Catch the Fallen Sparrow (19 page)

Maree gave a quiet sound of protest. ‘Why didn't you say anything?'

Kirsty gave her a disconcertingly clear stare. ‘What could you do? It'd only 'ave made things worse. Where else was we goin' to go? Enquiries,' she muttered. ‘People askin'. No way.

‘Anyway ... He's gone. Last year some time. He's in the army now,' she said proudly. ‘I've seen him. Round the town. So it does work, don't it? It does make you brave.' And with a curious attempt at logic she said, ‘They wouldn't have 'im in the army, would they, if he weren't brave.'

No one in the room had an answer to that. ‘Kirsty.' Joanna spoke gently. ‘Somebody killed Dean. They murdered him and then tried to burn his body. We want very badly to find out who it was. When we ask you all these questions it's only to find out who it was. Do you understand?'

‘Course,' the girl said.

‘Kirsty,' Joanna tried again, ‘when Dean used to disappear someone looked after him, didn't they?'

The girl blinked. ‘I don't know.'

Maree tried next. ‘Kirsty,' she said, ‘someone must have looked after Dean. He was always clean when he came back. He had money in his pocket. Sometimes he had new clothes. Who bought them for him?'

The girl looked from one to the other. ‘You don't understand, do you? Dean was close with his secrets. He never told no one. All we knew was he went to his family.'

‘But he had no family,' Maree replied. ‘His mother abandoned him when he was two.'

‘That's what you think. She weren't 'is real mother. If she had have been she wouldn't have abandoned him. Would she? And another thing ... she can't have been his real mother. Else where is she now?'

Maree looked helplessly at Joanna.

‘Do you know who killed him?'

‘No.' The girl's eyelids fluttered. ‘We all loved Dean. He was a funny little bugger.'

Joanna tried another avenue of questioning. ‘Was it Gary who gave him the drugs?'

Kirsty looked towards Maree. ‘I don't know a thing about no drugs,' she said firmly. ‘Not here.'

Again a blank.

‘Were any of the older boys intimate with him?' Joanna was floundering. The words were old-fashioned – inappropriate. Maree came to the rescue.

‘Interfering,' she said. ‘You know, like on the telly, that Esther Rantzen thing ... Sexy?'

Kirsty stared at the floor. ‘I don't know. I don't know ...' She looked helplessly at Maree. ‘Please, make her stop. I've had enough now,' she said.

When she had left the room Joanna and Mike looked at Maree. ‘He didn't have a family,' she said. ‘His mother abandoned him when he was two. There isn't a father on his birth certificate. It doesn't make sense.'

‘Well, he was going somewhere,' Mike pointed out.

Maree sighed. ‘It was in the nature of an imagined friend. He made it up.' She hesitated. ‘He had to have done. All the kids here have fantasies about wonderful, TV-advert families who are just dying to take them back to the stately home and spend thousands of pounds indulging their every whim.' She was upset. ‘It's one of the things I find most pathetic here. They lie.' She glanced at Joanna. ‘They lie.'

‘And was Dean lying?' Mike sounded angry. ‘Someone strangled the little blighter – probably a few hours after giving him a fifty-pound pair of Reebok trainers.'

Maree looked away. ‘Adults use the children's dreams,' she said, ‘for their own ends.'

Jason was a pale boy, thin with sad eyes and an uncomfortable habit of shaking his head intermittently. He looked younger than the fourteen Maree assured Joanna he was. But before she could ask one question he blinked tightly. ‘I can't help you.' He spoke in a low, pleading voice. ‘I haven't a clue who killed Dean. Honest,' he said, ‘I don't know anything.'

He looked terrified.

Joanna tried to put him at his ease. ‘You're the artist, Jason?'

‘No ... please – leave me alone. I don't know anything. I haven't done anything. Don't ask me.'

Joanna smiled at the boy. ‘Don't worry,' she said. ‘It's the job of the police to find out all about Dean. Just tell me a little bit about him. Maree says you three were best friends.'

‘He was clever.' Jason stared out of the window. ‘Really clever. He knew loads of things. He could get things too.'

‘What sort of things?'

Jason shook his head vaguely. ‘You know, all sorts of things – money, sweets ...'

‘Drugs?' Joanna asked.

Maree shot her a warning look then turned to reassure the boy. ‘It's all right, Jason, we don't want to cause trouble but we know Dean had had some drugs. Where did they come from?'

His whole head bounced rapidly from side to side. ‘Don't know,' he said. ‘They'd bloody kill me ...'

Joanna touched his arm. ‘Was it the big boys?' she asked.

Maree cleared her throat. ‘Inspector ... I must ask you. Don't put words into his mouth.'

Joanna tried another tack. ‘The two boys who left last year, Swinton and ...' she glanced through her notebook, ‘and Jim Pullen. Was Dean very good friends with them?'

Jason looked wary. ‘Yes,' he said casually.

‘Good,' she said. ‘And now, Jason, why don't you tell me where Dean used to go when he disappeared?'

‘To his family,' he said.

Both Mike and Joanna moved forward.

‘What family?' she asked.

‘I don't know.'

‘Do you mean his mother?' Now Joanna was puzzled. If a mother, then where was she? The child was due to be buried soon and she hadn't turned up.

She looked at Maree who nodded thoughtfully.

‘I don't think it was his mother,' Jason said slowly, frowning in concentration. ‘He always called it his real family. And they was rich,' he added defiantly.

Maree glanced at Joanna. I told you so.

‘How long had he been in contact with this family?'

‘Ever since 'e was about seven,' Jason said. ‘That's when 'e started runnin' off. 'E might have been seven. 'E bogged off one day when he didn't fancy goin' to school. Said he was going to find his ma. It was about a day or two later he came back and he had things. You know – clothes and a new pair of trainers and he had a ten-pound note.'

Joanna felt her pulse quickening. ‘Jason,' she said softly, ‘this is very important. Where was it? Was it somewhere near or was it far away? How did he find out about it? How did he know they were his real family?'

The boy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno,' he said, then he stopped. ‘Hang on a minute, I remember now. I told him the police had been all over looking for him and he said 'e'd been right under our noses all the time.'

‘Did he come back in a car?'

Jason shook his head slowly.

‘Please, Jason. This could help us very much. Can you remember if Dean said anything about the place or the people he'd been with?'

The boy shook his head again. ‘He told me it was a secret when I asked him ...' He turned to Maree. ‘Can I go now?'

She nodded.

Mike stared after him. ‘He knows who it is,' he said. ‘We'd better watch these kids.'

‘You think so?'

‘I know so, Joanna,' he said.

‘I have a suggestion.' Maree spoke. ‘Let me talk to them. I've known them for years. They trust me. Besides,' she pointed out, ‘they're far more likely to confide in me than they are in you.'

They had to agree.

Mike sat down and looked at the two women. ‘The question is,' he said, ‘is he telling the truth?'

‘Well?' Joanna spoke to Maree.

The social worker thought for a moment. ‘I've known Jason for about ten years,' she said. ‘As you probably gathered he isn't very bright. But neither is he imaginative ... Of the two, Dean would have been far more likely to fabricate a story. But ...' she held one finger up to give the words emphasis, ‘if ... if any part of this story is to be believed, and just assuming that it is true ...'

‘What?' Mike asked angrily. ‘That some raving homo took a little kid home, buggered him and then bought him clothes, gave him money and sent him packing?'

‘What I'm saying is,' Maree spoke patiently, ‘if it did happen, I very much doubt that it was Dean's father. There is no father.'

‘There has to be one,' Mike said. ‘Biologically.'

‘It's a space on the birth certificate.'

‘He never said where he got to on his “excursions”,' Joanna reminded them. ‘So,' she frowned, ‘assuming that it was this “father” who killed Dean — possibly because things were getting too dangerous if Dean did talk to Jason – Jason himself is in danger.'

‘He could still have thieved the stuff,' Mike said.

‘I don't think he did.' Joanna was thoughtful. ‘He was a very pretty child – easy prey to someone with predatory instincts. I believe someone was conning him.'

‘All right then,' Mike said. ‘Who? The person had to have somewhere to keep him. He was sometimes gone for days on end. It had to be somewhere they wouldn't be disturbed.'

‘My money goes on Latos,' Joanna said. ‘The sooner we poke around his premises the better.' She looked at Mike. ‘I want pictures of Dean to saturate the town. All I want is one sighting of them together by a witness who will stand up in court. That's all I ask.' She turned to the other two in the room. ‘Not a lot, is it?'

She crossed the room towards the window and caught sight of Mark Riversdale's battered white Vauxhall spin to a halt at the top of the drive. ‘And this is where we get more facts from.'

The three of them watched silently as he opened the door of the Cavalier and climbed out. He stood for a moment, staring at the police car, his hands in his pockets. Then he lifted the tail door and struggled with a cardboard box. A minute later they heard him open the front door and footsteps along the passage. There were voices in the kitchen then he entered the living room.

He held out his hand. ‘Sorry I wasn't here when you arrived. We ran out of a few things.'

He was sweating profusely and nervously wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. ‘Hot, isn't it?'

‘I don't find it so.' Mike was at his most stolid.

Mark Riversdale chose to ignore the remark. He sat down heavily on the sofa and glanced at Maree. ‘Any problems?'

‘They weren't terribly helpful,' she said, ‘but we didn't try too hard – didn't want to upset them.'

He nodded.

Joanna spoke then. ‘I'm sure they know something, but they're not telling. Please – can you impress on them they are in danger if they don't tell us all they know. Someone killed Dean. I believe they could strike again. Until the killer is caught they are in danger.' She paused as Mark Riversdale's eyes flickered over her. ‘You've worked here for how long?'

‘Eighteen months,' he said cautiously.

‘So you were here when Gary Swinton lived here?'

He nodded. ‘And glad when he left.'

‘Were you aware he was bullying some of the younger children?'

‘Look,' he said, ‘it happens in these sorts of places. There isn't a lot you can do about it.'

‘Couldn't you have tackled him about it?'

He grimaced. ‘It makes things worse for the kids,' he said. ‘They would have been picked on more than ever.'

‘And you find drugs acceptable too?'

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘What do you expect me to do? Bring the police in?'

‘It might seem a good idea.' Mike's tone was hostile, his dislike shining through his words. ‘It's what we're here for.'

‘It wasn't a big problem,' he said defensively.

‘Dean was given injected drugs on more than one occasion,' Joanna said.

Mark Riversdale blinked. ‘Not here he wasn't. I'd have known ... A few tablets at the most.'

‘Tablets you don't mind, she said sharply.

‘I do mind.' He glared at her. ‘But I am realistic. In a place like this you don't get choirboys, you know. What you get is problems. Problems no one else wants to take on. If I keep them alive and get fifty per cent school attendance, and keep them out of the Young Offenders Institution until they're sixteen, I consider I'm doing pretty well. I don't even look for such things as GCSEs or university entrance, Inspector.'

Joanna could almost feel Mike Korpanski's hackles rise and the heat increase in the room. She cleared her throat and tried a new tack. ‘What did you do before you came here?'

‘I worked in local government,' he said.

‘Which department?'

‘Inland Revenue,' he said ruefully, and gave a slight, tentative smile.

She met his eyes. ‘Why did you leave?'

He looked paralysed by the question. ‘I... I... I wanted a change.' It sounded lame.

‘What made you come here?' she asked.

‘I'm fond of children,' he said.

‘But you have none of your own?'

‘I'm not married,' he said.

She smiled. ‘A girlfriend, perhaps?'

‘Not at the moment.'

‘I see.' She paused for a moment to regroup her questions. ‘When you came here, Mr Riversdale, what did you think of Dean?'

He thought for a minute. ‘Confident, prone to telling stories –'

She interrupted. ‘What sort of stories?'

‘The usual ones, having a family, money, they were coming to claim him one day ... All rather pathetic really.'

She looked enquiringly.

‘They haven't a family,' he said, ‘so they invent one.'

‘There is no family?'

‘No,' he replied. ‘His mother has shown no interest at all in him since he was a baby. A brief visit when he was two, since then – nothing. You can look at his case file if you like.'