Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(88)

Stacey moved back towards the glass partition and took a look.

‘Yes,’ she answered.

The woman looked at her questioningly as she continued to speak into the phone.

‘Blue lanyard?’ Penn continued.

‘Yes.’

‘With the words “Children’s Services” on it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the Dudley Council logo with the arc of white line on—’

‘Penn, all yeses now what the?…’

Her words trailed away as she remembered the contents of the tray brought in by Doctor A.

‘Oh shit, you don’t think?…’

‘Yep,’ Penn answered.

‘I’ll call you back,’ she said, ending the call.

She knocked on the glass.

The woman gave her a filthy look before putting down the phone.

‘I think it’s time for you—’

‘Do you have a staff member off sick or absent?’ Stacey asked as her heart began beating in her chest.

She hesitated before nodding. ‘Yes, one of our case workers, Ernest Beckett, been absent for a few days. Can’t get hold of him—’

‘Sorry to interrupt, but can you give me a description?’ Stacey asked, taking out her mobile phone.

It looked like Rubik was about to get a new name.





One Hundred Twelve





‘Bryant, I gotta be honest, there’s something about this guy not sitting right in my gut.’

‘You know, guv, never do I want a cigarette more than when you say things like that.’

‘Almost four years, Bryant, remember that,’ she said of his abstinence from the thirty-a-day habit he’d kicked.

‘But we’re all agreed that Duggar is our guy. His fingers are in every pie. You think we should ignore that?’

‘We can’t ignore anything,’ she said. ‘Even the stuff that points away from him.’

‘But nothing has actually pointed away from him. Yeah, he had a shit life and if you like I can show you another hundred or more guys in Winson Green with the same history and background. He’s not unique and I don’t understand the change in your gut—’

He stopped speaking as her phone rang. They would continue this conversation later.

‘Stace?’ she answered

‘Boss, I’m at Children’s Services in Dudley.’

‘Err… why?’ Kim asked. She wasn’t sure of any link from her questions on the board to that particular building.

‘The detail, boss,’ Stacey explained.

Kim listened to her explanation and found herself surprised she hadn’t realised that herself.

And her colleague wouldn’t be calling if she hadn’t found something.

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘There’s a social worker. Early fifties, exact description we got from Doctor A for Rubik. He’s been absent from work for a few days and could easily have had access to your records.’

‘You think he passed some detail on to Duggar.’

‘I do, boss,’ Stacey said.

‘Okay, Stace, try and get me an address for—’

‘His name is Ernest Beckett. It’s 17 Wilmslow Avenue in Norton, Stourbridge,’ Stacey answered.

‘Stace…’

‘Gotta go, I’m being called through. Somebody here wants to talk to me.’

‘Okay, but do me one favour when you get back to the office.’

‘Yeah, boss.’

‘Take the plant from Penn.’

‘Will do,’ she said, ending the call with a chuckle.

‘Right, Bryant,’ Kim said, with renewed energy. ‘Let’s go see if Ernest Beckett is at home.’





One Hundred Thirteen





Stacey followed the lanky, thin man through a general office to a room at the back. The space wasn’t personalised and she guessed it was a meeting room used by all.

‘May I know of your interest in Mr Beckett?’ he asked gravely.

Stacey hesitated before answering. In the short space of half an hour she’d gone from waiting in the outer office in Siberia for the scrap of someone’s time to find out about the protocols of accessing information in an old file, to being escorted into the nucleus of the operation by Mr Tweedy, Team Leader. But only once she’d hinted at a link to Ernest Beckett.

This man wanted something from her and he wanted it quick.

She was in no rush.

‘Mr Tweedy, I need to know if Mr Beckett accessed a particular file I told your receptionist about. The one concerning a girl called Kimberly Stone. Until I have that information I’m unable to share any knowledge that—’

‘Yes, officer, we have reason to believe he accessed it. He entered the archive room two months ago.’

‘Is there any way of knowing what he went in there for?’

‘Only two people have been in since. And one of them was me. It’s not a room we use often. The files in there are very old.’

‘So, why are you so sure he accessed the record that I mentioned?’ she asked, confused. They were talking thousands of files, surely.

‘Because the records are no longer there,’ he said, quietly.