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  “Of course.” Gemma almost jumped from her chair to fulfil his request.

  Fullman turned back to the police officers.

  “Casey and I have keys, of course. Gemma has a set to the house, although not to the outbuildings, I don’t think.”

  “That’s right,” called Gemma from the kitchen. “Just the house.”

  “What about Miss Olgweisch?”

  Fullman dropped his eyes to the floor. “Yes, Dita had a full set.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Casey raised her head from her husband’s shoulder.

  “My mum’s got a front door key,” she said, her voice hoarse. “She knows the key codes and all that.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Anderton. “The security. Presumably all the people who have keys also have security codes and so forth?”

  Fullman nodded. “That’s right. There’s an access code on the main gate and the alarm code for the house.”

  Kate and Olbeck exchanged glances. Whoever had taken the baby hadn’t set off any of the alarms.

  Casey pushed herself upright.

  “What are you doing to find him?” she begged. “Why are we sat here answering all these questions when we should be out there looking for him?”

  “Mrs Fullman,” said Anderton in a steady tone. “I really do know how desperate you must be feeling. My officers are out there on your land combing every inch of it for clues to Charlie’s whereabouts. We just have to try and ascertain a few basic facts so we can think of the best way to move forward as quickly as possible.”

  “It’s just…” Casey’s voice trailed away. Kate addressed her husband.

  “Mr Fullman, is there anyone who could come and give your wife some support? Give you both some support? Her mother, perhaps?”

  Fullman grimaced. “I suppose so. Case, shall I ring your mum?” His wife nodded, mutely, and he stood up. “I’ll go and ring her then.”

  He headed back outside to the terrace, clearly relieved to be escaping the kitchen. Olbeck looked at Kate and raised his eyebrows very slightly. She nodded, just as subtly.

  “You two look around,” said Anderton. “DS Redman, I’d like you to talk to Ms Phillips once you’re done. DS Olbeck, go and see how the search is progressing. I want the neighbours questioned before too long.”

  The house was newly built, probably less than ten years old. It was a sprawling low building, cedar-clad and white-rendered, technically built on several different levels but as the ground had been dug away and landscaped around it, the house looked like nothing so much as a very expensive bungalow. Or so Kate thought, walking around the perimeter with Olbeck. They had checked the layout of the bedrooms, noting the distance of the baby’s nursery from the Fullman’s bedroom.

  “Why wasn’t the baby in their room?” asked Kate.

  Olbeck glanced at her. “Should he have been?”

  “I think that’s the standard advice. Everyone I know with tiny babies keeps them in their own bedrooms. Sometimes in their beds. Not stuck down the end of the corridor.”

  “I don’t know,” said Olbeck. “The nanny was right next door.”

  Dita Olgweisch’s room and the nursery were still sealed off by the Scene of Crime team gathering evidence. Kate stood back for a second to let a SOCO past her, rustling along in white overalls.

  “I’ll ask Mrs Fullman when she’s feeling up to it,” she said. “Perhaps there was a simple explanation.”

  The view from the terrace was undeniably lovely. The ground dropped steeply away from the decking and the lawn ended in a semi-circle of woodland; beech, ash, and oak trees all stood as if on guard around the grass. Kate could see the movements of the uniformed officers as they carried out their fingertip search. Olbeck came up beside her and they both stood looking out on the scene. Kate wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking – that somewhere out in those peaceful looking woods was a tiny child’s body. Her stomach clenched.

  “I’ve never worked on a child case before,” said Olbeck abruptly. Kate turned her head, surprised. “Murder, obviously. But never a child.”

  “We don’t know that the baby’s…” Kate didn’t want to finish the sentence.

  “I know.” They were both silent for a moment. “I hope you’re right. God, I hope you’re right.”

  There didn’t seem to be much else to say. They both had things to do, but for another moment, they stood quietly, side by side, looking out at the swaying, leafless branches of the trees.

  Chapter Two

  Kate found Gemma Phillips in what was clearly a home office, one of the smaller rooms off a corridor leading from the kitchen. There were two desks, filing cabinets, a printer and several swivel chairs. Gemma was typing busily on the keyboard of a laptop. As Kate got closer, though, she could see that all the girl was doing was updating her Facebook status. What was she putting in her update? Kate wondered. Gemma Phillips...is about to be interviewed by the police.

  “Hi Gemma,” she said, grabbing one of the swivel chairs and turning it to face Gemma’s desk. “I’d like to have a chat, ask you a few questions, if I may?”

  “No problem,” said Gemma, but rather uneasily. Her long fingernails clicked on the edge of her laptop.

  “You’ve worked for Mr Fullman for how long?”

  “Um, seven years. Almost eight years.”

  “Quite a while then. What’s he like to work for? Is he a good boss?”

  Gemma looked even more uneasy. “He’s okay. Bit of a slave driver, sometimes, but they all are, aren’t they?”

  Kate repressed her answer, which was something along the lines of no, she wouldn’t know, having never been a secretary, thank God. That was mean and snobbish of her. What in God’s name did she have to be snobbish about?

  “Could you tell me more about him? I know he’s in property development. What sort of thing does he do?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, what sort of thing is he working on at the moment? Any particular project?”

  Gemma frowned.

  “Well, he’s got a big residential building contract on the go. Newbuild flats over in Wallingham. Do you mean that sort of thing?”

  “Yes, well–” Kate tried a different tack. “What sort of work do you do for him?”

  Gemma looked at her laptop screen.

  “I do all sorts. Deal with his diary, deal with his phone calls, arrange his travel. Type up the contracts and deal with the rental agencies.”

  “Do you do any work for Mrs Fullman?”

  “A bit.” Gemma sounded resentful. “Since she had the baby, she’s been asking me to do more and more. That’s always the way. You start off by doing someone a favour and then they take advantage.”

  She’d referred to the child as the baby, not Charlie. Was that significant?

  “Have Mr and Mrs Fullman been married long?” Kate knew they hadn’t, but she wanted to try and draw a bit more from Gemma on her employer’s wife.

  “Not really. Not even a year. She got pregnant before they got married.”

  “She was a TV star, wasn’t she, before she got married?”

  Gemma’s lip curled. “Well, not really. She was in that reality show about the Mayfair hairdressers, that’s all. She did a bit of modelling after that. She wasn’t really famous. Not an A-lister, or anything.” Kate looked her in the eye, and she flushed and dropped her head, obviously aware of the rising tone of her voice. “Anyway, she hasn’t done much since the baby came.”

  “Charlie,” said Kate. He has a name.

  “Yes, Charlie.”

  Kate paused.

  “How did you get on with Dita Olgweisch?”

  Gemma looked stricken. Kate saw her throat ripple as she swallowed.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead,” she said, almost in a whisper. “I can’t - it doesn’t seem possible.”

  “You were close?”

  “No, not really. Well, we were friendly. I mean, we’d chat and all that. I didn’t really see that m
uch of her. She was always out with the baby –with Charlie.” The girl’s hands were shaking. “I can’t believe she’s dead,” she repeated.

  Her distress seemed genuine. Kate observed her more closely, noting with a stab of pity that despite the carefully applied makeup, the ironed clothes, and the elaborate hairstyle, Gemma was undeniably plain. Plain. What a stupid, cruel word – but apt in this instance. There was something forgettable about the girl, something negligible. Was that the root of her resentment against Casey Fullman – the jealousy of the less attractive woman over the prettier one?

  “Are you married, Gemma?” she asked suddenly.

  Gemma flushed again. “No, I’m not. Why?”

  Kate smiled, trying to put her at her ease. “Just being nosy. I’m permanently single myself.”

  Gemma half-smiled.

  “I’ve got a fella,” she said. “We’re engaged. Practically engaged.”

  “Congratulations.” Kate paused for a moment. “Anyway, let’s talk a bit more about Dita, if it doesn’t distress you too much. Are you happy to carry on?” She took the girl’s shrug as assent. “How long had she been Charlie’s nanny?”

  Gemma thought for a moment. “Not long. Only a couple of months.”

  “Did Mrs Fullman need a lot of help with the baby? He’s very young.” In her mind’s eye, Kate could see a small, crumpled face, eyes tight shut, black birth hair in a fluffy corona. She cleared her throat. “Did – did she have a difficult birth?”

  “I don’t know,” said Gemma, looking offended. “She didn’t talk about it with me. I don’t think she even wanted a nanny, to be honest, Nick is the one who got Dita to come. It’s what you do when you’re rich, isn’t it? Get help even if you don’t need it.” She clicked her fingernails on the edge of her laptop, an irritating, scuttering sound. “Nick’s got money to burn. He just spends it for the sake of it.”

  Kate nodded. She eased forward and stood up, feeling that she’d got enough to be going on with for a while. Then she sat down again.

  “What do you think happened last night, Gemma?” she asked.

  “Me?” said Gemma. She looked startled, then frightened. “I don’t know. How would I know?”

  “Do you have any ideas at all?”

  The mascara-laded eyelashes blinked rapidly. Then Gemma turned back to her laptop. Her shoulders were rigid. “Some paedo, wasn’t it?” she said. She didn’t look at Kate. “You hear about it all the time, paedophiles snatching kids.”

  “Very rarely babies, and very rarely are children taken from their own beds.”

  Gemma shrugged, still turned away.

  “Well, you asked me what I thought,” she said, with some hostility.

  Kate stood up again. “And Dita?” she said.

  Gemma shot her a hunted glance. Again, she looked frightened.

  “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice. “She must have just got in – in his way.”

  Chapter Three

  Kate and Olbeck drove back to the station in Olbeck’s car while Anderton followed them in his own vehicle. Kate stared unseeing out of the window at the bleak landscape, her mind running over her conversation with Gemma.

  There was clearly no love lost between Gemma and her employer’s wife, but was that significant? Probably not. So Casey hadn’t wanted a nanny? Why had Nick employed one? Was it just, as Gemma suggested, that he could afford it? She dismissed the thoughts from her mind as they joined the ring road that encircled the town, knowing that they were nearly at the station.

  Kate looked with interest at the buildings and people of Abbeyford. She’d taken a risk, taking a job here – she knew no one, she knew nothing about the town. Her flat was a good hour and a half’s drive from the police station. Would that become a problem? She didn’t want to leave her flat, she loved it, but if it was necessary for her career, then that was a step she was willing to take.

  Abbeyford was a market town that had grown up around a tiny collection of medieval buildings, the last remnants of a vanished monastery that had once provided alms and charity to the poor of the county. Now the high street was lined with the usual coffee shops, charity shops, supermarkets and the odd, struggling independent store. There was a handsome Victorian town hall, a modern library, two secondary schools, and plenty of good and not-so-good pubs.

  At the police station, a charmless, redbrick sixties building, Anderton assembled his team for a debriefing session. Kate, again feeling like the new girl at school, took a seat and fixed her eyes on the DCI. She was bothered again by that flash of attraction she’d had before, when he’d shaken her hand in the Fullmans’ kitchen. She made an effort to concentrate on what he was saying.

  “We’re assuming the murder took place as incidental to the kidnapping,” he said, gesturing to the crime scene photographs affixed to the whiteboard. “But should we assume that? Is it possible that the real motive for the crime was the murder of Dita Olgweisch and the kidnapping of Charlie Fullman is incidental to that?

  “It’s possible,” said Olbeck. “But where’s the motive?”

  “Exactly, Mark,” said Anderton. “But I’m trying to make it clear that we can’t take anything for granted here. It could be a kidnapping for money, although as yet there’s been no ransom note or demand that we know of. It could be an abduction with a sexual motive, God forbid. It could be for another reason. Dita Olgweisch could have been killed accidentally. She could have been assisting the intruder. Or she could have been the primary target. How long had she worked for the Fullmans? DS Redman?”

  Kate sat up straighter.

  “Gemma Phillips says not long – two months. It seems to be Nick Fullman who employed her – I mean, it was at his request, rather than his wife’s.”

  “Okay,” said Anderton. “We’ll need to talk to the Fullmans again, in much more detail. DS Olbeck, DS Redman, you’ll accompany me on that trip. We’ll go back this afternoon.”

  Kate watched. As Anderton talked, he had a habit of running his hands through his hair, tousling it roughly. For a man of fifty-plus, he had a good head of hair, grey as it was. He paced the confines of the crowded office and his team watched his every move. Kate was struck with the contrast of the last case in her previous job in Bournemouth, the murder of a middle-aged school teacher by her ex-husband. There, as the DCI had talked, her colleagues had surreptitiously checked their phones, whispered to one another, stared out of the window. Here, every eye was riveted on Anderton. Each officer sat alertly, even if leaning against their desks or straddling an office chair. He has charisma, she thought. Damn.

  She dragged her attention back to what he was saying.

  “Let’s look into Olgweisch’s background. Where did she come from, references, previous work history, does she have a boyfriend, etc, etc. Her parents have been informed and should be arriving from Poland in the next few days. They might be able to tell us more. What else?”

  “The neighbours are being interviewed,” said Olbeck. “As of yet, no one’s seen anything of interest but it’s early days.”

  “Fine. We’ll need to collect statements from all the near neighbours, any other staff, the secretary and perhaps business associates of Nick Fullman.” Anderton paused. “Do a bit of digging into his background, his business.”

  A DC with a head of vivid red curls raised her hand.

  “Are the parents under suspicion, guv?” she asked.

  There was no sound in the room, but Kate thought she could perceive a tightening of shoulders, a raised alertness in the people present. Anderton was silent for a moment. Then he spoke in a slow, deliberate tone.

  “Everyone in that house – everyone with access to that house – is under suspicion. That goes without saying. But I don’t want anyone thinking that it’s an open and shut case. It’s not. We have no idea, at this stage, as to what happened. But.” He paused and looked around the room, looking everyone in the eye, one by one. “I can’t emphasise enough how delicately we must approach this. I don’t wan
t anyone steaming in and upsetting anyone with clumsy innuendo or their own prejudices. We take it very carefully. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes sir,” murmured Kate, part of the chorus.

  “Good.” He took his hand down from above his ear, releasing his hair. “Now everyone go and get some lunch. Redman, Olbeck, meet me back here at two. Thank you all.”

  He didn’t exactly sweep from the room, but there was a sense, when the door shut behind him, that some huge surge of energy had dissipated. Kate turned to her new desk, blowing out her cheeks. All of a sudden, she felt exhausted. An unsatisfactory night’s sleep due to new job nerves combined with the early morning start, the emotional maelstrom of the case, having to present the best side of herself to all her new colleagues... she fought the urge to put her head down on the keyboard and sleep.

  “Canteen?” said Olbeck, appearing at her shoulder and making her jump.

  “Sorry?”

  “Fancy the canteen for lunch?”

  Kate grinned tiredly. “Only if you can show me where it is.”

  “Hasn’t anyone given you the tour yet?”

  “Nope. But it doesn’t matter. I pick things up pretty quickly.”

  Olbeck looked at her appraisingly. “I’m sure you do.”

  They began to walk towards the door. Kate made a mental note to introduce herself to the rest of the team when they got back, as no one had yet done that either.

  *

  When they arrived back at the Fullmans’ house that afternoon, Gemma Phillips opened the door to them. Her elaborate hairstyle was still immaculate, her make-up still a powdery mask across her face. She showed them through to a different room, a more formal type of living room that led off the cavernous hallway.

  “Casey’s lying down,” she said after showing them in. “She took a tranquilliser and crashed out. She’s totally out of it, I’m afraid.”

  “We will need to talk to her,” said Anderton. “But perhaps Mr Fullman could come and see us in the meantime.”