Cold Sacrifice (17 page)

‘Shall I tell them I left the keys in the car?’ he wondered aloud.

They discussed whether it would be best to come clean. If car thieves had gone for a joy ride and abandoned the car just as they had found it, the police might wonder how Henry’s key ring, with all his keys, came to be in the ignition.

‘Someone could have stolen the keys from inside the house,’ Mark said.

Henry shook his head. ‘There’s no sign of a break in. But if the insurance company find out I left the keys in the car, they’ll say we weren’t covered.’

They agreed Henry should just report the car stolen and say nothing about the keys until he had chatted to a colleague who had a friend who worked for an insurance company. Whatever happened now, it was going to be a bloody nuisance. At least Martha wasn’t there to bellyache about him leaving the keys in the car.

* * * * *

Ian reached carefully for his phone. He didn’t want to disturb Bev who was sleeping peacefully beside him. She moaned softly as the duvet shifted, but she didn’t wake up. For a while now she had been able to sleep through his night calls. It didn’t happen often, and he always remembered to leave a note if he left the house before she was awake. Gradually they were reaching a reasonable accommodation, learning to tolerate one another’s demands. And he was confident she would like being married to an inspector. It wouldn’t be long now until his promotion came through. He padded out onto the landing in his bare feet, bemused by what he was hearing.

‘A stolen car?’ he repeated. ‘I don’t understand.’

He glanced at his watch. He had overslept. The morning was half over. It wasn’t too early to be called for something that wasn’t an emergency. But a report of a missing vehicle shouldn’t land on his desk. He was involved in major crime, not petty theft.

‘It’s not the car that might interest you, exactly,’ the constable explained.

‘Then what the –’

‘Henry Martin reported it missing.’

Ian was instantly alert. ‘Henry Martin? The same Henry Martin?’

‘Yes.’

‘In Herne Bay?’

‘Yes, it’s the Henry Martin whose wife was stabbed, the same one. He phoned to report that his car’s been stolen from outside his house in Beltinge Road. As soon the report came in we noticed the name and thought you’d want to know about it straight away.’

Ian hung up thoughtfully. He didn’t believe for one minute that Henry’s car had been stolen. It was too much of a coincidence. What was more likely was that Henry had a reason for wanting to get rid of his car himself, although a forensic team had searched the car after Martha’s death, and found no evidence of a weapon, or blood spatter. Aware that he might already be too late to make use of the information he had just received, Ian had to move fast. Henry’s car could be at the bottom of the sea by now, or burnt to a bare metal frame. As he drove to work he made his plans. First he needed to put a team in place to check film in the traffic cameras in Herne Bay. Once that was under way, he would go and question Henry again. He hadn’t made sense of this latest development yet, but he was excited. Things were beginning to happen. He was halfway to Herne Bay when he realised he had forgotten to leave a note for Bev.

H
AVING CHECKED IN AT
the incident room in Herne Bay to discuss the report of the missing car, Ian drove on to Margate to speak to Della. Interviewing Henry about his car could wait. First he wanted to persuade Della to come clean about the alibi she had given him for the night his wife was killed. He took Polly with him. No one answered when he rang the bell. After trying several times, he hammered loudly on the front door. It shook with the impact but there was still no answer. No one from the neighbouring apartments looked out to investigate the cause of the disturbance.

‘I suppose she’s fast asleep,’ he said crossly.

‘All right for some,’ Polly agreed cheerfully. ‘Wish I was.’

Ian banged on the door again, as loudly as he could. Lifting the flap on the letterbox he yelled.

‘Open the door, or we’ll have to break it down.’

‘She’s really got under your skin, hasn’t she?’ Polly said, laughing, and Ian couldn’t help smiling back.

As they were about to turn away, they heard footsteps and the front door opened. Clutching a pink silk dressing gown round her waist, Candy held on to the door, displaying dirty finger nails with chipped red nail varnish. She stood blinking up at them, her bleary eyes encircled with smudged black make-up, and traces of bright red lipstick on her cracked lips.

‘Fuck it, not you again,’ she muttered indistinctly. ‘What now? Can’t you bloody well leave us alone? It’s bloody Sunday morning. Don’t you people ever sleep?’

Her voice was thick, as though she was drunk or had just woken up. When she went to close the door, Ian stepped forward and put his shoulder against it.

‘This is bloody harassment,’ she grumbled, but she didn’t sound very angry.

Ian introduced Polly. Candy glared at the constable, and then back at him again.

‘Two of you now, is it? Brought her along to help you do your dirty work, have you? Well, what do you want?’

Della wasn’t home yet. She had been missing for over thirty hours, in itself cause for concern, enough to justify searching her room in an attempt to discover where she might have gone.

While Polly checked through Della’s possessions, Ian questioned her flatmate in the kitchen.

‘Did she tell you she was going away?’

‘We’re not bloody married.’

Candy spoke with affected breeziness, but Ian could tell she was worried. Her eyes flitted nervously round the room, and when she wasn’t speaking, she chewed on the side of her thumb.

‘Was there any reason why she might have wanted to go away?’

‘What do you mean, go away?’

Ian stared at her closely as he asked whether Della had received any threats. Candy shrugged, her thumb at her lips, her eyes avoiding Ian’s gaze.

‘If she was in trouble, she never told me. We shared a flat, that’s all. We weren’t joined at the hip.’

‘Was she struggling to pay off debts?’

‘Who isn’t? Oh – of course you’re not, you on your nice fat policeman’s salary. But for ordinary people like me and Della, living in debt is nothing unusual. So what of it?’

Candy crossed her arms. She watched Ian as he made a note.

‘How much longer is this going to take?’ she asked at last.

‘Until my colleague has finished searching Della’s things. And now I’d like to have a look through your room. I have a warrant, don’t worry.’

‘You like going through strangers’ knickers, do you? Get off on it, do you? Pervert,’ she added under her breath. ‘What’s your problem then? Not getting any?’

She squinted at Ian who didn’t answer. He kept his expression bland. Jibes like that didn’t bother him. He had heard too many of them.

To his surprise, Ian saw a small child lying fast asleep on the bed in Candy’s room. He looked about eight. He had an angelic face with a tiny button nose and long thick eye lashes.

‘You’d better not wake my boy,’ Candy hissed.

Ian began by looking through the drawer in the bedside table. Candy stood in the doorway, arms still folded, staring at him. Ignoring her muttering, he proceeded with his search. There was a jumble of make-up in the top drawer, tweezers and mascara, lipsticks and blusher, and little bottles of nail varnish all thrown in together. Next he checked the wardrobe. He rummaged through the pockets of every item of clothing hanging there, and felt inside the shoes. Pulling a bundle of bedding down from the top of the wardrobe, he shook it all out, and checked inside the sleeping bag that was rolled up there. Next he turned his attention to the bed. He removed one of the pillow cases, but couldn’t get to the other pillows or the duvet without disturbing the sleeping child.

‘Are you going to move him or shall I?’ he asked.

With an oath, Candy leaned over and tapped the child on his shoulder. The boy’s large black eyes flew open at once, as though he had been awake all the time, waiting for her signal. He glanced up at Ian then turned to Candy and hopped off the bed without taking his eyes from her face. She leaned down and whispered in the child’s ear, stroking his unruly hair as she did so, her face glowing with affection. The boy turned and scampered from the room, his curly hair bobbing up and down on top of his head.

‘Do your coat up!’ Candy yelled, and a moment later the front door slammed.

‘Shouldn’t you go after him?’

‘Mind your own fucking business.’

Ian peered under the bed and lifted the mattress to look underneath it. At last, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to find any cash or drugs hidden in Candy’s bedroom, he went and found Polly. Having completed her search of Della’s room, she had found nothing to suggest the girl had been bribed to give Henry a false alibi.

‘I’ll look in the kitchen and you take the bathroom,’ Ian said.

Ignoring Candy’s protests, they pursued their search.

‘You won’t find anything illegal here,’ Candy insisted, demanding to know how long they were going to take. ‘I want to get some sleep this morning, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘It’ll take as long as it takes,’ Ian told her brusquely. ‘And the morning’s over. It’s nearly half past twelve.’

The only money they found was sixty pounds in Candy’s purse.

‘I’m allowed to have some cash on me, aren’t I? Having money isn’t against the law, is it?’

‘No, but this is,’ Polly replied, holding up a small plastic bag of grass she had found in the bathroom.

Candy snatched it back from her.

‘Oh fuck off, it’s medicinal. Leave it out, will you.’

Ian didn’t even bother to caution her about it. They had more important things to do, and had just wasted the best part of a morning vainly searching for evidence that Henry had paid Della to give him an alibi. She must have done a runner with the money. He had a feeling Candy knew a lot more about the situation than she was letting on. They needed to find Della urgently, but Candy swore she had no idea where her flatmate had gone.

‘If you hear from her, let us know straight away.’

‘OK. I’ll send you a message by flying pig. Now fuck off out of here, will you? I need to get my beauty sleep.’ She glared at Polly. ‘Some of us take care of our appearance.’

Neat and smart, Polly had no reason to pay any attention to such a stupid insult. Ian was surprised to see his colleague’s face flush with annoyance. He would never understand women’s insecurities.

B
Y LATE MORNING THE
rain had eased off. After losing what little cash they had in an amusement arcade they wandered miserably along the front, gazing at the brightly lit pink and yellow slot machines. Megan suggested going into town to look around the shops, although the place was dead on Sundays.

‘What for?’ Mac asked. ‘We got no money.’

They walked on aimlessly, thoroughly fed up.

‘This is lame,’ she grumbled.

‘I’m fucking starving,’ Mac said. ‘Let’s get something to eat.’

Even the thrill of being with blonde slim Megan paled beside the thought of finding breakfast. Megan said that as far as she was concerned it made no difference what they did, as long as they did something.

‘I’m so bored,’ she moaned. ‘For fuck’s sake, let’s do something.’

The problem was that they had no money which meant that all their arguments about what to do were pointless. They had nowhere to go and nothing to do.

Turning off the coast road, they went into the Dreamland car park and wandered towards the fenced off entrance to the disused roller coaster.

Megan read the sign aloud: ‘Welcome to Dreamland’.

‘Awesome,’ Mac said, gazing up at the sweep of the metal frame.

‘It must be a hundred feet high.’

‘A thousand!’

On a weekday the car park would have been in use but on a Sunday it was deserted, with just a few random vehicles parked around the perimeter. Suddenly Mac let out a low whistle, his hunger forgotten. If this didn’t impress Megan, nothing would.

‘Get over here,’ he called out. ‘Some stupid fucker’s only gone and left the keys in his car. Come and take a look!’

Megan frowned as though she couldn’t understand his excitement.

‘What the fuck are you on about? It’s only an old car –’ she began, and broke off as he opened the passenger door for her.

‘Your carriage, my lady,’ he said, grinning, and making a stupid bow.

‘Bleeding hell, how did you manage that?’

‘Just call me genius. Well, go on then, are you getting in or what?’

‘Where are we going?’ she asked as he climbed in beside her.

He was busy fiddling with the controls on the steering column and didn’t answer.

First the indicators clicked and flashed, then the windscreen wipers started and stopped.

‘Have you ever driven one of these before?’ Megan asked.

‘Course I have.’

‘How come you don’t know where everything is then?’

‘Well, I haven’t driven the exact same model, but cars are all the same. Once you know how to drive one, you can drive anything.’

Megan muttered something about him driving her mad. Mac ignored her. He was too excited about the car.

‘Well go on then, drive it, if you’re such an expert,’ she said. ‘It’s boring sitting here.’

Mac turned the key in the ignition and the car jumped forward.

‘Ow!’ Megan called out. ‘Watch out, will you? I thought you said you could drive this thing.’

‘Shut up will you, and let me concentrate. It can’t be that different to my brother’s car and I’ve driven that loads of times.’

He kept his foot on the brake as the car reversed gradually. Clear of the edge of the car park he spun the wheel until they were facing the exit on the other side of the empty car park. Megan stared at him with sudden apprehension.

‘Do you think we should be doing this?’

‘It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. We’re in a car park. As long as we don’t go on the road, it’s not illegal.’

‘Bollocks,’ Megan laughed. ‘You can’t just nick a car and say you didn’t know it was wrong.’

‘Stupid twat shouldn’t have left the keys in the ignition if he didn’t want anyone to nick it. Serves him right. He’s an idiot. I mean, come on. We’d have to be stupid not to jack it. If you think about it, the owner’s had a lucky escape. We could’ve been car thieves, and he would never have seen this old heap of junk again. As it is, we’re just taking it for a little ride, that’s all. Technically, we’re not even stealing it because we’re not taking it out of the car park. But if you think about it, he’s left the keys which means anyone can take it. The owner probably doesn’t even want it any more. It’s an abandoned vehicle. Whoever finds it can keep it if they want.’