Czech Mate (20 page)

The silence was longer this time. Tom knew exactly what she was saying and eventually responded. ‘A lot of women would slang their husbands and flounce from the room, but you just remind me how lucky I am when I make cutting remarks like that.' He kissed her temple. ‘Sorry, love. The way things are, there's every chance I'll be free to visit our daughter's future parents-in-law.'

Nora dug him in the ribs, knowing he was joking now. ‘Give it five more years and you might very well be.'

The truth of her words about Max's aloneness stayed with Tom, and he expressed his gratitude for his own happiness with gentle lovemaking when they went to bed. She seemed happy with the low-key passion and they fell into relaxed sleep in perfect accord. When his mobile rang Tom woke instantly, fearing the worst.

‘Sorry to wake you,' said Max. ‘I've been informed that Kevin McRitchie has apparently run from the hospital. They've searched the premises, but he's not in the building. They had complaints of outer clothing and money missing after visiting hours this afternoon, so they believe he stole enough apparel to keep warm, and enough cash to get him well away from the area. Tom, that boy is in a state of acute distress and highly vulnerable. He has to be found before we have another death on our hands.'

Nine

S
aturday dawned dull and overcast. The sky looked full of snow: the Met boys said the cold snap was unlikely to end before the middle of next week, and that was only a maybe. A day when most people would flood the street markets to shop, drink hot punch, and generally have fun promised to be a long, hard slog for SIB.

They had already been at their computers and telephones for two hours, checking with relatives and friends in the UK to discover if Kevin McRitchie had been in touch about possibly taking refuge with them. A Redcap patrol had begun cruising the streets within a twelve kilometre radius of the hospital as soon as the news came in, searching bus shelters, doorways, pedestrian underpasses and any place where a boy could hide away relatively protected from the freezing temperature until early buses began running.

Nursing staff could not pinpoint the exact time Kevin had left, which meant he might have caught the last bus to run past the hospital, but that could not be checked until staff arrived for the first shift. All-night taxi companies were questioned, but no driver had picked up a young lad wearing an assortment of odd clothes. The nearest rail station was too far distant for Kevin to have walked there, but Redcaps checked for a sighting in case he had been given a lift by a late-departing sympathetic visitor outside the hospital.

Having drawn a blank at the most likely places, SIB's fear was that the boy had been offered a ride by a cruising pervert seizing an unexpected stroke of luck. If that had happened, it was possible Kevin might not be seen again.

Knowing he could not have entered the base openly, anyone who had driven through the main gate after 23:00, which was when a nurse had last seen Kevin, apparently asleep in the side ward, was questioned and warned of the consequences of smuggling a passenger past the guards at the gate. No one had.

At first light, Johnny King, Malc Carpenter and Callum Peters of Swinga Kat were visited and asked if Kevin had contacted them about his plans. He had not. His classmates were similarly questioned, with no success. Redcaps manned the station as soon as trains began the daily timetable, hoping the lad would turn up there. Taxi companies, the bus system, police at the nearest airport were asked to contact SIB if Kevin should be sighted. Klaus Krenkel had been notified at the outset, so the
Polizei
had circulated a description of the runaway to all their officers.

Knowing they had done all they could for the moment, Max and Tom departed to freshen up and grab some breakfast. As they walked to their cars, Max said, ‘They were aware of the lad's unstable state. Their lapse of responsibility towards a clearly disturbed patient should be cited when this case is eventually presented.'

‘Sure it should, but I hand the bulk of responsibility to his parents,' growled Tom. ‘How could any father, no matter how disappointed in his son, respond to the news with the comment, “Stupid little bugger!”?
She
burst into tears, but he made no attempt to comfort her. I perfectly understand why Kevin was desperate to escape that situation. In the old days, lads his age ran away to a brutal life at sea, but there's every kind of help for youngsters now. He was being offered it at the hospital. Why didn't he grab that lifeline?'

Max rubbed his prickly chin wearily. ‘I suspect he thought falsely accusing his mother of attacking him at the party had landed him in serious trouble with us. Running must have seemed his only option.'

‘So we're partly to blame?'

‘Inasmuch as we were trying to find who had used violence against him. You know, Tom, whoever did caused a can of worms to be opened in the McRitchie home.'

Tom prepared to slide behind the wheel. ‘When this case is tied up, it might prove to have been beneficial. That family needs sorting big time.'

‘Thankfully that won't be our job. Let's get some food, feed the sluggish brain.'

A shower, a shave, a clean shirt and underwear went partway to sharpening the senses, and a large breakfast designed as sustenance for the rest of the day made Max feel a different man. Seeing Livya would provide a real boost, but that was denied him. Surely she was not already concentrating on a chess board.

Back in his office Max enjoyed another black coffee with Tom. They could only now wait for news of Kevin to come in, so they tried once more to hit on a link between his attack and Clegg's murder.

‘Music and the fact they are male are the only things they have in common, on the surface,' Tom pointed out. ‘So what if there's another that's not obvious?'

‘Such as?'

Tom grimaced. ‘That's why it's not obvious.'

‘Let's say it's the Recreation Centre. One was inside it, the other was walking to it. What activities are held there that both lads might be interested in?'

Producing the handbill submitted by Jack Fellowes after the tinies' party, Tom quoted the daily programme of classes and activities. A week later it still presented no enlightenment.

‘Ante-natal keep fit, Cookery for Christmas, Camera Club, Computer Training for Idiots, Creative Indoor Games, Turkish Belly Dancing, First Aid in the Home, American Line Dancing, German Language at beginner and advanced levels, Make Your Own Jewellery, and Self Expression in Movement.' He cast a glance at Max. ‘That last is taught by Lieutenant Farmer.'

‘She certainly expresses herself in movement very well.' Max then decided to mention her meeting with Sapper Rowe at the hotel yesterday, hoping Tom would not ask why he was there himself. ‘Rowe told Piercey he had to go to town to collect something. Maybe it was for tonight's disco, which she is also helping with.'

‘What was he doing in a posh hotel with her at lunch-time? Hardly a chance meeting, surely.' Tom's eyes brightened. ‘Now here's an idea! She runs that arty dance class on alternate Saturday mornings, and he shows how to create indoor games on the other Saturdays. She told Heather Johnson Rowe was so ingenious he could set up in business when he leaves the army. Those two are the common link.'

‘How so? Kevin and Clegg didn't attend his classes, did they?'

‘No, but she and “Alan” Rowe are closely involved with the Centre, and both were in and out of the storeroom at the time Kevin was attacked.'

‘So one of them could have slipped upstairs to the toilets. Lieutenant Farmer was sitting beside me when Clegg was killed, but Rowe has no firm alibi.' Max screwed up his eyes in concentration. ‘What if the two victims had something going with Rowe? Because he uses the Centre a lot he's able to sign out the key with no questions asked. Piercey said he'd already taken it yesterday morning. In any case, he would have had plenty of opportunities to have the key copied to allow him entry whenever he chose. Uniform searched the building after Clegg's murder, but Rowe would have cleared the vicinity by then.'

‘I can go along with that,' said Tom thoughtfully. ‘But why kill Clegg out in the open?'

‘The meeting didn't go as planned; Clegg walked out. Rowe followed, arguing with him. He pushes for a change of mind, full agreement. Clegg is adamant, says he wants out. Or he maybe threatens to report Rowe's activities. Rowe snatches up the first weapon to hand and silences him for good.'

‘And the same with Kevin?' asked Tom, frowning as he absorbed this hypothesis.

‘Yes, but the Clarkson boys interrupted that uncontrolled attack and saved Kevin's life.'

‘So where does Lieutenant Farmer fit in?'

‘As I said last night, I believe she would be the driving force. Rowe's the action man. I'll give her credit for not condoning violence, but she can do nothing about Rowe's ungovernable temper.'

Tom gave a long sigh. ‘It's as good a theory as any, but what's their game?'

‘I think you should bring Rowe in for questioning and find out. We've
got
to move on this, Tom. I know it's pure speculation, but it's all we've got right now.'

When Tom left, Max stared from the window reviewing all they had just discussed. Was Rowe the link they sought? If so, what deal had he with two lads who lived for music? Max recalled his own interview with Kevin. He had only come to life once they began to talk about Swinga Kat. How would nineteen-year-old Rowe, whose talent lay in creating competitions and games, tie in with someone six years younger and still very much a boy, who had no interest in anything save running a successful pop group?

All at once, the blood ran faster through Max's veins to spur him into action. There was one obvious place for that boy to run to. He prayed he would not arrive there too late to save Kevin.

Mavis McRitchie watched her husband button their fur-trimmed coats, as Shona and Julie talked excitedly about what they wanted to buy with their pocket money. They were more than old enough to button their own coats, yet they were happy to be treated as babies. Greg then picked up the bright, tasselled hats Mavis had knitted and fixed them lovingly on their dark, shining hair.

‘By the time we get to the market you'll have changed your minds half a dozen times.'

‘No, Dadda,' they chorussed.

‘Yes, Dadda. I know you two all too well,' he said laughingly. ‘Right, are we ready for the off?'

It burst from Mavis before she could stop it. ‘Greg, you
can't
. Not today.'

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Why not?'

‘You know why. We have to be here in case Kev comes.'

‘You'll be here.'

The two girls, in their warm clothes, moved to the front door and stood waiting. Mavis studied their bland expressions as they stared at her, and knew she had come to hate them. She moved up to Greg, who looked so handsome in the cream heavy-knit sweater she had made for him, and attempted to prevent him pulling on his padded topcoat.

‘I need you here. I can't deal with this by myself. What'll I say if they bring him home? They'll ask all kinds of questions and I won't know what to answer. If I say the wrong thing it could get you in deep trouble. You know what the Redcaps are. Have it in for you before you open your mouth.'

He pushed her hands aside. ‘Then don't open it. When you do, nothing worth listening to comes out.' He turned to his daughters. ‘Come on, you little rogues, take your dadda to the shops and let him help you choose your presents.' At the door, he said over his shoulder, ‘Time supper for six and get the badminton gear ready. I'm playing a big match tonight.'

Mavis heard their shrill laughter as they climbed in the car, and the greyness in her mind turned a shade darker. They had a limpet-like hold on him. They had lured and cajoled, petted and flattered until he discarded everything he had once loved. They manipulated him, had him performing whatever tricks they chose. They despised her, regarded her as their servant. They had worked on him so that he now thought of her that way, too. In desperation, she had sought consolation from the other family outcast, given him the love and devotion Greg no longer wanted. But her boy had turned from her in disgust, threatened to leave her. Now he had, and his disgust would become public knowledge. She did not want him back. She wanted rid of those two, as well. Things would be different then. It would be like it was before they came.

Her hands reached for the vase which held the huge arrangement of ball chrysanthemums she had bought yesterday. Her fingers gently caressed the cool incurled yellow, rust and flame petals. They were so beautiful. Next minute, she seized the tall green vase and flung her expensive token of love against the wall. She sat for a long time among broken pottery and crushed flowers wondering what else she could do to make him care again.

In the harsh greyness of mid-morning, when the bitter wind sent paper and discarded food cartons racing across icy pavements, RAMSCH looked undeniably seedy. Collecting Heather Johnson, Max had driven to town as fast as conditions allowed. Refreshing his sergeant's memory of his previous visit to the video studio, Max confessed he feared the worst.

‘I strongly suspect young Kevin phoned Gunther asking him to pick him up outside the hospital, which explains the lack of sightings. I know Gunther has a booking for this afternoon – he offered me a couple of hours before noon – so it's unlikely that he's taking Kevin to the house near the border right now. There'd be no time to get back for the filming. But if he went there directly after fetching the lad, he could return this morning with ease. If that's the case, the chances of recovering Kevin before he's severely violated are slim. If it's part of a paedophile ring we may never get him back.'

‘That would be a disaster,' sighed Heather. ‘He's a nice kid. When I think of the understanding and encouragement my brothers get for even their wildest ideas, it makes Kevin's case all the more tragic. No matter our situation, we all need someone, don't we?'