By the time the two sleuths arrived at the vicarage the boys
were home from school and Edith had sent them to look for Anna. The twins were
to watch out for her at the Bell Tower. The three older boys were to comb the
immediately vicinity. Albert, the eldest, would be in charge.
“Absolutely brilliant,” said Cleo.
Cleo and Dorothy when arrived at the vicarage, a strategy
conference was being held. They were taking it all very seriously.
“Boys, here’s the little girl’s photo. Have you seen her
before?”
The boys shook their heads.
“If the child is anywhere near here, the boys will find
her,” said Edith, proud that she had got something right for a change.
***
Edith sometimes appeared torpid, but she was not lethargic
by nature. Marriage to Frederick Parsnip and the strain of keeping the
household going and rearing 5 lively boys their father barely noticed took all
her energy. Dealing with the vicar’s fads and foibles got on her nerves. Utter
joy and deep despair seemed to be the only emotions she was now able to
express, whereby despair took precedence. The vicar rigorously ignored what did
not fit in with his concept of life, which included turning a blind eye to what
was bothering Edith or one of their five children. Edith was to all intents and
purposes a single parent, comforted only by the knowledge that it was the fate
of most mothers even if they had a partner and all those who had none.
***
Now the vicar was closeted in his studio composing a sermon
all about losing and finding, but only between the pencil-sharpening sessions
that calmed his nerves and took the place of inactive time-wasting. Was his theme
a coincidence? It was sometimes uncanny how he hit upon a topic close to the
hearts of all those around him without actually sharing in their emotions. The
pencil-sharpening was sometimes a sign of stress, but not always. The vicar
used up lots of excess energy that way. He also used up a lot of pencils.
***
The boys struck out once more, this time clutching photos of
Anna.
“What shall we do first, Cleo?” Dorothy asked.
“Give the boys a chance to find her, I should think,” said
Cleo. “If she’s still in Upper
Grumpsfield it shouldn’t take them long.”
“I’ll make us a cup of tea,” said Edith.
“I’ll should get home now I can see that you are coping,
Edith,” said Dorothy. “I must do some baking, but I’ll look in on Frederick
first.”
“Better not,” said Edith. “He said he doesn’t want to be
disturbed.”
“I won’t be disturbing him,” said Dorothy, before hurrying
through the hall and knocking officiously on the study door.
“Didn’t I say I was working?” a voice shouted.
“No, Frederick,” said Dorothy, entering the study without
further ado. “You are obviously not working!”
Dorothy was not surprised to see that the vicar was
preoccupied with sharpening his pencils.
“Oh, Dorothy, it’s you,” he said. “I was thinking.”
“Were you expecting someone?”
“No. I’ve told them all that I’m busy.”
“You are obviously not buy, Frederick. Don’t you care about what
is going on around you?”
“I’m superfluous on such occasions.”
“You wouldn’t be if you made yourself useful instead of
making this mess on the carpet for someone else to clear up,” Dorothy snapped.
“How can I be useful except as a messenger of God’s word?”
“If you don’t know, then you’d better find out,” she added
before she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
After that little scene with Mr Parsnip, Dorothy decided to
stay at the vicarage after all and see what he did next. She went back into the
kitchen and Edith made her another cup of tea.
***
Gary phoned Cleo on her mobile to ask her if Anna had been
traced. Cleo told him about the Parsnip boys. He thought that was a good idea,
since they knew every nook and cranny in Upper Grumpsfield. Cleo had moved out
of the vicarage kitchen. Edith and Dorothy did not have to listen in.
“I think you want to tell me something else, Gary. Fire
away.”
“The case has a twist.”
“Another? There are enough twists as it is.”
“I can now confirm who the fake Devonport was. Her real name
really is Margot Smith. Her photo is in the who’s who staff file at Social
Services. I recognized her and we are now looking for her.”
“That was quick work!”
“I hope it was quick enough, my love.”
Hearing that endearment provoked Cleo into whispering ‘je
t’aime’ into the phone. She was overcome by her feelings for Gary and the
anguish of Anna’s plight.
“Don’t be upset,” Gary continued.
”I’m not upset, but the woman should be a jail warden, not a
social worker. Where’s the twist?”
“She might have abducted Anna.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I had another anonymous phone call, Cleo. My informant
seemed agitated, but she was clearly anxious.”
“Awesome! Watches bad things goings on and keeps quiet until
she gets scared she could be involved.”
“Informants do that. She told me more about the fake Devonport
she thought I had seen again.”
“Meaning Margot Smith?”
“Yes. Apparently the woman is a tragic case. She had a
miscarriage and hasn’t been the same since.”
“For the record, Gary, I had a miscarriage, but I didn’t
abduct a child to make up for it.”
***
Gary could never understand that a woman who so obviously
loved him could consider marrying someone else. He could feel the blackness of
burnout coming over him again. Cleo could also feel it.
“Are you still there, Gary?” she said.
“Yes.”
“I’m in love with you, but I’m going to marry Robert,” she
said. “We have to get that straight, Gary.”
“OK. I won’t bother you again.”
“You don’t bother me, Gary. I want you and need you, but I
made a pledge.”
***
“Back to the Devonport case, then,” said Gary, after a long
pause. “Smith did hand the child over to her colleague, the real Devonport, but
that doesn’t mean that she didn’t intervene later.”
“You might consider whether the informant is one of the
Social Services staff. They can’t all be corrupt, surely!” said Cleo.
“I wouldn’t be surprised! Informants are often corrupt, too.”
***
“I found out that the foster parents live at Number 10,
Thumpton Close. They are a Mr and Mrs Courtney. Mrs Courtney is apparently a
cousin of the real Miss Devonport. We need to question them discreetly. Can you
do it, Cleo?”
“Nepotism, Gary. Relations tend not to tell on each other,
but I think that’s why Margot Smith passed the child on to Devonport,” Cleo
conjectured.
“So the Courtneys collected the State support and shared it
out. They would all get a cut.”
“That could be the way they always worked,” said Gary. “Devonport
might have taken the child there because that’s what she always did to give her
relatives the business. She would pay Margot Smith something for passing the
child on and Devonport would be rewarded by the Courtneys. No doubt most
children in need of a home went through that system.”
***
A lot of noise heralded the return of the Parsnip boys. Cleo
hurried back into the kitchen. Anna had been found.
“Can you hear what’s going on, Gary?”
“They found Anna. Brilliant, but let’s hang up. Tell me more
later.”
***
It hadn’t taken long for the older Parsnip boys to find
Anna. Albert, the eldest at 12, took the lead. The first circuit of the
immediate vicinity included St Peter’s and it was there that they had found the
little girl, crouching at the main entrance, clutching her teddy-bear.
Albert compared Anna with her photo, introduced himself and
his brothers, Bertram and Cedric, who
were a bit sheepish about being formally introduced to a girl, and they ran
back to the vicarage.
Albert felt very important. He had grown out of being the
little lad who stubbornly refused to practice the piano and had driven Dorothy
Price almost batty with his grimy fingernails and lack of musicality.
Cleo rang Gary to confirm that Anna was safe and sound.
“They are great boys. Tell them that, please.”
“Talk to Albert. He’d like that,” said Cleo. She hugged Anna
and wished she could ask her what had happened, but the little girl spoke no
English, only a language that Cleo did not recognize.
***
When Albert handed the cell phone back to Cleo, Gary told her
that Margot Smith had not yet been traced. She went into the vicarage parlour
to continue the phone-call.
“Someone may have warned her,” Gary said.
“The same informant? That’s certainly possible,” said Cleo. “So
now both the social workers involved are missing.”
“Looks like it.”
“Or they are simply out of the office.”
“Without telling anyone?”
“Since they seem to have been involved in cloak and dagger
stuff, I would have thought that was normal procedure,” Cleo commented.
“What do you suggest?”
“No point in jumping the guns. It would be embarrassing for
you if they just turned up.”
“Exactly! Call me on my mobile if there’s anything to
report. I’m going out to get some fresh air,” said Gary. “Or can I come back to
you?”
“No deal, Gary. I’m going home now. Robert will be waiting.”
“Kick him out!”
***
Cleo was anxious. She told Robert what had happened and he
was equally shocked. It seemed like another case of police negligence in that
they hadn’t checked the first social worker’s identity, he thought.
“It isn’t homicide’s job to check Social Services, Robert.”
Robert’s remark had been aimed at Gary, of course.
“Roger Stone decides who is to be investigated, ” Cleo
explained.
“Who’s that?”
“Gary’s superior.”
“I didn’t know he had one,” said Robert.
“Well he does. That awful social worker got the request to go
to the vicarage from the police, but that concerned the child and not the dead
woman.”
Robert accepted this explanation, though it was far from
satisfactory.
“I don’t suppose her upright colleagues would suspect her of
anything, either,” said Robert. “Assuming there are some upright ones.”
Cleo shuddered. What if they were all in it together?
“We don’t know that,” said Cleo.
“The ‘we’ being you and your pet cop, I suppose.”
“He is not my pet cop, Robert. We work together, like you
and those girlie assistants who helped you at the shop until my mother took
over.”
“I did not have relations with any of those assistants. If
you ask me, it’s all a bit of a cock-up,” said Robert.
“And I don’t know if Gary’s can deal with it, Robert. What
if he cracks up? That’s why I have to support him now.”
“Then he’ll crack up, Cleo. I don’t see what you can do
about it.”
“I feel responsible for him.”
“What?”
“OK. I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“You said the child had been taken to foster parents, didn’t
you?”
“To a relative of the real Miss Devonport. Nepotism.”
“What’s that?”
“When one family member uses his influence to help another.”
“No wonder it stinks!”
“There might be contact with a child porno ring, Robert.
There’s plenty of dough in that. It attracts lucrative customers.”
“They are indecent criminals and should be locked up,” said
Robert.
“Someone contacted Gary anonymously.”
“Who?”
“Anon., Robert. I think it was because the police were involved
since the woman in the tower might have been murdered. I can’t think of another
explanation. It could be vice squad stuff. The two social workers will have to
be located first.”
“What if they are dead?”
“Then it’s definitely Gary’s case. Homicide.”
“Do you think the foster parents have a clean slate?”
“They are registered child-minders.”
“Who registered them?” Robert asked.
“ I’ve no idea, but I do know that the police can’t check
everything that other authorities sanction.”
“It sounds as if they sanction one another.”
“Could be. I think that the fake Devonport woman…”
“Fake?”
“Those social workers swap identities.”
“You don’t say,” said Robert.
“The woman who came to the Bell Tower was entirely unsuitable
for the job she was doing, but some presumably thought she was being efficient
and getting the job done.”
“So what’s next on Gary’s priority list?”
“I think he’s concentrating on tracing the two social workers
and talking to them.”
“It’s all speculation, isn’t it? I mean, a corpse and a
child don’t necessarily point to crime.”
“In Gary’s books, everything points to crime.”
“Let’s have a coffee. All this is making me thirsty, Cleo.”
“And a bagel, please. I’m starving! I missed lunch.”
That was not true, since pasta is tasty and filling, but
Cleo did not want to elaborate on her lunchtime whereabouts for obvious
reasons.
Robert was still curious.
“So where were you at lunchtime?”
“Wedding outfit shopping with Dorothy.”
That was true, but Cleo was hardly likely to tell Robert
what else she had done.
“Then I wrote stuff in the office and later there was the
business with finding Anna,” Cleo volunteered.
“Oh yes, that,” said Robert,” I’m glad for the girl, but
don’t get any funny ideas.”
“I’ll go to the vicarage after I’ve eaten
something, Robert. I want to hear how Anna got away.”
Cleo phoned Edith to find out how Anna was getting
on after her adventure.
“There hasn’t been much communication, but I have a
feeling that Albert will be able to get some sense out of her,” Edith told her.
It was a load off Cleo’s mind. Whatever was going on had been thwarted
by the ‘escape’ of a small girl.
“I’m very relieved that the girl is safe,” Gary told Cleo
when she phoned him to keep him up to date with Anna’s situation. ”I’m
concentrating on finding those social workers and putting a stop to what’s
going on. I think the best solution is to leave Anna at the vicarage for the
time being.”
“I agree, Gary. The less upheaval there is for her, the
better.”
A brief phone call to Dorothy put her in the picture. Dorothy
was curious about Albert’s metamorphosis. From a sticky-fingered child he had
suddenly become a responsible teenager.
In the meantime, Albert had managed to extract the story
from the little girl.
Apparently the real Devonport had deposited Anna with foster
parents, but later returned and told them plans had changed and on instructions
from her superior she would take the child to a children’s home for a few days.
She then coerced the child to get into her car. But Devonport went back to the
house for some reason – Anna did not know why – and the child had taken her
chance, climbed out of the car and run away as fast as she could. When
Devonport found that Anna had absconded, she followed her, shouting her name
and screaming that she was to come back at once, or else….Anna kept running
away from the sound of Devonport’s voice, through Thumpton Wood and eventually
over a fence into someone’s back garden. She hid behind a garden shed and slept
in someone’s gazebo, which she described as a nice little wooden house with
lots of cushions and even a blanket or two. At first light she had moved on,
but kept herself hidden.
It took Albert a while to piece together and paraphrase the
account since Anna spoke hesitatingly and in garbled English.
“At least she knew some words,” Albert had said, “but she
could not make sentences.”
***
Edith had asked Anna through Albert’s interpreting why she
had not knocked on a door and asked for help.
“I was afraid to,” the little girl had said.
“Well I think you did the right thing,” Albert told Anna.
“People would have rung the police and that awful social worker would have got
you back.”
“I wonder how long she kept up the search,” said Edith.
“Not long enough,” said Albert. “Just as well. Fancy being
at the mercy of such a horrible person!”
Edith reflected on that. What good was it to preach peace
and harmony from the pulpit when such dark deeds went on practically unhindered
in real life? She decided to do something about it. She didn’t have to be tied
for ever to a moron of a vicar who had, to be honest, never done a good deed in
his life, but taken the credit for all the good deeds she did.
“We all have axes to grind,” the vicar would say.
Sometimes Edith wished she had an axe handy.
***
There were other questions that needed an answer.
According to Gary, Miss Devonport had not reported that the
child had run away. The foster parents, who might not be aware that they were
being used by Devonport, had eventually become scared and phoned the police to
report what they thought must have happened. Had the social worker done
anything like that before? Was she unpredictable? Her cousin thought not. They
would help the police if they could.
Cleo went back to the vicarage kitchen and Anna was
overjoyed to see her again.
“You are clever to have got away, Anna,” Cleo said in so
many words.
Anna was tucking into chocolate biscuits.
“Can I take a photo of you, Anna?” Cleo said. “That nice
policeman needs it for his report.”
Anna nodded, but carried on eating.
“Poor little love,” said Edith. “She must be starving
hungry. We’ll have supper soon,” she told the child. “What would you like?
Beans or eggs, Edith asked, holding a tin of beans and an egg up.”
Anna pointed at the egg.
“Or both, like us,” said Albert, who was still sitting next
to Anna long after the other boys had lost interest. They were playing football
on the vicarage lawn. Edith was always amazed at how quickly things got back to
normal after any upset.
Gary phoned Cleo on her mobile and told him he had no time
to come to the vicarage. Was everything OK?
“Fine. I’ll tell you later what the girl told Albert, the
eldest Parsnip boy. Fortunately she sees it all as an adventure and the Parsnip
boys are very impressed with her.”
“That’s good news, but there bad news from me, Cleo. Forensics
found unnatural chemicals in the dead woman’s blood. This is now a murder case.
More blood analyses are on the way.”
“Dorothy will be delighted,” was Cleo’s reaction.
“What will Dorothy be delighted about?” Edith wanted to
know.
When Cleo had explained without actually mentioning who the
poisoned woman was, since Anna was in the room, Albert asked Cleo if he could
help her to find the murderer. He explained that wanted to be a detective,
preferably like Perry Mason. Cleo, who had great sympathy for role models,
taking Miss Marple as her own, was duly impressed though she had to break to
Albert that Perry Mason was an advocate.
“That’s a lawyer, isn’t?” said Albert.
“He’s also a fictional character like Miss Marple. The main
thing is that you keep eyes and ears open and make notes of anything strange or
unusual. When I get the new office sorted out, you can work on the computer.
How about that for a start?”
“Brilliant. Thanks ever so much!”
“And I’ll find interesting jobs for you. I expect Mr Hurley
will also invite you to take a tour of Police Headquarters. After all, you did
find Anna.”
Albert grinned from ear to ear. He appreciated Cleo for
taking him seriously. His father thought he should become a missionary and do
all the things he himself had dreamt of doing and never managed. Up to now Edith
had found no adequate argument as to why Albert should not become a missionary.
But she would not let it happen.
“You can’t argue with God,” the vicar would say, looking up
towards the heavens, as if his argument had come straight from behind the
clouds. That was tantamount to saying you couldn’t argue with him, though
Dorothy Price had picked enough bones with him to prove the opposite.
***
It was clear to Cleo that whatever theory Gary had about
Devonport’s intentions, until there was enough evidence, they would remain the
secret of a welfare officer who could have had the opportunity and criminal
energy to indulge in evil acts.
Children disappeared every day, sad to say. Children without
close relatives were exceptionally vulnerable even in a country where law and
order were mostly respected. She could not bear to think what happened to kids who
got into the clutches of corrupt individuals. Was Margot Smith corrupt, or was
she simply officious and scarifying? Where did Davenport fit in? Anna had been
clever enough to escape from whatever she had perceived to be a danger. Davenport had been careless, letting the child
run away. Had that been deliberate? Where was Davenport planning to take her if
Anna had not run away?
Cleo would start her inquiries by questioning the Courtneys
in Thumpton Close. She could not phone them beforehand because that would have
given them a chance to evade the meeting. Every day’s delay gave Devonport more
time to cover up whatever she was doing that was outside her official job as a
social worker. One thing was certain: Devonport and her colleagues were not
squeaky clean.
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