‘Boss?’
Scobie Sutton had been tugging uselessly on the side door of Ledwich’s steel garage. ‘Locked, boss.’
‘Forget it. We’re going back to the station.’
One of the uniformed constables drove. Challis almost sat in the back with Ellen Destry, but her anxiety was too palpable. She spent the journey talking on her mobile phone, and from his position in the passenger seat he could sense her jittery body, hear her anguish, as she made her calls.
He heard her say, ‘Anything from the hospitals?’
The last three calls had been to her husband. Was this another? No…
‘Constable, I don’t want excuses. Just do it.’
She flipped the phone off, and Challis turned around, about to talk to her, distract her, when she stabbed her fingers at the call buttons again. She had her notebook open in her lap, numbers listed in the back few pages.
‘This is Sergeant Destry. I’m trying to locate my daughter. No, nothing to worry about. Has she been in the shop today? No? She said she might be going in some time to buy a CD. No? Okay, thank you.’
Challis faced ahead again. The calls were serving a useful function, keeping her occupied-if hyper-and, in a way, they constituted police work. Who knows, she might uncover a person or a memory that would lead them to her daughter.
Twenty-Five
The woman at the front desk had a girl with her, seventeen or eighteen, hostile, sulky. Mother and daughter, the desk sergeant decided, and turned to the mother. ‘Help you, madam?’
‘I need to speak to someone.’
She was thin and careworn. Her hands were veined and knuckled, an old woman’s hands, though she was probably no more that forty-five. ‘Will I do?’
‘It’s about that backpack on TV.’
Orders were that anyone with information on the abductions was to be sent straight through to an interview room. ‘Inspector Challis will be along to speak to you shortly,’ the desk sergeant said.
They waited for five minutes. It was early evening, six o’clock. Challis was deeply fatigued. Ellen Destry had gone home to be with her husband, but he knew she’d be back again. The other detectives were occupied with the search for Larrayne Destry. So that left him to speak to the cranks and time-wasters.
‘You told my sergeant that this is about a backpack, Mrs Stokes.’
‘The one on TV.’
‘Go on.’
‘Megan-’ she indicated her daughter ‘-well, she has a boyfriend.’
‘A boyfriend. Go on.’
‘He gave her a backpack.’
‘Name?’
‘Well, it had a brand name stamped into the leather. And a tag of some sort stitched to the lining, but someone had cut it off.’
Challis felt his skin prickle. According to Mrs Abbott, Kymbly Abbott had stitched her name to the bottom of the designer’s label of her backpack. He remembered her teary face: ‘I showed her how to do it, Mr Challis,’ she’d said.
‘We’ll come back to the backpack, Mrs Stokes. I meant, the boyfriend’s name.’
‘Danny Holsinger.’
Challis beamed across the table at the women. ‘Now, there’s a coincidence. Danny is helping us with our inquiries right at this very moment.’
‘I bet he is,’ Mrs Stokes said.
‘Why don’t you all leave him alone,’ the girl said. ‘He hasn’t done nothing.’
‘Tell me about the backpack.’
‘Danny killed them girls, didn’t he?’ Mrs Stokes said. ‘He killed them and souvenired some of their things and had the nerve to give the backpack to my daughter.’
‘We don’t know that it’s the same backpack.’
‘Course it is. I had a gander at it when he gave it to Megan. This is nice, I says. Then I see the tag’s been cut off. I say, what’s this? He goes, Oh, I bought it at a seconds shop, that’s why there’s no label. But I didn’t believe him.’
Challis turned to the girl. ‘Megan? Did Danny say where he got the backpack?’
She looked at the floor. ‘He said he bought it.’
‘In your heart of hearts, do you think that was the truth?’
‘No.’
‘He stole it, dirty bugger. Killed that girl and stole it.’
‘He never! You’re always on at him.’
Mrs Stokes faced her daughter. ‘So? Twice I know of he’s been done for stealing.’
She fished inside her handbag and tossed a videotape across the desk at Challis. ‘Plus he’s a pervert. Tried to make Megan watch this, people having sex with animals. No telling what sick things he’s capable of.’ She turned to her daughter again. ’You want your head read, going out with a scumbag like him.’
‘How would you know, you frigid cow.’
Challis slammed his hand on the desk. ‘This is a murder inquiry. There’s nothing more serious on this earth. Quit your arguing and answer my questions or I’ll have you both in the lockup so fast for obstruction, your heads will spin.’
Mrs Stokes composed herself and said, ‘Carry on. I’m ready.’
Megan stared hotly at the floor.
‘For the moment, let’s forget Danny.’
‘Hard to forget that little bugger.’
‘Mrs Stokes, I’m warning you.’
‘Sorry, sorry, I’m all ears.’
‘A backpack comes into your possession, Megan. Where is it now?’
’Mum let it get stolen, didn’t she? Stupid cow.’
’I see. And how did that happen?’
’She let this gypsy into the house.’
Mrs Stokes opened her arms. ‘How was I to know she was going to rob the place? She didn’t take much. I didn’t even know she took the backpack till I saw the TV. I turn to Megan and I says, “That’s like yours.” Then she tells me hers has been nicked. Not my fault.’
‘It is,’ Megan said.
‘Shut up, both of you. Megan, listen to me, do you think it’s possible that Danny stole the backpack from someone and gave it to you?’
He watched her. After a while, she began to nod her head. ‘That’s why I didn’t report it when it got stolen from me, especially I didn’t tell Mum, you can see what she’s like. Danny, you know, he likes to give me things. I don’t know how he can afford half the stuff he gives me, unless he nicks it first.’ She looked up and said bravely, ‘I want him to make a new start. He’s got to stop nicking things.’
Challis encountered Ellen Destry in the corridor, carrying her car keys. She looked dishevelled, her mood distracted. He stopped and said softly, ‘How’s things?’
‘What do you think?’
He took her arm. ‘This will cheer you up.’ He urged her toward the interview rooms.
She twisted away. ‘Hal, I’ve got things to do. Phone calls. Has Scobie checked in yet? I want to keep an eye
