Then, as they were finishing up looking through the files on the Sloanes at the station, Franks had called. A catch-up call. He asked them what they had discovered. Mickey told him about the call he had made to Jessie James, its abrupt end. Franks agreed that, procedurally, he had done the right thing.
‘Doesn’t make it any easier to cope with when you’re sitting on your own, though, does it, DS Philips?’ he had added.
Mickey had looked at Anni before answering. ‘No, sir. Doesn’t.’
Franks had then told them about the raid on the bareknuckle fight. And about finding Marina.
‘Thank God for that,’ Mickey had said. ‘Is she OK?’
‘Shaken. We’re still looking for the daughter, though.’
‘Oh God … ’
‘We’re working on it. It’ll be a long night.’
‘D’you want Anni and me to stay on, sir?’ Mickey asked. ‘Come and help?’
‘Stand down, DS Philips,’ Franks had said. ‘You two have done enough unpaid overtime for one day. At least I assume it’s unpaid.’
Mickey had agreed that it was.
‘Then leave it at that. Go home. Go to bed. Get some sleep.’
Mickey — and Anni — had done two of those things.
‘What are you looking at me for now?’ asked Anni.
Mickey smiled. ‘No reason. Just—’
His phone rang. Anni looked at him. ‘We’re off duty, remember?’
‘After the last few days?’ said Mickey. ‘You think so?’
He answered it, identified himself.
‘DI Adrian May. Suffolk Police. You phoned us earlier about DS James?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. What’s happened?’
‘We just wanted to let you know that we’ve heard from DC Shah.’
‘Thank God. They OK?’
‘The signal was very weak. He mentioned something about DS James being hurt and both of them being taken against their will.’
Mickey sat up. ‘Right … ’
‘But we’ve tried to put a GPS trace on his phone.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Harwich, we think.’
‘Harwich? Our patch.’
‘Exactly.’
Mickey glanced at Anni. She was sitting upright too, the sheets having fallen away from her body. She was beautiful, but he didn’t have time to register that. She was also looking concerned.
‘Do you … need us as, I don’t know, liaison or something?’
‘If you don’t mind.’
Mickey said he didn’t, ended the call.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Anni.
Mickey told her. They were dressed and out of Mickey’s flat in record time.
99
‘You’re Stuart, yes?’ asked Marina, bending forward, trying to keep the urgency from her voice. ‘That’s who you are.’
Stuart nodded. Looked relieved to have been recognised.
‘Then who is Amy, Stuart? Who is she?’
Stuart leaned back, seemed to study the ceiling.
‘Who is she, Stuart? Who’s Amy? Who is she?’
Franks gently placed his hand on Marina’s arm. She relented, sat back. Stuart looked at them, a hurt expression on his face.
‘There’s no need to get nasty. I’m going to tell you.’
Marina nodded, tried to slow her hammering heart. ‘Good. That’s good to hear, Stuart. So who is she?’
‘She’s … Amy wanted to be my sister. Or she said she did. But she was only pretending. She didn’t really want to do that. She didn’t really like me.’ His voice dripped sadness. ‘She only pretended when other people were around. So she could get to be near me. And when she was near me, she would hurt me … ’ He clasped his arms round his body. Began to rock slowly back and forward.
Marina knew she didn’t have much time. If Stuart’s mood changed, if he slipped into a fugue state or became uncommunicative, she knew the interview would be over. And if that ended, then perhaps her daughter’s life would too.
It was clear that he was damaged and she had to tread carefully. She tried another approach. One that might not excite him as much. ‘She wanted you to talk to me, Stuart, didn’t she?’
He frowned. ‘Are you the doctor?’
‘I’m a psychologist, yes.’
‘Are you Josephina’s mother?’
Marina looked at Franks, who nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes I am.’
‘I looked after her for you.’
Marina put her hands on the table to stop them trembling. ‘Thank you for that, Stuart. I’m very grateful.’
He accepted the thanks by nodding, then frowned. ‘You’re here to tell me whether I’m mad or not, aren’t you?’
‘Well, I’m … Yes. That’s … Yes.’
‘Yeah.’ He nodded again. Stopped rocking. ‘Yeah. I’ve seen a lot of doctors like you. Lots and lots. They always asked me questions. Always wanted to know things. Things in my head.’
‘And did you tell them?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Things in my head are private.’
‘They certainly are, Stuart,’ Marina said, and noticed a glimmer in his eyes. Please let that be some kind of connection, she thought. Please. For Josephina’s sake. ‘I won’t ask you about the private things in your head.’
‘Good.’ He looked relieved once more.
‘But I do want to know why Amy wanted you to talk to me. Can you tell me that?’
Another nod. ‘So I could have a new life. So I could have a future.’
‘Right. And how was this future going to happen?’
‘You were going to talk to me and then you were going to tell them that I wasn’t mad and then I was going to be given a lot of money.’ He shrugged. ‘And we were all going to be happy.’
Marina nodded. ‘Right. So … was there a will, Stuart? Was that it? Did I have to declare you sane so you could inherit the Sloanes’ money along with the brother and sister?’
Stuart shuddered at the mention of the brother and sister, but nodded.
‘And how much money were you going to get, Stuart?’ Franks’s Welsh baritone cutting in.
Stuart smiled, put on a bad cockney accent. ‘“You stick with me, this time next year we’ll be millionaires.” That’s what Jiminy said.’
‘Right.’ Franks nodded. ‘And this was the Sloanes’ money?’
Stuart said nothing.
Franks leaned forward. ‘So they killed their father? Is that what you’re saying? You didn’t do it, they did?’
He frowned. ‘I hate guns.’
‘Good,’ said Marina. ‘That’s good. And you wouldn’t use one?’
He shook his head.
‘Good. And then what? You were going to sue for wrongful imprisonment, something like that?’
Stuart looked at the ceiling once more. ‘We were all going to be happy.’
Marina could tell his concentration was slipping, that she was losing him. She kept going. ‘And Amy? What would she get out of this?’
‘She would be rich as well. She wanted to spend the money with Jiminy, but he got killed. So she would spend it on her own.’
‘And,’ said Franks, clearing his throat, ‘did she want to be your sister again?’
‘Pretend,’ said Stuart.
‘Pretend to be your sister again?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t want her to.’ He yawned. ‘I’m Stuart.’ He nodded once more. ‘Stuart Milton.’