‘ Bussola?’
Tapperman gave her a withering glance. This she interpreted as, ‘Don’t ask silly fucking questions.’
‘ What about the other guy, the English paedophile?’ she persisted.
‘ Gilbert? Tucked up on a plane back to the UK.’
‘ You told the FBI about him?’ she wanted to know.
‘ Should I?’
‘ Maybe they ought to know, maybe they can pass on the gen about him to the cops in England. If the cops over there don’t know about this guy, it’s time they did.’
‘ Aw… when I get round to it.’
‘ In that case, I’ll do it. I know a guy at the London office, used to work from Miami. I’ll tell him and he can pass it on.’
‘ Okay, whatever suits.’
‘ So that’s it then — we’re getting nowhere fast?’
‘ That’s one way of lookin’ at it, I guess. Myrna, you must be one o’ those folks who always sees a half-empty glass.’
‘ I’m a realist.’ She sounded sour.
‘ Right, sure.’ Tapperman stood up. ‘Just thought I’d keep you informed about things.’ A bashful expression crossed his face, ‘Er, about earlier. I… er… you won’t tell anyone, will ya?’
‘ Lieutenant Tapperman, your secret is safe with me.’
‘ I owe ya, babe.’
For the first time in too long, a broad smile crept across Myrna’s tired countenance.
Mark Tapperman’s secret.
Behind all that macho bluster and bull, he was a big soft guy with real feelings and emotions. His outburst had astonished her. She was glad she had seen it because it made him human. To know he was grieving for Steve Kruger, as she was, made her feel so much better.
She picked up the phone and asked her secretary to get the number of the American Embassy in London, England.
‘ Sorry… sorry, pretty please, forgive me.’
‘ Nah, no problems, you were quite right to jump down my throat. If you’d been a bloke I wouldn’t have said it. It was patronising at best; at worst it was sexist. I’ll hold my hands up.’ Which Henry Christie promptly did.
Danny grinned. ‘Can we forget it and get on with the job?’
‘ Forget what?’ Henry smiled.
It was ten o’clock. He was surprised to see it was so late. It had been one hell of a day. A short time earlier he had returned from attending a double post mortem — first of a murdered Police Constable, then of a murdered girl. The pathologist had been pretty certain the same knife had killed both people.
He read the piece of paper in front of him, notes taken during the autopsies. ‘She was sexually assaulted, as we expected, anally and vaginally,’ he told Danny. ‘The pathologist has taken samples of semen, so when we get Trent all we need do is match up the DNA and bingo! She actually died of a stab-wound to the heart, an organ which was horrendously damaged, as was the PC’s. Trent gets the knife in and really rives it round.’
‘ Poor souls.’
Danny had been at the house of Mr and Mrs Tomlinson, the parents of the dead girl, for the last three hours since they had identified their daughter at the mortuary. It had been a difficult and testing time for her. ‘I’ll tell the girl’s mum and dad tomorrow about the results of the PM. That’s when they’re expecting to be told. They’ve had enough pain and misery for today. Christ! All she’d done was pop out to play for a while. She’d just been recovering from flu. She was due to go back to school tomorrow.’
Henry said, ‘Just for your information there’s now twenty pairs of officers working through the hotels and guest-houses physically, another ten on phones. I’ve told them to crack on until midnight, then pack it in. All my available detectives are pubbing and clubbing it to see what they can turn up. There’s a briefing at eight tomorrow and I hope to double those numbers at least for a couple of days.’
‘ How are the people from the estate agents?’
‘ The woman he stabbed has been sent home, no massive damage. The guy with the neck-wound is still in surgery — but he’ll live.’ Henry stretched. ‘I’m going to call it a day. Fancy a quick jar on the way home? And it will be quick. I need to be back here by six-thirty to get everything ready for eight.’
‘ I’d like that, Henry. I’ve just got a couple of things to do.’
They made an arrangement to meet in a pub and Danny went to her office.
Henry headed straight out. He did not see the lurking figure in the doorway of an office nearby, a figure who had overheard their conversation.
Jack Sands stepped out of the shadow. ‘Bitch and bastard,’ he whispered.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlie Gilbert waddled through customs at Manchester Airport, having collected his hefty baggage and large Mickey Mouse from the carousel. He went down the green channel — nothing to declare, other than being overweight. In the arrivals hall he was greeted by a man called Ollie Spencer who looked and acted something like a wartime spiv: quick, sharp features, trimmed moustache and a look which said he could get anything, any time. He worked for Gilbert in the capacity of manager of some leisure facilities, and acted in close liaison with him in many spheres.
‘ Good trip?’
‘ Very good, Ollie. As a result of my little visit, our amusement arcades will soon be kitted out with the latest video technology from the States and beyond. We’ll be streets ahead of the others. And not only that, for a very little effort, I’ll be able to make another hundred grand — but I’ll explain that one to you later.’
‘ Sounds good. Did you manage to have some fun as well?’
‘ Ollie — of course I did. Nice young fun.’
Spencer led Gilbert out through the sliding doors to where he had illegally parked the car — the vehicle in question being a stretch Rolls-Royce with darkened windows, hired for the occasion of Gilbert’s return home. Spencer positioned the luggage trolley near to the rear of the car and opened the back door. Gilbert forced himself through the not-inconsiderable gap and plopped through onto the front-facing back seat.
The Rolls had been stretched to accommodate a rear-facing seat too, making it similar to one of those long limos often seen in America, but pretty unusual in Britain. There seemed to be acres of room.
Sitting coyly on the rear-facing seat was a girl.
Gilbert’s face widened into a big smile of pleasure on seeing her. ‘Honey Pot!’ he beamed.
Spencer poked his angular face in. ‘I hope you approve, boss. Bit of a coming-home pressie.’ He handed Mickey Mouse to Gilbert who presented it to the girl; she took it with a giggle.
‘ I approve.’ He slapped his thighs delightedly. ‘Come to Daddy.’
The girl squeaked with peals of merriment. She rushed towards him and immediately fumbled for his flies.
She was eleven and a half years old.
Danny did not really feel like going for a drink, but she thought it would be churlish to refuse. After all, Henry had done a lot for her in a very short space of time and a quick drink wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.
She tidied her desk, picked up Claire Lilton’s Missing from Home forms and went into the Comms room. She ensured the circulation message would be sent that night. Danny knew how busy the following day would be and didn’t want to forget Claire in the melee.
That task completed, she was ready to leave.
She hated the fact that the walk to her car had become such a big issue for her. Something she had done for years without a second thought had, in the last few days, become a nightmare journey. Although she was certain Jack Sands had got the message loud and clear from Henry, the walk down the dimly lit car park made her jumpy as hell. All the while checking the shadows, looking round over her shoulder… it was crap.
She pressed the remote and her car responded. Seconds later she was in the driving seat, trying to get the key into the ignition… when the passenger door opened and a figure dropped into the seat.