Close to Home (DI Adam Fawley #1)(61)

‘He actually said that? That she stole you?’

She shakes her head, a little reluctantly. ‘Not exactly. But that’s what he meant. I know that’s what he meant. He said they had to pay for an ivy thief.’

‘You what? What the fuck’s an ivy thief?’

Daisy looks at her feet. ‘I don’t know,’ she says softly, her cheeks red.

Jamie starts laughing, spluttering into his fag. ‘You got it all wrong, kid. It’s not an ivy thief. It’s IVF. It’s something they do in hospital. For people who want babies. Sorry, but there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it – you’re their kid all right.’

She stares at him, her mouth open, but in anger this time, not delight. Then she shouts, ‘I hate you! I hate you!’ as loudly as she can and runs away towards the trees.

He stands gaping after her. ‘What the fuck? Oi – come back here!’

But she doesn’t turn, perhaps she doesn’t even hear him. After a moment he tosses his fag into the undergrowth, hunches his shoulders and starts after her.

‘Daisy? Where are you?’ he calls as he pushes through the trees. He’s getting pissed off now; first it was that stupid bloody circus and now she thinks she’s a sodding princess. ‘You can’t hide from me. I’m going to find you. You know that, don’t you, Daisy. I’m going to find you.’

*

Quinn buys us a coffee in the café across the road and comes over to the table where I’m sitting by the window. I take a mouthful. It’s too hot. But it beats the station stuff hands down. ‘So, having heard all that, do you still think Jamie did it?’

Quinn opens a sachet of sweetener and tips it into his cup. ‘I don’t think he abused her, if that’s what you’re asking. Not sexually, anyway. He seems genuinely repelled by that idea. As for killing her? Possibly. But if he did, I don’t think it was planned. He’s not that methodical. It would have been rage – something that flared up. And I suspect that happens on a pretty regular basis, because let’s face it, he’s one angry kid. An angry kid who also doesn’t have an alibi. Or, at least, not one he’s prepared to share with the likes of us.’

‘So if he’d done it, we’d have found her by now?’

‘Probably. I can’t see him covering his tracks that well.’

I nod. ‘Did you believe the story about the circus?’

He’s more equivocal now. ‘If it did happen like he says, I find it hard to believe Daisy reacted so badly. OK, she might not get on with her parents, and she might have that fantasy a lot of kids do about being adopted. All the same, it’s a bit of an extreme reaction, isn’t it? But, hey, I’m hardly the one to ask. I don’t know how eight-year-olds think.’

But I do. ‘Everything seems enormous when you’re that age.’

‘Sorry?’

‘It was something Everett said. A couple of days ago. And she’s right. Kids that young get things out of proportion. Especially bad things. They can’t put them in perspective, and they can’t see beyond how bad they feel right then. If children under twelve commit suicide, that’s usually the reason why.’

I stick my spoon in my coffee and stir it. I can feel Quinn looking at me. Wondering how to react. It’s more than I’ve ever said to him before. More than I’ve said to pretty much anyone.

The café door swings open and I see Gislingham coming briskly towards us. On a mission, clearly. ‘Challow just called,’ he says as he gets to the table. ‘He’s tested the mermaid costume.’

‘And?’

‘There’s a rip in it, at the neck, but given it was being worn by kids week in, week out, it could just be normal wear and tear. There wasn’t any blood, but there was DNA. Four different individuals. Sharon Mason, who we know handled it; Daisy Mason, likewise; and another unknown female, presumably Millie Connor.’

‘And the fourth?’

‘Male. A pubic hair, to be precise.’

There’s a rock in my chest. ‘Barry Mason?’

‘Yup, in one.’

Quinn makes a face. ‘The same Barry Mason who claims not to know the costumes were switched – who claims not to know there even was a mermaid costume.’

‘Ah, but that’s where it gets complicated,’ says Gislingham. ‘Sharon says she found it under his gym kit, so if it came to court his defence is bound to argue that his DNA got on the costume that way.’

‘But if Barry was the one who hid it, that in itself would be proof enough – ’

‘We can’t prove that,’ says Gislingham, not letting Quinn finish. ‘It could have been Sharon, trying to frame him. He’s going to say that, isn’t he, even if it’s bollocks? And there’s one more thing.’ He turns to Quinn. ‘We checked the time of the 999 call to the fire service, like you asked.’

Quinn sits back. ‘And?’

‘You were right. The call came through at 2.10. That’s nearly ten minutes after Sharon got out of her burning house, leaving her son inside.’

‘OK,’ I say, ‘give Ev a call and get her to ask Sharon what the hell she thinks she was doing. Not in those exact words, of course.’



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