Creeping Ivy (7 page)

‘Very good, sir,’ said Blake, wanting to kick him all the way upstairs and down again. He was beginning to feel even sorrier for Antonia Weblock. ‘Let’s get on with it. Will you lead the way?’

Chapter Five

Two other officers were walking up a short flight of steps outside a large red-brick Victorian house in Clapham at much the same time. They were pleased but a little surprised to find that there were no journalists hanging about there. As Sergeant Lacie knocked on the peeling black-painted door there was a barrage of frenzied barking from inside.

‘Perhaps that’s why the ratpack’s not here. They hate big dogs as much as I do,’ she said to her colleague. ‘What about you, Sam? Are you scared?’

‘ ’Course not, Sarge.’

‘Great – you can go in first, then. I’ll—’

The door opened before she could finish telling him her plan, to reveal a tall thin man with one hand on the door and the other on the collar of the barking dog. Neither of the visitors paid any attention to the man. Both were too busy assessing the likely viciousness of the animal, a large black beast with a tan nose and a wildly flailing tail.

‘Yes?’ asked the man. ‘Can I help?’

‘Mr Benedict Weblock?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’re police officers, sir. I’m Sergeant Lacie and this is Constable Herrick,’ she said, showing her warrant card. ‘We’d like to talk to you.’

‘Fine. Come in quickly or I won’t be able to hang on to Daisy and I don’t want to have to chase after her down the road again. I take it this is about Charlotte. Is there any news?’

‘Daisy?’ echoed Sam Herrick in a voice of extreme disbelief as he hung back. ‘Touch of Rottweiler in there, is there, sir?’

‘So the vet claims. I’d have said Doberman myself.
Is
there any news?’

‘Nothing yet,’ said Sam, pushing the door back with the flat of his hand and keeping his gaze firmly on the dog. ‘The park’s being searched and we’re talking to everyone who might have seen her yesterday. You sure that animal’s gentle?’

‘Definitely. Visiting children use her as a footstool and practise hairdressing on her. I’ll put her in the kitchen. Go on into the sitting room, will you?’

Exchanging glances, the two officers walked into the long, dark hall, which was floored with the original tiles and papered with mustard-coloured Anaglypta below the dado rail and a lighter shade of yellow above. There were long claw-marks in the Anaglypta and a couple of adult-sized bicycles to show what had made them. A large pair of muddy green gum boots stood beside the door mat and three leather dog’s leads hung from a hook beside a bunch of keys. There was a mirror on one wall beside the door through which the man and dog had disappeared, and two doors opposite. The nearest was open.

The police chose that one, only to find themselves in what was obviously a study. There were two flat-topped desks, one impeccably tidy with papers neatly arranged in a series of wicker baskets; the other had heaps of children’s exercise books, papers, boxes, pens and computer disks piled higgledy-piggledy all over the top and balanced on the corners of several opened drawers below.

‘D’you suppose this is the living room?’ asked Sam Herrick.

‘No. This is our study,’ said Ben Weblock from behind them both. ‘Come on through.’

Without the dog to distract her, Kath Lacie had a good look at him, rather liking his long, lined face with the tired gentle eyes and full lips. His floppy greying hair looked so soft that he must have just washed it, and he seemed to have cut himself shaving, or else scratched his neck on something. There were two fine red marks just below his chin, already scabbing over. She did not want to antagonise him by making notes, but she examined them carefully so that she could include everything about them in her report.

Apparently unaware of her interest, he turned and led the way into a pleasantly shabby room with a fitted carpet in a colour somewhere between beige and mushroom. Four soft-looking armchairs upholstered in a variety of faded prints and a sagging sofa were the only pieces of furniture, apart from a couple of ugly tables made of scarred dark oak. Along one wall was a fitted bookshelf crammed with hard-backed books and a serious musician’s hi-fi system. That was the only expensive object in the room and, unlike the rest, it looked well dusted.

‘Have you really found nothing at all?’ he said as he turned to face them again. ‘It seems extraordinary.’

‘Nothing yet, sir,’ answered Kath. ‘And we wanted to ask you a few questions.’

‘Why me? Oh, do sit down, both of you.’

‘Thanks. You must see, sir, that we need to find out when you last saw Charlotte and where you were yesterday between, say, two-thirty and four in the afternoon.’

‘Are you suggesting
I
had a hand in whatever’s happened? That’s ridiculous.’

‘There’s nothing ridiculous about it at all, sir. And you’d have to have a bloody strange reason not to tell us where you were,’ said Sam Herrick with more aggression than Kath thought necessary. She suppressed a sigh at the thought of explaining to him yet again that you get more out of people when you make them feel comfortable with you than when you stamp and throw your weight about or insult them.

‘When
did
you last see her?’ she asked calmly.

‘I’ve never met her.’

Kath stopped in the act of lowering herself into a deep armchair covered in heavy cretonne dimly patterned with parrots and palm trees.

‘Never? But she is your daughter, isn’t she, sir?’ she asked, becoming conscious that her thighs were aching. She gave herself permission to sit down properly and smoothed her black linen skirt over her knees.

‘Frankly,’ he said with a bitter little smile, ‘I’ve always doubted that.’

‘So is …’ Kath consulted some notes she had in her pocket … ‘Robert Hithe the child’s father then?’

‘No. He was a later arrival.’

‘Oh. Then who is? D’you know?’

‘No. There was a fairly large cast of possibles. You’ll have to get it out of Antonia. If you do, you’ll be doing better than I ever managed.’

Sam Herrick opened his mouth, but Kath’s frown stopped him saying anything. This was far too delicate – and important – for Sam to start trampling about in it.

‘Was that why you parted?’ she asked, not expecting to get anything but an ugly snap in reply.

‘Not quite,’ said Ben Weblock, surprising her with his willingness to answer. ‘But I don’t see how it’s relevant to Charlotte.’

‘Anything might be. We can’t tell yet. You must see that, sir. No one’s sensibilities can be considered in this kind of investigation, not when there’s a child at risk.’

‘No. You’re right there, Sergeant. Sorry. It’s all still rather raw, I’m afraid, even after four and a half years. And I don’t like talking about it. I suppose in the beginning I put up with Antonia’s affairs because supporting her seemed more important than anything else. Then, after I’d met my second wife, other things became important, too. That’s when I stopped. OK?’

‘Yes. Thank you. It’s good of you to answer so frankly. When exactly did your first wife tell you she was pregnant?’

‘When she understood I wasn’t playing games,’ he said reluctantly. Then, as though something in Kath’s sympathetically encouraging smile spoke to him, he added: ‘She came back here one evening after I’d got her to move out to say we were going to be parents. It was – technically – possible, but I didn’t believe her then. And I don’t now. She’d never expected me to find anyone else. I’m sure the announcement was revenge for that. In a way, you know, she gave up trying to make me believe the child was mine too easily for it to have been true.’

‘Ah. Yes. I see. While we’re here, would it be all right if Constable Herrick had a quick look round? Nothing formal like a search, but he’d better have a look, if you don’t mind. I expect you can imagine the sort of report I have to give my superiors when we get back.’

‘Sure. Nothing’s locked except the garden door. The keys are on the right of it behind the curtains. If you need anything, just shout, Constable Herrick.’

‘Right you are.’

‘So you’ve never talked to Charlotte at all, never got to know her?’ said Kath as soon as Herrick was out of the way.

‘That’s right.’ Ben Weblock shut his eyes for a moment as though they were hurting.

‘Why does that upset you, sir?’ she asked, trying to disguise the sharpness of her interest.

‘Because for the first time I’ve been regretting that I was so stubborn.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘If I had known her, I might have been able to help. Have ideas about what could have happened to her. It’s …’ He shook his head. ‘How is Antonia? Have you seen her?’

‘No, sir. Colleagues of mine are talking to her now.’

‘God! I hope she’s all right. Charlotte, I mean. Antonia could cope with most things, but any four-year-old facing …’ His voice died. Kath watched him keenly as he struggled. After a moment he tried again. ‘D’you think she’s still …?’

‘I couldn’t say, sir,’ said Kath quickly. ‘And I don’t think it’s a good idea to speculate. We’ve all heard too much these days of what can happen to little children who are abducted, and it may not be as bad as that. We’ll get some news soon. It’s usually quite quick.’

‘Is it? Haven’t there been cases when it’s been weeks before a body’s found, sometimes years?’

‘Bodies, sir?’

‘Aren’t they usually killed when they’re as young as this?’\

Could any normal man, Kath asked herself, be able to ask a question like that about a child who might have been his own daughter? His voice had trembled badly earlier on and yet he had brought out that question as though he had been asking the price of tea. Even if he’d convinced himself that someone else had impregnated his wife, he must have wondered in the intervening years whether he had been wrong. And now that the child might be dead, shouldn’t he be more upset?

‘Where
were
you yesterday afternoon?’

‘Here, working on next week’s lessons, until I took the dog for her usual walk.’

‘I see. And was anyone else here with you?’

‘No. My wife was conducting a seminar – it was the first part of a weekend course that concludes today – and she didn’t get back until nearly six. And as far as I can remember, no one phoned or called. So I haven’t any witnesses, either. Sorry.’

‘What about the neighbours? Might they have seen you?’

‘They might. But we’re a polite lot round here and don’t go poking our noses into other people’s business. And I didn’t go into the garden or play heavy metal music or anything obvious like that. You may just have to take my word for it.’

‘That’s not something we ever do,’ came Herrick’s voice from behind Kath. She looked over her shoulder. He gave a small, disappointed shake of the head.

‘Ready, Sam?’

‘Yeah, Sarge.’

‘Well, thank you very much, Mr Weblock. You’ve been very helpful. Here’s my number in case you should hear anything or think of anything that might be useful. You will ring us, won’t you?’

‘If I have anything to tell,’ he said with a warmer smile. ‘But it’s unlikely. I’m too cut off down here and much too far from Antonia’s household to hear anything useful.’

‘Maybe, but you never know. You’re a teacher, aren’t you, sir?’

‘That’s right. At the local primary.’ He laughed in a modest way that made Sam Herrick look as though he felt like throwing up. ‘One of the few men left. Unlike the rest, I still think getting kids happy enough at school to teach them the basic skills is the most important job in teaching.’

‘You like children, do you?’ asked Sam, not even attempting to sound sympathetic.

‘Yes, Constable Herrick. I like them very much.’

‘Then why haven’t you any of your own?’

‘I don’t think that question is within your remit, is it?’ He looked from Herrick to Kath Lacie and back again.

‘In the circumstances, sir,’ she reminded him quietly, ‘I think just about any question is legitimate. Don’t you?’

‘Maybe. All right. My wife, my second wife, and I have not been able to have any yet. It’s not something either of us enjoys talking about. But you can check with the local doctor if you need confirmation. He sees both of us and knows all about us.’

‘Thank you,’ said Kath. ‘If you could just give me his name and address?’

Weblock dictated it and then stood up as though expecting them to leave.

‘Any of the kids in your school ever disappeared or gone on the at-risk register, or had any unexplained injuries?’ asked Sam, quite suddenly. ‘Anything like that, sir, that we ought to know about? In your classes or any of the others?’

‘No, Constable, nothing like that.’

‘But you’ll admit that it happens,’ said Sam, sounding to Kath as though he were trying to needle Weblock. She decided to let him run a little longer before she reeled him in.

‘According to the papers, sure. But I’ve never come face to face with anything like that and I’ve begun to think there’s a lot less of it about than most people believe.’

‘Oh, you do, do you? Know any paedophiles yourself, sir?’

‘No, Constable, I do not.’

‘Some people say they need treatment, sir, not punishment. What d’you reckon to that?’

Ben Weblock sighed and leaned against the ugly mustard-coloured wall, putting his hands in the pockets of his wide buff corduroy trousers.

‘Everyone who breaks the law should be punished. But anyone who mistreats children needs education and therapy to—’

‘Therapy, sir?’ Sam Herrick’s voice was disgusted.

‘To make them confront their offending behaviour,’ Ben said steadily, apparently unaffected either by the officer’s voice or the contempt in his face. ‘Come on, Constable, don’t look so surprised. You must know they say things like: “she enjoyed it”; “she was flirting with me, asking for it”; “it didn’t do me any harm, so why should it hurt him?”. They have to be taught about that line no one can cross. And they have to be made to admit the damage they do when it
is
crossed.’

‘You’re beginning to sound quite passionate, sir.’

‘Oh, I am, Constable. On that subject, I am a passionate man. Aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, well.’

Herrick opened his mouth and looked as though he might say something else, perhaps something unforgivable, and so Kath Lacie pushed him to go ahead of her out of the house.