'No, sir, except that it appears she didn't go to school today.'
'So I heard, but we can't rely on the word of a neighbour's child. Have someone check with the school. Do you know the name of Georgina's teacher, Mr. Dewhurst?'
'Yes, it's Miss Aitken.'
Nigel went off to deploy someone to track down Miss Aitken. As he left I asked him to arrange for the farm track to be taped off. There were some good tyre marks on it.
'Is your daughter happy at school, Mr. Dewhurst? Can you think of any reason why she might have played truant?'
He shrugged his shoulders. 'No. She doesn't like school very much, but neither did I. She does fairly well. I don't think she's being bullied or anything.'
'OK. Have you a sheet of paper?' He produced a shopping-list pad out of a drawer. One of those with a pencil attached that looks like a good idea but never gets used.
'Right, sir. I want you to spend the next few minutes making me a list of all these names.' I started writing on the pad.
'I've given the sergeant the names of Georgina's friends,' he said.
'Fair enough, but you might have forgotten a few.' I wrote:
Close friends at school
Local friends
Neighbours
Relatives Favourite auntie or anyone she might turn to if she was unhappy Any friends you disapprove of Any other names she's ever mentioned Favourite places (amusement arcades, cinema, riding school, etc.) Where she plays (any dens, favourite walks, etc.) I was racking my brain for further inspiration when Paul Scott, the Scenes of Crime Officer, popped his head round the door.
'Excuse me, Mr. Priest. When you get a minute can I borrow Mr.
Dewhurst, please?'
'Sure.' I gave Dewhurst the list and gestured for him to go with the SOCO. I walked outside to my car and rang the Superintendent. The clock on the dashboard said ten to eight.
'Hi, Gilbert,' I sighed wearily, when he answered. 'Sorry to disturb you, but I think we've a heavy one.' I filled him in on the details.
While we were talking another squad car and a SOCO van pulled up.
Gilbert agreed to arrange for further reinforcements. The idea was that tonight, what was left of it, we'd hit everyone we could think of with photographs of the girl. In the morning we'd cover the bus station. She had to be somewhere, and somebody knew where that was.
'Gilbert?' I asked, hesitantly, when we'd finished. 'Could you do me a little favour, please?'
'Of course, what is it?'
'I'm supposed to be at Annabelle's at eight. Give her a ring and tell her I'm busy. It'll sound better coming from you.'
He agreed. If the truth were known, Superintendent Gilbert Wood is just as ga-ga about her as I am. Fortunately, he's happily married.
When I went back inside, the SOCO was taking Dewhurst's fingerprints, for elimination purposes. He explained that they would be destroyed in six months, and that Mr. Dewhurst could witness this, if he desired, or sign to say he authorised the SOCO to do it in his absence. I don't think he heard a word of it. When they'd finished I sat down and had a long chat with him.
Dewhurst told me he was managing director of his own company, called Eagle Electric. They supplied components to industry and acted as agents for several big manufacturers. In the last few years they had diversified by importing fancy light fittings and supplying them to the major department stores. They were designed in this country and made on the cheap in the Far East. It was this side of the business that Dewhurst was most personally involved with.
Every morning he took Georgina for the school bus. In the evening a child minder met her off the bus and looked after her until Mr.
Dewhurst called for her. Yesterday Georgina hadn't been on it. His mother-in-law, Georgina's grandma, spent a lot of time with them and helped look after her, especially at weekends. She'd been the first person he'd contacted when he discovered that his daughter was missing.
'She's worried sick, same as me,' he said. 'Will it be all right if I go and pick her up? She has her own room here. She's a widow and idolises Georgina. She's her only grandchild.'
'Doesn't your mother-in-law drive?' I asked.
'No. She's quite old and has bad arthritis. I always have to collect her. Thank God I didn't go to Birmingham.'
'Birmingham?'
'Yes,' he sighed. 'My first call this morning was at Ashurst's in Manchester. I got a puncture in their yard. So much for all-terrain vehicles. It put me behind schedule, so I cancelled a couple of late calls in Birmingham. Otherwise I'd have been home much later. Georgina would have stayed with the child minder.'
'I see. Would you like me to organise a car for your mother-in-law?'
'No. She'd be frightened. It's better if I go, and it'll give me something to do. This waiting's getting me down.'
I wouldn't have sent one with a blue flashing light on the top, but he was probably right. We all have our individual ways of reacting to situations. Dewhurst looked shaken, but he was taking it well. He was grown-up, he read the papers. I refused to discuss the possibilities, but he knew as well as I did that they were frightening. He didn't want me to call his GP for a sedative.
It was nearly one when I arrived home, and I was back at Heckley nick by six-thirty. We had a team meeting in the big conference theatre at ten. Gilbert outlined what was happening, for the benefit of the reinforcements we'd drafted in, and then handed over to me.
'So far,' I told them, 'we've had an astonishing lack of success. The enquiry has been in three main areas, namely, amongst known acquaintances last night; at the bus station this morning; and there is an ongoing physical search. What the link is between the burglary and the missing girl, we do not know. Possibilities that spring to mind are that she came home and disturbed a burglar; or maybe she was abducted in town and then brought home; or maybe there's no link at all. Sergeant Scott was the SOCO. What can you tell us, Paul?'
Paul raised himself from his chair and perched on the corner of the table so he could be heard more clearly. He went straight into it: 'We looked for fingerprints, examined the MO and had a thorough general look-round. We also took plaster casts of tyre tracks in the bridle path at the end of the lane. All prints have been eliminated as belonging to members of the family; the burglars were apparently wearing gloves. We did find suitable smudge marks, and have lifted some glove prints. The most recent set of tyre tracks were made by Mr.
Dewhurst's four-wheel-drive van. He says he uses the bridle path occasionally to get out on to the main road. The method of entry is interesting. The side door is a double-glazed, PVC effort. Most of our clients can jemmy one open in about three seconds. There are six different sets of marks on this door where the burglar had attempted to gain a purchase. It wasn't a very determined attack. Inside, he had ransacked all the bedrooms. The contents of the drawers were strewn on the floor. I asked Mr. Dewhurst to identify where stuff had come from. It appears that the top drawers were emptied first. This is the natural way you or I might act, but, as you all know, not the way a professional thief would do it, In short, gentlemen, we found nothing of any forensic value, but, for what it's worth, I'd say we are looking for an amateur.' He sat down on his chair again.
I stood up: 'Thanks, Paul. Has anyone any questions?'
'Was there an alarm?' someone asked.
'No,' I replied.
'He might be an amateur in practical terms,' someone else suggested, 'but he seems to be well genned-up on the theory if he's got away without leaving a trace behind.'
'Good point,' I said. 'I haven't told you what he stole. It appears that the only thing missing is a small quantity of jewellery, sentimental value only.' I knew what they were thinking, so I said it for them: 'And one little girl,' I added.
Nigel was next in the limelight. He told us about the frantic efforts of the night before to get as many people
