Missing Page 46

  Justine glanced up. As usual he looked as though he should stink, but amazingly didn’t. Then, returning her eyes to the computer screen, she continued to type.

  ‘I don’t suppose,’ he said, resting his stumpy, freckled hands on her desk, ‘it was you who gave Avery the tip-off about tomorrow’s front page, was it? No, of course not. Why would you want to risk having an injunction slapped on your very own exclusive?’

  In spite of the prickling in her armpits, Justine carried on with what she was doing.

  ‘On the other hand,’ the Critch continued chattily, ‘it would appear that you’ve had your name removed from your very own exclusive. Oh yes, I know about that. You have to be stupider than I already had you down for if you thought it wouldn’t get back to me before tomorrow.’

  ‘No, I knew it would,’ she told him.

  ‘OK. So let’s look at this again, shall we? We know there’s nothing anyone can do to stop that front page, because everything checks out. We’re not breaking any laws, and it’s not accusing anyone of anything. It’s simply telling a sad story of what it can be like to lose a child, and regurgitating a few questions that were asked fifteen years ago – and guess what, Justie, they still need answers.’

  Without looking up, she said, ‘And you think you’re going to get them?’

  Critchley chuckled. ‘Who cares? You did a good job. In spite of your duplicity Avery’s going to squirm on the end of my line tomorrow, and then he’s going to remember what it’s like when the sharks come along to feed. He’s been there before, let’s see if he can survive it again.’

  Justine clicked on to print, then rose to her feet. ‘It’s not a question of whether he can,’ she said, pushing past him, ‘it’s whether his wife can – oh, and by the way, that’s my resignation.’

  The Critch laughed loudly. ‘If you think that’s going to save you from Avery’s wrath, Justie,’ he said, evidently enjoying himself, ‘then you’re more deluded than sad old Jacqueline.’

  Spinning round, she said, ‘No, it probably won’t save me, but it’s going to bury you, you asshole,’ and flinging her bag onto her shoulder she stalked across the office, triumphant in having the last word – until she reached the lift, which started to descend before she could stop it.

  ‘Next time you speak to Avery,’ the Critch called after her, ‘make sure he knows, just in case he’s under any illusion, that this is payback time for The Grunt.’ Still chuckling at her desperate jabbing on the button, he wandered back into his office and was just sitting down when his secretary rang through to announce another call from Avery’s lawyer.

  ‘Put him on,’ Critchley responded, rubbing his hands.

  A moment later Stefan Harding’s voice came down the line. ‘Mr Critchley, I’m calling to inform you that my client will be pressing charges against Justine James for the theft of an email from his computer, and for false representation when approaching Mrs Barrett.’

  The Critch gave a snort of pleasure. ‘Please tell your client that if he thinks that’s going to stop tomorrow’s front page then he’s even dumber than the Justine.’

  ‘You should also be made aware,’ Harding went on smoothly, ‘that the charges against Ms James will extend to you as an accomplice.’

  Critchley barked a laugh. ‘You can try, Mr Lawyer, but it won’t stick, and you know it.’

  Harding’s tone remained affable as he said, ‘Good day, Mr Critchley.’

  As the line went dead Critchley leaned forward to replace the receiver, the smirk on his lips taking longer to fade than the gleam in his eyes. There was more to that call than was immediately evident, he was certain of it, he just wasn’t managing to figure out what – yet. However, the very fact that Avery was riled enough to start suing meant he was under the man’s skin, which was exactly where the Critch wanted to be. In fact, he could hardly wait for tomorrow, when Avery’s discomfort was going to be every bit as public as the cartoon he’d commissioned, and that his old paper still ran, ridiculing the Critch every damned, fucking day of the week.

  Vivienne was kneeling on the floor with Rufus when Miles brought the papers in the next morning and tossed them on the bed.

  ‘It’s there,’ he told her shortly. ‘Not that I thought he’d back off.’

  Reaching over, Vivienne picked up The News on Sunday and turned it over to see the glaring headline in giant black letters. AVERY CHILD WAS NEVER IN CAR followed in much smaller print by claims woman who has dogged family for years.

  After glancing at Miles with an expression that showed her dismay, she began reading.

  ‘After fifteen years the unanswered question of whether or not Samuel Avery was in his mother’s car the day she claims he was abducted, arises again following Mrs Avery’s own recent disappearance. We are told by a family member that Mrs Avery has been in touch with them, but at the time of going to press the police still had no knowledge of her whereabouts. It is believed that since the alleged abduction …’

  Alleged, she repeated harshly in her mind.

  ‘… of her son, Mrs Avery, wife of prominent Fleet Street editor Miles Avery, has suffered several breakdowns. Suspicion of her own, and her husband’s involvement in their son’s disappearance arose at the time, and has never completely gone away. Avery was taken in for questioning six weeks after Sam was supposedly taken, but was eventually released without charge. Mrs Avery is said to have suffered a severe nervous collapse following an accusation of murder by Mrs Elizabeth Barrett, whose husband worked with Avery at the time the mystery occurred.’

  Rigid with contempt, Vivienne turned to an inside page.

  ‘Mrs Barrett is now claiming that Avery paid her to leave his family alone, a claim Avery denies. However, highly significant questions still remain unanswered: Was Sam in the car when Jacqueline Avery drove into the garage? Why were there no witnesses when she was on a busy roundabout? Why has there been no sign of Sam since? Where is Mrs Avery now?’

  Having read enough, Vivienne looked up at Miles.

  His face was pale, but his voice was steady as he said, ‘At least it seems to be more damaging to me than to Jacqueline. Whether she’ll see it like that …’ His eyes closed in despair. ‘That damned Barrett woman came out of the woodwork six years ago, just when Jacqueline was finally getting it together and the next thing I knew she was right back where we started. Worse, in fact, so I don’t even want to think about how she might handle it now.’

  ‘Has Kelsey spoken to her since yesterday?’ Vivienne said, wincing as Rufus grabbed her hair to pull himself up.

  ‘Not that she’s mentioned. It was bedlam for most of the day, though, and she’d had more than enough to drink. I think I’ll—’ He stopped as a loud crash came from downstairs, followed by gales of girlish giggling. ‘Well, I guess that means they’re up,’ he said dryly. ‘Now I’d better go and find out what damage they’ve done.’

  He arrived in the kitchen to find Kelsey on her knees making a bad job of shoving pots and pans back into a cupboard, while Martha attempted to crack eggs into the skillet they’d presumably been looking for.

  ‘Oh, sorry, did we wake you?’ Martha gasped when she saw him. ‘We couldn’t find …’

  ‘Dad, you’re here – ouch!’ Kelsey grunted, banging her head as she backed out of the cupboard, and she and Martha promptly dissolved into laughter again. ‘Sorry,’ she said, trying to make herself stop, ‘we felt like a cooked breakfast. Is that OK?’

  ‘Of course,’ he answered, going to fill the kettle. After placing it on the Aga he said, ‘Have you spoken to your mother again since yesterday morning?’

  Kelsey suddenly clapped her hands to her face. ‘Oh my God, the paper!’ she cried. ‘Has it arrived? Is it bad?’

  ‘It’s not good.’

  ‘Can I see it?’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

  ‘But I can’t go back to school with everyone having seen it except me,’ she protested.

  Conceding the point, he said, ‘First I�
��d like an answer to my question, have you spoken to your mother since yesterday morning?’

  Kelsey started to flush with guilt. ‘No, but I told her you wanted to speak to her,’ she said defensively. ‘I even tried to get her to hold on while I came to find you, but she didn’t want to.’

  ‘Did you ask if she’d received my messages?’

  ‘Yes, and she has, but she said there was nothing to talk about, and we’re not to worry.’

  He looked at her gravely. ‘See if you can get her on the phone now,’ he said.

  ‘But we’re about to—’

  ‘Just do it,’ he barked.

  Kelsey’s heart suddenly tightened as the weird feeling that had come over her yesterday welled up again. ‘What is it?’ she said shakily. ‘Dad, you’re scaring me. You don’t think …?’

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ he told her firmly, ‘but we have to find out where she is, and right now you’re the only one who can do it.’

  *

  ‘Bingo, sir,’ Joy said, coming into Sadler’s office. ‘You know, you really ought to be a detective.’

  Sadler’s expression was droll as he looked up from the paper to find a casually dressed DC Joy leaning against his door frame.

  ‘Don’t your family mind you coming in on a Sunday?’ she asked, stifling a yawn. ‘This is the second one in a row. Sorry, sir, late night. Still, at least we got a bit of a lie-in, so mustn’t grumble.’

  ‘We’re here,’ he reminded her, pointing at the paper, ‘because of this. Now you were about to tell me why I should be a detective.’

  ‘Jacqueline Hatfield,’ she explained. ‘Mrs Avery’s maiden name, and the one she used to rent a house in Richmond, which belongs to a Mr Peter Gascoigne, currently a resident of Malaga, Spain.’

  Sadler’s antennae were up. ‘Go on,’ he prompted.

  ‘I just found an email from DC Ball,’ she said, yawning again. ‘He’s spoken to Mr Gascoigne and apparently the dates fit, so does the description – dark hair, posh, quiet – plus it’s a few doors away from where she used to live. Same street, opposite side.’

  ‘Didn’t anyone do a house-to-house in that area?’

  ‘They did, but if she was there she obviously didn’t answer, and they’ve only just tracked down Mr Gascoigne.’

  ‘Has DC Ball been to the house since finding out where she is, or at least spoken to her?’

  ‘Yes and no. He went round last night, but there was nobody home, so he’s going to try again when he’s back on duty tomorrow.’

  Sadler’s face darkened. ‘Get onto Richmond and tell them to send someone now,’ he said.

  ‘But sir, it’s Sunday and we don’t have the authority …’

  Sadler snatched up the phone as it rang. ‘Yes,’ he growled. Hearing the voice at the other end, his eyes darted to Joy’s. ‘Mr Avery. I was just reading—’

  Miles cut across him. ‘Inspector, I need to know if you’ve made any progress in finding my wife. She’s not answering my daughter’s calls, and after this morning’s paper …’

  Sadler was on his feet, but his voice betrayed no alarm as he said, ‘As a matter of fact, an email has come through telling us where she is. It’s an address close to where you used to live in Richmond.’

  ‘Has anyone been over there?’

  ‘Apparently someone went last night, but she wasn’t at home. We’re about to try again.’

  ‘Please do. And if you have to, break down the door.’

  Sadler was already reaching for another phone. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I have some news,’ he said, and abruptly ringing off he made the connection straight through to his chief constable.

  Having abandoned their plans to lunch at the Nobody Inn, Miles and Vivienne scrambled together some food for Angus and Alice who came over from the cider press to join them in the wait for news. As soon as the meal was ready Miles took a tray for Kelsey and Martha up to Kelsey’s room, then, unable to eat anything himself, he disappeared into his study to speak to his lawyer.

  ‘The press are clamouring for comments,’ Vivienne was saying as she closed the sitting-room door behind Angus and Alice, ‘so Stefan’s acting as spokesman.’

  ‘What’re they going to do about the Critch?’ Alice asked. ‘He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with the kind of insinuations he’s plastered all over that rag of a paper.’

  With a sigh Vivienne said, ‘I don’t think he will. Stefan’s already contacted the police, so it’s probably only a matter of time before Justine’s questioned, possibly even arrested and charged. It depends whether they can make anything stick on the Critch, but they’re going to try.’

  ‘What about Al Kohler’s brother-in-law?’ Angus piped up. ‘Isn’t he The News’s proprietor? Could Miles – or Al – have some sway with him?’

  ‘All I know,’ Vivienne replied, ‘is that Miles and Al spent a long time talking last night, but whether Al’s relationship to Don Dickson was mentioned I’ve no idea.’

  They all sat quietly for a while then, the only sounds coming from the steady patter of rain outside and the hiss and crackle of the fire.

  In the end, voicing what was on everyone’s mind, Alice said, ‘Do you honestly think Jacqueline would … You know?’

  Vivienne glanced at her, then shook her head bleakly. ‘One minute I do, the next I don’t,’ she replied. ‘We know she’s made attempts in the past, but the way she’s started making an effort with Kelsey …’ She took a breath. ‘I keep thinking of an article I read once about how a person who’s arrived at that final decision can become very calm, even kind of happy, as though their stresses and pains have already melted away. It’s like the end is in sight, so they’re starting to feel free. When we were together she talked about Rufus setting her free.’

  ‘Have you told Miles that?’ Alice asked.

  Vivienne shook her head. ‘Not in so many words. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t want to add to how worried he already was. Then, when she and Kelsey started to communicate with one another … Well, I thought, at least I told myself, I must have read it all wrong.’

  They fell silent again, not wanting to add any more weight to their suspicions as they waited for Miles to come back, or the phone to ring, or something to happen. However, the time ticked monotonously on with no interruption, until eventually Vivienne went upstairs to check on Rufus.

  Finding him awake, she hugged him tightly to her and was about to carry him back downstairs when Miles came in, looking more strained than she’d ever seen him.

  ‘No news?’ she asked.

  He shook his head, and took Rufus from her. ‘I’m just going to talk to Kelsey,’ he told her, giving Rufus a kiss. ‘I’ll join you downstairs in a while.’

  Another hour passed. After spending some time with Kelsey, Miles returned to his study, while Vivienne sat with Angus and Alice, absently watching Rufus toddling about the room.

  ‘Oh Jacqueline, ring! Please,’ Vivienne finally urged.

  But the phone stayed resolutely silent and the waiting continued.

  At three thirty Miles went back upstairs to Kelsey’s room and used her mobile to add yet another message to the dozen or so he and Kelsey had already left. After passing the phone back he went to stand at the window.

  ‘She’s probably just gone out and forgotten to take her mobile with her,’ Martha said, trying, for the umpteenth time, to be helpful.

  Kelsey continued to look at her father.

  ‘Martha’s probably right,’ he said, sensing her eyes on him. He turned round, and seeing the fear in her expression he pulled her into his arms. ‘It’ll be all right,’ he murmured, kissing her hair and wishing to God he could feel more confident.

  Martha glanced at him once or twice before, in an embarrassed, tentative voice, she said, ‘You know what I keep thinking?’

  No one responded.

  ‘Well, it’s Sunday, right?’ Martha persevered. ‘So what if she’s gone to church?’

  Kelsey became very still
, then her head went back to look up at her father. ‘She might have,’ she said, the tiniest flicker of hope lighting her eyes, ‘because she sounds sometimes like she’s gone a bit religious. She even said God bless to me yesterday, and she’s never done that before.’

  Though far from thrilled by the timing of the sentiment, Miles was remembering something else now, and extricating himself gently he said, ‘Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  As the sitting-room door opened everyone looked up.

  ‘Last week,’ Miles said to Vivienne, picking up Rufus, ‘when you were talking to Jacqueline, didn’t you say she mentioned St Anne’s in Kew?’

  Vivienne nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right.’ A light of understanding came into her eyes. ‘It’s Sunday. That’s where she’ll be. Why didn’t I think of it before?’

  ‘We need the number of St Anne’s,’ Alice said, taking out her BlackBerry.

  Both Miles’s and Vivienne’s expressions showed small signs of relaxing as they allowed themselves to run with the hope, and seeming to sense something of this, Rufus began tugging at his father’s cheeks.

  Having got the number, Alice switched to speakerphone as a ringing tone sounded at the other end. To everyone’s dismay the call was answered by a recording.

  ‘There’s probably a service going on,’ Miles said. ‘But I should let the police know. Perhaps someone can go to the church and check it out.’

  He’d barely left the room to fetch Sadler’s number from his study when the entryphone at the gates sounded in the kitchen.

  Frowning, Vivienne got to her feet. ‘Who on earth can that be?’ she said, glancing at the window. Though Jacqueline was on everyone’s mind, no one voiced the unlikely hope that she was about to stage a surprise appearance. It would be very welcome, but no one really believed it would happen.

  Going into the kitchen, Vivienne noticed the time as she unhooked the phone. Almost four o’clock already – though it felt as if they’d been waiting a lifetime. ‘Hello?’ she said into the receiver.

  ‘It’s DI Sadler,’ came the reply. ‘I’d be grateful if you could let us in.’