Acid Row (32 page)

It was clear from the way he headed straight back towards 23 that his intention was to extricate his girlfriend. A tentative identification of the woman who had stood irresolutely behind the house before suddenly making up her mind to go in had recorded her as Gaynor Patterson, although a question mark remained beside the name as the only description the Health Centre had been able to furnish was Jenny Monroe's belief that she had blonde hair like her daughter's. Attempts to raise her on her mobile proved fruitless since, like Jimmy's, her battery had run out.

A similar question mark remained beside Melanie's name, because Jimmy's earlier observation to Harry Bonfield that the tall, blonde, pregnant girl sounded like 'his MeP was hardly proof that she was the girl in front of the house. All attempts by Ken Hewitt and Jenny Monroe to reach Melanie had met with failure. From being constantly engaged the phone was now disconnected, its innards smashed beyond repair beneath the heel of a rioter after Colin had dropped it when he ran to Melanie's aid. The identity of the man in the tin helmet, why he had entered number 23 in the first place and why he remained inside continued to mystify the police.

Jimmy's beeline approach towards the rear of 23 allowed the camera's field of vision to cover events on both sides of the house. It caught the abrupt change of gear in Jimmy James's stride as he pounded across the garden to fling himself through the back door; the sudden wild charge of part of the crowd towards the broken front-room window; and the gut-churning disappearance of the blonde girl as Wesley Barber punched her in her pregnant stomach and she fell beneath trampling feet.

A shout of horror rose from every throat in the command centre.

Saturday 28 July 2001 car park, Hilton Hotel, Southampton

TOWNSEND'S BMW STOOD on its own in a corner of the Hilton car park.

“Anything?” Tyler asked the officer beside it.

The man shook his head. "The boot's clean as a whistle, sir. A pathologist might find something but I wouldn't bet on it."

“Too clean? How did it smell?”

“Nothing unusual. I'd have noticed detergent.”

“Any luggage? Video camera?”

“Just a laptop.”

“Interesting.” Tyler peered through the back window. "What about inside?"

“Aftershave. An expensive one, too. The guy reeks of it.” He pulled a face. "He's quite a piece of work, sir. The birth date on his driving licence says he's forty-five .. . but he's doing his damnedest to look thirty. Phoney as hell, if you ask me." A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "He's no pushover .. . didn't blink an eyelid when I opened the car door for him."

“Did he object to you searching the boot?”

"No. Opened it himself “Did he ask what you were looking for?”

“No.”

“Interesting,” said Tyler again.

Conference room, Hilton Hotel Phoney or not, Tyler understood immediately why Laura had fallen for Edward Townsend. "A piece of work' was a good description for him.

Tanned, clean-shaven skin. Muscled arms and shoulders. Close-cropped hair. Compared with Tyler's ruddy and rumpled St. Bernard look, he had the polished bronze sheen of Barbie's Ken. (Which might explain why an eighteen-year-old going on twelve like Franny found him attractive, thought Tyler acidly.) But he was too synthetic to hold the attention for long. The eye yearned for something interesting to fasten upon laughter lines, grooves of character anything that didn't conform to a love-starved woman's idea of male beauty.

It was an image that worked better from a distance. Close to, Tyler wasn't surprised that the manager at the Bella Vista had been suspicious of the man's relationship with Franny. His hair looked dyed, the tan was almost certainly fake, and his restless, pale eyes never held a gaze for more than a second. Tyler made a determined attempt to look at him objectively it was too easy to allow prejudice to colour his view but he still felt his hackles rise in response.

Perhaps it was the aftershave.

Two uniformed constables stood stolidly by the doorway, arms folded moving aside to let Tyler and Butler enter. A table ran down the centre with notepads, drawn-up chairs and a coffee urn and cups at one end. Townsend, in rolled-up shirtsleeves, sat at the other end, suit jacket draped across his chair back laptop open in front of him, a Screensaver of clouds flickering across the monitor.

"DCI Tyler and DS Butler .. . investigating the disappearance of Amy Biddulph," said Tyler as he pulled out a seat beside the man and sat down, crossing his legs and resting his elbow on the table. Butler took the chair on the other side. "Thank you for agreeing to talk to us, sir."

“No one told me I had a choice.” It was the same voice that had spoken on the mobile, although the London vowels were less obvious in person than over the phone. Was his background something else he wanted to hide? Tyler wondered. He certainly had the trappings of a self-made man: BMW, Rolex, Armani suit.

“It's always difficult in cases like this,” said Tyler equivocally. "We need to guarantee immediate access to people who can help us."

"I don't have a problem answering questions. Amy's a sweet kid. I'd do anything to help her. All I asked of these men' he gestured towards the uniformed constables 'was that I be allowed to explain the situation to the other people at my meeting. I don't believe that warrants detention, does it, Inspector?"

“We've explained on your behalf, sir,” Tyler told him pleasantly.

"They're happy to wait until we've finished. They all agree that a child's life is worth a short delay."

The eyes rested on him briefly. “What did you tell them?”

"That you have privileged information about Amy Biddulph, and it was important for us to talk to you as soon as possible."

“What sort of privileged information?”

"From the time she and her mother were living with you. I understand you made a number of video tapes of her. We'd appreciate those, sir.

Film is more useful to us than the still photograph we're using at the moment. People find it easier to recognize a child from a moving image."

He looked amused. "They don't exist any more. Laura cut them to shreds and left them lying on my sitting-room floor before she left.

Didn't she tell you?"

Tyler's certainty wavered. There was never enough time in an investigation like this. Too many questions would always remain unasked. “No.”

“Then I'm sorry to disappoint you.”

Tyler nodded. "How do you know Laura found them all? Do you remember how many you made?"

"I do, as a matter of fact. I used the same three over and over again.

The only reason I filmed Amy at all was because she liked performing and wanted to see herself on TV."

“Then why film her naked in the bath?”

He gave an easy laugh. "Good acoustics and a handy loofah for a microphone. She was doing “Like a Virgin” at full blast. Pretty damn well, too. She's a great little singer."

“What happened to the tapes you made of Laura?”

Townsend laughed again, his eyes pouching into mischievous creases. He was very relaxed. Even charming. "Come on, Inspector. They won't help you find Amy. She wasn't in any of them. Laura must have told you that, at least. Frankly, they weren't the sort of movies you'd put a kid in."

"So I gather. From the way Laura describes them, they were a masturbation aid. Presumably you saved them?"

He spoke without hesitation. "I never save anything from dead relationships, Inspector. I reused them."

“What for?”

He thought for a moment. "Probably a development we're building in Guildford. We've had problems with materials being nicked so I put a camera on site. The workforce doesn't like it but there wasn't much else I could do if I didn't want to be robbed blind."

The nav vies Tyler knew were tough-talking homophobes who held a person's gaze when they spoke to him. It didn't make them any more truthful and honest than the next person, just more direct, and he wondered what Townsend's men thought of him. "How can you be so certain about Amy's tapes .. . and so uncertain about Laura's?"

"I made more of Laura .. . mostly before she moved in. With Amy, there were just the three. She wasn't interested in past performances .. .

everything had to be very immediate or she became bored." He unstrapped his Rolex and put it on the table in front of him, betraying the same impatience to move on that Martin Rogerson had shown earlier.

“As I said, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Inspector.”

Tyler reminded himself that his MO was to persuade women to posture naked in front of a camera. He would certainly know how to fend off awkward questions about predecessors. The voice was still edgy with irritation, but he had it well under control.

Tyler leaned forward. “You seem very impatient,” he murmured. "Why is that, sir? The child's in desperate trouble and you said you wanted to help her."

The reaction was stronger than he was expecting. A flash of steel.

"Some of us have to generate our own salaries instead of relying on the state to pay us,“ he snapped. ”You're delaying my meeting. I understand the reasons for it, and I've expressed my willingness to answer your questions, but I would appreciate some urgency. What can I tell you about Amy that Laura and Martin don't know?"

Tyler raised a placatory hand as if to admit fault. "We've been told Amy made a re verse-charge call to someone named “Em” about two weeks ago. Do you know who that might have been, sir?"

“No.”

"Would you mind taking a little time to think about it? Did she mention any friends while she was living with you called Em or Emma?"

"Not that I recall. She was a great little chatterbox, but I didn't often listen. If anyone knows it'll be her mother."

Tyler gave a tired sigh. “It is important, Mr. Townsend.”

The man steepled his fingers under his nose and took a deep breath. "I realize that, and I'm sorry. Amy came as a package with her mother. I was pleasant to her, spoke to her on the few occasions I found her still up, made one or two films of her singing and dancing, and, as far as I was able, provided for her. Laura had some confused reasons about not accepting maintenance payments from her husband .. . She talked about a clean break but, in reality, it had more to do with giving Martin a poke in the eye. I can manage without you. That sort of thing. After six months I recognized that I was just a convenient stepping-stone on her route out of marriage. We had a row about it and by the next evening she and Amy were gone. I haven't seen or spoken to either of them since."

"Cutting up tapes of her daughter and leaving them scattered across your floor suggest there was a little bit more to it than that, sir."

Townsend tapped his forefingers against the sides of his nose and took another glance at the DCI. "What do you want me to do? Blacken the woman's name? She's just lost her kid, for Christ's sake."

“We've heard her version. I'd be interested in yours.”

He lowered his head into his hands for a moment. "OK, she was jealous,“ he said bluntly, looking up. ”It was absurd. She'd come from a marriage where the child's father barely recognized his daughter, and she thought it was sweet to hook up with a man who treated Amy with kindness. That mindset lasted all of about four months. Laura had had the kid entirely to herself when she lived with Martin, and she didn't like it when Amy started to share her affection with me. She became thoroughly possessive, resented every bit of attention I showed Amy, particularly the videos, and started accusing me of fancying the child more than her. We staggered on for another two months with me giving Amy the cold shoulder in order not to antagonize her mother .. . and the poor little kid getting really upset about it then I said I'd had enough. End of story. Laura took herself off the next day."

Tyler nodded. “Did the same thing happen in your two marriages?” he asked.

He'd caught the man off balance. There was a flicker of uncertainty.

“What the hell have my marriages got to do with Amy?”

“Just interested. Neither of them lasted very long either.”

Townsend moved his mouse to bring the clouds back on to his screen. "I played away from home,“ he said curtly. ”Neither of my wives liked it.

I'd have done the same to Laura if she hadn't left. I'm not husband material, as most of the women I know will tell you."

“Does Mr. Rogerson know that?”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

"It occurred to me that Laura and Amy were on loan till your infatuation ran its course."

Another flash of steel. “That's offensive.”

Tyler shrugged and reverted to the subject of the telephone call.

“Laura believes Amy said ”Ed“ not ”Em", which I'm told is what she called you, Mr. Townsend. The sounds are similar, and the children who were listening to the conversation weren't concentrating particularly well."

He shook his head. "I've already said I haven't spoken to Amy since she left."

“We've only your word for that, sir.”

The man assessed Tyler for several seconds with a remarkably steady gaze. There was no liking in the pale eyes, but no mystery either. "Do you think I had something to do with Amy's disappearance?" he demanded. “Is that what these questions are about?”

"Why assume that a phone call two weeks ago had anything to do with what happened yesterday, Mr. Townsend? All we're trying to find out is what was in the child's mind. She was obviously unhappy, because she was crying throughout the conversation, and it was someone she knew well, because the transferred charges were accepted."

"Well, it wasn't me. I'd certainly have accepted a call if she'd tried to contact me God damn it, I felt sorry for the kid she was completely at sea. Didn't know if her mother loved her .. . if her father loved her ... no contact with any extended family because they all disapproved of the marriage. What kind of life is that for a ten-year-old?"

There were so many echoes of Tyler's own thoughts that he was inclined to call a halt. He knew better than anyone that this was a fishing trip, and so far he'd come up with nothing. "Would you be willing to confirm that by giving us access to your telephone accounts?" he asked. "If no charges show, then it was someone else and we'll leave you in peace."