Eeny Meeny

57

‘Where is she?’ Charlie shouted. Martha Reeves sat calmly on the living room chair, dressed in one of Mickery’s dressing gowns. Despite staring down the barrel of a police charge, she seemed utterly unrepentant. Her point of view seemed to be that the police had got it wrong, were unfairly harassing an innocent woman, so if she could help her out, why not?

‘She’s under investigation on suspicion of murder. And what you’ve done makes you an accessory. Do you know what you get for that? Ten years. Ten years ducking the hairy Marys in Holloway.’

Cold, naked defiance.

‘What do you come here for anyway?’

‘Oh come off it, surely you don’t ex-’

‘What are you? A pervert? An addict? What little peccadillo needs ironing out so bad that you’ll pay £300 an hour to this quack?’

DC Grounds chose this moment to step outside. He didn’t like scenes and Brooks seemed to be going way over the top. For whose benefit he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was about, it wouldn’t get them anywhere, so he took the opportunity to radio in – see if anyone else had had any luck.

The call had gone out, all available units had scrambled to the area, but there’d been no sign of Mickery. An eagle-eyed Community Support Officer had found a discarded red coat in a wheelie bin just outside Marlands Shopping Centre, but that was all. She had vanished into thin air. Cursing, Grounds headed back into the house.

‘Is she allowed to do this?’ Martha barked at Grounds as he entered. Charlie was busy rifling through her handbag.

‘Yes, sirree. When she’s like this, it’s best just to sit it out.’

Both women scowled at him. Mobile phone, lipstick, BlackBerry, a condom, tissues, keys on a ring with smiley family scene encased in cheap plastic, sweets, another condom…

‘Married?’

For the first time a moment’s hesitation from Martha. But Charlie was already scrolling through the Contacts list on Martha’s phone.

‘Adam? No? Chris, then? Colin? David? Graham? Let’s try Graham…’

And she pressed the Ring button…

‘Tom. His name is… Tom.’

Charlie clicked off.

‘Know you’re here, does he?’

Martha looked at her shoes.

‘Thought not. Right let’s get him to pick you up and take you ho-’

‘Enough.’

‘It’s ringing.’

‘I said ENOUGH!’

‘Come on, Tom, pick up!’

‘The Valley.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘She said she was going to… the Valley.’

By now Tom’s confused voice could just be heard from the mouthpiece but Charlie turned the phone off.

‘Continue.’

‘I don’t know where exactly – but she said she was going to Bevois Valley and that she would be straight there and back. Wouldn’t be gone more than an hour.’

Charlie was out the door and running to her car. Grounds might disapprove of her methods, but nobody could say they weren’t effective. The chase was back on now and heading towards its climax. Mickery had gone to Bevois Valley – home to Empress Road, Southampton’s notorious red-light district.