police custody.’
‘He was with you about the time the child went missing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s yanking on our lariat, is all. He had nothing to say.’
But Delaney remembered Garnier asking the time. Remembered looking at his watch at ten o’clock, about the time the boy had gone missing. Had he missed something? There was no way he could have predicted what time the boy would be abducted. Could he? Even if he did have an accomplice.
‘Why you?’ Duncton asked Delaney, snapping him out of his thoughts.
‘Why me, what?’
‘Why did he want to see you.’
‘He saw me in the woods this morning. Recognised me as the man who …’ Delaney realised he was about to say Gloria’s name but caught himself in time. Although he knew Duncton could track it down his close-mouthedness was a habit he wanted to stick to. The young woman had been through enough without her real identity being outed to the tender mercies of the press. ‘He recognised me from the photos in the papers of the time, holding the girl that he’d stashed in the boot of his car.’
‘So what did he want?’
‘I think he wanted to know what became of her.’
‘But you didn’t tell him.’
Delaney shrugged again. ‘I don’t know, inspector. It was all a long time ago. I am sure that she more than anyone doesn’t want it raked up again.’
‘And he didn’t make any mention, however oblique, of what has happened here?’
‘If he did I didn’t pick up on it. I can’t see how he can be involved.’
‘You think it’s a copycat, then? Someone inspired by all this press coverage to emulate him?’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time. That’s a sad fact.’
‘How likely is it that he has got an accomplice from all those years ago starting up again?
‘He’s only had one visitor, a woman, since he has been in custody, sir, six months ago,’ said Sally. ‘Just one visit.’
‘Who is this woman?’
‘Her name is Maureen Gallagher. We’re trying to track her down. Uniform have been to the address we had for her but she had moved out quite a few years ago and we don’t know where to.’
Duncton shook his head, frustrated. ‘Maybe it’s just a coincidence. It’s only been a couple of hours. If it wasn’t for Garnier’s little performance this morning we wouldn’t be going into overdrive like this. Maybe the boy’s at a friend’s house.’
‘It is possible, sure enough,’ said Delaney. ‘What exactly happened this morning?’
‘The mother left Archie, her child, here under the care of his grandfather at eight o’clock this morning. She had an appointment.’
‘What kind of appointment?’
‘She’s a hairdresser.’
‘That’s a bit early, isn’t it? said Sally.
‘She had to get to Abbots Langley.’
Sally shrugged. ‘Even so, that’s, what, twenty minutes, thirty minutes tops from here. Who has their hair done at that time of day?’
‘Brides do, detective constable,’ Duncton replied. ‘She had a regular client getting married today.’
‘So she left the kid with the grandfather. What happened next?’
‘The old man wanted a cigarette and his daughter had taken his fags away with her when she left. The doctor’s told him he’s not allowed to smoke. So. He went out to get some.’
‘What, from the shops? He left the kid on his own at home?’ asked Delaney.
Duncton shook his head. ‘He’s got an allotment. He’s got a shed there where he stashes some cigarettes. He uses it as a bolt-hole, apparently – doesn’t do a lot of gardening any more. He was inside having a smoke and the kid was outside playing, and when he came out to check on him the boy was gone. He swears it was like only sixty seconds, two minutes tops.’
‘What about the father?’
‘Barry Woods. He’s a lorry driver. In France. Due back today.’
‘Anybody spoken to him?’
Duncton shook his head. ‘No response on his mobile.’
‘Possible he came back early?’
‘It’s possible. We’re looking into it.’
