No Help For The Dying

Chapter 23

Palmer swore softly as he faced yet another featureless south London street, and debated going back for a talk with the youth in the alleyway. He had tried three different streets now, each vaguely matching the one described by the youth, but none yielding anything concrete in the form of the mysterious Maureen. He decided to check this last one and call it a day. The kid would most likely have legged it by now, anyway.

No more than two or three cars had passed by as he’d been walking down the street, and he could easily have been in some remote rural backwater instead of close to the centre of London. A child squealed nearby, and a woman emerged from a side gate and eyed him with care before walking to a car by the kerb and slipping inside. She quickly closed the door behind her and snicked the lock.

He found a footpath bordering a small industrial unit, just like the youth had described. So maybe he’d been telling the truth. This, apparently, was one of Maureen’s regular haunts. He stopped and scanned the area carefully. On one side of the path was a high brick wall. On the other, a chain-link fence separated the path from the factory, thick with wind-blown rubbish and crumpled drink cans. Grass grew thick and spiky along the base, adding to the sense of wilderness. Just the place for a set-up if that was what the youth had planned.

Fifty yards along the path stood a battered golf caddy and leather bag. The youth had said she pulled it everywhere, her complete world in place of golf clubs. Across from it was a heavily bundled figure eating from a polystyrene tray, feet splayed out across the path. Nearby sat three other bulky figures, passing round a bottle. The youth had warned him Maureen wouldn’t talk while others were close, that he had to get her alone otherwise he’d be wasting his time.

A train rattled by. This was going to be hard enough, without the added barrier of having to shout to make himself heard. With the other three in close attendance, if what the youth had said was true, it would be impossible.

He stepped on past the path and walked away. Now he knew where Maureen hung out, he could try again later. Barging in right now, with the others close by, would only scare her off. And there was the added risk that setting up shockwaves in the area might cause Angelina to disappear further underground. In the meantime he’d got something else he needed to do.

It was close to lunchtime and Palmer was approaching his office when his phone rang. It was Riley, on her way back from Suffolk. He could hear the hubbub of voices and traffic in the background, and guessed she was calling from a filling station.

‘Any news of Angelina?’ Riley asked.

‘Getting closer,’ he replied. ‘But nothing solid yet. She’s moving around, probably with someone. But I did latch on to our two friends. They’re good; they know some neat ways of throwing anyone off their trail. Anyone would think they had something to hide.’

‘How did you find them?’

‘I got lucky; I picked them up near your place, then followed them down to the embankment and around the west end. Whatever they were doing, they were slick; the driver would slow to a crawl, the passenger would jump out and disappear, then be back by the time the van had gone fifty yards. I think they were checking contacts. Then they headed out to the M40.’ Palmer explained that he had followed them out through west London onto the motorway, hanging back until the traffic had become too light to avoid being seen. He was fairly sure they hadn’t spotted him, although they had taken a couple of unlikely detours which he was sure were meant to isolate anyone on their tail. At that point he’d backed off. The M40 led out towards Oxford and the west. A big space in which to get lost. ‘How about you?’

Riley filled him in on her talk with Katie’s mother and the girl’s pregnancy. ‘At least I got a name — a boyfriend who may or may not have been the one to get her pregnant. His name was Nicholas Friedman. He was about seventeen. Katie mentioned him in such a way, her mother said it plain she was in love. I’ll call Nikki Bruce in case she can turn up something from the archives. Failing that, there’s always Katie’s school. It might be a dead-end, but it’s the only lead we’ve got.’

Palmer agreed. ‘Did you say he was seventeen?’

‘He died. I’m not sure how.’

‘Oh. Anything else?’

‘Susan Pyle had a visit from two men a few weeks ago. They sound like our two.’

‘What did they want?’

‘Information about Katie. It sounds as if they knew she was still alive. They didn’t pull their punches, either.’ Riley told Palmer about the threats. ‘I’ve no idea what they meant by a scandal.’

‘They were trying to scare her. She ok?’

‘No. Not really. She’s very sick and unlikely to get better. If it was our two, it sounds as if they must have known where Katie was for at least some of the time.’ And probably, thought Riley, what had happened in her last few minutes down by the Thames.

‘Assuming,’ said Palmer, ‘they were the same two men in the white van. But we still don’t know who the other man is — the one who spoke to Henry.’

‘True enough.’ There was a pause, then Riley asked: ‘Are you still ok with this?’ She meant was he still on board. Even over the phone Palmer was sharp enough to know what she was getting at.

‘You kidding? You think I’m going to bail out just when the fun starts?’

‘Just checking. You don’t have to, you know.’

‘Forget it. Anyway, you know what an adrenaline junkie I am. Whereabouts are you?’

‘Not far. Just approaching the M25. I’m thinking of having another chat with de Haan. See if I can push him into letting me see Henry this time.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it. Worth a try, though. You want company?’

‘I was hoping you’d say that. Where shall we meet?’

Palmer pushed open the downstairs door to his office and climbed the stairs. After the morning he’d had, he needed a warm-up and a smoke before she arrived and began voicing her disapproval. ‘I’m at the office. Coffee’s on me.’