you were looking for batshit crazy, Mrs Wilson was a bat with more shit than most. I wasn't angry with her any longer. I couldn't be. But I couldn't let her keep this up either.
I said, 'We were considering charging you with wasting police time.'
'Wasting your time? My son's gone missing. You're supposed to help me find him. Isn't that what you do?'
Damn it, maybe it was none of my business, but it had to be done. Somebody had to spell it out. 'Mrs Wilson, your son was in the car the night you were hit by the drunk driver.'
There was a moment while she looked confused. Then she said, 'I know. I know. Me and John and Bruce. We were all in the car.'
God help me. I took a breath. 'Your son died that night.'
'Sweet Jesus,' she said. 'Sweet Baby Jesus. Ask for help and this is what I get?'
'Bruce died that night.' Erica moved towards her. 'It's true.'
No doubt about it. We even knew where the boy's grave was.
'What is this? You think saying it enough times will make it real? It won't.' Mrs Wilson wiped her eyes. 'I think you should go.'
'Is there anyone we can call for you?' Erica asked.
'I really think you should go. Now.'
'Mrs Lennox said you were seeing someone. A psychiatrist. Would you like to speak to-?'
'Get out. Get the hell out.'
'We're just trying to help.' Erica stretched out a hand, but Mrs Wilson batted it away.
'You pair aren't the first,' Mrs Wilson said. 'And you won't be the last. But you're wrong. My baby's alive and well. I make him a packed lunch every day. I take him to school. I pick him up from school. I take him to the park. I play with him. I have dinner with him. We talk about his daddy. I bathe him. I put him to bed. I read him stories.' Her shoulders were shaking. 'The bond we have,' she said. 'It's special. And nobody's going to break it.'
Erica and I looked at one another and turned to go. There was nothing more we could do here. I was so depressed my knees ached.
'Clare,' Erica said. 'You need help.'
I grabbed Erica's arm, tugged her towards the door.
'I'll find Bruce on my own,' Mrs Wilson said. 'I'll find him. I will.'
I had no doubt she would.
11
I entered the code to the security door that led to the CID office and stepped inside. Erica was right behind me.
An enormous cheer and clapping and wolf whistling greeted us from the clutch of detectives who'd gathered to welcome us back.
So word had got out that we'd been played. I'd imagined that Dutton would have kept it to himself. I wasn't thinking, of course. The whole point of a joke was to share it.
And there he was, leading from the front, big grin under that stupid moustache.
I stepped towards him but Erica got there first.
I wondered what she was going to say.
'Want to see something really funny?' She clenched her fist and punched him.
He went down, and stayed there and after a moment's silence, the cheering and clapping grew louder.
12
My uncle, Detective Inspector James Fleck, was crouching in the corner of his office like a large duck. His hair was straight and as white as his shirt and slightly too long at the front.
'Come on in and shut the door,' he said.
I was expecting a bollocking for not stopping Erica belting Dutton. She'd been sent home. It was hard to present striking a superior officer in a good light. No matter how much the superior officer was asking for it.
'Your back still no better?' I asked.
'Come over here.' My uncle bared his teeth against the pain.
I walked past his desk in too much of a hurry, bumping it, making a photo of my Aunt Sarah wobble.
'Whoops.' I caught it before it fell. I put it back alongside a photo of my uncle's boat. Lucky I hadn't knocked that photo off or there would have been big trouble. He'd had to sell the boat a few years back and Aunt Sarah had said the fuss he'd made, you'd think he'd been forced to sell one of his children.
'Never mind that,' he said. 'Take one of your shoes off.'
He had strange notions sometimes. Although he hid it well. Still, almost everybody was scared of him. Even his superiors. And they thought I would be too. Which is why they moved me here.'Come on, sunshine,' he said. 'I'm not asking you to flap your cock in my face. Just take a fucking shoe off.'
I bent down, unlaced my shoe. Slipped it off. I stood there, feeling unbalanced.
'Good.' My uncle waddled in a tight circle so he was facing the opposite way. 'Now place the sole of your foot in the small of my back.'
I raised a bent leg and let my foot rest on his shirt. 'There?'
'Just a bit higher.'
I moved my foot up a bit. Slipped for a moment. Then steadied myself.
'Super.' My uncle stretched his arms out behind him. 'Now grab my wrists.'
I took hold of his wrists.
'Lean back and pull.'
I said, 'I don't know about that.'
'Shitebags. Just fucking do it.'
'Okay.' I puffed my cheeks out. Then leaned back and tugged.
He yelled. He kept yelling.
I kept pulling as I leaned back. 'Want me to stop?' I shouted over the noise he was making.
'No, keep doing it.'
'You sure?'
'You fucking deaf?'
I had a good mind to let go. Watch him spring forward and headbutt the wall. But I didn't.
'That's better,' he said after a while.
I relaxed my grip slightly.
'No, no, no,' he said. 'Keep the tension up.'
I dug my heel into his back.
'Ah,' he said. 'That's good. Yes. Keep it there. Fuck, yeah.'
'This is becoming a little too sexual for my liking.'
'Very funny,' he said.
'You getting any proper treatment for this?' He'd had a bad back for as long as I could remember. Although it came and went.
'I'm seeing a specialist tomorrow. Another one. Costing me a fortune.'
'Any closer to knowing what's wrong?'
'They won't tell me,' he said. 'That's the way they like it, of course. More cash for them while they 'find out'. Let's try this treatment. Oh, it's not that. Then let's try this instead. Oh, dear. Not that either. Well, let's see… Meanwhile, I'm so skint I can't afford to put a few quid on the horses any more.'
'You'll find a way.'
