Their Lost Daughters (DI Jackman & DS Evans #2)(66)
He turned back to the board. ‘So who else have we spoken to?’
‘Broome’s gardener, boss. Bloke named Len Curtis.’ Max looked at his notebook. ‘Funny sort. It was hard to get him to string two words together. But he has been out to Windrush a few times, with messages or deliveries for Micah Lee, and he only lives a couple of miles from Roman Creek.’
Jackman wrote the name on the board. ‘Who else?’
‘Philip Groves, the vet who lives a short way from Windrush, on the edge of the marsh. And two other neighbours, a bird-watcher called Ralph Jenkins, and a couple called Ernie and Betty Coulter,’ said Rosie.
‘And we spoke to Bill Hickey, the farm manager where Micah Lee lodges.’
Jackman paused. ‘But the farmer was away. What was his name, Gary?’
‘Toby Tanner, sir. He’s expected back from Germany tomorrow, according to Hickey.’
‘Is that it?’
‘No, sir,’ said Charlie. ‘There were several other people living in the Roman Creek area that uniform saw, but most were elderly women, apart from a couple who have a holiday let a bit further up the coast road. No one they’d pay a second visit to, and all the so-called “neighbours” are well scattered over a very large area. Windrush is quite remote.’
Marie raised her hand. ‘Maybe we should include Asher Leyton in the list of people we’ve spoken to. It’s a very vague connection, but he did know of Shauna Kelly and she has definitely been placed at one of those parties. Plus we also know he has a penchant for talking to street girls.’
Jackman added Asher Leyton’s name.
‘Okay, so we go back and talk to Benedict Broome, Elizabeth Sewell and Micah Lee. And on a different tack we hit the drinking club again.’
As there were other officers in the room, he kept strictly to the abducted girls, Toni and Emily, and the victims of the Children’s Ward. ‘The organisers may have nothing directly to do with the abductions, but we need them brought in, questioned, and those damned parties brought to an end.’
He looked around at the tired faces staring back at him. ‘Now, all of you who can, get yourselves home and get some rest. We start again tomorrow.’
*
‘That guy is one serious fruitcake,’ said the Harlan Marsh custody officer as he closed the door of the interview room. ‘Well, he’s all yours, and the best of British in trying to get any sense out of him.’
DI Jim Salmon wondered if he had been a little too quick to agree to help out DI Jackman. He’d already heard that Chief Superintendent Cade had tried to interview Mad Micah, and had had to abort the attempt almost immediately. He just prayed that Cade wouldn’t get to hear about this particular effort. At least the chief was off duty until the morning.
Along with his sergeant, DS Terry Langer, and a social worker hastily acquired from the duty roster to safeguard the prisoner’s interests, Jim reluctantly entered the small room.
Micah Lee sat bolt upright, his eyes wide and staring, and his nostrils flaring with anger.
Jim Salmon looked at Micah and decided that Jackman owed him bigtime.
With a deep sigh, he switched on the tape and made the introductions.
‘Mr Lee, we need to talk to you about an underground room beneath the property called Windrush at Roman Creek. That is the property belonging to Mr Benedict Broome, and where you have been working for some time.’ Jim kept his voice even and quiet. He knew that Micah would react badly to any show of assertiveness.
‘We are interviewing you because of your knowledge of the layout of Windrush, Mr Lee. Having worked on it for so long, we feel that you may be able to help us.’
‘What room? I don’t know about any underground room!’ boomed Micah.
Jim saw a vein pulsing in the side of Micah’s head.
‘Surely you know that there is a tunnel leading from the back of the main house out towards the old barn and the storeroom, and that there is an underground room beneath them?’
The big man looked like a caged animal. He chewed furiously on his bottom lip, and drummed his fingers frantically on the table top. ‘I don’t know of any tunnel. No, no tunnel.’
Jim attempted a smile. ‘Okay, but do you know—?’
A keening howl suddenly erupted from Micah’s lips and reverberated around the tiny room. They all leapt up, Jim’s chair fell backwards, and the social worker uttered a little scream.
Then, before anyone could move, Micah took a series of ragged, gasping breaths and pitched forward onto the floor.
Jim hit the panic button. ‘Get help!’ he yelled, and threw himself to his knees beside the unconscious Micah. ‘We need an ambulance.’
‘The duty doctor is in the building,’ called Langer. ‘He was dealing with a junkie as we came in.’ He ran for the door. ‘I’ll get him.’
The doctor was at Micah’s side in minutes.
‘It’s probably some kind of panic attack. He’s sweaty and tachycardic. He may well have hyperventilated, causing him to faint, but,’ the doctor checked Micah’s pulse again, ‘we need to get him to the hospital to be checked out properly. I’m not just covering our backs, Detective Inspector Salmon, I’m not at all happy with his condition. There could well be a neurological reason for this and we can’t risk leaving it.’