Dead of Winter (13 page)

‘What the …? Oh, it’s you. I’ll be lodging a complaint. I might even sue you bastards for defamation of character. Now get out of my way.’

Fenwick held his ground. Around Rod Saxby’s neck he had spotted a glint of gold. Bazza saw his glance and nodded; the man wore a chain.

‘As I think Inspector Holland will have explained to you, Mr
Saxby, you have two choices: you either come with us willingly or we arrest you.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘Obstructing the police would be a start and your reluctance to help us find your niece is making me wonder whether we could find other charges if we looked more closely.’

‘I’m not having this nonsense; I’m calling my lawyer, right now.’

‘Please, Rod,’ his brother interrupted, sounding so unlike himself that it silenced everyone. ‘She could be dying out there. If they need to talk to you, eliminate you from their enquiries or whatever the bloody hell they call it, then just do it. For me, I’m begging you.’ He was almost in tears. The effect on his brother was immediate.

‘All right, old man; keep your shirt on. I was going to; just didn’t like the bastard’s tone.’

He walked out of the front door, Henderson close behind carrying Issie’s book in an evidence bag. Fenwick told Holland to contact CC Norman without explaining why. When he was sure Rod Saxby wasn’t about to bolt he returned his attention to the others.

‘We haven’t found Issie but I need to update you on a few things, sir.’

‘You’re staying? There’s no need. We—’

‘Yes, I’ll be staying for a while.’

‘Have you eaten, Superintendent?’ Jane Saxby asked, her voice on automatic. ‘There are bacon sandwiches in the kitchen; Millie made them but we can’t eat. Or some tea, perhaps?’

‘That’s very kind.’

Bob Cooper emerged from the study and followed them into the sitting room. The previous night’s fire had burnt to nothing and there was a chill in the corners where cold air fell from the windows despite the curtains. Lady Saxby shivered and her husband lifted a pashmina from the sofa to wrap around her.

‘I’ll turn up the heat,’ he muttered.

‘Tea would also be nice, Bill,’ Jane prompted and her husband left obediently.

As soon as he was gone she rounded on Cooper, her face furious.

‘You told him, didn’t you? You Judas; I trusted you. What have you got to say for yourself?’ she demanded, turning to Fenwick.

‘First, Bob Cooper did the right thing; second, he didn’t breach your confidence and tell the other officers, he kept the information for my ears only; third, he trusts my judgement and knows that I’m too experienced to do anything to jeopardise your daughter’s safety. He did the right thing – for Issie.’

Fenwick expected another emotional outburst but Lady Saxby seated herself in a corner of the sofa and curled her feet up before closing her eyes in despair.

‘There’s brandy in the cupboard beside you, Mr Cooper. Could you pour me one?’ She opened her eyes to scrutinise him. ‘I know it’s a strange breakfast but I need it.’

Cooper poured a measure of Rémy and she was sipping it in silence when Saxby returned.

‘What’s happened?’ Saxby asked immediately.

‘He knows, Bill, but I trust him. I would guess that a team’s already on their way with everything they’ll need to trace the next call.’

Saxby slammed the tray down on the coffee table.

‘Jane; what have you done? What if the kidnapper’s already watching us? What do you think he’ll do to Issie when he sees police technicians turn up?’

‘We’ve thought of that,’ Fenwick explained, ‘they’ll be coming in an ambulance. From the outside it will look as if one of you has been taken ill. While we’re waiting, why don’t you give me details of the call?’

‘I can do better than that; all my calls are recorded. You can judge for yourself.’

Fenwick played the call and was inclined to agree with Bob that the man wasn’t a professional – but that didn’t exclude that he had Issie. There was a noise in the background and he tilted his head on one side as he tried to identify it.

‘I reckon it’s the news headlines,’ Bob said, ‘from the radio.’

Fenwick replayed the tape as both Saxbys came closer.

‘That’s the local station,’ Jane said and then glared at her husband. ‘Tell him.’

‘Tell me what?’

Saxby looked away, seeming close to tears.

‘I think he had Issie’s phone,’ he said hoarsely.

Fenwick rounded on him.

‘And you thought to hold that from us?’ He shook his head in frustration and forced himself to calm down. ‘That means we might be able to trace it. You should have told us at once.’

He rang Norman, to be put through immediately.

‘He did use it,’ Norman confirmed. ‘There’s an automatic trace on it and Bernstein just called to say it’s been activated. They’ve narrowed the area down to a triangle to the north-west of Guildford. This changes everything.’

‘Possibly, sir, though it might still be someone who found the mobile somewhere and is being opportunistic.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

‘Sir.’

Norman rang off and Fenwick returned to the drawing room. The technical team had arrived, two of them with paramedic vests over their clothes. They set about their work with minimal fuss. Lady Saxby watched every move, a frown line between her eyebrows and a second glass of brandy cradled in her palm. A replacement family liaison officer had turned up as well, a young man with a sympathetic face who introduced himself as Tony. He sat unobtrusively beside Jane Saxby and said nothing. Fenwick approved of his style.

‘He called on your private line?’ he confirmed.

‘Yes, the one in here. That’s why I took him seriously.’

‘Could you give us your mobile phones, just in case? We can alert the network provider.’

‘Of course.’

‘While we’re waiting, can you tell me more about your brother? He works for you?’

‘As a non-executive, yes. He used to be our commercial director but, well, the company moved on and … he had other interests; the job became very demanding.’

‘What he means,’ his wife interrupted, ‘is that the other shareholders put so much pressure on the board that Rod was forced to resign. He went out kicking and screaming and it was only after he’d gone that Bill discovered his, ah, unique ideas of client entertainment.’

‘That’s enough, Jane.’

‘And your brother’s current earnings are …?’

‘That’s a bit personal.’

‘It will be easier to find out from you rather than obtain a warrant for his financial records.’ Fenwick explained and watched Saxby battle concern versus belligerence before writing a number down on a piece of paper he handed to Fenwick.

‘Why are you so interested in my brother? Surely you can’t think him guilty of any involvement with Issie’s disappearance?’

‘At this stage it’s routine to find out as much as we can about family and friends.’

‘As suspects, you mean? I suppose that includes us. You have to understand we’d none of us hurt her. We love her.’

Saxby looked sincere but Fenwick reserved judgement, too accustomed to stories of grieving parents who were later proven guilty of murder.

‘Rod hates her, Bill, and we both know it,’ Lady Saxby said, her words slightly slurred as she stood up to pour herself another measure of brandy.

‘Easy, old thing. That’s probably enough for now.’

She glared at him but replaced the bottle carefully and went back to the sofa empty-handed.

‘Tell him about Rod,’ she demanded.

‘Very well,’ Saxby sighed and rubbed his eyes.

Fenwick doubted he had slept since learning of Issie’s disappearance.

‘Rod is a non-executive with the company. We also pay him a consulting fee for finding new clients …’

‘Corporate-speak for an open expense account,’ his wife interjected but Saxby ignored her.

‘Is he comfortably off?’

‘He should be but … well, Rod has a passion for the finer things in life. It’s easy to understand why. He was a director for many years and during that time he naturally benefited from a different level of compensation. Unfortunately, when his circumstances changed his tastes didn’t.’

‘And how does he finance these “passions” of his?’

Saxby closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose.

‘I help him, of course. I give him advances, loans …’

‘Which are never repaid,’ his wife said maliciously.

‘Which, I grant you, are rarely repaid but I’ve made it clear that I don’t expect repayment.’

‘So, if there was a financial motive behind Issie’s disappearance—’ Fenwick started but Saxby interrupted him.

‘Never! He wouldn’t need to; all he has to do is ask and I give him whatever he wants.’

‘That must be galling for a grown man, don’t you think?’

‘I … well, no … he’s my brother; he’d know it was no trouble.’ But Saxby didn’t sound convinced.

Unexpectedly it was his wife who came to his rescue.

‘The idea’s absurd, Mr Fenwick,’ she said, a look of contempt on her face. ‘If Rod were behind the phone call the ransom demand would have been at least ten times bigger.’

The phone rang. One of the technicians held up his hand and when it dropped Bill Saxby picked up the receiver. Fenwick slipped on a headset.

‘Saxby.’

‘I want more. Five hundred thousand, in cash. You’ve got twenty-four hours to get it.’

‘Can I deliver you the money sooner? We don’t need
twenty-four
hours.’

‘No.’ The voice was muffled, as if the caller had placed a cloth over the mouthpiece.

‘We want her back – today – I’ll get you your money, but please can I speak to her?’

Saxby was rushing his words. Fenwick scribbled
slow down, keep him talking
on the pad of paper in front of him. Nodding, Saxby took a deep breath and made a visible effort.

‘Look, I want my daughter back. I’ll get you the money but I need proof you have her. My wife is very upset, distraught.’

‘Is that why you’ve got an ambulance there?’

The words sent a jolt around the room. Without being told Tony, the FLO, stood up and went to check that the curtains were securely closed. They all were. Fenwick wrote another note, this time for Tony:
Call CC Norman – we need men outside, immediate and discreet.

‘I suppose you’re proud of yourself, are you; making my wife ill with worry?’

‘You should’ve kept better control of your daughter. A slut she is; it was only a matter of time before someone took her.’

Saxby controlled himself with effort.

‘We just want her home. Please, can I talk to her? Is she all right?’

‘When I’ve got the money you can see her all you like.’

‘Wait! Where do I deliver the money to?’

‘Twenty-four hours.’

The connection was broken. Lady Saxby burst into tears and her husband hugged her to his chest. Fenwick looked expectantly at the technicians who shook their heads.

‘Not quite long enough but he was using her mobile again.’

Fenwick rang and briefed Norman and Bernstein about the call, emphasising the need for absolute discretion. Norman had already despatched a surveillance team to the Hall though they all agreed it was unlikely the kidnapper would hang around. Even so, as he rang off Norman asked Fenwick to stay in place just in case. He looked up to see the Saxbys comforting each other as they huddled on the sofa.

‘If you can stand it, we need to hear the call again,’ he explained
and a tape was slotted into a machine that had been set up on the coffee table.

They listened in silence. At the end Saxby said, ‘He’s different this time; he sounds more professional, in control. Last time he rambled.’

‘Is it the same voice?’

‘I think so. Same local accent behind the muffling and the pitch was low. But … well he sounds more serious.’

‘Better prepared perhaps; he might have been dissatisfied with his performance last time. It still doesn’t sound professional. He was on almost long enough for us to trace him; he insulted you and tried to put the blame for taking Issie on her, as if he was excusing himself. A professional wouldn’t have bothered. To them, it’s just business.’

‘So you think he might have her?’ Jane Saxby asked.

‘It’s impossible to say. He offered no proof that … of her identity.’

‘Say what you mean,’ she insisted, wiping her eyes angrily. ‘He offered no proof that she was still alive.’

‘Right,’ he replied carefully, ‘and someone who knew what they were doing would have done. It would increase the emotional pressure on you.’

‘So what are we going to do?’

‘Chief Constable Norman has taken command of the operation; it doesn’t go higher.’

‘But you’ll still be involved, Superintendent?’ Jane Saxby looked at him hopefully and he was touched.

‘Yes; we’re working on the assumption that the kidnapper has her. We will lure him out. Can you find the money in time?’

‘One call to my bank will sort it.’

‘Good; we’ll mark the money – invisibly, don’t worry – and put a transmitter in with it that he won’t spot. When he picks it up we will follow him and find Issie.’

‘Just like that,’ Saxby snorted, finding sarcasm from somewhere.

‘Just like that,’ Fenwick replied, not daring to catch Bob Cooper’s eye.

‘What can I do?’ Jane asked, looking even more drawn and red-eyed than her husband.

‘I don’t want to be condescending,’ Fenwick said, meaning it, ‘but the best thing both of you can do is take one of the pills I’m sure your doctor prescribed and try to get some sleep. The more rested you are the better you’ll be able to cope with the kidnapper’s demands.

‘As soon as we can be sure he’s no longer watching the Hall, we will leave, but we’ll be back tonight and stay here ready for when he makes contact tomorrow morning.’

‘Why is he leaving it so long? Surely he’d be keen to take the money and go.’

‘I don’t know but maybe he needs time to think how to pick up the money.’

With some more persuasion the Saxbys finally went upstairs to try and sleep, leaving Cooper and Fenwick together as Tony went to find the promised bacon sandwiches.

‘If he’s not a professional and really does have her …’ Cooper started to say.