Brook reached his office just before two o’clock in the afternoon. With him he carried two bacon sandwiches and a polystyrene cup of tea. He finished the first sandwich while writing the report on his encounter with Phil Ward. He was unwrapping the second as Noble walked in.
‘Welcome back to the land of the living. How was it?’
Brook smiled without humour. ‘It was terrible. Don’t ever let anyone tell you the homeless are having it easy. I’m not one for soft living, but after one night. .’ He shook his head. ‘And if I ever suggest doing something similar in the future, John, I want you to have me sectioned.’
‘What, again?’
Brook eyed him in mock censure and bit down on his sandwich. ‘Forget I said anything. Where are we on McTiernan and Kirk?’
‘It’s going nowhere. Still no useful feedback from any funeral homes or medical schools. Same answer from local hospices. No missing bodies. No suspicious employees. Nothing.’
‘What about Jock?’
Noble shrugged. ‘I could put out an alert, but without a photo and even a real name. .’
‘Any film?’
‘There are no CCTV cameras on Leopold Street. Jane’s going to sift through any film for the Normanton area between two and three this morning.’
Brook took another bite. ‘We might have to take the inquiry up a notch if we want to shake something out.’
‘Charlton won’t buy into that.’
‘Probably not.’
‘So the tip about the squat panned out.’
‘I think so. The place is being used as a body farm, John. Tommy McTiernan and Barry Kirk were there. Somebody’s supplying lots of drink to keep a stock of vagrants in one place. There was a case of whisky. Barley wine too. I just missed Jock’s abduction.’
‘You didn’t actually see it happen then?’
Brook looked up. ‘No.’ Before Noble could comment, he held up a hand. ‘I know, I know. He’s a vagrant. He could’ve just wandered off. But somebody turned up to deliver alcohol in the early hours of the morning and I don’t see an alcoholic tramp wandering away from that.’
‘Maybe,’ said Noble. ‘You should brief Jane. She’s working The Embalmer solo for now.’
Brook paused over his next bite. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s your other case. It’s pretty labour intensive. Me, Rob and Dave have been-’
‘Other case? What are you talking about?’
‘The missing students from Derby College,’ explained Noble. Brook narrowed his eyes in confusion. ‘I thought you knew.’
‘I’ve been living rough for the best part of three days, John. How would I know?’
‘Well, you’re logged as the SIO.’
‘I’m what!’ exclaimed Brook.
‘You were there at initial contact with the parent. You even took charge of a piece of evidence, so Sergeant Grey put you down as Senior Officer.’
Brook stared into the distance and closed his eyes. ‘Deity.’ He opened them again and pulled out the leaflet left by Alice Kennedy. He handed it to Noble. ‘I just picked it up. I forgot all about it. Grey — that sneaky. .’ Brook omitted the noun he wanted to use. ‘That’s just great.’
‘Live Forever. Young. Beautiful. Immortal,’ read Noble. ‘Nice idea. This was at the parents’ house, right?’
Brook nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. ‘The mother. .’ He looked up to Noble for a prompt.
‘Alice Kennedy.’
‘She found it in her son’s room — didn’t she?’
‘She did.’
‘That’ll teach me to take an interest.’
Noble typed the Deity web address into Brook’s computer. ‘Closed for refurbishment.’
‘Same as last time.’ Brooks sighed. ‘So The Embalmer. .’
‘Sir, the Chief Super was very clear. As it’s not a murder case, Jane’s flying it solo at the moment.’
Brook shook his head in frustration. ‘I read the Kirk Forensics note. No other developments?’
‘That’s it. It looks the same MO as McTiernan. There are traces of make-up on the loincloth. The fabric is Egyptian cotton — identical to the cloth we found in the Derwent.’
‘Egyptian cotton,’ repeated Brook.
‘It’s pretty common. You think it’s significant?’
‘Who knows? What else?’
‘The rest you know. The heart was chronically diseased — it was removed then put back; the rest of the organs and the large intestine were gone and the blood drained. There was the same stitching on the gash in his side. His remaining hair looked like it had been cut — it’s hard to tell. What fingernails Kirk had left were tidy and might have been clipped but they can’t tell if the body was cleaned after so long in the water.’ Noble shrugged.
‘And still no COD?’
‘The lab’s working on it. It’s tricky with an even longer immersion.’
‘So it could still be murder.’
‘Habib thinks not, but they’re still doing tests.’
‘What else?’
‘The scars below the nostrils were also caused by some kind of sharp tool pushed into the nose to puncture the membrane on the brain and let the fluid drain away.’
‘Same as McTiernan.’
‘Right. One difference: Habib said Barry Kirk’s brain was more cut up and the scarring was much deeper. The right upper lip was almost sliced through.’
‘Did you run the MO through HOLMES and the PNC?’
‘No hits on either database. Nothing even close to this MO came back.’
Brook fired up his computer and logged on to his internal email account. ‘Ancient anatomy,’ he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
‘Sorry?’
‘Something Dr Petty said. Is Egypt a member of Interpol?’
‘I think so. I can check.’
Brook took a sip of his tea and ran his eye down the list of contacts. He clicked on Habib’s email address and typed a few words and numbers, then sent it off to him marked for Dr Petty’s attention. ‘If they are, run the MO past the Interpol database.’
‘You mean. .’
‘Yes, I mean ask Jane to do it,’ replied Brook testily.
Noble raised an eyebrow. ‘Because of the cotton?’
‘No, because they have an ancient culture of embalming the dead.’ Brook sighed. ‘We have little enough to go on. The chances are the Egyptian police are still in disarray after the revolution, but it might be worth asking the question. Also. .’ Brook blinked and turned to him.
‘What is it?’ asked Noble.
‘Kirk’s upper lip was almost sliced through, you say.’
‘Yes.’
‘Worse than Tommy?’
‘That’s right.’
Brook pushed his chair back and stood. ‘Kirk was dumped at least fifteen days before McTiernan.’
Noble’s face wasn’t registering enlightenment. ‘Maybe longer.’
Brook smiled. ‘My God, John. He’s practising.’
‘Practising?’
Brook nodded. ‘Practising on the bodies.’
‘For what?’
‘When we know that, we’ll know who we’re looking for. He’s removing all the organs, including the brain, and trying to leave the corpse cosmetically intact. But he’s having the most trouble extracting the brain without leaving a mark, so he needs more bodies. With Kirk he was clumsy and almost sliced through his top lip but with Tommy, his technique had improved; the scarring wasn’t as pronounced.’
‘And you think Jock will turn up with less scarring than McTiernan under the nostrils because The Embalmer’s improving his technique — interesting.’
‘We should speak to Charlton.’
‘We can’t.’
‘We must. Suppose the vagrants are just the first? Suppose he perfects what he does and gets ready to show us what he can really do.’
‘Hasn’t he already?’
‘I don’t think so. He’s barely started. He’s honing his skills, getting better, but he’s still not good enough. Once he’d cut McTiernan’s upper lip, he stopped hacking at the brain. He needs to leave the body without a blemish. That’s why he didn’t try to hack up his brain as much as Kirk. He’d already ruined him. We’ve got to convince Charlton to-’
‘Sir, Charlton’s not here. He’s at a conference until next Monday.’
‘A conference?’ Brook was annoyed but then started to smile. ‘A conference,’ he said again. ‘Okay.’
‘Sir? I know that look. .’
‘We have no choice, John. This is urgent. The Embalmer needs more bodies to practise on. He got Jock last night in Leopold Street.’
‘You’re not certain of that.’
‘As certain as I can be. He was grabbed before I could get to him.’
‘And the missing students?’
‘Students? You mean we’re missing more than one?’
‘As of yesterday evening we’re missing three — two girls and the Kennedy boy, Kyle.’
‘How do we know they’re one case?’
‘We don’t, for sure. But apparently they were all at the same party last Friday night and no one’s seen them since.’
Brook raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘A party? How old are they?’
‘They’re eighteen, all attending Derby College, all very bright — ’
‘- and all old enough to please themselves,’ finished Brook. ‘They’ve been to a rave, John, and got wrecked.’
‘Or Ibiza. Or a festival,’ Noble said. ‘I know. Nevertheless, it’s been reported and you’re SIO, so until we find them. .’
Brook sighed. ‘Anything gone out to the press?’
‘Not yet. There’s no evidence of foul play or violence. Think we should?’
‘For once, yes. They can do our job for us.’ Then Brook changed his mind. ‘But I suppose we can’t let them run with it until we have a few facts.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Okay, John. For your sake, we’ll do it by the book. Round everyone up, DS Gadd included. We’ll have a joint briefing in two hours — both cases. Meanwhile, you can bring me up to speed on these students. I promise, tonight we’ll talk to the parents.’
As Brook finished his account of the episode in the Leopold Street squat he looked round the Incident Room, hoping the rest of his detectives were feeling the same urgency. ‘And the chances are we’re not going to find Jock alive unless we can work out who’s taken him. We don’t have a picture, we don’t have a surname and even “Jock” could be a nickname. On the other hand, we do have a name for whoever’s dropping off the alcohol. His name is Oz or Ozzy. He’s not Australian. He’s early middle-aged and powerfully built.’
‘Is that all there is to go on?’ asked Cooper.
‘You have to remember who’s giving the description,’ replied Brook.
‘Ozzy. Do we know if that’s a real name?’ asked Gadd.
Brook shrugged. ‘Unlikely. But even if it’s an alias maybe it’s a nickname he uses at work, maybe even at one of those funeral homes or hospices we spoke to on Sunday.’ Brook looked around to see if the name rang any bells. ‘No? Well, make a note of the name for any follow-up. We may have to do it all over again, this time face to face.’ Brook tried to ignore the groans and turned to the large map of the Derby area.
‘But for now, we concentrate on the house where Jock was abducted. It’s our only active lead.’ He pointed to Leopold Street. ‘It’s derelict, with no power, no heating, and it’s home to about ten vagrants, though obviously that number is fluid. We’re going to be doing surveillance ourselves, starting tonight.’ More groans. Brook raised a hand. ‘When Charlton gets back, I’ll make sure we get more bodies on this, but until then it’s down to us.
‘Now, it’s a tight road, so position your car with care. Our suspect has transport and we don’t want to scare him off. You’ll take two four-hour shifts. Rob and Dave, you’ll take ten till two, so go home now and get some rest. John and Jane, you’ll relieve at two tomorrow and stay until six. I’ve been out there three days so I’ll take tonight off,’ he added, unable to meet eyes. ‘Remember, our guy’s a night owl so he’ll only come when the streets are deserted. This morning it was nearly three before he showed up.’
‘You think he’ll be back so soon?’ asked DS Gadd.
‘If he really has got Jock, probably not, but as it’s our only solid lead, we can’t take the risk.’
‘And don’t forget, if we’re right, he has to keep the occupants happy or they might move on,’ added Noble. ‘So he might turn up just to deliver more booze.’
‘Exactly. If he makes a delivery, try to follow him but it will be almost impossible for him to miss you at that hour. So if he’s leading you round in circles, you’ll have to bring him in and hope we can take it from there and get him to fess up.’ Brook smiled and looked around the ring of four detectives who stared sombrely at the floor. He wished their expressions were an indication of the investigation’s gravity, instead of regret at losing a night of TV and a warm bed. ‘Finally, until Forensics puts us on the right track, we get stuck into the legwork. Jane, I want you to check out off-licences and bulk suppliers of alcohol tomorrow. You’re looking for anyone buying large amounts of whisky and barley wine.’
‘Barley wine they should remember.’ She smiled. ‘Nobody drinks that filth.’
Brook pulled a piece of paper from his jacket. ‘Which reminds me. There’s a funeral parlour opposite the house. Duxbury and Duxbury. Anyone remember who contacted them?’
‘Me, I think,’ said Morton.
‘How did you leave it?’
‘They were ringing me back.’
‘Right. I’ll follow them up.’ Brook held out his arms. ‘Any questions?’
‘Do we drop the missing students?’ asked Morton.
‘You missed out the adjective.’ Cooper laughed.
Everyone joined in; even Brook managed a thin smile. Normally he would have discouraged such levity about an active investigation but he felt the missing students were an unnecessary distraction.
‘John and I will follow up on the students tonight. Anything else?’
‘Any usable film?’ said Cooper.
‘Local CCTV is trained on the shops further up Normanton Road but Jane will be in the Viewing Room, checking the hour between two and three last night. We may get a shortlist of suspect vehicles, we may not.’
‘What am I looking for?’ asked Gadd.
‘Vans, in particular. And get plates for follow-up if they look dubious.’
‘But we’re still not sure if this is a murder inquiry?’
‘No,’ said Brook. ‘But when people who like to play with dead things are ready to escalate, it’s the next logical step — especially if they run out of fresh corpses.’
‘What I don’t get, right, is — if this guy’s going for cosmetic perfection, why cut open these bums?’ asked Morton. ‘Most of them are in a right state.’
‘That’s the point,’ answered Brook. ‘He’s perfecting his technique on the most expendable members of society.’ An image of Phil Ward sprinting away from him on the track made Brook pause. ‘And let’s not forget these bums may have families. Once they had what you have: lovers, jobs, a future. They’ve lost all of that. Miserable though it may seem to us, all they have left is life, and no one has the right to take it away.’
While Noble knocked on the door, Brook ran his eye over the small, well-maintained suburban garden basking in the golden glow of dusk. A For Sale sign nestled up against the garden wall. The house itself was neat, if nondescript, similar to every semidetached they’d passed on the Brisbane Estate — a comfortable and characterless modern home for a small, hardworking family.
The compact driveway, its garage outgrown by modern vehicles, had two cars squeezed on to it — a sleek black Jaguar tight up against the rear bumper of a battered Nissan Micra. A good metaphor for Poole’s relationship with Alice Kennedy, Brook decided. Poole had money from a generous pension and his former marriage and, even from the briefest encounter with the couple, Brook had gotten the impression that Poole’s relationship with her wouldn’t have existed without it.
‘Come in.’ Poole stood aside to usher Noble into the warmth of the house. ‘Inspector Brook,’ he nodded as Brook entered in turn.
‘Hello, Len.’
‘You remembered me then, Inspector.’
‘I never forget a face.’ Noble turned to raise an eyebrow but Brook ignored it. ‘How’s retirement treating you?’
‘Mustn’t grumble,’ replied Poole. ‘Still driving a Jag,’ he added, as though it were relevant.
Brook followed Poole and Noble into a small, softly lit living room where Alice Kennedy sat on a sofa next to the uniformed Family Liaison Officer already there. The petite Asian officer held a cup and saucer and balanced an untouched plate of biscuits on her lap. Her hat was on the arm of the sofa and her thick black hair had been wound into a tight bun. She looked ill at ease for some reason.
‘Constable.’ Brook nodded at her. Unsurprisingly he had forgotten her name and gave Noble the usual blank stare to prompt his DS to identify their colleague at the earliest opportunity.
‘Can I get you some tea, Detectives?’ asked Alice Kennedy, her voice taut.
‘No, thank you,’ replied Noble. ‘We have. . other calls to make.’
‘You mean the other parents, don’t you?’ She dabbed a handkerchief to an eye. ‘I heard. Those poor people.’
‘Has PC Patel brought you up to speed, Mrs Kennedy?’ asked Noble.
‘Yes. You’ve upgraded Kyle’s disappearance to medium risk because it’s been several days.’
‘That’s right. We’re widening the inquiry. We’ll be going to the college to ask questions, and we’ve circulated Kyle’s details and the picture you gave us to the British Transport Police — all the ports and airports are on the lookout for him. We also think it’s wise to email his details to Interpol as well.’ Noble tried to smile reassuringly.
‘Interpol?’
‘It’s an international Police Force, love,’ said Poole.
‘I know what it is,’ she said crossly. ‘But why?’
‘In case he’s jetted off to Ibiza or somewhere. They’ll let us know if he’s left Britain under the radar and slipped into Europe. Our border controls are not the best.’
‘No, no, no. That’s impossible,’ said Alice.
‘Why?’
‘He doesn’t even have a passport.’
Brook and Noble glanced at each other. ‘So it would surprise you to learn that Kyle applied for a passport three months ago?’ asked Noble.
Alice Kennedy looked genuinely stunned. ‘Yes, it would, Sergeant. Are you sure?’
‘According to the Passport Service.’
‘It’s something they check for missing persons over eighteen,’ said Poole, with a pompous sniff. ‘So they know the search parameters.’
‘So he may have been planning a trip.’ Alice’s face brightened. ‘I suppose that’s a ray of hope.’
‘We think it’s significant,’ said Noble.
‘But why didn’t he say anything to me?’
‘As a parent, I have to say it’s not unusual for teenagers to keep things from us.’ A shard of personal anguish infected Brook’s features for a moment but passed just as quickly. ‘And when several young adults disappear together it can point to some kind of trip — sometimes to a festival, a booze cruise, even a holiday.’
‘But it doesn’t make sense. He’s never been abroad before. We could never afford it after the separation.’
‘I was thinking of treating him after his A-levels though,’ interjected Poole. ‘I was putting something aside for him. For a surprise.’ He smiled across at Alice, hoping his assertion of economic well-being would bring comfort. She looked back at him without expression.
‘Wait — wouldn’t Kyle need his birth certificate for a passport?’ asked Alice.
‘Yours too, if it’s his first,’ answered Noble. ‘Would Kyle know where they are?’
‘Of course. I keep everything in the office in a folder. In case something happens to me.’
‘Could you. .?’ prompted Noble. She hurried upstairs to check.
Brook glanced across at Poole. When he thought nobody was watching, the former pathologist was staring at PC Patel. Noble had noticed it too. And without showing she was aware of it, Brook’s uniformed colleague folded her arms across her chest.
‘We wondered whether he’d asked you to endorse his passport photograph, Len?’ enquired Brook.
Poole broke off his examination of Patel’s body. ‘Me?’
‘Well, a family member or a parent isn’t allowed to do it.’
Poole shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t ask me. He’d know I’d mention it to Alice.’
Alice returned to the sitting room deep in thought. ‘They’re there but I can tell they’ve been taken out of the wallet.’
‘What about money? You told the other officer who called that Kyle had his own bank account,’ said Noble.
‘Yes. At Santander. It was a birthday present last year,’ said Alice. ‘I gave the officer the details.’
‘We’ve got them. But there doesn’t seem to be much money in there.’
‘I put fifty pounds in a week ago, Sergeant, but he’ll have spent most of it already,’ said Poole, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Kids, eh?’
‘Is he expecting further funds?’ asked Brook.
‘His EMA was cut but we put in the equivalent every Friday,’ said Alice. ‘Thirty pounds pocket-money.’
‘It’s a direct debit, straight from my account,’ announced Poole. Alice’s face darkened. ‘Should I cancel it?’
‘No,’ said Noble. ‘If he’s in the country, he may try to access the money. It would give us a lead.’
‘What about transport?’ asked Brook.
‘Transport?’
‘Does Kyle own a bicycle, for instance?’
‘He does,’ said Alice. ‘It should be in the garage.’
‘It’s still in there, Sergeant.’ Poole nodded. ‘I had it out yesterday. Got to stay trim at my age, you know.’
Brook answered his grin with a faint nod. ‘What about any driving experience?’ he said to Alice.
‘Not even a lesson,’ she replied.
‘I was going to-’ began Poole.
‘Len!’ snapped Alice, her hands splaying in exasperation. Len was puzzled by her outburst but remained silent.
‘What about Kyle’s mood?’ enquired Noble, filling the awkward silence that followed. ‘Maybe he was excited recently, buying new clothes, that sort of thing?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Alice. ‘The only thing Kyle was thinking about was his exams. He’s keen to do well. He wants to live in London eventually.’
‘Could he have gone there?’ asked PC Patel, in a high-pitched voice.
‘He doesn’t know anyone in London, so not without money, no.’
‘You told us Kyle’s on Facebook and we have his email account,’ said Noble. ‘Do you know if he’s on any other social network?’
Alice shook her head. ‘You mean Twitter? I wouldn’t have thought so. He’s just too shy.’
Brook nodded. ‘Can we see his room?’
‘Of course.’
‘Perhaps he has luggage missing.’
‘No, I told the other officer.’ She buried her head in the handkerchief wrapped tightly around her bony fingers. ‘It’s no use — Kyle’s dead. I can feel it.’
PC Patel put down her cup and placed her arms around the distraught woman. ‘You mustn’t think like that, Alice. We’re doing all we can. You’ve got to stay positive for Kyle.’
Len Poole ranged up behind Alice to put a pudgy hand on her shoulder but she shook it off.
‘Constable Patel’s right,’ said Noble. ‘And you said yourself, the passport is good news. It means he was planning a trip. There’s every chance he’s fine. He’s not in any of the local hospitals. .’
‘He wouldn’t be if he was lying dead in a ditch.’
‘After four or five days in a ditch the chances of finding Kyle’s body would be high,’ said Brook.
‘But if he was alive he would have contacted me. I’m all he has; he wouldn’t let me suffer like this.’
‘But he left his phone, love,’ said Poole. ‘Maybe he can’t contact you.’
‘But why leave his phone? That’s the point, isn’t it?’
‘What about his father in Stoke?’ asked Noble. ‘We’ve contacted him but he claims he’s not seen or heard from Kyle.’
‘That bastard,’ she spat out with surprising venom. ‘He hasn’t seen Kyle for five years, or wanted to, and Kyle would never go near him, the way he rejected us.’
‘But might he contact his father, let him know where he’s going?’
‘Before he spoke to me? No chance. But you’re welcome to ask.’
‘We will,’ said Brook. ‘I notice your house is for sale.’
‘We’re moving to Chester,’ she said. ‘We were there this weekend looking at houses. We’re just waiting for Kyle to finish his exams.’ Her lip began to wobble again.
‘You say he left his phone behind. Have you checked his calls?’ asked Brook.
‘I couldn’t. It’s not working.’
‘Mind if we try?’
She fished around in her handbag and pulled out her son’s mobile. ‘Here. And take his laptop from his room. If you can work out his passwords, maybe there’s an email or-’
‘We’ll send someone to collect it.’
Noble produced an evidence bag even though prints were already compromised. Mrs Kennedy dropped the phone in and Noble tried to turn it on through the plastic.
‘I’d give anything if Kyle was with his father, but he isn’t,’ said Alice. ‘That scumbag dumped us both as soon as he found out. .’ She hesitated.
‘. . as soon as he found out Kyle was gay,’ finished Brook.
Alice stared at Brook. ‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Len told Sergeant Grey that Kyle was “sensitive”. I assumed that was code.’
She nodded. ‘Kyle is gay. Or he thinks he is. I was hoping it was just a phase.’
‘But he’s still a nice boy, Inspector,’ chipped in Poole.
‘And why wouldn’t he be?’ demanded Alice.
‘I’m sorry, love, I only meant-’
‘Does he have a boyfriend?’ interrupted Brook.
‘Don’t be disgusting,’ said Alice. ‘He isn’t like that. He isn’t. .’
‘What? Active?’
‘Not at all. I know Kyle.’
‘You didn’t know he applied for a passport,’ pointed out Brook.
The tears appeared again and Brook gestured to PC Patel, who provided further comfort. Brook didn’t enjoy this part of the job. Pushing and cajoling the vulnerable was distasteful but experience had taught him that such pressure ensured the best information.
When the tears subsided, Alice Kennedy tried again. ‘You don’t know him, Inspector. He’s kind and gentle and shy. He wouldn’t know how to approach. . people. . in that way.’
‘So you think he’s still a virgin?’ Remembering the distressing circumstances of his own estranged daughter’s loss of sexual innocence at fifteen, Brook made an effort to soften his tone.
Alice nodded. ‘He would’ve told me. Not that he didn’t fall in love.’
Brook smiled. ‘But from a distance.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And had he fallen in love recently?’
She looked up at him. ‘Yes, Inspector. I think he might have.’
‘Any idea who?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me anything like that.’
‘And might this person have been at Kyle’s party on Friday?’ asked Noble.
‘It’s possible, but I wasn’t there. Besides, it wasn’t a party, it was more of a gathering. He only had a handful of people he was friendly with. People like himself; shy, sensitive. He wasn’t going to bother celebrating at all, but they persuaded him.’
‘They, being?’ Noble held his pen poised over his notebook.
‘You’ve already got all the names I know. And there was only one other boy invited I knew about,’ replied Alice. ‘Russell Thomson. Rusty.’ In spite of herself she giggled then looked round guiltily.
‘What’s funny?’
‘You’re going to ask if Russell could have been Kyle’s. .’ She burst out laughing again. ‘No. He is not Kyle’s type,’ she concluded. ‘Rusty is even more shy and introverted than Kyle. He barely speaks when he meets you and when he does, he’s too afraid to even lift his eyes off the ground. He makes Kyle look like Russell Brand, doesn’t he, Len?’
‘It’s true,’ conceded Poole, with a tight smile.
‘And his mum is very pretty, isn’t she, Len?’
‘I haven’t met her,’ replied Poole. ‘You saw her at a school social evening, remember. I wasn’t there.’
‘Russell Thomson?’ Brook raised an eyebrow at Noble, who nodded. They had Thomson’s address. Brook decided not to ask who Russell Brand was.
‘And the two missing girls were also at the party?’ asked Brook.
‘As far as I know,’ replied Alice. ‘We were away. Kyle knows Adele Watson from classes and they sometimes study together. She’s very smart but very serious. She’s a writer — poetry, I think. Well, I’m not surprised. She has everything going for her. And she’s really pretty. She gets on well with Kyle. Well, you know how it is with pretty girls and. .’ She tailed off, not wanting to hear the word again. When no one else filled the vacuum, she finally said, ‘Gays.’
‘What about Becky Blake?’ said Noble.
‘I didn’t know her that well,’ replied Alice. ‘We’ve seen her around with that other friend of hers, Fern something. She’s attractive in a cheap sort of way.’
‘Bit full of herself,’ agreed Len. ‘Reckoned she was going to be a model.’ The past tense prompted a discreet glance between the two detectives. ‘Well, if her dad had the final say she’d be a shoo-in. Had the poor sod twisted round her little finger, she did. Nothing too much trouble for her — clothes, the latest phones.’
‘Not the type to get on well with my Kyle,’ added Alice. ‘I’m surprised he invited her, but it takes all sorts. She may have been nicer than we thought.’
‘What about alcohol and drugs?’ asked Noble.
‘I bought Kyle a dozen WKDs from Bargain Booze,’ replied Poole. ‘He could have asked for a lot more and I’d have given him the money, but he isn’t much of a drinker.’
Brook eyed Mrs Kennedy for a reaction but she maintained the face of a stoic. Brook had been right about the basis for their relationship. Almost every time Len Poole opened his mouth it was to proclaim economic dominion over Alice. ‘Mrs Kennedy?’
‘Len’s right,’ she agreed, without looking up. ‘Obviously he’d tried a few things. Don’t they all? But drugs made him feel sick; tobacco too. He drank a lot for a year when he was sixteen and still working things out in his head. Nowadays children have to lay claim to adulthood before they’re ready. It’s so sad. Once he became more adult he had nothing to prove.’
‘And when was the last time you saw Kyle?’
‘I spoke to him on Friday afternoon before we left for Wales, through his bedroom door. I actually saw him last on the Thursday night. He went out with a CD and a poster. He said it was for a friend. Don’t ask me who.’
‘What time was that?’
‘About nine.’
‘What was his mood?’
‘Excited, nervous. About the party, I assumed.’
‘You didn’t see him after that?’
‘No. I heard him come in very late. He just ran up to his room and slammed the door.’
‘So you wouldn’t know what he was wearing last.’
‘Not for sure, but he only ever wore jeans and a T-shirt,’ replied Alice. ‘And a blue G-STAR hoodie to go out in. That’s missing.’
‘What about next-door neighbours?’ asked Brook.
‘Neighbours?’
‘They may have seen something the night of the party.’
‘Well, there’s Colin and Leanne, this way,’ Alice said, pointing. ‘They’re away. And the Stevensons, the other side. They were here. They’ve got two young children.’
Alice Kennedy stood by the door as Brook and Noble searched the small bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy, even the bed was made. They found nothing of interest, with no sign of Kyle’s secret passport, and left the laptop for the Scene of Crime Officers to dust for prints before possible removal. No kids used diaries in 2011. Kyle’s entire life would be in his phone, his emails or on a social networking site like Facebook or Bebo.
‘Is his room normally this tidy?’ asked Brook. Mrs Kennedy shook her head. ‘And you say you touched nothing except to pick up the mobile and the leaflet.’
‘Correct.’
Noble produced the mobile, inside its clear bag. ‘Where were they?’
‘On the bed, the phone on top of the leaflet.’
Noble took the leaflet from Brook and arranged the two artefacts on the bed. ‘Like so?’
Alice Kennedy nodded.
‘What about the aftermath of the party?’
‘Nothing out of place when we got home. No mess, no stains, no washing up in the sink, no empties. As if. .’ She bowed her head.
‘As if he was getting his affairs in order,’ said Brook.
‘Only later did we realise it was odd,’ she added. ‘Oh, there was one thing. Blood.’
‘Blood?’ said Brook. ‘Is this the sticking plaster?’
‘Yes, it was in the rubbish. It was just a tiny bit, soaked into a small plaster. There was a bit of linen bandage as well. I assume one of them cut themselves.’
‘Did the other officer take the plaster?’ asked Brook, looking from Noble to Mrs Kennedy.
‘No, I threw it out, though the bag should still be in the dustbin. They haven’t collected yet.’
‘Sergeant Noble will need to dig it out, with your permission.’ Brook declined to look at his DS.
‘Of course. It couldn’t have been more than a graze,’ she said, though her face now betrayed unease at Brook’s interest.
Brook gestured around the room. ‘Have you checked his wardrobe and drawers?’
‘Yes.’
‘Anything obviously missing?’ asked Noble.
‘He often went out with a small knapsack which he kept on the back of the kitchen door. It’s gone. His MP3 would’ve been in there. Maybe some jeans and underwear, his G-Star hoodie. That’s it.’
Brook was fairly certain that an MP3 was some type of modern Walkman. The detectives asked a few more questions then let Alice return to the lounge.
When she was out of earshot, Noble said, ‘There’s no SIM card in the phone.’
‘That’ll make things a bit harder. Kyle obviously doesn’t want to be found.’
‘You think that’s what it is?’
‘We’ll see.’ Brook stood in the middle of the room looking at the posters on the walls. ‘Kyle had quite a thing for The Smiths — and Morrissey in particular. Nobody else gets a look-in.’
Noble turned to him with a mocking grin. ‘That’s groovy, daddio.’
‘Yeah, all right John, I’m not dead yet. And it’s not as though you’re the right side of thirty. Besides, this is a lot nearer my youth than it is Kyle’s or yours. You may not know it but Morrissey’s a gay icon — tells us a bit more about Kyle.’
‘That he likes gay icons,’ chipped in Noble.
‘That he thinks for himself and doesn’t just follow the herd. He’s different enough to choose what he likes rather than what’s in vogue.’ Brook sauntered to the window to look out over the road. He stopped and peered out into the gloom, his gaze held by a young man standing beneath a streetlight on the pavement outside. He was tall and powerfully built and wore a sweatshirt, baggy shorts down to his knees and chunky training shoes. Steam rose from him as he took an ostentatious breather, hands on knees. But in spite of this, Brook was convinced the young man was watching the house, looking directly up at him, framed in the light of Kyle’s bedroom window. A moment later, the young man took a deep breath and turned to power away up the street.
Brook looked at his watch. ‘Have we got DNA?’
‘Toothbrush. The others too.’
‘I’ve seen enough,’ Brook decided. ‘Get a copy of Kyle’s passport application sent over. We ought to find out who endorsed his likeness on the photograph. Maybe we’re looking for an older man.’
‘A gay lover.’ Noble nodded. ‘But why hide it from his mum? It’s not illegal.’
‘Neither is masturbation but it’s not something you would want your parents to know about, John. Especially if Alice knew who it was.’
‘Somebody who’d groomed Kyle for a few years, you mean. A paedo neighbour maybe?’
Brook sighed but didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Possible. Check the SO Register tomorrow. See if it throws up a local name. Adele Watson and Becky Blake have passports, you said?’
‘Their parents said so.’
‘Check when they applied for them. If it was the same time as Kyle, we may be able to put this thing to bed.’
Brook gazed out into the blackness. The back of the Kennedy house overlooked fields attached to one of Derby College’s small suburban sites. Like many such under-used facilities, part of the land had been sold to build new houses, and Brook could see the twinkling lights of new homes half a mile away. Another path passed the bottom of the garden and stretched out into the dark.
‘Got it,’ panted Noble, clutching a black bin bag.
‘Where does that path behind the house go?’
‘It leads up to the back of the college and then round to the new housing estate.’
‘You’ve had uniform take a look, I assume?’
‘Not the full monty, but yes. Why?’
‘And the fields?’
‘They’re shared by Murray Park School and the college,’ said Noble. ‘It’s a big area.’
‘It’s also dark and empty, John. They all lived close and walked to the party so, if Kyle and his friends wanted to disappear and no one saw them leave the house at the front, maybe they just walked away across the fields.’
‘Charlton’s going to love us finger-tipping that space,’ said Noble, nodding at the darkness.
‘We’re not at that stage yet. We do the canvass, bins and grates, and see where we are.’