While Gary had been away, Cleo had been busy enough with
trivial cases that were mostly clients’ personal problems, such as tracking
down a care home for an elderly relative or vetting a boarding school for
someone’s child. Criminal activities had not been high on the list of tasks. The
law student who had helped her in recent months was taking his finals soon and
pressed for time.
Was Robert merely throwing her to the lions when he
suggested that she and Gary should join forces? Did he hope that she would
become tired of Gary? For his part, Gary could not understand why Cleo insisted
on going ahead with another marriage made in hell. A different hell this time,
admittedly. Not marked by brutality as with Jay Salerno, who had finally gone
out of her life, but boredom. Was she making the same mistake again? No. Robert
was a gentleman. He would not kick her in the stomach. So was that another
reason to marry him?
Cleo hoped nothing had been published about the corpse in
the tower, but the press had somehow got onto it, possibly through a Social
Services informant. The press article read as though the social worker, named
as Mary Devonport by one newspaper, had saved the child rather than almost
kidnapping it. There was a Social Services photo of the child on the first page
asking for people to come forward and identify her.
Cleo could do nothing but wait for Gary to intervene. A DNA
sample would be checked to see if it was mother and daughter. Knowing that
would make a difference. Failing that, the child was now presumably alone in
the world. Another thought occurred to Cleo: if the child had been kidnapped
and a clan of Romanies affiliated to the dead woman knew it, they would not
admit it because it was a criminal offence and they would not want to be held
responsible.
***
Cleo’s looming nuptials had been put on the back burner. Finding
Anna was a lucky coincidence, however, Cleo thought. As a married couple, she
and Robert could foster or even adopt Anna if the child was an orphan. Dorothy
would have said it was another wrong reason to marry the wrong man, but Cleo
would not ask her for advice. She scoured the net for information and was still
involved with that pursuit when Dorothy arrived. Cleo had not given a thought
to the idea that Robert might not want to adopt a child. If she wanted to, he
would go along with the idea, of that she was certain.
“Is it nine thirty already? We’d better get moving,” said
Cleo.
“Yes. Gary will be waiting for us,” said Dorothy, who was
always punctual. “And Cleo, I don’t think he believed my story about the Romany
woman.”
“It was a long shot, Dorothy.”
“The dead woman might not even have been a Romany, but you
know how superstitious people are. I was convinced at the time.”
“Let’s not speculate. We’ll know soon enough,” said Cleo.
***
Traffic was unusually light for a Friday morning, so it
didn’t long to get into Middlethumpton and park the car behind Headquarters.
Dorothy had declared herself willing to go shopping after the identification.
Cleo was determined to buy something new for her wedding. Dorothy offered to do
any alterations that might be necessary.
“Don’t say you do tailoring as well!”
“Only in an emergency these days,” said Dorothy. “The days
have gone when I lent a hand with the tutus, but this would be urgent, wouldn’t
it?”
“I that case we might try that boutique near Milton’s. Their
things are nice, but never quite my shape. And Milton’s seldom have anything
that fits. Anyway, I don’t like their changing rooms. I once found a corpse
there, as you know.”
Complaining about the dearth of fashion stores in
Middlethumpton was one of Cleo’s hobby horses. Finding a corpse in a fashion
store fitting room was a less frequent occurrence, but that was no consolation.
***
At HQ, Gary came down from his second- floor office to meet
the two sleuths. After greeting them both with hugs, Gary led them down to the
basement, where the forensic institute was housed alongside the mortuary. Chris,
the head of the department, was busy testing substances and complaining that he
was not a chemist, but there should be one in the team.
“Miss Price wants to check the identity of that woman you
brought in yesterday,” said Cleo.
“I know. Gary told me,” Chris said. “The corpse is on the
slab. I’ve taken fluid samples, but I haven’t examined the body in detail yet.”
“Isn’t your pet carver still here?” Cleo asked, remembering
the fearsome pathologist she’d experienced the last time she’d been here.
“Fortunately not! Grace frightened us all. Just as well she
was on the right side of the law,” Chris said, drawing back the blue cotton
cover that was draped over the corpse so that Dorothy could see the woman’s
face. “Grace has gone to do archaeology somewhere warm.”
“It could be the fortune-teller,” Dorothy said. “She told me
my destiny about two years ago. I think she was with a group of gypsies camping
just outside the village.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not very. Can you trace the clan camping round here about
two years ago, Gary?”
***
Coffee was made in Gary’s private coffee machine as it was
superior to the machine in the corridor. It was accompanied by Dorothy’s
colourful account of the meeting with the fortune-teller.
Gary was sceptical.
“If a Romany committed a crime, it would have been reported,”
he told Dorothy. “Otherwise they keep a low profile because they are afraid of
being driven out.”
“That’s xenophobia,” said Dorothy. “You’d think people were
over that by now. We are all foreigners somewhere.”
“That’s so true. I got the brunt of it when I arrived in
Upper Grumpsfield,” said Cleo.
“Shameful,” said Dorothy.
***
“To get back to the woman who visited you, Dorothy,” said
Gary. “Did she have a child with her then?”
“No, Gary, although travellers often drag their children
around, mostly babies strapped onto their backs. It heightens the sympathy
factor.”
“We only have what the child said, of course,” said Cleo. “Maybe
it wasn’t her mother, after all.”
“But why should a child tell a lie in such a situation?”
“The child would not be lying,” said Cleo. “She may believe
it was her mother, or calls all women Mama if she does not know their real
name.”
“There’s no point in speculating. We’ll have to wait for the
result of the DNA test and proceed from there.”
“It isn’t unheard of for Romanies to settle somewhere if
they get the chance,” said Dorothy, “even if the attitude of some people is scandalous.”
“They are a bit to blame for it themselves, though, aren’t
they?” said Cleo. “They often antagonize the local people.”
“I have a theory,” said Dorothy. “I think the dead woman was
gravely ill and went into the Bell Tower thinking it was the church. The child
ran out to get help and the Bell Tower door slammed so that she could not get
back in.”
“That is feasible,” said Cleo. “But there could have been a
gap of several hours before the child turned up on the vicarage doorstep. Is it
possible that the child tried to get back to where they were living? Maybe
someone saw her.”
“Nicely thought through, you two,” said Gary, grudgingly.
“And a job for your agency if ever there was one, Cleo.”
“We’ll get onto it right away.”
“How exciting,” said Dorothy, and was rewarded with a
disapproving glare by Cleo.
“I have a photo of the child on the computer,” Gary said. “I’ll
print it for you.”
“There was one on the first page of this morning’s Gazette
as well as the story in all the newspapers.”
“Blast! Premature again. Someone must have leaked it to that
advertising rag. Trust Bertie Browne to have contacts everywhere. This place is
as porous as a sieve.”
“The social worker who came to the Bell Tower was probably
eager to show off to her colleagues. Turning out on a Sunday is not to
everyone’s taste,” said Cleo
“Who is Bertie Browne?”
“The Gazette editor, Dorothy. He’s an upstart and a
nuisance. He’s also uncooperative.”
“He must have a useful link to Miss Devonport,” said
Dorothy.
“He has useful links to everyone good for a story,” said
Gary.
“I wonder if Roger knows Devonport,” said Gary.
“I hope not,” said Cleo. “He has enough problems already.”
“Ladies, may I remind you that he was proved innocent of all
the charges against him?” said Gary. “The whole business of having a wife
behind bars is embarrassing enough. He is hardly likely to put his reputation
on the line again. Sometimes information is leaked deliberately, not just by
informers.”
“We could ask the Gazette where the information came from,”
said Dorothy.
“Journalists don’t give away their sources of information
any more than private eyes reveal theirs, Ladies, but it’s possible that
publishing her photo will lead to her identification,” said Gary. “It has
happened often enough. The press has its uses.”
***
Cleo wondered if Gary had thought through the implications
of information being leaked. Wouldn’t the social worker keep information to
herself if she had something to hide? Or did she think that making information
public would exonerate her, show her to be innocent whatever she got up to?
Cleo’s account of Devonport had been so vivid that Dorothy
almost felt she’d met her. In fact, though she thought better of saying
anything, Dorothy thought she could smell a rat.
“Where are you going now?” Gary asked.
“Shopping,” Dorothy said.
“Both of you?” said Gary rather pointedly.
“Yes. Dorothy needs a new hat,” said Cleo, to stop Dorothy
from saying anything about wedding outfits.
“A wedding hat, Dorothy?” said Gary?
“I’ll get the bus home later if you two have business to
attend to,” said Dorothy, ignoring the innuendo, but inserting one of her own.
“Or let me treat both of you to lunch at Romano’s,” Gary
invited.
“OK,” said Cleo. “We’ll be there. One o’clock?”
Gary nodded. He was surprised that the to Ladies, as he
liked to call them, would have lunch with Robert Jones’s declared rival.
Cleo and Dorothy targeted the boutique Cleo had mentioned
and came away with a cream coloured silk dress and matching jacket that Dorothy
was sure would be appropriate for a registry office and needed only minor
alterations. Dorothy bought a hat. Hats were Dorothy’s favourite item of
clothing. She had hats for every occasion, but Cleo’s wedding was sure to be
even more memorable if she was wearing that particular hat, which was really
only a whiff of net with silk flowers sewn on one corner.
“That’s what everyone is wearing nowadays,” Dorothy told
Cleo. “I’ve always wanted a frivolous hat and you’ve provided me with a perfect
reason!”
“Getting married is not frivolous,” said Cleo.
“In this case I beg to differ,” said Dorothy.
“It was far too expensive for a bit of net and a flower.”
“It has intrinsic value, Cleo, like the Parthenon or the
legend of Robin Hood. And you found just the outfit you need for your wedding.
It doesn’t need much alteration and you will look marvellous, not frivolous at
all.”
“But before that happy day there will be a few unhappy ones,
Dorothy. We must investigate the dead woman’s movements before she died. I
almost feel guilty about bothering about clothes with that poor woman lying in
pathology and the child farmed out somewhere at the will of that awful social
worker.”
“Do you mind if I skip lunch and make for home now, Cleo?
I’d like to start sewing so that you can have a fitting later.”
“That’s OK by me, though Gary will be disappointed,” said
Cleo.
“You don’t really think that, do you?” said Dorothy.
“Considering he only invited both of us, not me on my own,
he will.”
“I’m past my best, Cleo, but I haven’t lost my grip on
reality.”
I’ll bring your hat
in the car, shall I?”
“See you later then,” said Dorothy. Her gesture in leaving
Cleo to have lunch alone with Gary had taken quite a bit of self-persuasion,
but she knew that was really what Cleo wanted. Gary was delighted when Cleo
turned up at Romano’s Italian restaurant alone.
“I see you’ve brought the hat,” he said.
“Dorothy insisted on going home and I didn’t want her to
crush it on the bus.”
“Apropos crushing, we could take a short siesta,” he said.
“Apropos siestas, it’s a good idea even without the crushing,”
said Cleo.
Romano was in the picture and brought the key of his apartment
inside the lunch menu.
“Order now for later,” he said. “On the other hand, I’ll
make fresh tortellini. They take about – let’s see - two hours.”
“Thanks Romano. We’ll keep it short this time,” said Gary.
“We won’t,” said Cleo.
And they didn’t.
***
After doing justice to Roman’s tortellini, Gary escorted Cleo
to her car and she drove to her office. As usual, she was still bathing in the
warmth of the unexpected tryst. To bring herself back to earth, she decided to
study a map of Upper Grumpsfield and district and trace the possible movements
of mother and child. The phone was ringing as Cleo unlocked the door.
It was Gary.
“Where have you been, Cleo?”
“I’ve been driving home.”
“It took you half an hour.”
“Traffic.”
“Can we meet tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Wednesday, Gary. Half-day closing at the shop. I
don’t think I can get away.”
“What are you doing now, Cleo? Can I drop in? ”
“I’m going to work
out a plan of action. Someone must have seen that woman and Anna.”
“That’s not the worst of our worries. Anna has disappeared.”
“When?”
“Sometime last night.”
“Why did it take you so long to tell me? We were together
for some time.”
“Because I’ve only just received the report. The social
worker we met passed the child on to her colleague. They also pass around their
name tags, apparently.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Even worse when you learn that the social worker we met was
indeed using her colleague’s identity.”
“How on earth did you find that out?”
“An anonymous message on my phone. I assume that the informer
had and a guilty conscience. I phoned the number on my LED screen back. We
thought Miss Devonport was the social worker in question, but the informant
told me that Miss Devonport had inherited the child from a social worker named
Margot Smith.”
“So she’s the woman who came that day?”
“Seems like it. Swapping badges is apparently common
practice. It makes report-writing easier. Continuity is the magic word. The
informer only gave me the initials of the first social worker. I was so
gob-smacked that I didn’t ask for the full name. But it’s now clear that the woman
we met can’t have been the real Devonport. Later I got a list of the social
workers’ names and Smith is the only one who fitted the initials.”
“But she might also have inherited Anna, so the woman who
came to the Bell Tower might have been someone else.”
“But I’ll get her in here and if she is not the woman at the
Bell Tower, we’ll know that’s what happened.”
“It stinks,” said Cleo. “How many false reports are flying
round?”
“Good question.”
“Who was the
informer?”
“The number was suppressed. We don’t even know if Anna’s
disappearance was genuine. She might have been traded in or worse.”
“Those vice squad guys will have to be careful,” said Cleo.
“They’ve done it all before.”
“Margot Smith is now the person you need to find first.”
“The real Devonport did not come to work this morning,
either.”
“Does that mean both are missing?”
“Not necessarily. Those social workers seem to be a law unto
themselves.”
“Awesome,” said Cleo.
“It’s bedlam there. I phoned and no one knew anything about
Anna. Who knows how many scandals they’ve already got away with? HQ keeps out
of Social Services.”
“They are probably confident that nothing can disturb their
species of law and order,” said Cleo.
“Meaning that they’ve got away with it up to now.”
“It looks that way. I’m not sure the foster parents told the
patrol cops everything, either when the child was taken there.”
“But at least they came forward of their own free will to
report the child missing.”
“OK, but not until this afternoon. What about the hours in
between? Who are they anyway? Where do they live? Who vetted them.”
“Thumpton Close. I don’t know why there was a delay and I
don’t know who they are, Cleo.”
“That’s just down the road from here. If Anna ran away it
would make sense for the child to climb the hill through the woods rather than
make for the road. That’s scary, but there are plenty of hiding-places among
the trees.”
“I’m sure she was trying to find you,” said Gary.
“She doesn’t know where I live.”
“But she could go to the vicarage. I’ll come over now, shall
I? We need to talk about strategies.”
“I’ll be in the office,” said Cleo. “I want to write a
report of this morning’s identification attempt. We can’t be sure that Dorothy
got it right.”
“Possibly not, since those women all look alike with their
black hair and shawls.”
“I think you’re referring to Gypsy Baron, Gary. I don’t
think modern Romany women are quite like the characters in that operetta
anymore.”
Twenty minutes later, Gary was drinking coffee in Cleo’s
office. The door was locked. There was no indication that anyone was there.
“You know why I’m really here, don’t you, Cleo?”
“I brought a blanket from the car,” said Cleo. “It was just
a taste of honey at lunchtime.”
“We could taste honey all the time if you came to your
senses about Robert.”
“Maybe the honey would not be as sweet then.”
“It would. I promise you.”
***
The lovers had only just dressed and made fresh coffee when
Dorothy came to the office.
“I’m glad you locked the door,” she said, “though judging
from the look on your faces it was not just for security reasons.”
“Gary came with some very sombre news, Dorothy,” said Cleo,
hoping to head Dorothy off what she rightly suspected had been going on behind
the locked door.
Gary told her about Anna and Dorothy was afraid that the
little girl was out there somewhere, vulnerable and frightened having been
scared and bullied by strange women pushing her around. Edith and the Parsnip
boys must be told to look out for her.
Cleo printed copies of the child’s photo while Dorothy phoned
Edith to tell her what had happened. Edith was immediately frantic.
Dorothy reflected that Edith would be frantic if she’d burnt
a cake or used the wrong colour boot polish. Her level of agitation was not a
measure of the earnestness of an event.
“Coffee, Dorothy?
“I’ll make it. Did you take a siesta on the utility room
floor, you two?”
Gary and Cleo looked quite embarrassed.
“Caught in the act, or nearly,” said Gary.
“It’s OK. I know what love is about and I’m not going to
tell Robert, but I wish you would. You can’t marry him. It would not be fair.”
“I can’t NOT marry him, Dorothy.”
Silence ensued. Both lovers were thinking that it was none
of Dorothy’s business, and both were thinking that she was right.
***
***
“I won’t come with you to the vicarage,” Gary announced. “I
think I should get back to HQ and pursue the inquiries into those social
workers.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Cleo. “Edith will be a nervous
wreck by now, so your presence would probably alarm her even more. We can talk
later.”
“Thanks,” said Gary. “You are worth your weight in gold and
Dorothy, I love you too.”
There were tears in Dorothy’s eyes as Gary left for HQ.
“He’s a lovely man,” she sniffed.
“He is, isn’t he?” said Cleo.
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