In Guilty Night (12 page)

‘You’d be afraid with all those authority structures holding power over your head like the Sword of Damocles. What about Carol?’

‘She seems to have said all she wants us to know.’

‘Let’s hope you can make her change her mind, then. Will you be seeing our local luminary again soon?’

McKenna stubbed out his cigarette. ‘His wife might be more use to us.’

Slumped at his desk, Jack yawned jaw-wrenchingly, drained of all feeling by the firestorm of the night. He wondered if his sensation of lightness was a product of exhaustion, or true foreknowledge that the worst was over, and smiled weakly at Dewi Prys, slumped in another chair.

‘Can you get sleep-bankrupt?’

‘Most probably,’ Dewi said. ‘Dunno where you’d go for a loan.’

‘Bankrupts can’t get loans.’

‘Then Hogg’s only morally bankrupt.’ Dewi stood up to stretch. ‘I checked his credit rating. Smell of roses all round, in fact, ’til you’re close enough to smell the shit he’s standing in.’

‘What’s that horrible smell in Blodwel?’

‘Fear. The kids are afraid of the staff, the staff are terrified of the kids, and everybody shits themselves when Hogg shows up. Even the lovely Doris. He’s a nasty vicious bastard and they’re all his prisoners, all doing time.’

‘Social Services don’t seem to think so.’

‘He’s a con artist. I told the chief inspector, I’m telling you, and I’ll tell anybody who cares to listen.’

‘That’s slander. You could get done for it.’

‘Hogg’d have to prove me a liar first.’

Jack yawned again, and leafed through the statements taken at Blodwel. ‘Either these kids are stupid, like people say, or terrified, like Janet said. Where is she?’

‘Asking Mari Williamson if she knows Gary Hughes.’ Dewi yawned. ‘Let’s hope she asks Mr Posh ab Elis and his wife as well.’

‘D’you think there’s a Menai Triangle?’ Jack asked. ‘Like the Bermuda Triangle, only kids disappear instead? Four gone like a puff of smoke from Blodwel, one gone off the face of the earth from school. You sure he didn’t get a visit or phone call at school?’

‘The teachers say not. He must’ve taken his clothes at dinnertime, ’cos his mam was home all afternoon.’ Dewi flicked the slats of the Venetian blind. ‘I reckon we panicked him. Have you noticed it’s not so cold?’

Jack shivered. ‘I’m too bloody tired to be warm.’

‘What say I talk to the cousin in Caernarfon?’

‘Caernarfon police already did. He’s not seen Gary for weeks, despite what Mrs Hughes thinks.’

‘Wouldn’t tell us if he had. Kids close ranks when outsiders start asking questions.’

‘Fancy that,’ Jack said. ‘Just like us and Social Services.’

Mari wept, copiously and noisily, rocked in Rhiannon’s arms, her tears leaving muddy splotches on the costly cloth of the woman’s jacket. Janet watched, wondering if the girl was her surrogate child, sound in wind and limb if not in pedigree.

‘When will your husband be back?’

‘Can’t you ever forget your job?’ Rhiannon demanded. ‘Have you no feelings?’

‘We have very strong feelings, Mrs Elis,’ Janet said. ‘Especially about Arwel. I’m sorry talking about him upsets Mari, but we must.’

‘It upsets all of us. You can’t know how much.’

‘Mari wasn’t upset the other day.’

‘Things take time to sink in. All we need now is the media hanging around like vultures.’

‘I didn’t see anyone on the way in,’ Janet said. ‘Why should they bother you?’

‘Because we’re good copy, aren’t we? And someone will drop a hint in the right direction sooner or later.’ Rhiannon pulled another tissue from the box by her side, and wiped
Mari’s face. ‘I appreciate your concern about this other boy, but Mari knows nothing of significance. She’d tell you if she did.’ She sighed, and stroked the girl’s damp hair. ‘These children are like flotsam on the tide, orphans of savage family storms.’

‘They share things with each other, especially when there’s no one else.’

‘Not always, and you must believe what Mari says. You owe her that. You mustn’t harass her because you’ve nobody else to question.’ Rhiannon frowned. ‘And it was wrong to interview the children at Blodwel that way.’

‘Social Services made the arrangements.’

‘They should know better, and I’m surprised Mr Hogg hasn’t complained. Would you pour the coffee, please? I can’t reach.’

Janet marvelled at the weight of the solid silver pot, the delicacy of the translucent china banded in blue and gold. ‘D’you know the Hoggs well?’ She added hot milk from another silver pot, and pushed the cups within reach of Mari and her guardian.

‘Mr Hogg has tremendous professional experience, of which the council would be very shortsighted not to take full advantage. Hence his extensive responsibility for childcare services.’

‘How long have you held the committee chair?’

‘Since the last elections.’

‘And what will the committee do about this unfortunate business?’

Rhiannon frowned. ‘What should we do? These things happen. Childcare is very risky work, and social workers are very vulnerable.’

‘To what?’

‘Complaints. Violence.’ Rhiannon picked up her cup, and Mari reached forward for her own. ‘And to being held responsible for everything the children might do. It’s an impossible job.’

‘Have there been complaints about Blodwel?’

‘I understand a boy alleged ill-treatment before he went to juvenile custody for a string of offences.’

‘Who investigated the complaint?’

‘The director assured the committee the complaints were malicious, and we were happy to support his decision not to investigate.’

‘Might that not be a little shortsighted, Mrs Elis? Councillors hold the legal responsibility, and endorsing such a decision might appear a conspiracy to outsiders.’

‘The director is well able to judge a situation and its implications.’

Mari coughed suddenly, slopping coffee on her hand, and began her wailing again. Rhiannon pulled a handful of tissues from the box, dabbing at the reddened skin, soothing the girl’s distress.

Janet stood up. ‘You need cold water on that, Mari. Let’s go to the kitchen.’ She pulled the girl to her feet, hurrying her from the room. Standing beside her at the kitchen sink, holding the trembling hand under the spurting tap, Janet felt a feverish trembling course through the girl’s whole body. ‘If you’ve anything to tell me, Mari, for God’s sake do it!’

Mari wrenched herself away, and fled the room.

‘The elected members on most councils defer to the experts in their employment,’ McKenna said. ‘They’re usually happy to believe what those experts tell them. I’m more interested in what you said that made Mari weep so bitterly.’

Janet lit a cigarette. ‘She had nothing more to say about Arwel and his parents, so I asked about Carol, and she said Carol’s a bloody slag, and burst into tears. Then Rhiannon walked in. Mari says she’s never heard of Gary Hughes. Neither has Rhiannon. I thought of asking her where Hogg dumped those other kids, but she might’ve thrown a wobbler.’

‘As well you didn’t.’ McKenna frowned. ‘When did Elis go away? He said nothing to me.’

‘He’d need to go further than Germany if he wanted to leg it properly. Rhiannon said he’s buying a horse. I asked her how she got on with Arwel, but she didn’t know him well. She and Elis have quite separate interests, and as horses aren’t one of hers, Arwel wasn’t either, though she’d noticed he was always hungry, always in the kitchen, cadging stuff off Mari and the cook. Those kids we saw last night looked half-starved, didn’t they? And Dr Roberts found Arwel’s stomach virtually empty.’

‘About the Blodwel children, Janet.’

‘For some odd reason, they call the redhead with the funny teeth Mandy Minx,’ Janet said. ‘And the one with a bad perm and huge breasts is pregnant. Dilys Roberts was furious when she told me.’

‘Hogg has made a complaint, on behalf of the staff, claiming you and Dewi tried to make them leave you alone with the children.’

‘That’s a lie!’

‘He feels we may be subjecting Blodwel to unreasonable pressure, and refusing to accept that Arwel’s death is entirely unrelated to his placement there. Dewi didn’t help by ringing up Doris at midnight.’

Janet flushed. ‘I’m sure our hierarchy can find somebody with two blind eyes and two deaf ears to take charge of the investigation. They could ask for volunteers at the next Lodge meeting.’

‘Have a care, Janet,’ McKenna warned. ‘Your career’s just beginning. Upset the wrong people now, and you’ll retire a constable.’

‘I’ll resign rather than compromise my conscience!’

‘Will you, though? I’ve seen many young officers strut the moral high-ground, only to accommodate their scruples and return to earth after a few enforced stumbles.’ Pulling a cigarette from the open packet on the desk, he added, ‘Protecting the institutional body always outweighs protecting the individual. Defective components have to be removed, much as a gangrenous limb is amputated.’

‘You don’t believe that.’

‘I may be the exception necessary to prove the rule. I may not care to be an insider. I may be abnormal. I probably am. Robert Oppenheimer believed all men of goodwill desire the approval of their colleagues.’

‘He invented the nuclear bomb, didn’t he?’ Janet frowned. ‘So maybe the sort of approval he talked about ends in death and devastation.’

‘Where are they all?’ Griffiths asked, standing at the door of McKenna’s office, in the shadow of an early twilight. ‘The CID office is empty, and I can’t find Jack Tuttle.’

‘I sent Jack home to get some sleep before the twins go on the rampage again. The others are traipsing round town asking questions, trying to find Gary Hughes, and whoever wasted Arwel Thomas.’

‘You shouldn’t use Americanisms like “wasted”. Not that it doesn’t sum up what happened to Arwel.’ Griffiths sat down, hands on knees. ‘Seen Elis again yet?’

‘He’s done a bunk to Germany.’

‘I hope he hasn’t. Extradition’s a pain in the arse.’

‘We’ll know when he doesn’t come back.’

‘In my experience, absconding’s an effect, not a cause. Jack knows that, doesn’t he? I wish we could be more sure why
children go from Blodwel with such depressing regularity.’

‘What’s happening with Hogg’s complaint?’ McKenna asked.

‘It’s metaphorically under my bum for now.’ Griffiths smiled. ‘For as long as I can keep it there.’

‘If you’d like to create a diversion, you could make a complaint on our behalf,’ McKenna said. ‘Blodwel has sash windows with metal and plastic frames and perspex glazing, and the top sashes can’t be opened more than a couple of inches because wood blocks have been nailed underneath on the outside. I didn’t get a chance to examine the fire exits, but I wouldn’t be surprised if those are locked or blocked.’

‘That’s very serious. I’ll have to inform the chief fire officer right away, won’t I?’

Looking at the photograph provided by Mrs Hughes, McKenna decided Gary was another pretty boy, wholly without Arwel’s incandescent loveliness, but still pretty enough, although more of a man and less of a boy, his features already hardening into maturity. He wore a coquettish look, a heavy gold ring in one ear, his curly brown hair artfully styled to make the most of his face. Bedd y Cor and its leaf shroud reminded McKenna of one poem written in the fourteenth century. Dafydd ap Gwilym wrote too of the Gary Hughes of his day, calling him a pale-faced flirt of a boy with a lady’s hair upon his head. McKenna prayed this boy flirted with nothing more than the power of his youth, but putting away the image in the newly opened file, he realized how fiercely that power invited its own extinction.

‘Saw Dai Skunk,’ Dewi told McKenna. ‘Leaning against the wall by Valla’s chippy at the bottom of High Street.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Waiting for the Grim Reaper most probably.’

‘I daresay he won’t have long to wait.’

‘One of Nain’s friends is fed up waiting to find out what’s happened to her grandson. He was shifted from Blodwel the other day without a word, and sent to South Wales. He’s called Darren Pritchard.’

‘Where in South Wales?’

‘Dunno yet. We’ll find out. I had the impression we won’t be shown the door by folk who’ve had kids in Blodwel, ’cos they reckon Hogg needs sorting. The local paper’s planning a big
spread about kids running away and getting killed, and some TV reporter’s been talking to the locals and filming interviews.’ Dewi paused. ‘I get the feeling Blodwel’s near internal collapse, so too much of the wrong sort of attention could be the last straw, couldn’t it?’

‘I wouldn’t lay odds. Any news about Gary?’

‘I waylaid a few kids outside school, but nobody wanted to talk about him.’

‘We’d better see his mother again.’ McKenna stood up. ‘She must be distraught. The Tuttles were beside themselves.’

‘She’s nobody to turn to, has she?’ Dewi said. ‘Still, you don’t need to credit her with proper feelings, ’cos she lives in a shitty hole and looks like she doesn’t deserve any better. D’you think social workers’d think twice about what they do to people if someone snatched their own kids and put them in Blodwel?’

‘Needing social work is an admission of inadequacy, so it’s a contradiction in terms to credit clients with normal feelings or perceptions.’ McKenna walked downstairs, Dewi in his wake. ‘Social workers are agents of social control, employed to keep the unruly hordes in some kind of order. Notably, the poor unruly hordes, which is why people fall over themselves to accommodate the likes of Elis.’ He shivered as freezing night air crept around his ankles, pulled a scarf high around his neck, and shivered again.

Dewi looked up at a sky milky with cloud, the moon a pale hazy disc. ‘It’s full moon tonight. It could get warmer.’

‘It could get colder, too,’ McKenna said. ‘Always expect the worst, then you’ll have such lovely surprises when it fails to arrive.’

Parking in the only space available, behind a battered Ford Escort half on the pavement, Eifion Roberts puffed and panted up the hill towards McKenna’s house, and saw Denise McKenna, snug in a new sheepskin coat, unlocking the door of her own brand new car. She ignored him, driving off with a flourish of tyres and plumes of exhaust fumes, her pale face and gilded hair luminous in the dashboard light.