The phone was ringing when he got upstairs. There was no-one else to answer it.
He recognised the caller’s voice. ‘It’s Hal Challis, Mrs Gideon.’
Her voice was low and tired. ‘Have your men found anything, Mr Challis?’
He said carefully, ‘We’re running down several leads. We have a clear idea what sort of vehicle your daughter was taken away in.’
‘And what sort would that be?’
‘A four-wheel drive of some kind.’
She was silent.
‘Mrs Gideon?’
‘Thank you.’
And the line went dead.
Pam Murphy reported to the conference room, a room chosen to intimidate her, she thought, with its huge table and flattening ceiling and all but two of the chairs empty and accusatory. She sat in a third chair and watched Superintendent McQuarrie steeple his fingers beneath his chin and gaze at her. She felt sick. Why was he sticking his oar in? She glanced across at Senior Sergeant Kellock, who wouldn’t look at her.
‘Sir, we did everything by the book.’
‘Lady Bastian says otherwise,’ McQuarrie said.
‘Sir, with respect, she wasn’t there.’
‘A young man from a good family, never been in trouble before.’
‘That’s not true, sir. Two traffic offences and-’
‘Small potatoes,’ the superintendent said. ‘We have a young man from a good family, and two police officers at the end of a long shift at one of the busiest periods of the year, namely Christmas. It’s late, very dark out. No independent witnesses. One constable is well known for his aggressive policing. In fact, he’s the focus of community concern, and I’ve had to talk long and hard to persuade Ethical Standards that they need not send a team in to investigate.’
Tank had told her that might happen. If enough people complained about him, Ethical Standards might be obliged to take a look.
‘Perhaps you’re not aware, Constable Murphy,’ Kellock put in, ‘exactly what an Ethical Standards visit can mean. If they find against you then not only does your station undergo random behavioural management audits, but the officers under scrutiny would be forced to undergo extra behaviour and leadership courses at the Academy. Is that what you want?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Fortunately the Superintendent and I are confident that Mr Bastian’s complaint falls within the resolution process. There’s no need for further examination from outside.’
‘Complaint, sir?’
‘Harassment.’
Pam shook her head, thinking, I don’t believe this.
McQuarrie leaned forward. ‘Constable Murphy, isn’t it possible there was something unsound about the arrest? Isn’t it possible that Constable Tankard overreacted?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You were with him at all times?’
‘Sir, it’s procedure to separate witnesses and offenders during questioning. Constable Tankard took the girl aside for questioning and I questioned Mr Bastian. Standard procedure. We didn’t want to give them more of a chance to agree on the story they’d cooked up for us.’
‘Miss Price claims she was driving the car.’
‘That’s a lie, sir. We both saw the driver at the start of the pursuit. It was a man.’
‘Saw him clearly?’
‘Fairly clearly. A man’s arm.’
‘Perhaps she was wearing his jacket.’
‘It was a warm night, sir. Neither was wearing a jacket.’
‘Do you see what I’m getting at, Constable Murphy? This could mean egg on our faces-your face.’
The man was a bully. He was clean, alert, neat, and as slippery and nasty as a snake. And piss weak, a man more inclined to suck up to a wealthy family than protect the interests of his officers.
‘Doubt, Constable Murphy. Doubt is creeping in.’
‘I stand by my statement, sir.’
McQuarrie leaned his sharp head close to the file before him. ‘Miss Price also says, and I quote: “The male police officer tried to put the hard word on me. He asked for sex and for me to admit I was not the driver, or I’d go to jail.” Did you hear that conversation, Constable?’
‘No, sir.’
‘But it sounds right, wouldn’t you say? It’s the sort of thing Constable Tankard is capable of?’
‘He strikes me as a competent officer, sir. Professional.’
In reply, McQuarrie stared at her. He seemed to be making mental calculations, about her, or Tankard, or the case itself, she didn’t know.
John Tankard saw her coming out of the conference room. ‘Pam. How you doin’, mate?’
‘Not bad, Tank, considering.’
‘Holding up okay?’
‘Trying to.’
‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down.’
‘I won’t.’
He took her arm and pulled her into a corner, where he muttered, ‘Look, Pam, what did they say about me?’
The door to the conference room opened. Kellock poked his head out. ‘Constable Tankard, we’re ready for you now.’
Three o’clock, the station very quiet, everyone gone home or doing Christmas shopping or playing cricket or tennis, so Scobie Sutton was relieved to see John Tankard coming out of the conference room. ‘Tank, you busy?’
Tankard looked bleak and cold. ‘I’m not on duty for another hour.’
Sutton glanced at the conference room. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing.’
Sutton let it drop. ‘You’d be doing me a favour.’
‘Like what?’
‘I need to talk to some gypsies.’
Tankard broke into a grin finally. ‘Gypsies? You’re having me on. What, they crossed your palm, told you to sink all your savings on a slow horse? All right, I’ve got nothing better to do.’
Sutton explained while Tankard drove. ‘I didn’t put it together until last night, when I was reading my kid a story. She asked me what a gypsy was. A few days ago I interviewed an elderly couple who’d had a woman come to the door, offering to bless the house or any spare change they might have lying around, except when the old dears turned their backs she tossed the joint. And a few days before that a woman came into the station, reckoned she was a “Romany seer”, telling me we’d find Jane Gideon’s body near water.’
‘No shit.’
Sutton pursed his lips, staring ahead through the windscreen, remembering what this Sofia had said about his daughter. How had she known it? Next to him, Tankard said, ‘Scobe? You awake in there?’
‘Pardon?’
