The Sister(133)

Is it only the police he needs to keep out?

‘Is there a problem with security around here?’ Miller said.

‘Well, y'know it, don’t you,’ he said with a shrug.

The guitar was one of two propped up against the wall, the other, a battered old Spanish guitar, stood alongside it. There were boxes and boxes of stuff stacked off the floor, labelled A – C, D – F and so on. It was an unholy mess.

Pushing his dark tassels away from his face, he leaned over and retrieved a book from a box labelled W – Z, and wiped the top clean with the elbow of his cardigan.

‘The guitar’s the blue one there, sixty pounds cash to you.’

Miller handed him an envelope.

He opened it to check the cash, unfurling a hand-written note wrapped around the money. It read, 'When did you last see Eilise?'

‘What the f*ck!’ he spat, his face glowered with unconcealed menace and his fists balled, held at his sides.

‘Cool it, fella,’ Miller held his hand out palm upwards in front of him, appealing for calm. ‘I’m a private investigator and I specialise in finding missing people.’

His face flushed bright red with anger, ‘Then find your way out of here, or you’ll be the next one going missing!’ He pulled a switchblade knife from his pocket, flicking the blade out.

‘There’s no need for that, really. I just need to know when you last saw her. Her parents are worried about her—’

‘Parents? Is that what you call those people?’

‘My job is just to find her. The authorities will deal with her family situation.’

‘Did you know she ran away, because of what the old man was doing to her? Jesus, Joseph and Mary. The mother knew what was happening and did nothing.’

Miller inhaled deeply and then asked, ‘Do you know where she is?’

‘What, so you can send her back?’

‘Look, I know why she didn’t report him, and I know she won’t go to the police herself now—’

‘Well would you, if you were in her shoes?’

‘Strawberry, it isn’t about me. I need your help to find her. Will you do that?’

‘Sweet Mary, I never thought I'd see the day. Helping the police,’ he said, rolling his eyes heavenward, putting the knife down he crossed himself.

‘I wasn’t going to stick you with it, only scare you.’

‘I know. Look, will you tell me your real name?’ Miller yawned. The long drive earlier had taken its toll.

‘It’s Barry, like in Wales,’ he said, pulling a sheepish face. ‘Only more interesting.’

‘You cut me off before I could tell you. Eilise has gone missing and someone is claiming to be holding her. My job is to find her before she comes to harm.’

Barry looked at him blankly. ‘I'd no idea.’

Miller scratched his head. ‘When did you last see her?’

‘I used to busk up in Nottingham, Paddy Casey songs mostly, hence the look.’ His hands were out at the side of his head, framing the hair. ‘That’s when I met her the first time. She stood watching me play all day long once and afterwards we went back to my digs. We talked, smoked a bit of stuff; she told me what was occurring. She desperately wanted to get away. I felt sorry for her, so I helped her. We came down south, lived on the Farm for a bit, 'bout three months.’

Miller shook his head slowly, bemused. ‘Barry, I asked you when you last saw her, not how you met.’

‘When I last saw her, I was just getting to that. After we left Dale Farm, she didn’t want to come here with me, she wanted to find her real mother. I got her dropped off by a friend of mine. That was the last I saw of her.’

‘Where did he drop her off?’

‘You know, I’m not sure. I think it was Wickford or Benfleet station?’

‘Okay, but you’re sure he did drop her off?’

‘No doubt about it. I'd trust him with my life.’

‘Did she say what her mother’s name was or where she lived?’

‘She knew all of that, but she didn’t tell me.’ He took out a tobacco pouch and began to roll a cigarette. ‘Okay, Miller, so who do you think has got her?’

‘Someone far more dangerous than you can imagine. I know she’s still alive, but she is in grave danger.’

Suddenly, Barry looked serious. The gravity of her situation had only just dawned on him.





Chapter 114



When the DCI didn’t show up for work, it seemed to confirm Tanner’s worst suspicions, yet still he was reluctant to take matters further until he’d at least had the chance to talk to him. After dialling his home and mobile telephone numbers and getting no answer, he left urgent messages to call him back. By the end of the afternoon, he decided to pay a surprise visit to Kennedy’s house.





Unable to get a response at the front door, he ventured round the back. The garage door was unlocked. Inside he saw the motorbike in bits in the middle of the floor; just as the chief had said it was. Sitting on the workbench was a set of number plates. He picked one up and dislodged a small bolt. It fell and bounced off the end of his shoe. Bending to retrieve it, it wasn’t anywhere in sight, he guessed it must have bounced behind a pile of rags. He moved them and discovered a box that contained twelve compartments. There were seven Kilner jars, with five empty spaces. Inside a bag on the floor was a contraption rigged up with tubes complete with a gas mask.