Broken Dreams (3 page)

I looked away. It was going to be a total nightmare. And that was assuming Donna Platt was still alive.

Don
walked over to my desk and placed a pile of print-outs in front of me. ‘Jennifer Murdoch.’

I flicked through them. He’d been thorough, but that was his speciality.

‘There’s more to come, but that should keep you going for now.’

I grunted some form of reply. ‘What do we know?’ I asked him.

‘Not too much more than we already knew.’ He flicked through the paperwork he’d quickly put together and passed me what he was looking for. ‘Take a look at her husband.’

His face was familiar, but I had to scan the text to refresh my memory. ‘Christopher Murdoch.’ He was a local businessman involved in many of the large ongoing regeneration projects around the city. The article I was reading described him as a ‘consultant to the local council’, but as to what he actually did, I didn’t really know. The one thing I was certain about was that he was a major player on the local business scene. If he attached himself to your project, it was likely to be a success.

‘It’s background information’ said Don, reading my mind. From a financial point of view, it suggested Jennifer Murdoch didn’t need to work, but it didn’t explain anything else. I was sure the police would be taking a look at him, though.

‘I’m waiting to hear back from some people.’

It’s surprising how much information is a matter of public record, but we earn our money by uncovering the pieces of information which aren’t so readily available.’

‘Are you helping Sarah?’ he asked me.

I walked over to the kettle and poured myself a re-fill.  ‘Meeting her there.’ It’d be a distraction from Jennifer Murdoch, if nothing else.

Don nodded his approval. ‘I’ve got a warrant to serve once we’re through. A rush job, as per usual.’

I watched him gather his papers together as we prepared to head out. I took it as my cue to put my mug down and collect my stuff together.

I sat down next to Sarah, huddled around a small table, legs touching.  The pub was hidden away on Bankside, an industrial area situated on the outskirts of the city centre, dominated by the type of light engineering enterprise that employed Gary Platt. The place was almost empty, only a handful of lunchtime drinkers sat at the bar. I’d read the area had at one point been populated by Irish immigrants, though any houses were long gone. Chances were my family had lived in the area.

‘Did your mother explain to you about us?’ asked Sarah.

He stared at us. ‘How much are you charging her?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I don’t like the thought of you taking advantage of her, not in her state. How much are you charging her?’

I took a deep breath and leaned forward. ‘Frankly, Gary, it’s not enough.’ I didn’t want to sound callous, but I wasn’t about to take a lecture from him. Sarah dug me in my ribs with her elbow.

‘What he means, Gary, is we’re working for very much less than our usual rate.’

‘£200, Gary. That’s all’ I said, interrupting. ‘And frankly, if it wasn’t for Sarah insisting we’d help, I would have said no. Now, if you think it’s too much money to maybe find your sister, then fine, we’ll walk away right now. We’ll use the money pursuing other avenues, and when it runs out, which will be very quickly, we’ll draw a line underneath it. Otherwise, you could show us some gratitude and try to help us.’ I was angry but maybe I’d gone too far. ‘Look’ I said, hoping to sound more conciliatory, ‘We want to see if we can find Donna, so your mother finds some peace.’

Gary nodded. ‘I’ll try to help you.’

‘Good.’

Sarah took over the questioning. ‘Obviously we didn’t want to push your mother too hard, so we were hoping you could fill in some of the blanks.’ She opened her notepad.

She’d pre-prepared some questions. I only had one question for him at this stage - why had Donna suddenly disappeared?

Gary shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Was there an argument, or disagreement?’ Sarah suggested. ‘A falling out?’

Gary laughed. ‘There were always arguments. We were a family.’

‘Anything specific around the time she left?’

‘I don’t think so. It’s such a long time ago now.’

‘We appreciate that, Gary. What about her music?’

‘What about it?’

‘Did your dad approve? It must have been difficult for Donna. She wanted to be a singer, but I’m sure most parents would want their children to get a steady job, build a career.’

I wondered if Sarah was talking from personal experience. I can’t imagine Don’s burning ambition for her was to become a private investigator. I picked at my ham salad sandwich. It was disgusting. The lettuce looked days past its best, the bread bordering on being stale.

‘As I said, I don’t think our dad cared for it all that much, and what he said, went.’

‘What did he do for a living?’ I asked.

‘Fuck all. He used to work the trawlers, but when it all went to shit, he couldn’t find another job.’

I knew what he was talking about. My uncle had worked in the fishing industry but that was probably thirty five years ago. Once the jobs disappeared and nobody wanted his skills, he’d worked in factories, making ends meet until he retired. I took the hint that Gary didn’t want to talk about his father, so I asked him if he had any idea where Donna had run to

‘No idea. She’d spoken to people about moving to London, to improve her singing, but I knew Donna, she wouldn’t have made it to London.’

‘Why not?’

‘For a start, she was always skint. She wouldn’t have been able to get to Leeds, never mind London.’

‘What about her other friends?’ I looked at the name his mother had given us. ‘How about Lisa Day, the girl she sang with? Did she know anything, or suggest where she might have gone?’

‘Nobody knew anything. We asked her. I’m telling you, she just disappeared.’

‘And the police were no help?’

‘Said she was an adult and could do what she liked. They fobbed us off with some of those lost-people charities, but they did nothing for us, either.’

‘What about boyfriends?’ asked Sarah.

Gary shook his head. ‘She didn’t have one.’

‘Ex-boyfriends?’

‘Only the one I knew about and she got rid of him. Dad didn’t want her bringing men home, so I can’t really help you there.’

‘Did Donna have a job, other than the band? Any workmates who would have missed her?’

‘She worked part-time in a shop, nothing serious.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I never heard anything from them. I guess they got someone in to replace her.’

I sighed and pushed my sandwich to one side. It sounded like nobody had really made the effort to find her. 

Sometimes working as a mixed-sex team is useful. If I’d been alone when I’d knocked on Lisa Day’s door, I doubt I would have got my foot in the door, especially looking like I did. Sarah smoothes the rough edges off and her pleasant manner invariably gets us invited in. Like a lot of council properties, Lisa Day’s house had been neglected to the point of no return. It needed decorating from top to bottom and an overall maintenance upgrade; the gas fire looked like it had seen better days and the thin carpet was worn in patches. Lisa was juggling two children. The one on her lap slept while the other child ran freely around the room. Sarah, as ever, was great with them and helped Lisa keep the older one under control as she asked the questions.

‘It’s been years since I saw Donna’ she explained to us. ‘I’m not sure how I can help you.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got to pick the eldest kids up from school soon.’

Lisa was in her late-twenties, around the same age as Donna. I guessed life hadn’t been too kind to her, but I didn’t ask.

‘We know it’s been a long time’ said Sarah. ‘We appreciate your time. Donna’s mum really needs to contact her.’

‘Why?’

Her suspicion was tangible. A mistake. She looked away from us.

I glanced at Sarah. ‘Mrs Platt has cancer’ I said.

‘Bad?’

I nodded. When was it ever not bad?

‘Poor woman. I really liked her.’

‘How well did you know Donna?’ Sarah asked.

Lisa composed herself. ‘We were best friends. We lived next door to each other, went to school together. All that kind of stuff.’

‘Mrs Platt mentioned you sung together?’

She looked embarrassed before answering. ‘Yeah, we had a band. Not a proper band, mind you. It was just us two using backing tapes. We played the local pubs and clubs. It was alright; we made some cash and we had some fun for a bit. We called ourselves
2’s Company.
’

I thought I sensed something in her voice. ‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Frank Salford happened.’

‘Frank Salford?’

‘He was our manager.’ She looked at Sarah and then me. ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’

‘Why not?’ I asked.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t want to get involved with him again.’

Sarah nudged me. It meant shut up. We’d take a look at him in due course. ‘Did Donna have a boyfriend?’ she asked.

Lisa looked relieved at the change of subject. ‘Nobody she took seriously. There was always one or two on the scene but nothing that was going anywhere. It was difficult for her, living at home. She couldn’t take them home. Her parents didn’t approve.’

It might be something worth looking into. She clearly knew more than Donna’s brother. I leant forward. ‘Why did Donna leave, Lisa?’ There had to be more.

‘I don’t know.’

‘No idea at all?’ I asked.

‘Donna had big dreams.’ She shrugged. ‘She was always saying we should go to London because that’s where it all happened. She seemed to think Salford could help us.’

‘You didn’t want to go to London?’ asked Sarah.

Lisa shook her head. ‘We were too young for all of that. I’ve got family here, so I couldn’t swan off to London, even if I wanted to.’

‘Is there anywhere else Donna might have gone? Anybody else who might be able to help us?’

Lisa shook her head. ‘Singing was her life. It was all she wanted to do.’

‘Do you think she went to London?’

‘Doubt it. Donna talked a lot, but I don’t think she had it in her to leave Hull, to leave her mam.’

‘Did you ever try to contact her?’

‘I couldn’t. It was down to her to ring me because she knew where I was. I had no way of finding her.’

‘What did her parents think about the singing?’ I asked, changing the subject.

She shrugged. ‘Don’t really know. Her mam always supported us and offered to help with costumes and stuff.’

‘What about her father?’

‘What about him?’

‘Did he take an interest in the band?’

‘No.’ She laughed and looked up. ‘He never took much interest in anything other than his drink and horses. He didn’t approve of us singing.’

‘Was it a problem for Donna?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If her mother was interested in helping her, and her father wasn’t, did it become a problem? Did they fall out over it?’

Lisa shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was none on my business.’

Sarah nodded to me that we were about finished. She was probably right but I wasn’t happy with her response about Donna’s father. Maybe it was something for another day. I opened my notebook and made a note of their manager’s name. ‘Any idea where we might find Frank Salford?’

 ‘No idea.’

I wanted to speak to Salford. We stood up to leave.

‘Will you let me know if you hear anything?’ she asked us.

‘Sure’ I said. I turned back to her. ‘Do you still sing?’

She looked at me properly for the first time. ‘Only to my children.’

I leant down and placed the flowers I’d bought earlier on the grave. It was late afternoon and the light was starting to fade. It was my favourite part of the day and the time I liked to visit. Set back from the main road, it felt peaceful. Even though I knew it word for word, I read the headstone, as if on automatic pilot. It had been two years, but it felt much, much longer. My mobile vibrated in my pocket. I looked at the screen and disconnected the call. It was Don calling. I’d left him a message earlier to check out
2’s Company’s
manager, Frank Salford, but it could wait. He told me to speak to him before I did anything further. I sensed somebody stood close to me and turned around.

‘Alright, lad.’ The man was old, I guessed in his seventies.

‘Alright.’

‘It doesn’t get any easier, does it? It never goes away.’

We stood there for a moment in silence, looking at the headstone, detailing dates of birth and death. I could tell he was doing the maths.

‘I think I’ve seen you here before’ I said to him.

‘I visit every week.’ I followed his finger to where he was pointing to. ‘My wife’s over there. Nearly ten years now but I still miss her every single day.’

There wasn’t much I could say. We stood there silently, bound together by our respective losses.

‘38 is no age.’ He was pointing at my wife’s grave. ‘No age at all.’

I didn’t make a habit of daytime drinking, but it had been that kind of day. The Queens Hotel at the end of Princess Avenue was my local and close to my flat. Princes Avenue was the place to be seen in the city. Everywhere you turned, there were bars and restaurants, all trying to sell the illusion of continental relaxation. Hull was a tough town but however well you covered over the bruises, the true nature of the place was never far from the surface. Queens is situated well away from the rest of the bars and I like to think it has a well-kept secret feel about it.  It certainly doesn’t appeal to the kind of people who mistake the trendier bars for catwalks, so I was happy enough.  I paid for my lager and headed over to an empty table to read the evening paper. I was about finished with the sports section when I noticed I had company. A man of similar age to myself was stood over me.

‘It’s Joe, isn’t it?’ he asked.

I nodded but had no idea who he was.

‘I thought so. Joe Geraghty.’

The man sat down and extended his hand to me. ‘Dave Carter.’