Mummy's Favourite (4 page)

Early spring daffodils and tulips lined one side of the driveway, neatly arranged in small clumps of red and yellow, bright against the greens and browns of the ground-cover foliage. A swathe of stocks, tall and leafy, filled in any gaps left in the flower bed; and the grass, although still slightly too long and patchy from the winter rains, was a very healthy dark green. It looked every bit, the typical suburban, middle-classed home.

Keith didn't look up again even when she was level with the front of the garage; a fact that irritated Charlie. He'd seen them parking, so why ignore them now.

She pulled out her warrant card and thrust it towards him.

‘Mr Hubbard, can we have a word please about your missing wife and son.'

She watched him carefully as he unfurled himself from his stooped, working position. He was a good six foot two inches tall when he stood straight, with a body that was toned and stocky, no doubt from hours spent lugging heavy tools and equipment around all day. His hair was dark and coarse, with flecks of white at the tips which made it look as if his head had been splashed lightly with a coating of brilliant white gloss paint. He had a full beard, which continued down his neck, colliding with the top of his chest hair, and a moustache that was neither trim nor bushy. His nose was distorted and off-centre, most likely the result of a rugby spat, and his left ear was squashed forward and scarred, almost certainly by the same sport. He looked like a mix of middle-aged hippie and thug.

‘I told the other coppers everything I know earlier.'

His voice was gruff and he had an air of arrogance that made Charlie bristle immediately. She disliked him as soon as he opened his mouth, possibly even before he uttered a word.

‘Well I'd like you to go through it again with us. After all, I think it's a bit more important than a spot of DIY, don't you?'

She kept her voice strong and controlled, which was more than she felt. His manner unsettled her somehow and her sixth sense was playing games with her mind. She had a bad feeling about the visit. She was glad when Hunter walked up behind her.

‘Shall we go in and talk,' he instructed, leaving no space for a quarrel.

Keith sighed out loud and made an exaggerated effort to lay his tools down. Slowly he moved round in front of them, climbing the few steps between a small walled flower bed and the front door, and let them all in.

‘Let's make it quick then. It's not DIY. It's my job. I'm having to work from home today and I've got things to do.'

Charlie and Hunter followed him through the front door into the hallway. The house smelt of cleaning products and coffee, as if he'd been waiting for an estate agents' visit. The flooring was a thick mottled oak laminate, more expensive than the norm, and the cream walls were adorned with black and white photographs of Keith and a young boy. There were empty spaces of discoloured paintwork where pictures had been removed. They passed the lounge on their left and she just had time to catch a glimpse of the same child as in the photos, playing computer games on the TV. He glanced round at them but quickly returned to the on screen battle scene.

‘Is that Ryan?' she asked, suddenly aware that Keith was staring at her with barely concealed malice.

‘Yep that's Ryan. At least Julie didn't take him! That was good of her, wasn't it? Left me one of the kids at least. Very fair. I don't think she liked him very much anyway.' He laughed viciously.

‘Why do you say that?'

‘Because he wasn't always on her side, like Richard was. Richard was her favourite.'

‘I'm sure that wasn't the case?'

‘In front of others she tried to make it look as if she treated them both the same, but back here at home it was Richard who was the golden boy. Ryan, poor thing couldn't do anything right. A bit like me. Think he's quite glad she didn't make him go with her actually.'

Charlie paused. She doubted whether Ryan really would want to lose his mother and brother even if, as Keith was suggesting, Julie did favour Richard. There really was something about the man that was ringing alarm bells.

‘And you!' Hunter chipped in. ‘Are you glad she's gone?'

Keith snorted out loud.

‘Couldn't be more pleased. She was a bitch towards me. Didn't say too much out loud but made it quite clear she thought she was better than me. Anyway she's done my job for me now. She's upped and left me everything, silly bitch. I haven't had to do a thing. And now she's gone, she ain't never coming back.'

‘But she's only been gone a couple of days,' Charlie looked straight at him. ‘How can you be so sure she's not coming back?'

‘Coz I just know it, that's all.' He turned away from her.

‘Is that why you've removed all the pictures of her and Richard from the wall?'

‘Yep, there's gonna be nothing left of her soon. I'm chucking all her stuff out. Clearing the boards. Making way for a new start!'

‘So what makes you think she hasn't just gone away for the weekend, like you thought initially?'

He snorted out loud again and turned back round, fixing his gaze straight at her.

‘She's gone. I just know it. She's taken a few bits and pissed off. Not a word! Now why would she do that without telling me, unless she had something planned? No lady, she's out of my life!'

Charlie winced at the word lady.

‘But you didn't report them missing immediately because you said you thought they'd gone away for the weekend. Now you're saying that right from the start you thought they'd left for good. So why report them missing at all?'

Keith rounded on her, his face reddening with anger.

‘Does it matter when I reported them missing or what I thought at the time? The fact is the bitch has gone. I only reported them at all because of the school and her family.'

‘The fact is that a fourteen-year-old boy has also disappeared. And even if you're not concerned about that, we are.' She kept her voice even. ‘And his father appears to care so little about him that he didn't report him missing for nearly four days! Is there something you know that you're not telling us?'

She felt his eyes boring into hers but didn't flinch away. It was important that this bully knew she wasn't scared of him, even though inwardly she had to admit he unnerved her. The man kept his voice equally calm and measured.

‘What are you trying to say? That I somehow got rid of them?'

‘I'm not trying to say anything. I'm just asking.'

‘Julie left and took Richard with her. That's the end of it.' He broke away from her gaze and crossed the kitchen, turning his back on them and looking out the window on to the back garden.

‘Well you don't mind then if we take a look around? We need to satisfy ourselves that they're not still here somewhere. Stranger things have happened.'

She saw his shoulders tense involuntarily. His jaw was set when he turned round again towards them.

‘Do whatever you have to, but do it quickly and get out of here.'

Charlie smiled at him briefly. She had won that spat and was now able to have a good look around, but he was not making their life easy. Most people reporting loved ones missing were only too keen to help with everything they could. Clearly his wife did not fall into the category of a ‘loved one', but Richard? How could he be so blasé and cold about his son being missing? She turned and walked along the hallway, her gaze falling again on the missing picture frames.

Hunter was following closely behind. At the bottom of the stairs she turned towards him.

‘So what do you make of him?'

‘Haven't made my mind up yet. If Julie has taken the boy and gone, I must say I wouldn't blame her. If he's got something to do with it, he's putting up a very good smokescreen to make it look like she's walked out on him and he's the wronged party. Whichever it is though, I don't like him.'

‘Nor do I, but then he doesn't seem to like me either. The feeling is definitely mutual.'

She climbed the stairs, leaving Hunter to check the ground floor, and moved around the first floor taking in the packed suitcases rammed full of clothing and female cosmetics, the spaces on the walls where more pictures had clearly been removed and the obvious attempt being made to extinguish his wife and child from his life. The main bedroom had no photos of the family, or Julie, no perfume, make-up or beauty products left lying around. Only two pillows rested on top of each other and were placed in the central position at the top of the king-size bed.

Richard's bedroom too was tidy with the bed neatly made and storage boxes containing his belongings stacked along one wall.

Even the bathroom had only male cosmetics, with just two remaining toothbrushes sticking out from a tumbler. It was impossible to tell whether Julie had taken items of importance to her or Richard because everything was now packed away.

More striking though was the cleanliness of the place. Each room had been swept clean, the surfaces bore no dust and even the walls and paintwork looked and smelt freshly washed.

Hubbard must have spent the whole weekend scrubbing the place from top to bottom before reporting them missing.

Charlie was bending down examining a damp patch on the bedroom carpet when he came up behind her.

‘Found anything interesting then?' he said loudly, making her jump to her feet with surprise.

‘I must say, Mr Hubbard, you seem to have gone to great lengths to remove any signs of your wife and son when they may well come back. Don't you think that's a bit strange?'

‘No. I don't think it's a bit strange. In fact, I would find it a bit strange for any man to happily take back a wife that has treated him like shit for years.' His voice dropped in volume so she could barely hear it, accentuating each word slowly. ‘Wouldn't you?'

She turned to see where Hunter was but he was still downstairs and the knowledge sent a ripple of apprehension through her. She caught the smile that appeared across Hubbard's face and knew he sensed her foreboding.

‘He's downstairs,' he answered her unspoken question. ‘Poking his nose around where it's not wanted.'

She stood up straight and tried to sound calm.

‘Well I'm done up here, so I may as well go and join him.'

‘You didn't answer my question.' His voice was flat. ‘I asked you if you would or wouldn't find it strange that a man should take back a wife that treated him like shit?' She started to walk. ‘Well would you?' She got to the bedroom door.

‘I would find it stranger for a wife to want to return to a bastard of a husband that beat her up regularly in front of their children.'

She reached the top of the stairs and glanced back to find him right behind her. Gripping the banister, she started to descend.

‘I thought you might say that,' he whispered from behind.

She turned, releasing her grip slightly, to see his boot coming towards her. It hit her square on the shoulder, the power propelling her forward.

‘Mind how you go now,' the shout rang in her ears as she scrabbled to maintain her grip, before tumbling forward into darkness.

Julie Hubbard was preparing to die. She had lost the will to fight. In any case, the water that she had eked out so carefully at first was now gone and her captor had not visited for some time to replenish it. She had almost lost track of time completely in the continual darkness. Only the depth of blackness and the dawn chorus of myriad small twittering birds as opposed to the night-time hoots and screeches of owls helped her work out whether it was night or day.

The stench of decomposition was all around her. It clung to every strand of hair and every inch of clothing. It filled her nostrils and made her head scream, knowing that with every breath she took, she inhaled Richard's death. Amongst the deadness though was life, creatures crawling and squirming and feeding on the flesh of her son. She could hear them moving, scratching and scraping at the body, wriggling on to her own face and hands and skin. Sometimes they woke her from intermittent sleep as they moved across her closed eyelids and on to her forehead, into her ears. Sometimes the noise got so loud she wanted to scream to drown it out. Sometimes the knowledge of what was happening deadened her to everything.

She hadn't eaten since she'd been in this pit, she'd had only water and now the tube was dry and stuck to her chapped lips. She couldn't even lick her lips properly anymore because there was so little saliva. The hunger pangs had ceased now as her body had got used to starvation. And she was cold, so cold. Her body was so weak she rarely even attempted to move, save to try to rid her skin of the insects.

She had come to almost look forward to the daily visit from her captor. Not that there had been many visits, but for the first few days at least there had been. She had tried to identify the voice. It was familiar but unrecognizable, as if its owner was trying to alter or muffle it. She thought it was a male voice but wasn't completely sure. The only thing that had kept her going up until now was the fact that the voice was disguised. If she was to be killed, why would they bother? It didn't say much, mainly laughed, mocked, but at least she hadn't been forgotten.

She wondered what on earth she could have done to warrant this torture. For years Keith had beaten her as and when he wanted. She hardly dare disagree with him these days, without fearing retribution. Surely, she deserved a little love and happiness outside her marriage. And nobody knew. They'd been so careful.

The voice made no reference to this. It just kept repeating the same two words, over and over again:
Mummy's favourite, Mummy's favourite, Mummy's favourite
. But how could it be a sin to have a favourite?

Obviously her captor thought it was but how did they know what she felt. Only Keith and Ryan knew really. Maybe a few friends and family suspected; maybe even a few work colleagues or a few random strangers watching her with her boys in the park.