Next to be interviewed was Dr Grant. The GP confirmed that he had been called by Henry Tanner some hours after Fred’s disappearance, and had not seen the boy, his mother or his siblings for at least a month previously. Jim Grant seemed to have no information that might assist the investigation, so Vogel quickly moved on to his next subject: Mark Mildmay, whom Vogel felt to be far more likely to be of interest. The DI already knew that Fred’s older brother worked with his grandfather in the family business, and the letter had implied that he was already embroiled in whatever it was Charlie Mildmay had tried to warn his wife about. Vogel did not propose to question him in that regard, yet. For the time being, he did not wish to reveal the existence of Charlie’s letter, let alone its contents, to anyone who was not already aware of it. Instead he set about trying to ascertain the kind of man Mark was, and to study his reactions to the disturbing events of the day.
Mark Mildmay’s whole body seemed to be trembling when Yardley led him into the dining room and indicated that he should sit down at the table opposite Vogel. His face was ashen beneath his shock of dark-blond hair. He was a thin young man, but his distress made him look even thinner, emphasizing the hollows beneath his cheekbones.
He also looked frightened. Could it be that Mark Mildmay was afraid of something beyond the prospect of losing his younger brother?
Mark relaxed a little as Vogel began to take him step by step through his movements that morning. He had left his flat above the garage at his grandparents’ well before eight, driving off not long after his grandfather, he said. They were both in the habit of starting work early.
‘Grandma called about ten past nine on Granddad’s mobile,’ he said. ‘We share an office. I knew straight away that something was wrong. Granddad went white. He told Grandma we’d be straight over, then he put the phone down, looked across at me and said: “Fred’s gone.” I couldn’t believe it.
‘We were both shocked, naturally, but at the time... well, I suppose we thought Fred would soon turn up. He’s been very upset since Dad died. Not hysterical or anything like that, just that he wasn’t always himself. He did funny things. We were hoping it was another one of those funny things, I suppose.’
Vogel studied the young man carefully. Everything he said had a ring of truth, but there was something behind his eyes that Vogel couldn’t quite make out. Just as there had been something about Joyce that hadn’t felt right. And in her case it had turned out that, for reasons she’d failed to explain to Vogel’s satisfaction, she had been hiding something important. Was it possible that Mark Mildmay was also hiding something?
‘So you drove over here straight away, did you?’ Vogel asked, studying every flicker in Mark’s eyes, every facial twitch, every bit of his uneasy body language.
The young man nodded.
‘Yes. And Granddad came with me in my car. Geoff had taken the Bentley in for a service.’
‘What about Stephen Hardcastle? Doesn’t he work in the same building? Wasn’t he there? Didn’t he come with you?’
Mark nodded.
‘He’d arrived at the office a few minutes before Mum called, and he came to the house straight away — he’s like family, Steve. But he drove here in his own car. Mine’s a twoseater.’
Vogel had noticed the metallic grey Porsche parked outside and had taken an educated guess that it would be Mark Mildmay’s two-seater. This family had money and clearly liked their trophy homes and their toys for grown-ups. There was something about these people that Vogel didn’t quite approve of. And it went beyond the suspicions aroused in him by those unfinished police enquiries into Tanner-Max which he had learned about that morning, or even Charlie Mildmay’s letter alluding to questionable goings on. For Vogel was a bit of a Puritan at heart. He wasn’t comfortable with excess. And everything about Tarrant Park and the Tanner — Mildmay clan seemed excessive to Vogel.
He was, however, an old hand at not letting his innermost thoughts and suspicions show.
Vogel ended the interview and thanked the young man, informing him that though he had no further questions for the time being, he would be in touch should anything arise. Mark looked even shakier after the interview than he had before, which Vogel considered to be a perfectly satisfactory result.
Felicity Tanner was ushered in next. At first glance she seemed composed, but Vogel could see that she was struggling to control her emotions.
‘Mrs Tanner, perhaps you could confirm for me what time you came to the house this morning?’ he began.
Felicity nodded. ‘Yes. I got here about twenty to nine, I think. Joyce called me as soon as she and Molly were certain Fred wasn’t in the house. We were still hoping he was somewhere close by. Silly, I know, but we kept on looking and looking.’ She paused, screwing up her face in pain. ‘We haven’t stopped all day — we can’t help it. Everyone’s been checking the same places over and over again.’
Vogel felt for her. Felicity Tanner was a good-looking woman for her age, which Vogel assumed to be mid sixties. Her grey bobbed hair was streaked with blonde, probably by a hairdresser rather than nature, Vogel thought, but it looked natural and suited her skin tone. Beneath the grief and the pain, Felicity had intelligent eyes. There was also an air of vulnerability about her.
Felicity went on to substantiate the arrival times of her husband and of Stephen Hardcastle, and everything that Joyce had told Vogel concerning the sequence of events that morning.
Vogel then asked to see Molly. He rose as Yardley brought the teenager into the dining room, then sat down next to her at the table, not opposite as he had so far positioned himself with the adults.
‘I’m sorry I have to speak to you now, sweetheart,’ he said quietly. ‘But I know you want to help find your brother, don’t you?’
Molly was sitting with her head down, fighting back the tears. She glanced up at him and nodded.
It was obvious she had been weeping. Her pretty face was streaked with tears. Her eyes were badly swollen. Surely this was one family member even he could not suspect of any wrongdoing. Everything about Molly radiated her honest distress. Unlike the rest of the family, she seemed quite transparent and unguarded.
Molly scrubbed her eyes with both hands and gulped a couple of times.
‘I need all the help I can get if we’re going to find Fred quickly,’ Vogel continued.
Molly nodded again, biting her lip.
‘So will you please take me through exactly what happened this morning?’ Vogel asked. ‘Perhaps you could start by telling me when you and your mother first realized Fred was missing, and so on.’
Molly’s story was the same as her mother’s, barely differing in even the slightest detail. If people are not telling the truth, there are almost always discrepancies, unless they have concocted a story, in which case it would often be repeated word for word, the phrasing suspiciously similar. Neither seemed to be the case in this instance. Molly told her story in her own words and in her own way.
‘Good, now perhaps you could tell me about the last time you saw your bother,’ Vogel encouraged. ‘Can you tell me when that was?’
‘Yes, last night,’ answered Molly.
‘And do you remember the time?’
‘It was eight thirty. That is, it should have been eight thirty because that’s Fred’s bedtime on school nights. But I think it was a bit later. We’d been playing around... fighting a bit... it was only fun, but...’
Molly’s face clouded over again. Vogel feared her tears had not departed for long.
‘But what, Molly?’ he enquired gently.
‘It’s only that, well, he was being the little horror that he can be. He was teasing me rotten. So I said, “I’m going to kill you, you monster.”’ Molly stared at Vogel, her eyes wide open, her lips trembling. ‘That’s what I said, Mr Vogel. I told my little brother I was going to kill him. That was the last thing I said to him before he went to bed. And this morning he wasn’t there, he was gone. He’s still gone. And that was the last thing I said to him...’