Chapter 17: At Last
"So where are you taking me for lunch?" Whitlock asked as they turned out of Markham Road.
"Don't worry," Josef reassured her, "you'll love it."
Five minutes later they pulled up outside Pete's fish and chip shop on Vicarage Lane.
"Classy," Whitlock teased.
"Yup, and you know what the best thing about eating here is?"
"Go on," she said.
"We can walk up to the sorting office while we eat," he smiled.
"It's not good for you, you know, you'll get stomach ulcers."
"Actually it is," Josef smiled. "The Germans do it all the time. In fact most of their cafes don't have many seats, just high tables you stand at. Except in the tourist areas," he added.
"Really?" She sounded disapproving.
"Anyway," he gestured to the door, "we can try it."
They ordered fish and chips twice and as they walked he watched her eating the fish with a wooden fork, carefully removing the batter and pushing it to the side of the paper.
"Seems like a lot of trouble to go to," he said, pulling a large chunk of fish from the paper and nearly throwing it into his mouth before he dropped it. She stopped to watch the juggling act.
"Mmmm," she conceded, "I guess it would."
"Meaning," he said, not offended but interested.
"Meaning a friend of mine has a Labrador who eats just like that. God forbid anyone should throw food in your direction." She smiled and he knew she was teasing.
"Don't hold your food out too far. I'll have your fingers off," he said laughing.
When they reached the sorting office they threw the remains of lunch in the yellow street bin outside. Josef noticed that her paper seemed as full as when they'd left the chip shop.
"Nice?" he enquired.
"Lovely actually," she said, rooting in her bag for a tissue. She offered one to Josef, he took it and wiped his fingers and mouth, then binned it.
"Come on," he said, opening the door for her. They showed their warrant cards to the receptionist and were taken through to the Post Masters office.
He welcomed them. It was not the same man that Josef had spoken to on his previous visit.
"Please sit down," he said. "What can I help you with? Is this about the letter that was delivered in Eastbourne Road?" Josef nodded.
"Unfortunately the information we were given last time isn't enough, we need some more details," he said.
"Such as?" The postmaster raised his eyebrows.
"We've had another letter with the same postmark as before, that postmark means the letter was sorted here?" He unfolded a photocopy of the cover of the envelope the first ransom note had come in. He handed it to the postmaster who glanced at it, then passed it back.
"Yes," the postmaster conceded.
"So where could it have been posted. Exactly?" Josef stressed. The postmaster began riffling through his desk drawers as he spoke.
"If the postmark is ours that means this office was the first to sort it. In that case it must have been collected by one of our vans." He pulled a map from a draw and spread it on the table. The map showed the Longmarsh area with a large part shaded in grey.
"This is our pick up zone in grey, somewhere inside this area." He tapped the map. Josef leaned back in his chair.
"Now we're getting somewhere," he said. "How many postboxes are there?"
"About a hundred and fifty give or take."
"Shit," Josef said. "Too many to stake out them all. Give or take what?"
"The odd vandal," the postmaster replied. "You could put someone in the vans though," he offered.
"What? How many vans collect?" Josef asked excitedly.
"Three vans, they start about five and finish about six thirty. If you had a man in each van then he could check the mail as it was collected, you know what you're looking for right?" he added. Josef's smile was wide and genuine.
"Yeah we do. That's a great idea. The thing is that this is gonna be a short notice job, we can't let you know until the night before if we want to go out with the drivers, would that be okay."
"I guess so," the postmaster conceded. "But they have to be gone by five to make it round."
"That's great, have you got a mobile we can call you on if we need to." The postmaster pulled out a silver case from his pocket and removed a business card and gave it to Josef, he offered another to Whitlock, who took it.
"Thanks very much for your time," Josef said and stood "and for the help."
"My pleasure," the postmaster replied.
"Can I have the map?" Josef asked, pointing.
"Sure," the postmaster said, folding the map and handing it to Josef on the way out.
They left the sorting office and began walking back to the car.
"Feels like we're getting somewhere at least," Josef said.
"It's nice you keep saying we, but I don't feel like I'm being much help," Whitlock said.
"You bloody are," Josef snapped. "Last time I was here I didn't get the time of day; this time they couldn't be more helpful," he looked at her. "You bring out the best in people," he smiled.
"Stop it I'm serious," she blushed.
"So am I," Josef countered. "Believe me you're helping."
They walked in silence to the car. As Josef drove back towards the Collridges' Whitlock spoke.
"You think we're making progress?" she said.
"Yes I do. If K takes another kid tonight then he's gonna post a ransom note. If we get a fix on which post box he used then we might be able to catch him next time."
"K," she said quizzically.
"It's a shrink thing."
"You really think he'd use the same post box every time?" she continued.
"I don't know. Maybe he uses the one closest the kid's houses, maybe he uses the same one, maybe it's just random, but it's worth a try and if we have to watch every post box on the map to catch him then I think we should."
"Are we going to the school?" she said.
"Yeah. I thought we could divide the list in half and see where we got."
"Okay."
As they drove into the school car park Josef's mobile rang, he looked at the number on the screen.
"Shit." He looked up. "It's Bentworth." He accepted the call, "Josef Lindahl."
"Jo, sorry I didn't call back earlier, I was giving the press conference and I had my phone turned off."
"How was it Sir?" Josef asked.
"It was okay, few too many rumors flying around though. I had to be careful, looks like it's gonna be big news though."
"That good news?"
"Well I think so from your point of view, there's gonna be a lot more resources available anyway. Mason told me what happened. He was waiting here for me. What do you have to say about it?"
"Sorry Sir?" Josef ventured. There was silence then Bentworth sighed.
"Anything new?" he asked.
"Well, we followed up with the post office on the Collridges' ransom note. They say it must have been posted in one of the letterboxes they pick up from. They say it must have been the same with the first note too." Bentworth was silent a moment.
"How many letterboxes?" he asked.
"About a hundred and fifty Sir, but the Post Master says there are only three vans do the collecting. We could put a man in each van to check the post as it's collected. We could find which letterbox he uses."
"It's worth a try," Bentworth said, "anything else?"
"Not yet Sir."
"Good work, keep me posted."
Josef dropped the phone in his lap and parked the car properly.
"You jammy sod!" Whitlock said.
"Not really," Josef countered. "I just knew that Mason would go running to Bentworth instead of doing something useful. I, on the other hand, told him to call the Collridges and fix things," he smirked. "I was looking out for him not me."
"I'm not sure I like you so much anymore, you're a bit of a manipulator on the side," she sa
id.
Josef smiled.
"I think you've been a manipulator since you were about twelve," he said.
"Piss off."
They walked into the school and asked for Mr. Ryder. They introduced themselves to the secretary who informed them that Mr. Ryder was teaching for the whole afternoon and would only be available after three thirty when school finished. Josef handed the list to the secretary who checked the boy's names.
"Sorry Detective, only four of these boys attend this school," she said. "Would you like to see them?"
"Yes please," Josef smiled, and waited while the secretary went off to fetch them. She returned with the boys after ten minutes.
"Would you like to use the sick room?" she asked.
"That'd be great thanks," Josef said and turned to Whitlock, "take your pick."
"I'll take these two," she put her hands on the boy's heads.
"Okay, you get the sick room. I'll use the waiting area."
Josef sat with the two boys in the waiting area.
"My name's Josef Lindahl," he said, "what're your names?"
The smaller of the two, a skinny boy with curly blond hair spoke first.
"James Dickson," he said.
"Where do you live James?"
"Markham Road," he said.
"Really, what number?"
"Two 'undred an' ninety seven."
"And what about you?" Josef said, looking at the other boy. He was taller and thicker set and had the look of a bully about him, though Josef didn't know why he thought that.
"Alan Ingham," the bigger boy said, his voice already loosing its childish quality. "I live at three twenty three Cutter's Point, on Katherine Road."
"And you two boys play football with Bryan Collridge?" They nodded.
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"At football practice yesterday," James said. The boy other nodded.
"Did you see him leave?" James shook his head but Alan nodded.
"Was he alone?"
"Yeah," he said.
"James, you live in Markham Road, why didn't you walk with him?"
"I live up by the school, he lives all the way down the other end," he said.
"Have you seen Bryan hanging around with anyone lately? Older boys maybe or an adult? Talking to strangers? Has he said anything to you about anyone following him?" Both boys shook their heads.
Inside the sick room Whitlock sat the other two boys down.
"Okay," she said, "what're your names boys?"
"Michael Murphy," the first answered, a tinge of Irish in his voice to match his dark hair, dark eyes and pale complexion.
"And where do you live Michael?"
"Second Avenue Miss, number twenty one."
"And you?" she said writing in her notebook.
"Mark Dipworth Miss"
"Where do you live Mark?"
"Just behind the school on Grays Lane Miss."
"What number Mark?"
"Eleven"
"Okay," she smiled. "That's the hard part. You both play football with Bryan Collridge?"
"I do miss," said Mark, "but Michael doesn't."
"So how do you know Bryan," Whitlock spoke directly to Michael.
"Best friend Miss"
"Good. So when did you last see Bryan, Mark?"
"Football practice yesterday Miss."
"Did you see him go home?"
"No miss, I went before Bryan Miss."
"Okay what about you Michael."
"After school yesterday Miss, we had a kick about in the playground."
"Did he seem alright to you Michael, not worried about anything?"
"No miss."
"Did he seem alright to you Mark, at football practice?"
"Yes Miss."
"Have either of you seen him talking to anyone or acting strange?"
The boys shook their heads.
"Has he been worried about anything lately?" Michael flashed a glance indirectly at Mark. Whitlock read the boy perfectly.
"Sorry Mark, could you wait outside." She waited until he'd left the room and the door was closed before she continued.
"Is there something you want to tell me Michael?" she said.
"No miss"
"Come on," she insisted. "What do you know? You won't get into trouble, you'll be helping us."
"Bryan made me promise Miss," he stalled.
"It's really OK Michael - you won't get into any trouble at all I promise."
"We were in the park not last Saturday but the one before. We were playin' footy with some big kids and this guy who was watchin' us talked to Bryan. He was going round findin' good football players for Fulham Miss"
"He said he was a talent scout?"
"That's right Miss. A talent scout for Fulham Miss. He wanted Bryan to have a try out. He told Bryan that Bryan's mum had to sign somfink and that it would cost a lot of money. Bryan said he'd ask his mum 'cause they don't have much money and the man said he should pick a good time when she was in a good mood. The man said he could come over and talk to her himself if that was better."
"Did Bryan know the man?"
"No Miss, the man took Bryan's phone number and address and said he'd call Bryan's mum.
"Did he say anything else?"
"No miss"
"Can you tell me what this man looked like?"
"He was old miss?"
"How old?" The boy thought about it for a long time.
"I don't know miss, about the same age as Mr. Marlow."
"Who's Mr. Marlow?"
"He was my teacher last year Miss."
"What makes you think he's the same age as Mr. Marlow?"
"They've got the same kind of face miss, same wrinkles."
"Do you think you'd recognize the man if you saw him again?"
"I think so Miss"
"Did you or Bryan see the man again after that Saturday?"
"Not me miss, but Bryan saw him in the park last Sunday. He told me the man was gonna talk to his mum soon."
"Did Bryan say who was in the park with him on Sunday?"
"No miss"
"Okay. You wait here I'm gonna call the other policeman in to talk to you." She left the room and closed the door after her.
"Josef," she called, "can I have a word with you." He came over. "You need to hear this," she said and opened the door for him to go in.
Whitlock took the boy through it all again with Josef listening. When she'd finished they went outside again.
"That's bloody fantastic," Josef said, "great work."
"So what now?" she asked.
"Well I'm gonna call Bentworth and tell him to stall on the appeal while he sends us an artist here to work with the boy. Then we're gonna talk to Mrs Collridge and see if she knows who Bryan was with on Sunday."
"Don't you think we'd better check and see if there really was a talent scout from Fulham talking to Bryan," Whitlock suggested.
"Ah, good thinking. I'll ask Bentworth to delegate that but if he wants a sketch in time for his appeal he'll still have to send an artist," he said pulling the mobile from his pocket. "You wanna finish with the other boys?"
She looked at him incredulously then sighed and walked over to where the boys were sitting in the waiting area.