The Crossing Read online

  “Mr Grummett, I must ask you to let me speak to your brother and his wife without interruption. Otherwise I shall have to insist on seeing them alone.”

  “The house was more than a hundred years old. They could have been put there at any time,” said Ruby.

  “That’s right,” said Bob, leaping in to reinforce her argument.

  “How many outbuildings are there, Mr Grummett?” said Tim.

  “Two. The old kennels and the old piggery.”

  “Do you use either of them?”

  “Yes. I keep my tools in the kennels.”

  “And the piggery?”

  “No. It’s empty.”

  “Why don’t you use it? It seems to be quite a strong building. The roof doesn’t leak.”

  “Haven’t had much call for it. The kennels is big enough for . . .”

  “But you do keep a pig, don’t you, Mr Grummett?”

  “Come again?”

  Tim felt a surge of irritation which he suppressed with some difficulty.

  “You do keep a pig. When you gave a statement to the police about your whereabouts at the time of the accident, you said that you were out on your bike, visiting your pig.”

  “Oh, ah. Percy, you mean.”

  “No doubt, if Percy’s the name of your pig. Where do you keep Percy?”

  “Eh?”

  “Where does Percy live?” said Tim, trying not to sound testy.

  “Oh, at my mate Bill’s. Out Algakirk way. Bill lets me use an old pigsty on his land.”

  “Why do you need to use Bill’s pigsty?”

  Bob Grummett’s face assumed a look of intense concentration, though whether he was trying to remember why he kept his pig at Bill’s or was thinking up a plausible reply was impossible to tell.

  Kayleigh suddenly chirped up.

  “It’s because our pigsty gives him the willies, that’s why. He’s never liked it, not since I can remember. And we was never allowed to play in there.”

  “Shut your mouth,” said Ivan savagely.

  “I’m not saying any more without my sollicingtor. I need to speak to Mr Dixon.”

  Tim asked Bob Grummett for his current address – he was still staying at his brother David’s house in Boston – and warned him not to leave the area. He gave Bob his card and said he’d be setting up a formal interview at Boston police station the following Monday, so if he wanted Dixon to be in attendance he should make the necessary arrangements. The other Grummetts sat and stared in silence during this short interlude. Bob himself barely replied, except to say, “Where do you think I’m going with Rube in ’ere?”, jerking his head in the direction of his wife. Ruby herself had closed her eyes.

  “What now?” asked Juliet, after the three police officers had left the ward and were walking along the corridor.

  “I’d like you to try to find Dr Butler. Ask her if she’s got any plans to discharge Ruby Grummett in the near future. I’m hoping that the answer is that they aren’t ready to release her yet, but you know what hospitals are like at weekends. Can’t wait to get rid of people.”

  “I’m sure Louise – Dr Butler – wouldn’t discharge someone just because it was convenient,” said Juliet, flushing.

  “You’re probably right. But no offence – it’s not Dr Butler’s ethics that interest me, it’s making sure I know Ruby Grummett’s whereabouts.”

  “What do you want me to do now?” Ricky asked.

  Tim smiled mischievously.

  “I’d like you to go and talk to Philippa Grummett’s teachers. That shouldn’t take you all afternoon. After that, there’s a little job that I’d asked Andy to do that I’d put on the back burner, but now we’ve established that those are a child’s remains at the lodge, it’s moved a bit higher up the list of priorities.”

  Ricky groaned.

  “I think I know what you’re going to say. It’s about sifting through the Grummetts’ shitty possessions, isn’t it?”

  “You got it in one,” Tim grinned. “But go to the school first. And be as thorough as you can. We think there’s something dodgy about Richard Lennard, the headteacher at Spalding High School. If you smell something fishy about the head at Philippa’s school, we may have found our connection. In which case you may be spared the shitty possessions, at least for today.”

  Ricky smiled ruefully despite himself and made for the stairs. He was just out of earshot and Juliet had started walking down the corridor in the other direction, when Tim’s mobile rang.

  “Superintendent Thornton,” he said. “Hello.”

  “Yes, hello, Yates, I’m glad I’ve managed to get hold of you. Where are you?”

  “At the Pilgrim Hospital. Is something wrong?”

  “I’ll treat that question with the contempt it deserves, Yates. A few minutes ago I might have replied that we’ve only got two missing schoolgirls and a dead child on our hands, but now I wish that were true.”

  “Has something else happened?”

  “Oh, well done, Yates, quick on the uptake today, aren’t you? Yes, something else has happened. A young woman was taken to the Johnson Hospital early this morning. She was very ill – it’s only a kind of cottage hospital, as you know – and they couldn’t cope with her. She was transferred as an emergency case to the Pilgrim Hospital. Where you are now,” he added, with a hint of satisfaction.

  “But I don’t understand why this is a police matter. Was the woman attacked or involved in an accident?”

  “Not as far as we know. But the doctor and nurse who saw her at the Johnson Hospital said the man and woman who brought her in were behaving strangely. Apparently the woman, who claimed to be the mother, also looked unwell. And they didn’t accompany the young woman in the ambulance, even though they were told her condition was serious. The doctor on duty was sufficiently concerned to report all this to us. And now the Pilgrim Hospital’s apparently called him back for more details. They say the woman’s suffering from total organ collapse caused by extreme and prolonged privation. She’s probably been kept within a confined space, with little or no access to sunlight, for months, if not years.”

  “You mean she’s been imprisoned somewhere?”

  “That’s what they seem to think. I want you to find the doctor in charge of the woman, see if you can find out any more. While you’re doing that, I want MacFadyen to get back here to interview the couple who brought her in. He’s with you at the moment, I take it?”

  “No, he’s just left. I’ve asked him to go to Boston Grammar School to question Philippa Grummett’s teachers.”

  “Oh. Oh well, I suppose that’s a priority. We’re so damned short of bodies at the moment, Yates. Who would you send to talk to these people?”

  “I think it’s a probably a job for uniforms at this stage, sir.

  “You’re probably right. I saw PC Chakrabati hanging about just now, looking for you, probably. He might as well make himself useful.”

  “He’s a good copper,” said Tim. “His partner’s shaping up, too.”“Yes, I’ve noticed her,” said the Superintendent approvingly. “Smartened herself up a bit since she came to us, hasn’t she? Lost some weight as well.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” said Tim blandly. “What’s the name of the young woman who’s been brought here?”

  “Ariadne something.” Tim could hear papers rustling at the other end of the phone. “Ah, yes, I knew there was something else that was strange. The mother provided no proper surname, either for herself or the girl. The nurse who gave her the consent form to fill in didn’t notice until afterwards. She wrote the girl’s name as Ariadne Helen and her own name as Helen. That was all. And in itself strange, because the man who accompanied her addressed her as ‘Lucy’.”

  “What about the man? Was he the husband?”

  “No, and because he said he wasn’t related to the girl h
e wasn’t required to sign anything. He said he’d known the mother years ago and offered to help when she turned up out of the blue on his doorstep with a sick daughter.”

  “Sounds a likely story to me. But what is his name? Do we know him?”

  “I don’t know if he’s known to the police. If he is, I doubt it’s in the sense of having a record. He comes from quite a prominent local family. His name’s Matthew Start.”

  Tim whistled. “Councillor Start’s son!”

  “In all probability. I don’t have time to start worrying about his genealogy. Find out as much as you can about that young woman’s illness and get back here soonest, will you?” said the Superintendent, suddenly testy. He terminated the call abruptly.

  Tim looked both ways down the corridor. It was deserted. Damn, he thought, it would have been easier to get information from the hospital about the girl if he’d gone with Juliet to talk to Louise Butler. He headed swiftly for the lift, hoping to catch up with her.

  Councillor Start’s son, he mused to himself as the lift made its jerky descent to the ground floor. It was a coincidence too far.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  JULIET WAS STILL waiting patiently in the reception area.

  “Is Dr Butler off duty?” he asked.

  “No, she’s dealing with an emergency. She’s sent a message that she may be able to see me in half an hour or so. Otherwise she’ll ask one of her colleagues to help.”

  “It would be better to see the colleague now, wouldn’t it, considering how much we’ve got on at the moment.”

  Juliet flushed crimson.

  “Anyway,” Tim continued quickly, “You’re probably right to wait for her, because I have a favour to ask of her – or that I’d like you to ask. A patient was brought here from the Johnson Hospital this morning – a young woman, unconscious, I believe. Thornton’s asked me to find out as much as I can about what’s wrong with her. An abusive relationship is suspected. I thought your Dr Butler would be more likely to help you than just some uniform we might send in off the street – or me, if it comes to that.” He smiled at her.

  “That may be the emergency case she’s with at the moment,” said Juliet. “What’s the woman’s name?”

  “Ariadne, apparently. Strange name, isn’t it?”

  “Strange for round here, certainly.”

  “According to Thornton, she isn’t from round here – though there’s some doubt about that. Finding out who she really is is part of what Thornton’s after. The mother told some cock-and-bull story about being on holiday when the girl was suddenly taken ill. It doesn’t fit with the symptoms, apparently. The medical staff at Spalding smelt a rat. Something that will intrigue you is that it was Councillor Start’s son who brought her in. At least I think it was him. Matthew Start. Claims that he knew the mother years ago and had never clapped eyes on the girl before.”

  “The son’s name is Matthew. I found it on the website when I was trying to discover more about the Starts.”

  “Yes, why was that? I can’t remember now.”

  “Well, I admit it seems a hundred years ago, but I was making a – sorry for the pun – start on the Superintendent’s cold case file. I was interested in the au pair girl who disappeared in the early nineties. She’d been working for the Starts. I didn’t find out much more than that. Matthew Start lives quite close to the Johnson Hospital – in Pinchbeck.”

  “I suppose that figures, since he took the girl there. Logically, he would have taken her to the nearest hospital to him.”

  “Funny that he says the woman just turned up at his house, though. I wonder what Veronica thought about it?”

  “Have you met Matthew?”

  “No. I’ve only seen pictures of him on the website. He and his father both come across as wide boys. The houses they build are poor quality, crammed into estates with virtually no gardens and that matchboxy sort of look that goes with cheap building materials. But there’s a more upmarket side to the business, as well. They also do restoration work and renovations for the well-heeled: underground swimming pools and games rooms, that sort of thing.”

  “I didn’t take to the father when I met him. And it’s odd how they keep on cropping up. Councillor Start was at the railway lodge just after the train was derailed – said he was enquiring after Philippa Grummett – and now his son happens to be asked for help by a woman whose daughter is dangerously ill.”

  “Juliet?”

  A voice coming from behind them startled them both, although it was quiet and somewhat weary. Juliet and Tim both swung round to see Louise Butler standing a few feet away. She was wearing green scrubs and a blue hairnet. She was both slighter and prettier than Tim remembered.

  “Hello, Louise. We’re sorry to bother you. We won’t keep you long.”

  “No need to apologise, but I don’t have long. If it’s about Ruby Grummett, from a clinical point of view there’s no reason why she shouldn’t go home now. Psychologically, though, she’s far from ready for it. She’s being treated by one of our resident psychiatrists for trauma and of course he won’t breach patient confidentiality by telling me what her problems are. From my own untutored perspective I’d say she connects leaving the hospital with the prospect of some kind of punishment. Not necessarily relating to the accident, but that would be the obvious trigger.”

  “So you intend to keep her here for longer?” said Tim.

  “For a little longer, simply because she suffered such a horrific experience. We have to be careful about that. She could still present delayed shock symptoms. And I understand her daughter has now disappeared, so we’ll have to watch to see if that has a further effect on her health. But the general consensus among the nursing staff here is that she’s exaggerating how ill she is.”

  “Putting it on, then?”

  “I wouldn’t like to say that. The mind works in strange ways, especially when under duress. But unless she presents some definite physical illness, we shall certainly discharge her at the beginning of next week. I’m sorry if you’d prefer it to be earlier than that.”

  “It suits our purpose very well if you need to keep her a bit longer.”

  Louise Butler regarded him with a certain amount of irony. For the first time, Tim wondered whether Juliet talked about him to others and if so how she described him.

  “We’re not here to ‘serve your purposes’, DI Yates. I suppose you may find it convenient to keep Mrs Grummett here because you know where she is. But we’re not her gaolers. If she chooses to leave, we can’t make her stay. As I’ve indicated, however, I think that’s unlikely. Is that all?” She turned to Juliet.

  “As a matter of fact there is something else we hoped you might help us with,” said Juliet rather timidly, “but if you need to get back to work we can come again later.”

  Chapter Forty

  ALEX COOPER GREETED Ricky cordially. He was obviously extremely worried about Philippa Grummett. By the time Ricky had arrived at Boston Grammar School, Superintendent Thornton’s news bulletin about the abduction of Cassandra Knipes had been broadcast and Cooper had made the connection.

  “Do you think this is something to do with the kidnapping in Spalding?” he asked Ricky.

  “We have nothing concrete at present, but my boss thinks it’s highly likely. That’s confidential, of course, sir.”

  “I think I know your boss. I tried to help him when he was investigating the disappearance of a former pupil at Spalding High School, Bryony Atkins.”

  “I was involved in that case myself, sir.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t remember you, but I was the head there at the time. I moved to Boston a couple of years ago.”

  “Promotion, was it, sir?”

  A shadow crossed Alex Cooper’s face.

  “Sort of. Well, no, not really. If you must know, I crossed swords with some of the governors. Both they
and I thought it best if I applied for a post elsewhere. Anyway, we have more urgent things to discuss. How can we help you to find Philippa?”

  “We want you to contact us immediately if she gets in touch with anyone here, pupils or teachers. Please impress on everyone how important that is. If she telephones anyone direct, let us know straight away – I’ll give you an emergency number – and try to keep her talking as long as possible, so we can trace the call. A uniformed police officer from Boston will be arriving shortly, to talk to anyone who thinks they might have useful information. Tell him as soon as you can if anything happens, but your first priority must be to keep Philippa talking.”

  “I understand. Other than that, do we carry on as usual?”

  “As much as you can. I’ll stay until the officer arrives. I’d like to speak to any special friends that Philippa has. We’ve already interviewed Alice Cushing. Is there anyone else she’s particularly close to? Or any teacher in whom she might have confided?”

  “Philippa’s quite a popular girl, but I’d say she was closest to Alice. Among the teaching staff, Mrs Clay might be able to help. She’s their form teacher. I asked her to talk to Philippa a few days ago, after the railway accident, just to make sure she wasn’t traumatised by it.”

  “Can I speak to Mrs Clay now?”

  Susan Clay was a motherly, slightly plump woman in her mid-fifties. She had a pleasant, open face and greying curly brown hair. She entered the headteacher’s office quietly and with a certain amount of deference. It was apparent that she liked her boss. Ricky was impressed by her matter-of-factness. Although obviously aware that they were dealing with a crisis, she made no attempt to melodramatise the situation. Alex Cooper motioned to her to sit down.

  “Mrs Clay, I know you’re aware that Philippa Grummett has disappeared from the home of Alice Cushing, with whom she was staying after her home was destroyed by the derailment earlier this week. Mr Cooper tells me that he asked you to talk to her about it, see if she was all right. When was that?”