‘I don’t want a cartoon,’ said Bella. ‘I want to go home.’
‘Well, you know that’s not going to happen until I’ve had a look at your teeth,’ said Walton. ‘I’m sure your mummy won’t be happy if you don’t let me at least do that. I’m not going to drill or anything, we just need to check that everything is okay.’ He flashed her his most sincere smile. ‘A few minutes is all it’ll take, Bella.’
The girl looked like she was going to argue but then she sighed, leant back, and opened her mouth.
‘That’s a good girl,’ he said. He adjusted the overhead light, picked up his mirror and a probe and leaned over her. He gasped when the smell from her mouth hit him. ‘My God!’ he said in disgust. He leaned back. ‘That’s. …’ He realised that Debbie was watching him and he forced a smile. ‘That’s quite some halitosis you’ve got there, Bella. Are you cleaning your teeth?’
‘Every morning and every night.’
‘And how long do you spend cleaning them?’
‘Mummy says two minutes so I do two minutes.’
‘And do you floss?’
Bella nodded solemnly.
Watson scratched his chin with the back of his hand. ‘What about food? Do you eat a lot of spicy food? Takeaway curries, things like that?’
She shook her head. ‘I had beef burgers and chips at school today.’
‘And for breakfast?’
‘Coco Pops.’
Watson frowned. Beefburgers and Coco Pops wouldn’t account for the foul smell coming from the little girl’s mouth. At first glance her teeth seemed clean enough, and she was far too young to smoke or drink, which were the two major causes of bad breath.
‘Do you use a mouthwash?’
Bella shook her head. ‘Mummy said that she would buy some for me.’
‘Well, I’ll give you some anti-bacterial mouth rinse to take away with you,’ he said. ‘But you have to make sure that you clean your teeth carefully. In a few years you’ll be having braces and then you’ll really have to be careful, so it’s best to get in the habit of doing it properly now.’ He looked over at Debbie. ‘Can you get my face mask?’ he asked her.
Debbie went over to the cupboard where he kept his protective masks and pulled out his full-face plastic visor. He used it when he was carrying out invasive dental surgery but he figured it would cut down on the smell from Bella’s mouth. She gave it to him and he clipped it onto his head and snapped down the clear visor. ‘Anyway, let me have a closer look and I’ll give them a quick clean and polish.’
Walton sat down and bent over the little girl. The mask cut down on some of the smell but it was still bad enough to make him gag. Wherever the stench was coming from, it wasn’t her teeth that were the problem. She was cavity-free, there was little to no plaque on her teeth or furring on her tongue. He checked the gaps between all her teeth and there was no trapped food, and no pockets in the gums. It was as healthy a mouth as he’d ever seen. He sat back, frowning. The smell was appalling, worse then he’d ever come across and he’d had some terrible mouths in his chair over the years. There were a number of diseases that could cause bad breath, including respiratory tract infections like bronchitis or pneumonia, diabetes, acid reflux and malfunctioning kidneys. But Bella seemed fit and healthy.
‘Well, your teeth actually look quite good,’ he said. He lifted up the plastic visor. ‘They are a little uneven but we’ll fix that with braces when you’re older. And I’ll give you some mouthwash to take home with you.’
The phone in reception rang and Debbie hurried out to answer it. The regular receptionist was off sick and Debbie had been juggling two jobs all day.
Walton put his tools down and took off his mask. ‘So I’ll see you again in six months,’ he said.
‘Do you believe in Jesus, Dr Walton?’
Walton frowned, not sure if he’d heard her correctly. ‘Do I what?’
‘Do you believe in Jesus?’
‘I’m Jewish, Bella. We believe in God but we don’t believe that Jesus was his son.’
Bella smiled. ‘Your people killed Jesus. But he forgives them.’
‘What are you talking about, Bella?’
Her smile widened. ‘Jesus has a message for you, Dr Walton. About your wife.’
‘My wife?’
‘Jesus wants you to know what your wife is doing, Dr Walton. But I have to whisper it to you.’ She beckoned him to move closer. ‘Come here, and I’ll tell you what Jesus says.’
77
Nightingale grunted as he saw the thick-set man in his thirties holding a black Met kitbag walk out of the Southampton police station and head to a nearby car park. Jenny had parked the Audi where they could get a clear view of the main entrance and they had been there for the best part of two hours. ‘That’s him, isn’t it?’
Jenny took another look at the newspaper cutting that had a photograph of Hopkins, identifying him as the hero police officer who had rescued Bella Harper. ‘Yes, I think so,’ she said.
Nightingale peered over at the photograph and back to the man with the kitbag. He nodded. It was definitely him. ‘Do you mind staying here? I want to talk to him man to man.’
‘Sexist as always.’
‘All right, cop to cop.’
‘How about former cop to cop?’
‘I knew you’d understand.’ He climbed out of the Audi and hurried after the policeman. ‘Dave Hopkins!’ he called and the policeman stopped and turned to look at him.
‘Inspector Hopkins?’ said Nightingale.
The inspector narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Who wants to know?’
Nightingale handed him a business card. ‘Jack Nightingale,’ he said. ‘I used to be in the job but I’m private now.’
‘The Met?’
‘How did you know?’
‘You look like the Met,’ said Hopkins. ‘Look, the days of cops being able to talk to you guys are long gone. The fact that you’ve even spoken to me means I’ve got to enter it into the log.’
‘I just need a chat,’ said Nightingale. ‘Actually, I just need one question answering. And you’re the only one who can answer it.’
‘I can’t. Seriously. It’s more than my job’s worth.’
‘It’s important.’
‘Yeah? What are you on? A couple of hundred a day plus expenses?’
Nightingale shook his head. ‘This isn’t about money. I’m just …’ He shrugged. ‘I’m doing a favour for a friend. But it’s not a case I’m interested in. It’s a victim.’
The inspector frowned. ‘A victim?’
‘Bella Harper.’
78
Nightingale paid the barmaid and handed Hopkins his gin and tonic. ‘Thanks,’ said the detective. They were in a quiet pub a short walk from the police station.
Nightingale raised his bottle in salute. ‘You’re not a smoker, are you?’
‘Bloody right, and I’m gasping.’
They went outside and Nightingale offered him a Marlboro. Hopkins shook his head. ‘Can’t stand them,’ he said. ‘I’m a Rothmans man, always have been.’ He took out his own pack and they lit their own cigarettes and blew smoke. ‘So. Bella Harper.’
