Hard Evidence (11 page)

It was certainly cool in the governor's office.
Air-conditioning saw to that, and it was as far
removed from its Edwardian counterpart as a
century of thinking allowed. The glass in the
windows might have been toughened to withstand
serious assault but the light they threw into the
room was warm and pleasant. The whole room
was pleasant, in fact: bright colours in prints and
original paintings, a comfortable rug on the floor,
modern books lining the shelves that made up one
wall of the office.

Delaney swept his eyes around the furnishings
as he sat in the comfortably cushioned chair that
the governor had gestured him towards. Alan
Bannister was a thin man of six foot four, with
receding grey hair and rimless spectacles. Delaney
put him in his mid-fifties and figured that he'd
struggle to stay upright in a stiff breeze.

'Are you sure I can't order you some coffee? It
really is no trouble.'

His voice was soft, educated. Delaney couldn't
imagine him coping too well if an inmate got
violent, but he guessed that was what his staff
were for. And some of the lady officers he had
seen on the way up here could have scared most of
the inmates at Parkhurst.

'We don't want to take up too much of your
time, Mr Bannister.'

'What can I do for you specifically, Inspector?'

'Anything you can tell us about Candy
Morgan will be useful. What state of mind was
she in?'

'State of mind?' He shrugged. 'She was glad to
be leaving. That's for sure.'

'After eight years, I imagine she would be.'

'It's not always the case. A lot of our inmates
don't want to be released, even if they won't admit
as such to themselves.'

'Institutionalised?'

'Partly.'

Sally nodded. 'And partly the friendships,
relationships they have built? It's like a family for
some of them in here.'

Alan Bannister shrugged. 'Sometimes it's that.
Or it's just because what waits for them outside is
a lot worse than the life they have in here.'

'Sounds like you think it's a good thing for them
to be incarcerated?'

Bannister shook his head, the passion ringing in
his voice. 'I don't think that. The fact that they are
here, however, is an indication that society has
failed them, and by releasing them back to that
society we are more often than not sending them
into a vicious cycle of abuse and neglect.'

Delaney held up his hand dismissively. 'Yeah,
all the women here are Girl Guides and society
has let them down. Which brings us back to the
biggest cookie-baker of them all. Candy
Morgan.'

'So you said on the phone.'

'Was she one of those likely to reoffend? Insti-tutionalised?
She was here a long time.'

'Like I said earlier, the women in here all have
issues,' said the governor. 'But Candy Morgan was
a particularly troubled soul.'

'I'd say that was an understatement.'

'But I had the sense she was hopeful about her
future.'

'Hopeful?'

'Like she was looking forward to it. Not just
because she would be getting out of prison, but
because she had a sense of purpose. That's not
often the case.'

'What kind of purpose?'

'Nothing specific. Nothing she spoke to me or
my staff about anyway. But there was a new sense
of excitement about what lay ahead for her in her
closing days here. That much was clear. She
wasn't looking backwards literally or figuratively
when she walked out the door.'

'Did she ever mention her niece?'

'Not to me.'

Delaney was disappointed, but it was not
entirely unexpected. 'I understand she had
counselling?'

'It was part of her parole conditions. She served
her full, original sentence, but she would have
been here a lot longer had she refused it.'

'Because of the attack on the prison officer?'

'As you can well understand, we take that kind of
thing very seriously.'

'What provoked the assault?'

'According to Ella Stafford, the officer involved,
there was no provocation at all.'

'Can we speak to Ella Stafford?'

'I fail to see how that can help you find the
missing girl.'

'I don't know either, if I'm honest. That's what
police work is.' Delaney shrugged. 'Turning over
stones. You turn over enough . . .'

'And soon enough something unpleasant will
come crawling forth.'

'About the size of it. So can we speak to her?'

'She retired shortly after the incident and moved
to New Zealand.'

'Can you get me her contact details there?'

'I'm sure we'll have a record. For her pension if
nothing else.'

'We'd be grateful. What about Candy Morgan's
counsellor?'

'What about her?'

'Can we speak to her? I presume she still works
here.'

'She does, but she won't be able to tell you
anything. The women who speak to counsellors
have to know that whatever they say is entirely
confidential. You can understand that?'

Delaney let a little anger slip into his voice. 'I
understand that a little girl is missing from her
family, is in the care of a very dangerous and
disturbed woman and we all have very serious
fears for her safety.'

The governor considered for a moment and then
nodded, conceding. 'I'll see what I can do.'

'Thank you.'

Sally flipped the page on her notebook. 'Can
you tell us who she shared cells with whilst she
was here?'

'Of course.' He picked up the phone and pushed
a button. 'Louise, could you dig up Candy
Morgan's file again for me? Thanks.'

'We appreciate the help.'

Alan Bannister looked at Delaney thoughtfully.
'I know it sometimes doesn't look that way, but I
hope we're both on the same side.'

'I hope so too.'

A short while later the governor's PA had returned
with the name of Candy Morgan's cellmates
written on a piece of paper. Delaney read quickly
through the list, stood up and thanked the
governor, gesturing to Sally that it was time to
leave.

Outside, as they walked back to the car, Sally
had to lengthen her stride to keep up with
Delaney's fast pace.

'Not much to go on.' He held up the piece of
paper. 'I know Stella Trant. Her last cellmate.'

'How come?'

'She was a sex worker. Probably still is.' He
pushed the button on Sally's key ring to open the
locks.

'Why don't I drive, sir?'

Delaney didn't answer for a moment as he
looked further down the list, then he turned to
Sally, tossing her the keys. 'I won't be long.' He
walked back towards the entrance.

'Sir?'

'Just wait in the car. There's something I forgot
to ask the governor.'

Alan Bannister looked a little surprised to see his
assistant Louise showing Delaney back into his
office.

'Inspector. Something else I can help you with?'

Delaney picked up on the hint of irritation in the
man's voice, but ignored it and leant back against
the door frame. 'It's about Jackie Malone. She was
an inmate here a couple of years ago. I see she
shared a cell with Candy Morgan.'

Bannister considered for a moment, looking off
to the side.

'I remember her. What about her?'

'She was murdered a few days ago.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'A particularly brutal murder.'

'Do you know who did it?'

'Not yet.'

'And this has something to do with Candy
Morgan?'

'Maybe nothing.'

'But . . .?'

'But Jackie's son is missing too. Well, not
missing exactly, but we can't locate him.'

'You think there's a connection?'

'I don't know. I just wondered if you knew how
close they were? Candy and Jackie.'

'I can't help you on that. Sorry, but it was a long
while ago they shared a cell.'

'If anything occurs, you'll call me?'

'Of course.'

Delaney stood up and walked to the door.

'Inspector?'

Delaney stopped and looked back at him.

'May I ask why you didn't mention this earlier
when you were here with your constable?'

Delaney didn't have a problem with lying. 'I
hadn't remembered the connection.'

Delaney looked out of the passenger window as
the car passed St Pancras station on his right and
turned left past an Irish pub that stood on the
corner. A pub he'd spent many a Saturday afternoon
in watching rugby and drinking poteen from
the hip flask of a septuagenarian regular. Just the
thing on a cold winter's day, but too much even
for Delaney in the blaze of the summer heat. Sally
made a couple more turns and parked outside a
row of mid-Victorian terraced houses. Delaney
opened his door and got out, his knees still a little
stiff, one of these days he was going to get down
to the police gym and start exercising again. He
walked up to a yellow door that desperately
needed a new coat of paint and leant on the
doorbell. After a short wait and no response he
leant on the doorbell again.

'All right, all right give us a bleeding chance.'
The voice was muffled but the Irish accent was
clear. The door cracked open and a woman peered
out, her hair flashing amber gold in the bright
sunlight and her frown deepening as she took in
Delaney and Sally Cartwright, recognising them
immediately for what they were.

'Shit.'

Delaney held up his warrant card to her. 'Yeah,
it's the filth, Stella. We'd like a word.'

Stella turned back resigned into the flat, slouching
down on the threadbare sofa with barely
disguised boredom. Delaney and Sally followed
her in. Sally stood by the door and Delaney sat in
the faded yellow armchair opposite the sofa. Stella
Trant was a flame-haired woman in her late
twenties. Medium height and pencil thin, she wore
blue jeans that clung to her body like the skin of a
snake with a pale shirt and a green striped tank
top. It was pushing thirty-five degrees outside but
she wasn't even breaking a sweat. She reached
down to pick a can of Special Brew off the floor
and took a swig. She had startlingly green eyes and
a smoky southern Irish lilt in her voice. 'I'd offer
you one, but I know you're on duty.'

'Right.' Delaney looked about the shabby
flat and smiled, sliding a bit of charm into it. 'I
guess anywhere is better than your last accommodation.'

Stella laughed, a dry, rasping sound, as she
flicked a roll-up between her finger and thumb. 'I
wouldn't bet on it.'

'No.'

'This is about Candy, right? I had a call.'

Delaney was annoyed at that; he'd speak to the
governor later, but let it pass for the moment.
'You were cellmates for how long?'

'The last six months.'

'And you got out when?'

'Two weeks ago.'

'Planning to go back?'

Stella fixed him with a flat look. 'What do you
think?'

'You're aware of the conditions of your parole?'

'Yeah. And I'm doing nothing to jeopardise it.'

'That's good.'

'What's this all about?'

'Candy has disappeared. She's moved from
where she's supposed to be.'

'She'll show up.'

'She's taken a twelve-year-old girl with her.'

Stella looked up, surprised.

'Have you spoken to her since she got out,
Stella?'

'I haven't heard from her and I don't expect
to.'

'You were quite close on the inside?'

'Yeah, well the inside is the other side of the
world and another century ago, if you know what
I mean.'

'You mean things are different now?'

'You'll make commissioner yet, Sherlock.'

'Yeah, I'll be made commissioner and you'll be
made a Dame of the British Empire.'

'Nah. We Irish . . . we're citizens of the world,
isn't that right?'

Sally smiled tolerantly from the door. 'Tell us
about your relationship with Candy?'

Stella reacted. 'Relationship? You implying something
by that?'

'Just asking questions. That's what we do.'

'Yeah, you ask questions and answer them yourselves.
And innocent people end up in prison.'

Delaney flashed some teeth at her. 'You innocent
then, Stella?'

Stella smiled slowly. 'I've had my moments.'

Sally sighed. 'Just tell us about your relationship
with Candy Morgan.'

'I didn't swing that way. Besides, I wasn't her
type.'

'Are you saying she's a lesbian?'

'I'm not saying anything. She was in there for
eight years. She slept with women.' She shrugged.
'If that makes her a dyke and not a lonely, scared
woman looking out for some comfort, then
yeah . . . I guess you could call her that.'

'She was scared?'

'Not in that sense. Candy could take care of
herself.'

'That much we gather.'

Stella looked at him. 'You can believe it too.'

'So what was she scared of?'

Stella shrugged. 'Maybe of the things she might
do.'

Delaney smiled. 'Bit of a philosopher on the
side, are you, Stella?'

'I'm all kinds of things on the side.'

'See, from what we hear about Candy Morgan,
there's not a lot that would have scared her.'

'I'd say you heard right again.'

'And you definitely haven't spoken to her since
she got out?'

Stella shook her head and looked to the side.

'I told you.'

Sally walked around to face her. 'It's all right if
you're
scared, though, Stella. We know what she's
capable of.'

'I doubt that you do.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Who ever really knows what other people are
capable of, given the right circumstances?'

Delaney smiled coldly. 'We do, Stella. We get to
clean up afterwards.'

'My heart bleeds.'

'Only this time there's a little girl involved. So
we don't want to be doing any cleaning up. You
see what I'm saying to you here?'

'You think she might hurt the girl?'

'What do you think?'

Stella shook her head angrily. 'I don't know. I
told you I don't know, all right?'

'No, Stella, it's not all right!'

Sally uncrossed her arms. 'We can protect you,
Stella.'

Stella snorted with laughter. 'What? You two?
You're going to be my bodyguards?'

'The police. The police can protect you if you
help us.'

Stella suddenly gave Delaney a hard, flat look
as the penny of memory dropped. 'Like you protected
Jackie Malone.'

Delaney stood up angrily and crossed to her,
grabbing her wrist. 'What's this got to do with
her?'

Stella flinched backwards, out of his grasp,
taken aback by the anger in his voice. She rubbed
her wrist, passively dismissive. 'It's got nothing to
do with her as far as I know.'

'So why mention her?'

'Because she's dead, Inspector Delaney. She was
supposed to be your friend. And now she's dead.'

The anger in Delaney's eyes was replaced
momentarily with something else, something
guarded. 'What did she tell you about me?'

'Come off it, Inspector. You think we don't talk
to each other? You think I don't know what was
going on?'

'I looked out for her, that's all.'

Stella let his statement hang for a moment,
then smiled at him. 'And you did a real good
job.'

Sally looked over at Delaney, puzzled. 'Guv?'

Delaney shook his head. 'It's got nothing to do
with this.'

Stella nodded. 'Like I say, the police's assurances
of protection don't exactly count for a great
deal. You've worked the streets as long as I have,
you learn that pretty fast.'

'If you know something about where Candy
Morgan is, Stella, you damn well better tell me
what it is.'

Stella met his gaze, almost sympathetic. 'I know
she was planning to get back at her family.'

'Get back how?'

'I don't know. She didn't tell me everything. It
was something she was going to do. That's all she
said. She was going to get back at them big time.
Hurt them in the worst way possible.'

Delaney looked hard into her eyes; she didn't
flinch or look away. 'She gets in touch with you,
you call me, okay?'

Stella gave the slightest of nods, and Delaney
gestured to Sally to join him. He looked back at
Stella as they walked to the door. 'You'd do well
to remember it's not just losing your parole that
you've got to be scared of.'