Henry shrugged as the car hit the roundabout at the southern tip of the city — known as Pointer Island — and then headed down South Road into Lancaster proper. He took the offside lane at the traffic lights outside the hospital, then moved across again to bear right into Penny Street then first right on to Marton Street, at the end of which stood the crumbling nick that was Lancaster Police station, not the best-looking building in the world and continually in need of refurbishment.
Access to the public enquiry office was via steps and a ramp off the street and although there were double yellow lines, Henry parked up as instructed. In the rear-view mirror he saw the Mercedes pull in fifty metres behind.
‘What if we get a ticket? The traffic wardens are pretty keen around here,’ Henry said.
‘Getting a parking ticket is the least of your worries, Henry,’ Barlow said. ‘What we do is go in and tell the public enquiry assistant behind the counter that the car’s staying here for five minutes, just so she knows, and then we go in and do the business.’
‘OK — get out and let’s go do.’ He slid the gun into his jacket pocket, keeping hold of it with his right hand.
‘Don’t blow your foot off,’ Henry said. ‘No, sorry — please blow your foot off.’
Barlow shook his head at Henry and said, ‘Move, funny guy.’
Henry got out and the two men entered the station. There was no one in the foyer, but a PEA was leaning on the desk, filling in some forms. She looked up and smiled at Barlow. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi, Jane.’ He sidled up to her in a curiously intimate way, reminding Henry of himself a little. Jack the lad, streetwise detective. ‘Just in a bit of a rush, so we left the car on the double-yellows.’ He pointed outside. ‘We’ll be about five minutes, tops… but we need a quick getaway.’
‘I’ll keep nicks,’ she said conspiratorially.
‘Buzz us in, will you?’ he asked. She reached under the desk and pressed the button that unlocked the entrance door. Barlow pushed it open and allowed Henry through ahead of him.
Mobile phone in hand, Flynn was sitting in the mortuary office with Professor Baines. There was still no reply from Henry and while this wasn’t a problem he was beginning to find it increasingly odd due to the nature of the fast-moving investigation Henry was in charge of: surely it was incumbent on the SIO to remain readily available. Going off and being a lone wolf was all well and good — and he had no doubt Henry was capable of doing that — but not at this moment in time.
‘Ah well,’ he sighed, ‘best get going.’
‘Henry needs to know about this,’ Baines insisted. He pointed to the tooth on his desk. ‘Discovering the crime scene will be crucial in this case.’
‘I know,’ Flynn said. ‘I wonder if it might be worth bobbing into Lancaster nick. Maybe they have another number for him, or might know of his whereabouts.’
‘Good idea.’
Flynn had walked out to Alison’s car and seeing it, he had a minor brainwave. He sat in it and dialled the landline number of the Tawny Owl. Perhaps he’d contacted Alison and spoken to her recently.
The number rang out for a while and he was just about to hang up when a slightly breathless voice answered, ‘Tawny Owl, Kendleton.’
It wasn’t Alison, but Flynn recognized Ginny’s girlie voice. ‘Hi, Gin, it’s me, Steve Flynn.’
‘Oh, Steve, I’m really glad you called.’
‘Problem?’
‘Have you still got Mum’s car?’
‘Yes, actually. Does she need it back? Sorry.’
‘No, no, it’s not that,’ she said. Flynn noted a slight tremor in her tone.
‘What, then?’
‘If she had the car back and it wasn’t here, I’d know she was out in it. As it is I don’t know where she is.’
Flynn frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I know she got up this morning soon after Henry left for work and she did some stuff down in the cellar. Then she got the kitchen fired up and made herself a brew… and now I don’t know where she is. It’s like she disappeared, vanished. And the brew is half-drunk on the bar and her toast is still here, cold.’
‘Is your car still there? She hasn’t gone off in that, has she?’
‘No — it’s still here.’
‘Perhaps she went off with Henry.’
‘No — he definitely went to work alone.’
Flynn pouted. ‘Has she popped into the village for some supplies?’
‘I don’t think so. We don’t need anything — and I do that, anyway.’
‘Have you spoken to Henry, just in case?’
‘I tried his mobile, but there was no reply.’
‘Right — OK,’ Flynn said, frown deepening. ‘First off, don’t worry. There’s probably a simple explanation, but if you like I could come across. I’m just in Lancaster now at a bit of a loose end.’ And a shop to open and run, he thought.
‘Please… I’m a bit worried. It’s not like her just to disappear.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Flynn assured her. ‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes or so.’ He swung his legs into the car and started the engine, reversing out of the parking slot.
They waited in the inspector’s office for the duty inspector to make his way up from the custody suite where he had been tied up doing prisoner reviews. His name was Drummond, a fine name for a fine man who did a good job and had no ambitions beyond that role. Henry had known him for a long time and Drummond nodded pleasantly at him, but came up short when he saw Barlow. His eyes narrowed fractionally. No doubt news of the arrest would have spread quickly, but of the release perhaps not too fast.
‘Hi, Jack,’ Barlow said affably.
‘Ralph,’ Drummond nodded unsurely.
‘We’ve come to pick up some property from the safe,’ Barlow explained. Henry noticed his right hand was still in his jacket pocket, holding the gun, but trying to appear calm and normal. Henry wanted to believe that this was the weak point, but he felt powerless to act, to rush Barlow and pin the fucker to the wall. He knew he could and if he had been alone in this shitty mess he would have done. Alison, he called, I’ll sort this. Be brave.
Barlow went on, ‘It’ll be marked for Detective Superintendent Christie only. It’s a mobile phone and some passports.’
Drummond nodded. ‘Yeah, I know — a support unit sergeant booked it in earlier.’ He had a set of heavy looking keys on a detachable fob linked to his leather belt. He unhooked them and selected one, a long, but sturdy one.
The big old safe was in the back corner of the room, not fixed to anything, but unlikely that it would ever move. It was far too heavy and would need specialist lifting equipment to drag it anywhere. It was used mainly to keep any monies that came into police possession and other small valuable items. Most everything else went into the property store.
Drummond bent down and slotted the key in the lock.
Barlow grinned at Henry. ‘You OK?’ he mouthed.
‘Fuck off,’ Henry mouthed back.
The safe door opened easily and the inspector pulled out the items, plus a single, cut-off Wellington boot. Henry swallowed at the sight of this and felt his fists bunch up. The phone and the passports were in separate envelopes across which had been written ‘ To be handed to Det. Supt Christie ONLY ’. Drummond ripped them open.
He handed the property — seven passports, mobile phone and boot — across to Barlow, still eyeing him suspiciously. ‘You need to sign for it all.’ Drummond gave Barlow the form, which he in turn handed to Henry.
‘You’ll be wanting to sign this, boss.’
‘I don’t have a pen,’ Henry said awkwardly.
‘Here.’ Drummond gave him one from his shirt pocket. Henry signed the form.
‘Thanks, Jack,’ Barlow said. ‘We need to get going now. Bodies to deal with.’ It was the sort of thing any cop
