“Yes, that does sound familiar, but you know, I can’t remember him being there. It was sad but I had lots of family and friends who came to see me soon after you were born. I wasn’t angry with him you know, at least I don’t think I was.”
“Ok Mum, I hope that we can see him soon. Ian Gladstone says he’s stronger now and I’ll check again after the surgeon has made his rounds.”
The conversation had unsettled Olivia further. As a medical expert, she clearly knew that if Prentice had genetic proof, it would be irrefutable. She went to see Gladstone, trying to appear absolutely normal. “I know I asked to suspend Mum and myself from seeing Dad, and asked to reverse that now he is less emotional. Can I see him alone first? I think Mum gets a little excited and he worries about her worrying about him, if that makes sense.”
“Fine, I’ll let the surgeon know that you’re going to see him this afternoon. Are there any new developments on the Kieron front? Has Prentice come up with anything?”
“I wasn’t going to mention it but, he has a witness, this Wallace chap, and he is going to ask him to look at a possible suspect in a ‘photographic’ ID parade today. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but one of the people in the gallery is that awful man, Mitchell. The one whose boy died during my procedure. I hadn’t realised it was actually twelve years ago, seems more like three or four.”
“Struth, where did they dig him up from?”
“He was apparently outside my house when my father took that call, the one about me being in critical condition. It is compelling, especially as I now recognise the voice as his. At first, I knew it was familiar, but didn’t put it together with Mitchell.”
“That’s not what we wanted to hear Olivia. On the other hand it might be considered better than not knowing anything at all about Kieron’s whereabouts. If the police know who they are looking for, without him knowing, it shouldn’t take long to find him and follow him to Kieron. Chin up. I’ll page you when I’ve cleared you to see Peter.”
*
The nice man knew a lot about Kieron, and even more about his parents. For all manner of reasons the little boy had been denied his most fervent wish. He’d always wanted a puppy. His condition was primarily responsible for him not being able to understand that dogs ‘grew up’ much faster than humans, and in some circumstances attacked their owners. Tom and Olivia were in agreement that a dog may occasionally find Kieron ‘distant’ and some breeds could become aggressive when faced with an opportunity to be in control. As Kieron liked to spend a lot of time on his own, this seemed like a risk for little return. They knew it was probably an unfair judgement as regards many docile breeds of dogs, however, they were also aware that most of the species only recognised one master, and that wasn’t who Kieron was.
As they set off on the long car journey to London, the boy asked again about his father. “I invited him Kieron, even though I was angry with him, but he didn’t want to come. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but I’m tired of trying to bring him to see you. But, would you like a surprise?”
“A surprise?” he shouted, “Where is the surprise?”
“We’ll be there in a minute or two. What would be your favourite surprise?”
“Some jelly, it wobbles when I eat it.”
“I think this might be better than jelly.”
The car pulled off the main road and immediately turned into a driveway. “Now Kieron has to lie down on the seat, and with his eyes closed, and most important of all, keep as quiet as a mouse. If Kieron makes any sound at all, the box with the surprise inside will disappear. Do you understand what disappear means?”
“Daddy says it means go away. My tablet goes away when I’m naughty.”
“Good. Well, you don’t want to be naughty now, because the best surprise in the world will go away, and never be seen again.”
The lady of the house opened the door and the nice man gave her the money. He peeked inside the box, thanked her and said goodbye. He placed the box on the passenger seat, looking into the rear to check on Kieron. True to his promise, his eyes were tight shut and his hands were over his ears, rather than his mouth. They drove back to the main road, and the nice man said it wouldn’t be long before the boy could open his eyes. A few hundred yards down the road the car pulled into a lay-by and stopped. “Kieron can open his eyes now.” The box was already open. The golden Labrador puppy was placed on the back seat. “Now you can talk as much as you like, Kieron.”
He was stunned, remembering that he wasn’t allowed to have such a friend. “He’s yours Kieron, isn’t that a surprise?”
His little face lit up. “But Daddy said I couldn’t.”
“Well now, Daddy had the chance to telephone, come to the seaside, and even come today. Daddy’s not here, so you can have a little friend of your own. We don’t need Daddy anyway. What will you call him?”
“Mickey!”
“What a great name. Hello Mickey. Now then, you’ll have to look after him for the rest of the way to the big ride. It will take a long time, so you can talk to him and stroke him. We’ll have to stop to let him have a pee-pee soon. Right, let’s go eh?”
“Yes, can Mickey have a big ride?”
“We can ask, of course, we’ll ask when we get there.”
*
It took no time at all for Derek Wallace to pick out the ‘loiterer’ from Hamsterley Mill as the man he’d spoken with in the hospital car park. Prentice, Jones, and Martha all breathed a little easier. They had a credible suspect. Prentice reminded them that they had to nail down every single piece of evidence while they were searching for this known individual. “We are missing DNA at present, but Cartwright is still going to give it a try. Fingerprints can be used to extract DNA, but as we know, getting sufficient reliable material depends on a lot of things. How much there is, was there enough sweat to make it extractable, and can it be ‘amplified’ by one of the currently approved techniques to become solid evidence? If Wallace is correct in picking out Mitchell, we have his prints on two items, the kid’s tablet and the stun gun, from which the prints will tell us it’s the same person, hopefully. Then there’s the car, his presence must be all over it, unless he’s done a job on it. So, Martha, stay with the car until forensics can hint at, or tell us what we have. Jonesy, I think we need to speak to Olivia yet again, she said she had some stuff on Mitchell at home as well as the hospital. There may be something there which is different. Ok, let’s hit this with everything we’ve got.”
When Martha had left, Prentice confessed to Jones that he’d picked up a coffee cup, used by Olivia’s mother and left it with Cartwright. “That’s not by the book sir, I’d rather you hadn’t told me.”
“I don’t intend using it, I just want to know where to start asking questions now that we know there is no Mrs Gladstone. And I’m pretty sure Dracula, as you call him, hasn’t told Olivia, so she’ll be trying to figure this out herself. We need to keep ahead of her, or at least up with her, and she’s already got an inside track compared to us, the filth. Oh come on Jonesy, just forget I told you, but keep your mind open.”
Chapter 19
Prentice and Jones were rebuffed when the former asked Olivia to meet them at her home. “Tom’s already there, he can help you find the paperwork from the hearing Mitchell managed to contrive on the advice of his lawyer. I’m with Dad, and he’s a lot better, so I’ll be here until he needs rest again.”
She still referred to him as Dad. Prentice let it go. The two detectives headed for Hamsterley Mill. Tom was in one of his sheepish moods. “Oh hello, out in force this time, come on in. What have I done wrong now?”
“We just need to take a look at the paperwork involved with this Mitchell guy. According to Olivia, the hospital records only deal with the procedure itself. She thought there might be something which can help us trace the father of the boy who died, she seemed to think his name was Edward. Funny that it wasn’t on the actual record as next of kin, even though the address was.”
“Yes, his name is Edward, and you’re right, his name should be on the file. I know I buggered up my own career in the medical profession, but I still have to listen to Olivia’s diatribe when I ask, ‘how was your day dear?’ She’s quoted several instances of staff being disciplined for incomplete records. It might have been forgotten when it was raised, but someone would have spotted it before it was archived. Bad smell Inspector, sorry, Inspectors.”
“Ok, then let’s see what’s in Olivia’s papers.”
*
Peter had begun to make sense of events, he now knew for sure that he hadn’t been hallucinating in his sleep, his daughter was unhurt. His concern had shifted to Kieron, as nobody had mentioned him yet. Before he took his pen and paper, he uttered more disjointed syllables. “Ohta, ohta.”
He showed Olivia the previous sketch of the car wing mirror. “Ohta, ohta.”
“Just write it or draw it Dad, it helps if we can see and hear at the same time.”
His hand wasn’t steady enough yet to write words, they were just as jumbled as his speech. He drew a matchstick man, pointing at the figure. “hite hoat.”
“White coat, oh of course, you mean doctor. Do you want the surgeon?”
He tried to shake his head in total frustration and pointed to the wing mirror again. At last the penny dropped, he was saying that he’d seen a doctor in the car wing mirror before he was hit. What wasn’t clear was whether he would have been a witness or the attacker. However, it immediately occurred to her that the hospital doctors had their own parking area, and this could have been anyone in a white coat, a nurse, restaurant staff, lab people, and at least a dozen others.
“Was this a man?” A nod wasn’t possible. Olivia suggested he should just draw a tick or a cross. “Do you think this was the man who attacked you?” A much more vigorous and larger tick. “Are you sure Dad?” A gesture of disbelief, followed by Peter pointing at the wound in the back of his head.
Olivia had hoped to question Peter in a way he didn’t perceive he was being interrogated. That would have to wait. Mulling it over for a while longer, she didn’t want to trigger an internal accusation against the general staff, or that hospital personnel should be questioned. For now she decided that only the police should be alerted to Peter’s recollection. There was also the concern over him expressing himself accurately, and the consequence of a setback. She went for the quickest and least risky route, she’d give Peter the chance to look at the same still picture which allowed Derek Wallace to pick out Mitchell. She called Prentice.
“Does anyone else know about this Olivia?”
“No, that’s why I’m calling you for God’s sake.”
“Fine, we’ll be there as soon as we’re finished looking through these papers. By the way, you were right, his name is Edward. We already have a different address from the one at the hospital, dated about a couple of years later. See you in an hour or so.”
*
Martha called, and Prentice left Jones to sift through the rest of the hearing papers. “Sir, just a quick call to say that forensics have got a shedload of DNA from this car, but they’re going to have a lot of work ahead of them to test it all. Anyway, that isn’t why I called you. You remember that multi-coloured wristband in the package sent to Olivia?”
“Yes.”
“There’s another one in this car, in the glove compartment, it wasn’t hidden very carefully if that’s what was intended, it was right on the top of the rest of the junk when they opened it. You’re right, this bastard is taking the piss. So, it seems we can expect some of this DNA to be Kieron’s as well as the Joker’s. Will you update Robin? I should stay here.”
“Watch your lip DC Hall, keeping me posted is all you need to do.”
Tom only heard one side of this conversation and was intrigued by Prentice telling someone to button it. “Problem Inspector?”
“Nothing for you to worry about Batman.” Ironically, Jones thought that was hilarious, not being privy to Martha’s jibe. They decided to wrap up the rest of the papers and take them away for future reference.
When they linked up with Olivia, she said it would be best if she took the photo in to her father alone. “If you go in, it has to be cleared with Gladstone, and I’d rather avoid that just now.”
An interesting remark, thought Prentice. She continued, “If it’s positive, I’ll leave it to you to get official clearance to verify it yourselves. Is that ok?”
“Irregular Olivia, but not unknown,” said Jones, “the boss’s call.”
“Let’s get this over with,” retorted Prentice.
Twenty minutes was a long time for Peter to decide if this was the man. Olivia came out of the IC unit and slapped the photo into the open hand of Prentice. “It’s him, white coat or no white coat, it’s the bald man Dad saw. I told him to check it again, it was dark, and he only had a second to glimpse this man in the wing mirror. I can’t move him from his insistence, he gives the impression that this face is in his head. This all takes time because he still can’t speak clearly, you have to gradually coax him to a yes or no answer. I felt I had to come clean about Kieron’s disappearance but not the abduction. He’s inconsolable, but anyway, now it’s your turn. You should call Gladstone, I’ll back you up. I’ll tell him I want this done.”
Olivia didn’t mention that she’d asked her father other questions, to which there was no reply.
*
A pit stop at motorway services was tricky, but Mickey needed to use the outdoor facilities. The nice man parked as close to the edge of the car park as possible. Kieron couldn’t quite get the hang of the dog’s lead, and he was attracting too much attention. They wandered toward an isolated thicket next to the small lake. The approaching darkness came to their assistance and Kieron giggled at Mickey’s first attempt at peeing without splashing himself. It was even more hilarious when the puppy began to poo before he finished peeing. The nice man said they should have a bite to eat before resuming the journey. Kieron and Mickey were to remain in the locked car while a takeaway snack pack was purchased. The giggling reached new heights when Mickey muscled in on Kieron’s chicken burger and doughnut. Two or three miles into the blackening sky and the nice man checked the rear view mirror. They were both asleep. Another eighty miles to London.
*
Gladstone wasn’t overly obstructive when Prentice said they only needed to show Peter a picture. “This could move the investigation forward dramatically, a minute, that’s all we need.”
“Very well, but I want to be there, one minute, no more.”
Jones was ready to take issue with this but Prentice nudged him. “That’s fine, you’re going to be a witness then?”
“Oh, I see, well then, yes of course.” Gladstone’s face couldn’t disguise regret at his own overbearing attitude.
Using Olivia’s hint to lead Peter to a binary decision of yea or nay, via a tick or cross, he instantly affirmed that he recognised Mitchell. It was all a wee bit neat and tidy for Jones. He butted in and asked one more question. “Peter, do you know this man’s name?”
He scribbled very slowly this time, a wobbly tick. “Is he the man who harassed Olivia after his son died?”
Gladstone protested and said they should leave, Prentice agreed, but it hadn’t prevented the detectives from noting Peter reluctantly ticking confirmation that he knew it was Mitchell.
“Well done Jonesy, it does seem a bit convenient that Peter recognises this guy in the dark. We’ve been blindsided, or at least Olivia thinks we have.”
Chapter 20
Even if Peter Radford’s ready identification seemed a trifle suspect, it didn’t contradict that of Derek Wallace, so the worst case scenario was that it might have to be discounted. If Peter’s ability to speak more clearly didn’t improve dramatically, and it was admitted the problem was because of a stun gun attack to the skull, he would surely be judged as an unreliable witness.
Prentice and Jones were pretty philosophical about
it and were already heading to the fourth address from nine they had found by following the trail of any Edward Mitchell in any post code in the Newcastle electoral record database. The previous three had only turned up two men in their early twenties and an elderly man dependent on a wheelchair. As the satnav guided them through the streets of Rye Hill, a suburb west of Newcastle city centre, Jones pulled something else from Olivia’s paperwork on the case. Prentice stopped the car abruptly.
“Say that again Jonesy.”
“Edward Mitchell’s lawyer submitted an allegation concerning a whistle-blower at the hospital. Apparently, he had agreed to testify, claiming Gladstone had orchestrated a cover up of Mitchell’s initial insinuation that Olivia and the anaesthetist had almost come to blows during the procedure. It names the guy here, but says he didn’t show up at the hearing. There’s a handwritten scribble in the margin, possibly Olivia’s, stating that he ‘took the money’ and ran.”
“So, there’s more than nepotism buried in this incident twelve years ago. Right, this is the street we’re looking for, hopefully Mitchell still lives here.”
The upper floor flat was vibrating to some very loud techno music. Banging repeatedly on the door eventually produced a face at the side window. The repetitive beat gradually subsided, and the door opened. Jonesy reacted to the smell which escaped from the interior. He began to retch, and asked for a moment. Prentice told him to stay outside until he gained control over his nauseous affliction. He then turned to face the female who’d opened the door, she must have yelled at someone to turn down the volume.
“Sorry to trouble you, I’m DCI Prentice and my colleague here is DI Jones. I have this address as the last known whereabouts of Edward Mitchell.”
“That’d be right.”
“Good, is he at home? I’d like to have a word with him.”
“No he’s not at home, he’s at rest pet. You’re not the only one who’d like to have a word with him. Personally, I’d rather ring his neck, but he did that himself. A complete tosser, always was. That was our Ted.”
“Oh, I’m sad to hear that, when did this happen?”
“About six years ago, not soon enough for me and this brood inside. Whatever it is, he’s not guilty this time.”