The Girl in the Rug (7 page)

‘Why didn’t social services check out Kathy Hunt’s story?’
Frank asked Mandy shaking his head.

She just shrugged, ’Don’t ask me…they just said that they
had had some concerns about the situation…’

‘I just bet they have,’ said Carla scathingly, getting up
and putting on her coat, ‘why is it that their concerns always seem to come too
late.’

‘Oh and I’ve got a name for the owner of the garage,’ Mandy
went on, ‘um…let me see,’ she rummaged around through some papers she was
holding, ‘oh here it is…Josef Constantine, address 18 Chatsworth House…’

‘Right well we’d better go and speak to Mr Constantine…but
first I think we need to pay Kathy Hunt another visit don’t you, thanks
Mandy…oh any luck with those cameras?’

‘No sorry Ma’am…the ones directly facing the garages have
been vandalized, ditto the ones on Haversham Drive…so nothing to help us there
I’m afraid.’

‘Ok, well we’ll just have to rely on good old fashioned
detective work then won’t we…so this may take some time.’

Carla and Frank drove in silence to the ‘Buttercup’ estate,
Carla was furious with herself. Andy and his mother had been brought in to the
station a few days after the murder in the mini-mart, to go through mug shots.
Lucy hadn’t come, she’d not been well according to Andy’s mum and Carla hadn’t
questioned it, she had been surprised enough at Kathy Hunt’s co-operation. She
did remember, however, that the woman had looked dreadful, bruises all over her
face and an enormous sticking plaster on one cheek. Carla had asked if she
needed to see a doctor, but the woman had almost spat at that her she didn’t
need one. According to her she had tripped and hit her face on the kitchen work
surface, if Carla was honest with herself she hadn’t been too sympathetic, just
assuming that the woman had been blind drunk again.

Carla remembered being more concerned about Andy’s
appearance; he had seemed even paler and thinner than she’d remembered, his
worried eyes had looked huge in his young face and were surrounded by dark
circles. He had been very withdrawn; staying close to his mother, his eyes
darting back and forth to her before he answered any questions…she had put it
down to nervousness at the time. He had looked at every single picture
including those of Elliot ‘Nessie’ Dentch and Tony ‘Turk’ Lahars without a
single sign of recognition; it was almost like he was on auto pilot.

Carla had been disappointed that they’d got nothing from
Andy, but by that time Mandy had come up trumps spotting Nessie and Turk on
another camera (one that amazingly hadn’t been vandalised) a few hundred yards
further into the estate as they made their way towards Amish Patel’s shop that
same night. They had been able to match the clothes they were wearing, but the
big breakthrough had been when they were able to match the bags they were
carrying with them, to the ones that were filled with the money and goods
during the robbery. It was also pretty obvious that Nellie had been carrying a
sawn off shotgun. So Andy’s identification, although it would have been useful,
wasn’t as vital as it had been. Unfortunately both men seemed to have
disappeared…but it was only a matter of time, their details had been circulated
nationally, and Carla was sure they would turn up eventually.

Now though Carla needed to turn her attention to finding the
bastard that had possibly raped and killed this little girl…so it was with a
feeling of grim determination that Carla and Frank once again knocked on Kathy
Hunt’s door.

Franklin hated him!

Hated the way he looked, with his shiny shoes and smart
suits. Hated the way he spoke, especially when his mum wasn’t around, but most
of all he hated the way his eyes would follow him around the room, picking him
up on anything he did or said.

Mum seemed to think he was Mr Wonderful, ‘You listen to
what Bobby say’s cus he knows what he’s talking about’ and ‘Frankie you must be
a good boy and do what Bobby tells you…he’s a good man and I am not going to
let you spoil things for me again!’

Franklin thought Mum was wrong…Bobby wasn’t a good man.

A good man wouldn’t keep calling him ‘pissy pants’ over
and over…just because he had wet the bed one time. He hadn’t been able to hold
on any longer, Mum had locked the door…she had been out with Bobby.

Mum had been furious and had shouted at him, but Bobby
had just laughed and called him ‘pissy pants’, eventually even Mum had laughed
at him.

A good man wouldn’t force food into his mouth and hold
his mouth shut even though the food was making him sick.

Mum had pleaded with him, but he’d just carried on, ‘The
boy needs to learn to eat what’s put in front of him. You’ve let him get away
with murder Debbie; he needs to learn some respect.’

‘Oh come on Bobby, he’s only 7 years old…and he’s a good
boy really…’

Mum had received a slap round the face for questioning
Bobby that night…no Franklin didn’t think he was a good man.

He hated him!

‘Ooh hello Tracy love, this is a nice surprise,’ said Nora
beaming and crouching down to coo at baby Tilly who was smiling up at her from
her buggy.

‘Well I was just on my way to pick Zack up from nursery, and
I thought I would pop in, I’ve been meaning to speak to you for a couple of
days now but you are a hard woman to pin down Nora Tinker,’ said Tracy
unstrapping Tilly from the buggy and placing her in Nora’s waiting arms.

‘Hello my gorgeous girl…oh yes you are, you’re gorgeous,’
said Nora to Tilly who was pulling Nora’s nose and giggling. Nora turned to
Tracy, ‘Why were you trying to speak to me?’ she asked as they went through to
her tiny kitchen.

‘Well,’ began Tracy, ‘the other day I met one of our mysterious
neighbours…you know from Duck Pond Cottage. Oh no thank you Nora I won’t have
tea, I’m going straight to baby gym once I’ve got Zack and tea will just make
me need to pee all afternoon…so as I was saying, mysterious neighbour.’

‘How exciting,’ exclaimed Nora. Tracy and Nora had been
fantasizing about their invisible neighbours for months. ‘What’s she like…is
she terribly disfigured?’ That had been one of the more popular theory as to
why no one had actually seen the neighbours in question.

‘It was a he, not a she…and I’d have to say that there was
absolutely nothing wrong with the way he looked…absolutely nothing,’ repeated
Tracy with emphasis.

‘Oh even more exciting, a handsome husband…you didn’t see
his wife though… interesting…maybe she’s a dangerous madwoman and he’s locked
her in the attic…’

‘Um I think you are getting a bit too “Charlotte Bronte”
Nora,’ said Tracy holding up a hand, ‘his wife, as it happens, is a singer who
travels the world and he goes with her. He is called Tim, Tim Boulter and his
wife is…um Louisa I think he said…’

‘Oh my god,’ said Nora standing up so fast that Tilly let
out an enormous burp over her shoulder. ‘Not Louisa Boulter…she’s amazing, I’ve
got one of her CD’s…she’s one of the best sopranos in the world! Imagine that,
Louisa Boulter…my neighbour.’

‘Blimey,’ said Tracy, ‘I’d never heard of her…although they
must have a few bob living in that gorgeous house, well, well, well…anyway
that’s not what I wanted to ask you. Tim was wondering if you had any idea who
owns the big house…you know the one that backs onto my garden, something about
some trees that need cutting down. He says he has tried to get hold of them but
they are never home, mentioned something about a noisy party though…’

‘Oh don’t get me started about that Trace…went on till after
three it did. Loud music, people shouting and laughing…I had Poppy and Gabe
with me at the time, Gabe was all for going over and having a word but I
stopped him…thought it would only cause more trouble.’

Poppy and Gabe were the cook and handyman at ‘The Bull’ pub
which had been almost destroyed by fire, Nora had kindly put them up until the
pub was fit to be lived in again, and Tracy suspected that she was missing the
company.

‘It used to be owned by the Robinsons,’ Nora went on, ‘they
were a sweet old couple, had a couple of boys…quite late in life I think
because they always seemed a bit too old to have young boys. He was a builder,
quite successful, owned his own business and she was a teacher…I seem to
remember that they bought a place in Portugal and went there when they retired,
a few years ago now. I was always under the impression that the house had
passed to the boys…Gordon and Freddy…but I have no idea what they did with it,
could have sold it on I suppose…’

‘Hmm,’ said Tracy deep in thought, ‘well I might just walk
round there and see if I can find out anything…thanks anyway Nora, I will let
Tim know what you’ve told me. I think I will have to organise an evening get
together…so we can get to know the Boulters a bit better, you’ll come won’t
you?’

Nora looked as if she was about to explode with excitement,
‘Too bloody right I will…who would have thought…Louisa Boulter,’ she said again
reverently.

Tracy took her leave of Nora and went to pick up Zack from
nursery, so it wasn’t until the next day that she managed to find the time to
walk round to the big house. Despite it being at the end of her garden, there
was no access to it from there and it was quite a walk to get round to the
front entrance, so with Tilly asleep in her buggy Tracy set off. It was the
first time that Tracy had walked in this direction and she was enjoying the
lovely views over the hedgerows that ran along the narrow track.

The house itself was set behind ornate iron double gates,
through which Tracy could see a long winding drive that swept round to the
front of the beautiful ivy clad house. It was very impressive, like something
out of an Agatha Christie novel, Tracy almost expected a white aproned maid to
answer the door as she rang the bell a few minutes later. She was destined to
be disappointed, the bell rang inside the house without response, so she turned
to walk back home.

Just as she was leaving though a white van pulled into the
drive, and a huge, rather rough looking man jumped out of the van and approached
her aggressively.

‘Here, whatcha doing…this here is private property,’ he said
looming over her.

‘Yes I know it is,’ said Tracy backing off a bit. ‘I was
trying to find the owner actually…um you wouldn’t happen to know who they are
would you…the people who own this house? I live at the end of their garden you
see and I was just wondering…or rather MY neighbours were just wondering…’

‘Nah, I don’t know nuffin about that,’ the man said spitting
on the ground near Tracy’s feet. ‘You had better clear off…they don’t like
visitors, if you know what I mean…’

‘Listen I just need their name, then I can get hold of them
myself…or perhaps if I left my name they could contact me.’ Tracy got a pen out
of her bag, and an old receipt and wrote her name and phone number on the back
of it. ‘There could you please just give them that and ask if they could give
me a call.’ She thrust the note into the man’s hand before he had time to
refuse.

‘Well I s’pose it won’t do no harm,’ he said and shoved the
receipt in his pocket.

‘Thank you so much,’ said Tracy as she turned the buggy
round and made her way quickly back out onto the road again. She didn’t hold
out much hope that the owners would ever get that note, but she had done her
best…and now at least she could report something back to the rather
disturbingly attractive Tim.

Kathy Hunt was unconscious on the floor of her flat,
surrounded by empty cans and bottles. Carla had knocked a few times before
peering in through the filthy windows, it was then that she had spotted Kathy.
Frank had put his shoulder to the rather flimsy front door which had given way
with barely a shudder.

The flat was in an even worse state than it had been when
they had last been here, if that was possible. The stink of rotten food hit
them as they walked into the narrow hallway, but this time there was an
unhealthy addition of stale alcohol and urine added to the mix, Carla tried not
to breathe through her nose. The sofa and the rug in the living room were
stained with what looked suspiciously like dried blood; she drew Frank’s
attention to it.

‘We’re going to need forensics to go through this room
Frank,’ Carla said looking closely at the stains, Frank made the call.

There was no sign of anyone else in the flat. Andy, Carla supposed,
would be at school and of course, according to Kathy, her little daughter was
staying with her aunt in Chester. Carla was waiting for a call back from the
local police there, she had asked them to check out the address of this so
called aunt, and get back to her as soon as possible. She knew in her heart
where little Lucy Hunt was and it wasn’t in Chester.

Frank was slapping Kathy’s face none too gently to try and
rouse her out of her stupor, ‘Kathy… Kathy come on now, wake up…it’s DS Frank
Hill, I need to ask you some questions.’

Kathy made a few groaning noises and tried to open her eyes,
before hitting out wildly at Frank.

‘Just fucking leave me…leave me you slags, I ain’t none
nuffin…aaagghh!’ she started screaming when Frank tried to pull her up off the
floor, ‘AAARRGGHH…leave off…help…help someone…aaarrgh.’

‘Oh for fucks sake,’ said Frank letting go of her, ‘she
stinks like a pisser, we’re going to need an ambulance Carla…she’s off her
head.’

‘I’m on it Frank, they’re on their way.’ Carla was crouched
down in the corner of the living room, looking closely at the floor there,
‘What do you make of this?’ she asked Frank, he left Kathy and came over to
where Carla was peering down at what seemed like a much larger pool of
blood…blood that appeared have some stands of hair stuck in it, wispy light
blond hair.

‘It’s got to be Lucy’s hasn’t it…’ mused Frank, ‘what the
fuck went on here…look there’s more Carla, on the edge of the table, see same
blond hairs looks like.’

‘Right we need to seal off this area Frank,’ said Carla
straightening up again, ‘and we need to get hold of social services…someone
needs to be with us when we speak to Andy.’

Just then Carla’s mobile rang, it was a Sergeant Digby from
the police in Chester, Kathy Hunt’s sister had lived at the address that Kathy
had given the police, but she had died eighteen months ago from pancreatic
cancer…Lucy had never been there.

The ambulance arrived to take Kathy; she screamed and fought
them as they tried to strap her into the chair. She was being taken to the
local hospital while she sobered up after which she would be transferred to the
police station where she would be read her rights…for some reason she had
concealed the death of her daughter. Maybe the new DCI had been right all along
Carla thought bitterly as she watched Kathy Hunt being carried away…just
another alcoholic mother that had hit her kid too hard and had tried to conceal
the body…but that just didn’t sit right with her, and where did the sexual
assault bit come into it, assuming there was a sexual assault of course, she
still hadn’t heard back from Dorothy…no Carla was convinced there was more to
this…she needed to speak to Andy.