One Dead Witness (43 page)

Grace swallowed. She blushed.

‘
Do you hold it every night? I’ll bet you do ... Anyway, I was
telling you a story. Just a short story, because it’s about a
little girl like you. Same age, same height, same braveness. . .
and she went missing from home, but she didn’t last three months or
even three days, because I found her strangled to
death.’

Grace was listening, riveted.

‘
Ever wonder what it’s like to be strangled? No air. Can’t
breathe-’

‘
I say, is this really necessary?’ the social worker
interrupted. Danny fired her a look which had the effect of
clamping the woman’s mouth up. Grace was transfixed by
Danny.

‘
Squirming, trying to. get away, being held dawn, throttled,
maybe even more than one person doing it . . . screaming, a hand
over your mouth and nose so you won’t make a noise and that rope
tightening around your neck, tighter and tighter and your tongue
grows in the back of your throat and your eyes bulge because they
feel like they’re going to pop out. . .’

‘
Don’t!’ Grace screamed, covering her ears. She started to sob
all the way up from her guts, almost retching, then she vomited all
aver the table, over the tape deck, then jerking her head and
covering the lap of the social worker. Danny saw it coming. She
moved in time.

Grace choked, bent double, head between her legs, spitting out
the last of her stomach contents.

Danny walked round the table and laid a hand on the back of
her head. ‘There, there,’ she muttered softly. ‘Everything’ll be
all right, Grace, but you need to tell me about yourself, don’t
you? Then tell me about Claire Lilton, because you know about know
who killed her, don’t you?’

‘
Yeah. . .’ she gasped.

‘
Who?’

‘
Charlie and Ollie.’

Same old story, Danny thought whilst listening - in a
different, vomit-free interview room - to Grace. Abused by a
succession of ‘uncles’ (her mother’s lovers), social services
become involved, goes into care from the age of seven; the short
forays home result in more abuse; behaviour worsens, the homes
become more secure, better supervised. Ends up in one, aged ten,
abused by the staff and the older kids ... it becomes part of a
dark life, part of her day-to-day existence. She runs, returns,
runs some more, but this time vows not to return. Blackpool sounds
good. She’s been there on several day trips. Lots of life, sounds
and people. And that’s where she ended up. Sleeping rough, cruising
the arcades, stealing food ... and then being spotted and watched,
eventually approached. A meal provided. A bath. Somewhere comfy to
sleep. Some cash. Build up trust, something which didn’t take too
long, and then she was hooked. . . and introduced to the man who
had done her so much good; it was no surprise when his cock came
out and it tasted like all the others had done, felt like all the
others had done. And soon she was on the lookout for him - other
vulnerables, mispers, day-trippers even - bring them in, make
promises ... but something horrible happened to one of them. Her
name had been Claire. She didn’t want it, didn’t want the sex, not
for anything. She fought and was subdued. Fought again, subdued
even more and then she was dead.

And now something else: Danny was being nice to her and
getting something from Grace, something for nothing.

Cleaned up, but smelling of sick, the social worker listened
in silence.

Danny coaxed, reassured, probed as she pulled out a tangled
web of emotion, fear, hatred and a million other things because
this was the first time Grace had ever talked. Danny had to deal
with all the excess baggage. That was the way it had to be, like
plaiting fog, as they say. Only then, when it had all been faced
and talked through, could- the questions begin to flow, slowly at
first, about Claire Lilton.

And yes, Danny had to admit, she was not really interested in
Grace’s story. All that was blind alleys. She wanted to hear about
Claire Lilton.

Grace talked for three hours.

Every single operational operative from Kruger Investigations
was out on the bricks searching for Tracey. Photos in hand,
descending on as many likely places as they could think
of.

Myrna, meanwhile, was on to Mark Tapperman.

Under pressure he refused to yield. ‘No, I cannot spare any of
my officers to go looking for a reluctant witness who’s probably
regaled you with the most bullshit you’ve ever heard, just for a
bed for the night and the opportunity to steal from your purse. And
it worked!’

Myrna silently mouthed numerous cuss-words at him from her end
of the phone.

‘
And it’s a godamned good job we don’t have video conferencing
otherwise I’d be able to see your lips bad-mouthin’ me,’ Tapperman
laughed.

‘
How in hell..?’

‘
I’m a cop. People are always cussin’ me silently down the
phone. Hey, look, Myrna, sorry, but we can’t afford the manpower.
Tell you what I will do - I’ll get a radio message out to all
mobiles, ask’ em to keep their eyes peeled, okay? That’s all I can
do. We’re chasin’ our tails here.’

‘
Fine, thanks,’ Myrna conceded. ‘Any progress on Steve’s
killer?’

‘
Patrick Orlove? No, nothing. We’re trying our
best.’

‘
I believe you.’ She hung up.

‘
He calls me his little honey pot, but I don’t really know why.
Because I’m sweet, I suppose.’ Grace managed a weak smile. The
effort of self-revelation had taken everything out of the little
girl. All her own important stuff had been about herself, not
Claire; her past, present and unspeakable future. ‘I met Claire in
one of the arcades and I could tell she were alone, like. I talked
to her and said I could get her somewhere to sleep for the night. I
took her to see Ollie and he give her a couple of quid for some
chips an’ me an’ her went for some an’ came back when the arcade
had closed. We got into Ollie’s car and he drove us to his flat an’
Charlie were there waitin’ for us. I got pissed on wine - I like
wine. Claire had a bit to drink and she got smashed easy, like.
Then Ollie asked me to give him a suck an’ he got it out an’ I
started. I had to close me eyes ‘cos I don’t really like lookin’ at
it and the wine takes the taste off.

‘
While I were doin’ this,’ she went on, ‘Charlie took Claire
out the room and into the bedroom. Going for a shag. Everythin’
were all right and Ollie’d cum in me mouth an’ he made me swallow
it an’ then all hell broke loose. There’s a loada shoutin’ an’
screamin’ from the bedroom and Claire ran out ... she had no
clothes on and Charlie were chasing her. He were fuckin’ angry. He
grabbed her and thumped her in the face and sez to Ollie, “Come an’
‘elp me with the little bitch.” They both grabbed her then an’
dragged her back into the bedroom an’ slammed the door behind ‘em.
Well, the door don’t close proper and it just sorta bounced open a
bit an’ I sneaked a look.’ Tears welled up in Grace’s
eyes.

‘
Go on,’ Danny said gently.

‘
I were frightened. Claire were strugglin’ an’ fightin’. They
were both holdin’ her down and Charlie was trying to get his dick
in her, but she were really fighting and kickin’ and they were
gettin’ really mad. Charlie had a rope or somethin’ round her neck,
pullin’ tight an’ next thing Claire weren’t moving at
all.’

She fell silent.

Danny touched Grace’s trembling fingers. The social worker was
white.

‘
They said she were all reet, just sleepin’. I could see she
wasn’t. They’d been smashing her in the face too and it were a real
mess. I’ve never seen a dead person before. It were ‘orrible . . .
I can still see her now.’

‘
What happened then?’

‘
They carried her into the shower and washed her, I think. They
told me not to look. I just ran out and glued meself up . . . I
haven’t been back.’

‘
Who were the two men?’

‘
Like I said. Charlie and Ollie.’

‘
Do you know their last names?’

‘
Charlie Gilbert. Ollie Spencer.’

‘
What do Charlie Gilbert and Ollie Spencer have in common?’
Henry Christie pondered out loud. He knew Gilbert was one of the
most respected figures on the Fylde, and Spencer was a purveyor of
porn and perversion across the Northwest. ‘Other than their sexual
interests, that is.’

‘
The fact is, they are together and I want to go and arrest
both for murder,’ Danny stated categorically. She could hardly
contain herself after listening to Grace’s story and recording the
subsequent statement. Grace was still in the police station, being
held on the assault and shoplifting charges whilst a decision was
made about what to do with her. In many ways it was out of the
hands of the police. She had to be handed over to Social Services
for safekeeping - not something either Henry or Danny was happy
with. They would rather have kept her under lock and
key.

They were in the incident room at Blackpool police station,
scrumming down with FB and other members of the murder
squad.

‘
Just hold your horses,’ FB said impatiently. His jacket and
tie were off. He paced the room, taking up the tension more degrees
than necessary. ‘Tell me where we’re up to exactly.’

He looked at Henry, who, never afraid of delegation and
empowerment, looked in turn at Danny.

She cleared her throat.

‘
Okay, we’ve boxed off Trent. He’s out of the picture, back on
remand next Thursday, charged with numerous serious offences. If he
ever sets foot out of prison again, it should only be in a pine
box.

‘
Claire Lilton: missing from home. Turns up murdered, and
initially we think it’s down to Trent, but it doesn’t quite match
his murder MO - the knife. So we agree we have a problem - another
child-killer on the loose. Then Grace Lawson turns up, a witness
from nowhere, also a misper, eleven years old who says she saw
Claire get murdered by Ollie Spencer and Charlie Gilbert. Describes
the whole event in gory detail and it matches everything we know
medically and forensically about Claire’s death.’

‘
Thanks - very succinct,’ FB said. ‘Anything else?’

‘
Yes. Claire had four-day-old sperm in her. Her step-father
gave himself up and admitted having sexual relations with her.
We’ve DNA’d him and at present he’s on bail, returning here in a
week’s time. We’re pretty sure he didn’t kill her, but we are going
to fettle him good and proper. Unfortunately there are no further
forensics or DNA; as Grace told us, Gilbert and Spencer washed her
body off. They were very thorough.’

‘
Do we know where the crime took place?’ FB asked.

Danny nodded. ‘Spencer’s flat.’

‘
In that case we need to hit it quick and go for bedsheets, et
cetera, et cetera, down the plughole, everything,’ FB decided.
‘Let’s just see how thorough they’ve really been. Anything
else?’

‘
Yep,’ said Henry, ‘and it concerns Gilbert, bastion of
society. It’s an American angle. Remember Karl Donaldson?’ Henry
raised his eyebrows at FB, whose face went sour at the mention of
the FBI operative. FB and Donaldson had a history and did not match
well. ‘Gilbert was recently arrested in Miami on child-molestation
allegations and released without charge. Seems he’s involved with
some American gangster called Bussola, very big crime-wise in
Florida. His legal business side includes amusement arcades, where
it’s believed he deals drugs. The amusement side is probably where
Bussola’s connection with Gilbert comes in, a man who made most of
his fortune from kids’ pennies. Gilbert apparently buys Bussola’s
arcade cast-offs. That’s how they know each other, I
believe.’

‘
Where’s this leading, Henry?’ FB asked impatiently.

Henry did all but ignore him. Their history gave Henry some
rights not normally available to Detective Inspectors. ‘The dead
girl found over in Darwen, actually: the five-year-old murder.
Don’t ask me how - I’m sure it’ll come out in the wash - but a girl
over in the States read about the murder and came forward to say
she knew who’d done it...’ he paused for effect ‘...Charlie
Gilbert. Then she clammed up and said nothing else, except, and
this is the killer’ - his eyes turned to Danny - ‘that she’ll only
talk to Danny, who she met some years ago. The girl is a Brit,
working over in the States.’

‘
She’ll only speak to me?’ Danny was puzzled. ‘What’s her
name?’

‘
Tracey Greenwood. Ring a bell?’

‘
Not offhand.’

‘
She also insisted on something else too - that Danny goes to
the States and brings her back to England and she’ll give evidence
against Gilbert. But only Danny.’

‘
Out of the question,’ said FB. ‘She’s pulling a fast one for
some reason.’

‘
There is another thing too.’ Henry pulled a face. ‘She’s done
a runner.’

‘
They’ve lost her?’ FB said incredulously. ‘Typical bloody
Donaldson.’

‘
So I’m waiting to hear,’ Henry said.

‘
Okay, thanks, Henry. We’ll see what comes of it – if anything.
But for the moment, let’s concentrate on the here and now - Gilbert
and Spencer.’ He looked squarely at Danny. ‘Go get ‘em.’