon – your employer’s daughter, Alice, was kidnapped while on the way home from school,” Stone said, watching the gardener for any sign of guilt.
The old Scotsman’s hand froze in the act of lifting his glass to his lips. “Is she alright?” he asked in a voice filled with concern.
“We don’t know, we haven’t yet had any contact with the kidnappers,” Stone told him. “We have no reason for believing they will have harmed her, but until they do get in touch, we can’t say for sure. Where were you at a quarter past three, Mr Gordon?” he asked.
“Ye dinnae think I had anything to do with it, do ye?” Gordon’s Scottish accent became broader and more noticeable as his voice rose in indignation. “I’d nae hurt a girl, especially no Alice, she’s a sweet wee thing.”
“We have no reason for thinking you were involved in the kidnapping, sir,” Burke assured him. “We simply want to eliminate you from our enquiries. We’ve already spoken to the rest of the Keatings’ staff,” he said, wanting to let the man know he wasn’t being singled out.
Gordon calmed a little, though his face remained tense. “I was out wi’ the wife,” he said. “We were at the shops. It’s the same ev’ry Wednesday – I finish at one, head home to have a bite to eat, and then take the wife to the shops.” It became clear as he spoke that he only lapsed into Scots’ dialect when agitated, for as he calmed, his words became more English and less distorted by his accent.
“Is there anyone, other than your wife, who can confirm that you were at the shops between three and half past?” Stone asked.
The expression on Gordon’s face was that of a man about to snap and lash out, verbally if not physically, and Stone wondered if he was always so quick to anger, or if there was something behind his reaction. After a couple of deep breaths, he responded in as even a voice as he could manage. “Yes, we bumped into my wife’s friend, Tracy, at the shops and stopped for a coffee and a chat. We were there for almost an hour – when that women starts talking, ye cannae stop her.”
“What’s the last name of this Tracy, and how can we get hold of her? In case it’s necessary to confirm what you’ve told us.”
“Ye’d have tae ask the wife. The woman’s a nattering pain, I have as little tae do with her as I can.” He drained his glass and set it down. “Have ye got anything else tae ask me?”
“We’ve got a few more questions for you, Mr Gordon,” Stone told him.
“I’ll tell ye what I can,” Gordon said, “but talking’s thirsty work.” He looked significantly at his empty glass.
Stone took the hint and signalled for his partner to get a fresh drink for the older man. He waited until the amber-filled glass had been set in front of Gordon before he continued, “It’s possible that whoever has kidnapped Miss Keating has been to the house recently to gather information in preparation for today. Have you seen anyone suspicious, or heard anyone in the family or staff mention seeing something or someone suspicious, either at the house or in the vicinity?”
“No.” Gordon shook his head. “I’ve nae seen anyone, but that’s no a surprise, I’m usually out the back o’ the property, and ye cannae see much from there. As fer the staff, I’ve nae heard them say anything, but Ken, my assistant,
is on drugs.”
“You know that for certain, do you?” Stone asked.
“No. He often acts a little strange, though, and young Dan, my other assistant, he says he’s on drugs, says the boy likes a smoke, if you get what I mean.”
That matched his suspicions, and those of his partner, but Stone chose not to say anything about that, instead he asked, “How about deliveries or workmen?” He saw he had confused Gordon, so he explained. “Have there been any deliveries or workmen at the house recently? People you wouldn’t normally be suspicious of.”
“Ah,” Gordon expressed his understanding monosyllabically before taking a long swallow of his lager, draining a third of his glass in one go. “I wouldn’t know about deliveries, not unless they were gardening supplies; ye’d have to ask Mr Chambers or Mrs Wembley about deliveries. They did have the pool cleaners in last week, though, I know that.”
Stone doubted anything would come of it, nonetheless he made a mental note to have DC Hill look into the pool cleaning company, along with the delivery companies they had already been told about.
“Thank you for your assistance, Mr Gordon.” Stone ended the informal interview after another quarter of an hour, when he was sure there was nothing else the gardener could tell him. “You’ve been very helpful. If you should think of anything, no matter how insignificant it might seem to you, don’t hesitate to contact me, no matter what the time.” He handed over a card with his number on it before putting in a drink for Gordon at the bar on his way out.
20
Alice woke abruptly. Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright as a scream erupted from her throat to echo around the room. She stared around her wildly, trying to pierce the darkness she found herself enveloped in. It was to no avail; the darkness was almost absolute.
She had no idea where she was, but after a moment she did recall what had happened to her. Her heart, which was already racing, shifted into overdrive as the memory of being kidnapped came back to her. Not sure what she was going to find, she hurriedly ran her hands over her body – she calmed only a little when she discovered that she was uninjured, aside from sore spots at her wrists and ankles, and a tenderness on the left side of her jaw, and that the only item of clothing she was missing was her shoes.
“I think Sleeping Beauty’s woken,” Crash remarked when the scream reached him from upstairs. An amused grin lifted the corners of his mouth as he said, “I hope she’s comfortable up there.”
A squeak from the armchair diverted his attention for a second time, and looking around he was surprised to see Lewis getting to his feet. “Where’re you going?” he asked of his partner.
“To check on Alice,” Lewis told him, “and to take her some water and a sandwich.”
“What the hell are you doing that for?” Sitting up, Crash swung his legs round and got to his feet so he could follow Lewis into the kitchen. As he passed the foot of the stairs, his eyes went to the door at its head, it was still closed, locked and bolted as far as he could see, not that he had expected it to be anything else.
“We can’t leave her without food and water, especially water.”
“Why not? She’s only here for a few days, there’s no reason for us to have anything to do with her. If you or any of us go into that room, we run the risk of her being able to identify us, and to escape, is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” Lewis said quickly, “but we can’t leave her without water, she’ll get sick.” As he spoke, he took a bottle of water from the fridge, as well as a plate of thickly cut Wiltshire ham and some strong cheddar cheese.
Crash wasn’t sure if his partner was telling the truth about Alice Keating getting sick if she was made to go without water. It seemed like a reasonable possibility, though – he knew how he felt when he went most of the day without anything to drink; just in case, he let Lewis carry on with what he was doing. He didn’t care, personally, what happened to the girl so long as he got his money, but he didn’t want Lewis to know that. “If you want to take a chance on her being able to identify you later, that’s your lookout, just don’t cause me any trouble.” With that he turned away and went back to the film he had been watching.
The moment she heard the sound of a key in a lock, Alice backed up. She didn’t know what was behind her, but the door being opened was in front of her, of that she was certain, and she wanted to get away from whoever was entering the room. She had scrambled just a few feet when she backed into a wall, which she began exploring with her fingers. She stopped when the door opened and she was blinded by the light that flooded the room; it wasn’t strong, but it was enough to sting her eyes after the darkness.
Alice blinked her eyes rapidly to get them to focus properly. Once she could see the room she was in, and the silhouetted figure that entered it, she hurriedly crawled away until she was in the corner farthest from the door, where she felt a little safer.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” Lewis said as he moved into the room and saw what she was doing. “I’ve just brought you some water and something to eat, and I thought you’d like some light.” He set down the lamp he had brought with him at the side of the room, where it would provide the most illumination.
Alice could now see the room she was in properly, but her eyes remained fixed on the man who approached her. Just then the only thing that mattered was him, her kidnapper.
“Here you go,” Lewis said. Stopping in front of the teen, he bent to place the plate he was holding on the floor, he then took a chocolate bar and a bottle of water from his pockets.
“Please, let me go,” Alice begged, ignoring the food, even though its very presence made her stomach rumble.
“We will,” Lewis told her, “soon.”
“Why can’t you let me go now?” Please, I won’t tell anyone anything, I just want to go home.” Tears stood in Alice’s eyes and slowly ran down her cheeks as she pleaded with her captor.
“You will, soon. A couple of days and then you can go home, you just have to be patient.” Lewis didn’t like the distress Alice was displaying, and sought to calm her. “Everything’s going to be alright, you’ll be home soon enough.”
“When?” Alice wailed.
“You’ll go home when your father pays up.”
Alice’s gaze shifted, moving from the relatively non-threatening figure in front of her, to the owner of the new voice. The stubbly and tough-looking person who stood by the door sent a shiver of fear running up and down her spine – there was something about him that spoke of violence. Briefly, the idea had popped into her head that if she made a rush for the door, she could beat the man in front of her to it and maybe escape. The arrival of the second figure pushed the idea from her mind, though – she was afraid of what he would do to her if she tried to escape. Without taking her eyes from the doorway, Alice shuffled about, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them to protect herself.
“What do you mean?” Alice asked in a muffled voice.
“What do you think I mean?” Crash sneered. “We’ve got you, and your dad’s gonna have to pay to get you back, and pay big. You’d better hope he pays up; if he doesn’t, things’ll get unpleasant for you.” With that he strode across the room, grabbed Lewis by the back of his shirt and dragged him away.
He didn’t let him go until they were out of the room and he had slammed the door shut. While his partner started down the stairs, Crash locked the door, a more involved process than it should have been, thanks to a touch of paranoia from Jim. Crash had tried to persuade his partner that the lock already on the door was sufficient, but Jim had been insistent, as a result, a heavy duty catch with a padlock had been fitted.
Once he had the door locked, bolted and padlocked, Crash made his way downstairs, where he confronted his partner. “What the hell were you doing?” he wanted to know.
“What do you mean?”
“What d’you mean, what do I mean? Taking her something to eat and drink’s one thing; th
ere’s no reason for you to be talking to her. D’you want her to be able to identify you when this is all over? Or are you hoping that being nice to her will get the cops to take it easy on you if you get caught?”
Lewis tried to respond to the accusation, but the harshness in Crash’s voice, and the look on his face, made the words die on his lips. He doubted that anything he said would make a difference; Crash was going to think whatever he wanted.
Huddled in the corner of the room, Alice could hear the raised voice that drifted up to her from downstairs. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but the angry tone was enough to keep her where she was. She didn’t want to do anything that might draw attention to her, though she did take the opportunity, now that she could, thanks to the light she had been brought, to examine the room she was in. It was barren of furniture, even the carpet had been removed, exposing the bare floorboards she felt under her, while from the ceiling hung a light fitting that was missing a bulb; there was no handle on the door, and a sheet of wood was on the wall across from the door – she assumed it covered a window, though she couldn’t be certain.
Finally, her eyes came to rest on the plate and the bottle of water that had been put in front of her. Slowly, as if she suspected they were a trap of some kind, she released her knees and unwound to reach for the bottle of water. When the bottle didn’t disappear upon contact, she closed her fingers around it and snatched it up. She drained it without pause and then put the empty bottle to one side. It was then that she saw the bucket in the other corner; how she had missed it before, she didn’t know.
What the bucket was for, Alice had no idea, but its presence disturbed her – she suspected its purpose was something she didn’t want to discover. Pushing it from her mind she reached for the plate; as troubled and upset as she was, she couldn’t ignore the grumbling in her stomach, not when there was food right in front of her.
Alice felt a little better once she had filled her stomach, and after a couple of minutes she pushed herself to her feet. She could no longer hear anything from the two men who had kidnapped her, and that made her worry; she wondered if they might be just outside the room, spying on her. Despite that, she knew she couldn’t sit around and do nothing. She was not the kind of person to simply accept a situation, no matter what it was – it was a trait she had inherited from her father, who always did everything he could, no matter what was going on or what inconveniences or difficulties he was facing.