In the Light of Madness (8 page)

Edmond covered Tom’s body up again and signalled for the assistant to take him away.

Wednesday thanked him before they left the room. “Let’s go and see if Alex Green can offer us anything.”

They walked further down the corridor towards the room where forensic scientist Alex Green was hunched over a microscope. Wednesday tapped on the door and smiled as Alex looked towards them.

“I didn’t think it would take you long to be beating down the door.”

“Alex, I’d like to introduce Jacob Lennox, my new DS.”

Alex gave Lennox a guarded look before summarising his findings, which revolved mainly around the fibres and some fine splinters found on the back of Tom’s jumper and jeans.

“You’re looking for a wool blanket in a green and red colour-way, possibly a travel blanket. We’re putting it through the system to find the make.”

“And what about the splinters?”

“Again, we’re trying to identify the type of wood. However, it all takes time as you well know.”

“Unfortunately the DCI and press don’t agree. Not with a child murderer on the loose.”

Alex shrugged his shoulders and intimated he was going as fast as he could. “I’ll call you as soon as I have anything else.” He let his eyes linger on Wednesday as she left with Lennox.

“A bloody green and red travel blanket. Is that all we’ve got to go on?”

“It’s still early days, Lennox. Anyway, we’ve got to get the Wrights ready for their TV appeal, which means keeping the mother away from alcohol for a few hours. God help us.”

“What about an appeal from the Dolbys?”

“Too soon. The mother is medicated to the eyeballs. Their turn will come. Mr Dolby has written a statement for the press to be going on with,” she replied as they entered the Incident Room.

She approached DS Maria Jones who headed up the Incident Room, to inform her of the latest from forensics and that they were heading for the Wright’s home.

“Des Wright has been released, but he’s still a bit agitated, so be careful,” she warned.

“I’ll drive,” Wednesday said, grabbing her jacket.

“Okay, but can we forego the classical music.”

“Heathen,” she replied as she closed her office door.

They arrived to discover that Des Wright had already gone out. As Judith was the main parent they wanted to work with, Wednesday thought it made their life easier. She inhaled deeply on noticing Judith’s glassy eyes.

“Mrs Wright, the appeal is going out at six thirty tonight, have you had any thoughts about what you want to say?” Wednesday used her gentle coaxing voice to appeal to Judith’s softer side.

“I’ll tell the silly bugger to get his arse straight back home. He’s causing big problems for my Des.”

Lennox rolled his eyes and folded his arms.

“That’s not quite the appeal we had in mind,” sighed Wednesday. “Perhaps you could write down something less confrontational. We want Darren to know he’s not in trouble and is welcome home.”

“He is in trouble, and I want him bloody home to stop the neighbours sneering at us.”

“Then perhaps you need to show a softer side for the media. Let everyone see how much you love and miss your son.”

Judith’s face creased as she picked up her mug and took a large gulp.

“Perhaps I’ll make some coffee,” said Wednesday, stomping to the sink to fill up the kettle, aware of irritation trickling down her spine.

“I don’t want a bloody coffee, and I don’t want you in my house.”Judith was on her feet, unsteady and swaying around. The thread veins on her face flushing vivid red.

“Mrs Wright, we know this is a highly emotive time for you, but the need for calm is paramount.” Lennox’s masculine tone instilled some calm to the atmosphere, although Judith’s face was still knotted with anger.

Wednesday made the coffee and placed it in front of Judith. As she tried to remove the other mug, Judith’s hand whipped out and gripped onto it tightly. Their eyes locked together.

Twenty frosty minutes later, the front door swung open and Des Wright marched in. Wednesday and Lennox braced themselves instinctively.

“I see you pigs can’t get enough of me,” he snapped as he reached for his tobacco pouch.

“We’re holding a TV appeal this evening,” replied Wednesday.

Des let out a staccato laugh which was instantly quelled by a glance from Judith.

“She wants you by her side,” continued Wednesday. “Will you want to say a few words?”

“Not bloody likely.”

Judith shot Des another heated glance after which he lit his roll-up and strutted out into the overgrown back garden.

“A car will collect you at five fifteen. We’ll see you at the station,” Wednesday said as she and Lennox left, leaving a mist of much needed sobriety hanging over the kitchen.

Chapter Seven

“Canteen food doesn’t match up to home cooked,” lamented Wednesday.

“I don’t really cook for myself. I mainly live off ready-made stuff.”

Wednesday wrinkled up her nose. “Scarlett is a terrific cook when she has the time.”

Lennox tilted his head before forking some more semi-congealed lasagne into his mouth. “What does she do?”

“She’s a journalist on the local paper,
The Cambridge Times
.”

“God, I deplore journalists. They’re nothing but parasitic entities, feeding off the flesh of the dead.”

“Sounds like I’ve hit a nerve.”

Lennox sneered at her before wiping his mouth with a serviette.

“You’ll get over the fact that she’s a journalist soon enough. Most men she comes into contact with fall under her spell.”

“I’ve heard the rumours of her beauty, but it couldn’t detract me from the other stuff.”

“What d’you have against journalists anyway?”

“They get in the way of a case, they sensationalise the felon and they often make us look like burkes.”

Wednesday sipped her orange juice. She could not argue with him as she sometimes had similar complaints herself.

She decided to move the conversation away from her private life, as she always did with colleagues. But doing just that sometimes made her appear aloof, verging on conceited. However, she was not prepared to sacrifice her privacy to be a more affable colleague.

“I’m dreading the Wrights’ appeal. I can’t see that woman being up to it. Hunter will do his nut if she cocks it up, and he’ll blame us,” he said, spraying particles of congealed lasagne over the table.

Wednesday concurred, pushing her plate away. “I’m curious about the anger Tom displayed in his notebooks. There was never any mention at the school, or from his parents, come to that.” She sat back and spread her fingers on the table.

“You know teenagers; they’re full of angst and misery. They’ve got ‘the whole world’s against me’ attitude.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that. I’ve got this gut feeling.”

Lennox rolled his eyes. “Women’s intuition, eh?”

She chose to ignore him.

They cleared their trays and headed for the Press Room, where they were to meet up with the Wrights and Parker. Wednesday had the sinking feeling it was going to be painful watching Judith slur her way through the appeal.

She caught sight of her reflection in a window, and saw strands of hair sprouting out from the bun, giving her a bohemian look. She hurriedly redid her hair as they walked towards the Press Room.

Parker was sitting with the Wrights at the long table. She had provided the pair with a cup of coffee at Wednesday’s request. Even though they had had a period of sobriety, Judith still looked inebriated and Des looked bored.

Dave Arlow entered the room and positioned himself at Wednesday’s side.

“Just to let you know, Des Wright’s story about being in a brawl outside the pub hasn’t been corroborated. The landlord wasn’t aware of an affray in the car park, so we still don’t know where his bruises came from.”

Wednesday thanked him and drew a deep breath before addressing the couple. “Okay Mrs Wright, let’s run through what you want to say before we start.”

“I don’t know whether someone has taken him, or whether he has run away, but he’s got to come home.”

“That’s a good start, although perhaps address Darren directly when you look at the camera. Let’s try that again.”

“Darren, we want you home. You’ve caused enough trouble, so get yourself home, now.”

Wednesday closed her eyes and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. She heard Lennox expel a long breath of air.

“Mrs Wright . . . Judith, we don’t want Darren to think that he’ll be in trouble when he returns home—”

“But he will be,” she interrupted. “He’ll be in serious shit. He ain’t causing me and my Des all this hassle and getting away with it.”

Judith became red in the face, whilst Des remained placidly by her side, disengaged from the proceedings. Lennox leant closely into Wednesday so she could feel his hot breath on her earlobe.

“If the unthinkable has happened, and Darren is involved in Tom’s death, then after watching this pair, the public may feel poor parenting is a contributory factor.”

“God preserve us from that route,” she whispered back.

Wednesday bent over the table and wrote a more appropriate appeal on a scrap of paper. Judith read it then shoved the paper back to her.

“This don’t sound like me, Darren would know these ain’t my words.”

“They sound . . . softer, shall we say?”

Judith rolled her eyes, but nevertheless, took the sheet of paper back and read silently whilst mouthing the words. After repeating the action a couple of times, she spoke the words aloud.

“If someone’s got Darren, please send him home. We miss him. Please come home, Darren, you’re not in trouble. We love you.” She put the sheet down on the table. “Do I have to say that last bit?”

“I think it would sound better. It would also look better if you didn’t read it.”

Judith let out an audible sigh then stared at the paper in her trembling hands.

“I hope her shakes make her just look nervous to the viewers,” said Wednesday, quietly.

“Not to those who know her. I’m not sure that Hunter has made the right call on this one.”

“It wouldn’t be right not to do this.”

“But with this pair? You’re bound to take Hunter’s side, anyway.”

The tweak of taunting in his voice riled her. Her cheeks stung with heat as she watched the unsympathetic pair before her.

The doors swung open and in strode the press officer, Dana Booth, followed by the local news crew and journalists. Wednesday saw Scarlett sashay in, her flame-red hair tumbling over her shoulders in pre-Raphaelite curls. They had an understanding not to acknowledge one another at the press meetings, Wednesday felt more comfortable that way.

Dana Booth walked up to Wednesday and gave her a faint smile. “I saw them earlier. Are they any better now?”

“As much as they can be,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

The room filled with a low buzz of chatter. The melange of cheap aftershaves and perfumes helped mask the smell of fear and alcoholic fumes radiating from the Wrights sitting at the front of the room. Behind them on a blue board, was a photograph of Darren, and the hotline number for the public to call with claims of sightings or snippets of information.

Noticing Judith Wright’s increased tremors, she walked up to her and put a reassuring hand on her arm.