‘ Yeah, I remember.’ Henry had the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, sipping a cup of tea, dunking a ginger biscuit at the same time, saturating it to the point of near-disintegration before dropping it skilfully into his open mouth. Gorgeous.
‘ Done anything with that yet?’
‘ No,’ he mumbled. ‘Filed for the moment. Too busy with other things.’ He reached for another biscuit and dunked it.
Karl explained the phone call he’d had from Myrna. ‘Sounds very interesting,’ Henry commented. ‘Why does she want to speak to Danny Furness?’
‘ Dunno, but that was the gist of the message; she’s supposedly a witness to that murder and she’ll only talk to this Furness guy.’
‘ This Furness guy happens to be a girl, actually.’
‘ So be it.’ Donaldson took a breath. ‘But having said all that, there’s a bit of a sorry twist in the tail. The girl has now disappeared.’
‘ Oh, that’s handy. What do you reckon to the story anyway?’
‘ Myrna is ex-FBI, very bright, don’t take no shit, and wouldn’t bother me if she didn’t think it was worthwhile. I think the girl is genuine.’
‘ But she’s done a bunk?’
‘ As you say — done a bunk.’
‘ I’ll speak to Danny Furness for a start, Karl.’
‘ You know him — her?’
‘ Yes. I’ll see what she knows about this girl, if anything. Let us know if she turns up again; I don’t really see us getting too excited until then. At the same time I’ll liaise with the murder team over in Darwen and let them know what’s happening — oh shit! Sorry, Karl. Just had an accident here.’
Henry had misjudged his timing and whilst in mid-air, on the journey from cup to lip, his ginger biscuit disintegrated all over his shirt and tie.
There was, undeniably, the smell of shit in the air: disinfectant, cheap soap and shit.
Danny’s nostrils dilated as she sat down opposite the girl. A woman from the social services sat next to the girl, a stern look on her face. Her nose twitched.
The girl slumped in the plastic chair, a sneer slashed across her face, contempt oozing from every pore in her body. The white zoot suit was far too large for her, made her look stupid and vulnerable.
She peered closely at the girl’s face and saw the redness around her nostrils and top lip, symptoms associated with glue-sniffing. Danny’s eyes looked into the girl’s which were wild, pupils still dilated. Danny speculated how far gone she was, whether it was recoverable or had her brain and vital organs been irreparably damaged by the fumes.
Danny pitied her. She made a note to get the police surgeon to check her out.
‘ How’re you feeling?’
Sullen, no response. Expected.
‘ You’ve cleaned up quite nicely.’
She shook her head sadly as though this was all crap and she did not need to be here. Her eyes — dilated, watery — showed nothing but hatred for Danny.
Danny inspected the faxes in front of her. A Missing from Home report from the police in Huddersfield told her the girl was called Grace Lawson, that she was eleven years old and had been missing from a children’s home for three months. It was a long time, but not unusual, particularly for kids who could fend for themselves.
‘ What’re you doing in Blackpool, Grace?’ Not that Danny needed an answer. Second to London, Blackpool, during summer months, was a Mecca for kids on the run. The girl’s eyes flickered.
‘ Yeah, that’s right. We know who you are.’
She sighed disdainfully and raised her eyebrows.
‘ Cat got your tongue? Not talking will do you no good at all.’
‘ Oh, just fuck off, bitch.’
Water off a duck’s back. ‘What are you doing here in Blackpool? How long have you been here and who have you been with?’
Grace closed her eyes, opened them slowly. Defiance.
‘ Earlier today you were caught shoplifting in Smiths. You assaulted the store detective, then hit three police officers.’
A smile now, pleasure and remembrance.
‘ You think it’s funny?’
‘ Yeah, very fuckin’ funny.’
‘ Is that because your brain’s rotted with glue? Does that make you see things differently? Can you see anything at all?’
Grace leaned on the table. ‘I can see an old bitch whose mouth is opening and closing and spewing shite. That’s what I can see.’
Danny grinned, thought, less of the ‘old’. ‘You’ve been on the run a long time,’ she said aloud. ‘Three months. How have you survived?’
‘ Easy — when you’ve got a cunt.’
Danny flinched inwardly. Outwardly she did not blink or show shock. The social worker blanched, her tight lips parting in shock.
‘ And that’s how you’ve survived?’
‘ Hand jobs, blow jobs, fucks. Yeah, you name ‘em. The cash keeps rollin’ in.’
‘ You know what sexual intercourse is then?’
Grace grunted in amusement.
‘ And shoplifting?’
‘ Bit of that, sure.’
‘ Who puts a roof over your head?’
‘ None of your business, Mrs Busybody, nosy-cow bitch,’ she spat, sat back and folded her arms.
‘ How do you know Claire Lilton?’
‘ Who?’ Her face curled up. Danny repeated the name. ‘I don’t.’
‘ You mentioned her name when you were brought in here.’
‘ I probably mentioned Robbie Williams too. But I don’t know him.’
‘ You’re a smartarse, aren’t you?’
‘ I could outwit you any day of the week.’
Danny paused, leaned back and eyed Grace, not surprised by the responses she was getting. She’d had worse from eight-year-olds. There was quiet in the room and the slightly metallic hiss of the tape spools rotating could be heard.
‘ Let me tell you a story, Grace. It’s about a little girl very much like you.’
‘ I’m not little!’ She was affronted by the insinuation.
‘ Oh yes, you are. Little in every sense. Body, mind, brain, intellect. You only think you’re big. You talk big words. You do big girl things. But underneath you’re a little kid. A child. Nothing more than a child. I’ll bet you still have a teddy, don’t you?’
Grace swallowed. She blushed.
‘ Do you hold it every night? I’ll bet you do… Anyway, I was telling you a story. Just a short story, because it’s about a little girl like you. Same age, same height, same braveness… and she went missing from home, but she didn’t last three months or even three days, because I found her strangled to death.’
Grace was listening, riveted.
‘ Ever wonder what it’s like to be strangled? No air. Can’t breathe-’
‘ I say, is this really necessary?’ the social worker interrupted. Danny fired her a look which had the effect of clamping the woman’s mouth up. Grace was transfixed by Danny.
‘ Squirming, trying to. get away, being held dawn, throttled, maybe even more than one person doing it… screaming, a hand over your mouth and nose so you won’t make a noise and that rope tightening around your neck,
