Vanished

Chapter 2

The following morning, Jack was in and at his desk by 7 a.m. Between lying awake thinking about the price tag of the wedding his mother, Penny, and his fiancée had in mind, and a bad patch in Hannah’s teething, he’d had a fairly disturbed night. By 5 a.m., he’d given up trying to sleep and headed downstairs to make himself a cup of tea. As he looked out of the darkened kitchen window, all he could see was the tired reflection of himself... until the moment the security light reacted to movement by their small shed. As Jack watched the next-door neighbour’s cat dig a hole in Penny’s beautifully planted border, he thought about how frightened Avril Jenkins must be if she was actually telling the truth. His gut was still leaning towards it being a waste of time, but what if it wasn’t?

Jack had called Kingston station on his way into work so, by the time he arrived, he’d been sent all fourteen of Avril’s previous statements, together with the list of alleged stolen items: a twenty-four-piece set of hallmarked silver cutlery, a Rossetti painting, a fur coat, two statues, a set of silver napkin rings, a wedding photo, £500 and a double duvet cover with two matching pillowcases patterned with fairies. The Rossetti had captured the attention of Kingston police but, as it wasn’t listed on the latest insurance document, they soon questioned its existence. And the two statues had subsequently been found in the dishwasher, lending further credence to the theory that Avril was nothing more than a confused old eccentric. But that theory was now making no sense to Jack.

Regardless of her eccentricities and awkward personality, all of her statements were consistent and included personal details that were strangely vivid if the incidents were figments of her imagination. Like the night her fairy duvet set went missing: this was the set she used to put on Adam Border’s bed, and it was stored in the airing cupboard just outside the master bathroom. In her statement, she said she used to tuck the duvet cover and pillowcases behind the central heating pipes so that when she made his bed it was nice and warm. The duvet and pillows were not stolen along with the duvet set; they were left on the floor outside the airing cupboard. Which is exactly how the police found them when they arrived at four in the morning. Jack would admit Avril did seem like the sort of woman who lived with one foot in cloud-cuckoo-land, but she did not seem like the sort of woman who would go to the trouble of actually creating a crime scene.

The thing that troubled Jack the most was the same thing that Kingston was using against her: she’d reported fourteen break-ins, yet only eight items had been reported stolen. Kingston station had asserted that Avril was simply losing track of the lies she’d told, but Jack speculated that it could just as easily mean that the mysterious Adam Border was sometimes breaking in and taking nothing. So maybe his main aim was to frighten her, just as she claimed.

At 7.15 a.m., Ridley arrived with his morning coffee in a tall, reusable cup. ‘Don’t tell me...’ Ridley could see the subject heading on the paperwork scattered across Jack’s desk. ‘You want to keep the case for a while longer because you’ve seen something that the whole of Kingston station has missed.’ Ridley, not needing or wanting a reply, continued into his office. ‘Do what you have to today, Jack. By end of play, I’d like you to either know for sure that Avril Jenkins is being stalked by her former lodger and get the case officially transferred, or sign it back to Kingston.’

Ridley had been uncharacteristically detached of late, in terms of how closely he monitored his team. Normally, he’d insist on knowing each case as well as the officer running it but, over the past couple of months, he’d shifted the bulk of the responsibility down a level. This brought him in line with how most divisional bosses worked, so he wasn’t doing less than a normal DCI should; he was just doing less than he should. Ridley was no longer an anally retentive, micro-manager; he’d become ordinary.

Anik who, after three years as a detective constable, remained the baby of the squad not due to age but to attitude, presumed that only the love of a good woman could have distracted a man like Ridley from his job, which silently broke Laura’s heart. ‘The bags under his eyes... he’s defo getting his end away,’ Anik said. ‘You’d think he’d finally have a smile on his miserable face as well, though.’ Jack wanted Anik to be right. He was concerned that Ridley had decided to put in for retirement: he didn’t know how old Ridley was but assumed that he must be close to having done his thirty-year stint on the force. Most officers worked till they secured their full pension, then called it a day. If Ridley was in love, Laura would lose. If Ridley was retiring, everyone would lose.

When Jack arrived at Avril Jenkins’ home, the large wooden gates were already open, so he drove up the gravel driveway to the house and parked in front of the double garage. By the time he was out of the driver’s seat, she was on the doorstep. His opening comment was to ask why the gates were open when she so clearly had an issue with security and this immediately got them off on the wrong foot.

‘He doesn’t drive up to the front door in broad daylight, DS Warr,’ she said. ‘He creeps in through the back garden in the dead of night like the monster he is.’ She then sharply enquired why he’d come back. When Jack said that he’d come for the purchase prices and insurance documents connected to the stolen items, Avril’s mood plummeted further and she barked at him about already having been accused of insurance fraud, so if that was his train of thought, he might as well get back into his car and eff off!

Jack assured Avril that he wasn’t accusing her of anything and she stomped back into the house leaving the front door open, which Jack took as an invitation for him to follow.

In the drawing room-cum-office, Avril was rifling through an antique bureau, whilst muttering about the ineptitude of every police officer she’d ever met. ‘The stolen items are secondary! He’s stalking me. You do know that stalkers invariably escalate to murder, don’t you? That’ll no doubt make you happy. When I’m found dead in my bed.’ Avril whipped round, with a scrap of paper in her outstretched hand. ‘These are the only prices I can remember. And no, I don’t have receipts. I’ll try again to find the paperwork for the items listed on my insurance, but I’m not good with record-keeping.’ Avril then turned back to the bureau and began searching again.

The handwritten list, headed ‘The stolen property of Avril Jenkins’, stated that the Rossetti painting was the most valuable item taken, at around the £2.2 million mark. And the duvet set was the least expensive, at £32.99. Jack asked if Adam Border would have been aware what the Rossetti was worth. ‘I told him,’ she said. ‘He also knew that it wasn’t the most expensive item in the house. He stole it because my dead husband bought it for me thirty years ago. I told you this already. He knows how to upset me.’

Avril slammed one drawer shut, forced out a long, whisky-scented sigh and opened up another drawer. In the second drawer, Jack could see several leaflets for the purchase and installation of burglar alarms and security lights. Avril saw him looking. ‘I’m updating. Everything’s old and temperamental.’ A tiny smirk crept across Jack’s face. ‘Yes, yes,’ she said, catching his expression. ‘Just like me!’

He offered to help her choose the best security for her size of property and even supervise its installation by the end of the day, which immediately put her on the defensive again. ‘I’m more than capable of choosing my own security, thank you. The gate was left open because I have a delivery coming, not because I’m stupid. The downstairs doors and windows are alarmed. And I have security lights outside. And to save you asking, yes, I do turn them off when the sodding spring fox cubs start bounding about on the lawn. It’s like a bloody disco! Lights flashing on and off.’

‘Mrs Jenkins?’ Jack said with a sigh. ‘I’d like you to imagine that we’re starting again. So, please direct me to Adam’s bedroom. Then, if you don’t mind, I’d love a cup of tea.’

Adam Border’s bedroom was at the very top of the house, little more than a white box containing a queen-sized bed and small wardrobe with matching chest of drawers. There were no pictures or personal documents, although a Dior jacket still hung in the wardrobe and a neatly folded Bolongaro Trevor jumper was in the bottom drawer. The way these pricey items had been left behind made Jack think that Avril was right to suggest money was not the primary reason for the numerous alleged thefts. On top of the wardrobe was a leather carry-on flight case and, on the handle, was an old luggage label.

As Jack jotted down the flight details, he could hear shouting from outside.

A bald man wearing a blue uniform and a paper face mask was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking despondently at his feet, whilst Avril rifled through the box of groceries on her front doorstep, shouting about broken celery stems, out-of-date avocados, and various missing items. ‘You think old people will accept any old shit, well, we won’t... what’s this? A bloody replacement item that’s nothing like the thing I ordered. Take it back. And the bruised fruit. I’ll pay you when you come back with everything that’s missing.’ The bald man didn’t bother to reply. Her outburst was clearly nothing new to him.

‘Don’t worry, mate,’ Jack said. ‘You can go.’ The delivery man didn’t need telling twice, quickly heading back to his van. Jack picked up the box of groceries and took it into Avril’s kitchen before she could say anything to the contrary.

To Jack’s surprise, on the kitchen island, a pot of tea was brewing beneath a knitted tea cosy, sitting next to two mismatched cups and saucers. He placed the box of groceries on the island and poured two cups of tea. The second Avril entered the kitchen, Jack started talking so that she couldn’t have a go at him for sending the delivery man away. ‘Tell me how you met Adam Border. I know he was your odd-job man, but where did you find him?’

Whilst she replied, Avril put her groceries away — even the items she claimed not to want. ‘I heard about him from someone. Can’t recall who. I started him in the garden, which he did a good enough job of, so I moved him inside the house, fixing door handles and doing bits of tiling. He came one day to fix an outside tap and, my God, he stank! I told him as much. He apologised and that’s when he told me that for the past two weeks he’d been homeless and washing in the sink of the public toilet on the high street. So, I offered him the attic room.’ Avril glanced at Jack, pre-empting what he was about to say. ‘I’d known him long enough by then. I figure people quickly, DS Warr.’ Avril sipped her tea to indicate that she had nothing more to say on the subject. Clearly, she had been very wrong about Adam Border.

Jack drove the thirty minutes from Avril Jenkins’ house in Kingston to a potential wedding venue in Fulham. Maggie and Penny had whittled the list of possibilities down from around twenty to just three, so he was now being brought into the final part of the selection process. He had Laura on hands-free and she’d just told him that the details off the luggage tag belonged to a 10-year-old flight. British Airways couldn’t tell her much, other than the destination was Colombia and the address of the person who booked it, which she’d just texted to him. Jack asked if she’d mind checking it out.

‘When I get back, I’m probably going to request the Jenkins case is officially transferred from Kingston to us but, right now — and don’t tell Ridley — I’ve really got to go and see this wedding venue. Mags and Mum have done everything so far. If I’m a no show, there’ll both leave me!’

For a good ten seconds, Laura said nothing. For some reason, old feelings she once had for Jack were suddenly rekindled at the thought of Maggie actually leaving him. The feelings vanished just as quickly but, for a moment, Laura felt her skin heat and the hairs on her arms stand up, just as they used to each time Jack was close. When she did speak, she agreed to go and visit Adam Border’s old address.

‘Take Anik with you, Laura. Let’s play it safe until we know who we’re dealing with.’

Laura made a wry comment about being safer if she took Sheila from the canteen as backup, then put the phone down.

The venue in Fulham was a large pub with an extensive top floor, which could be hired out in part or in full. Location wise, it was perfectly situated in relation to the Chelsea Register Office. However, the manager, Mrs Kasabian, was really already getting on Jack’s nerves, directing her entire pitch, mostly aimed at guiding them towards the five-course rather than the three-course menu, at Maggie. After half an hour of rehearsed waffle, she finally looked at Jack and said, ‘I haven’t forgotten you, Mr Warr. You’re going to make the most important decision of all... to free-bar or not to free-bar? I know that’s all you grooms care about!’ To stop Jack from walking out, Maggie quickly asked Mrs Kasabian to give them ten minutes to explore on their own.

Maggie led Jack by the hand back through the rooms they could be hiring. Finally, she sat down at one of the dining tables in order to get a feel for the space.

‘I like the place,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t like her, but I like the venue.’ When Maggie asked if he thought it might be a bit small, he sat down opposite her, and laid his hands on her thighs. ‘We only need three seats and a highchair, Mags.’ As he watched the tears well up, he knew that with nine perfect words, he’d convinced her that this was the wedding venue for them.

Laura and Anik had parked one street away from Tetcott Street in Chelsea and were now walking back towards the address connected to the 10-year-old luggage label found on Adam Border’s suitcase.

The beautiful four-storey terraced house was currently owned by Mrs Flora Garner and, with no landline listed, they’d had no option but to attend the property in person. Anik was dragging his feet, whinging about being sent on an out-of-date wild goose chase, whilst Laura, pleasantly immune to his usual moaning, was fantasy house hunting.

Mrs Garner was an attractive forty-something with two teenage sons, as evidenced by the gallery of professional-looking framed family photos lining the hallway walls. There was also a man in all of the pictures, who Anik quietly pointed out was definitely punching above his weight. Mrs Garner explained that she’d bought the property eighteen years ago from a lady called Hester Mancroft who’d rented the top two floors out as student flats. On moving in, they’d immediately converted the property back into one big family home. Mrs Garner remembered that Hester had joked about being able to buy the house after fleecing her husband in their divorce. She’d lived with her son, Julian, who had attended Harrow, but he’d turned out to be rather useless and certainly not the businessman Hester had hoped he would be. The name of Adam Border meant nothing to Mrs Garner at all.

Back at the station, Laura set about trying to trace Hester Mancroft, whilst Jack was at his desk contacting antique dealers to see if he could trace any of the alleged stolen items from Avril Jenkins’ house. This rather arduous job had been attempted a couple of times before with no success because Avril hadn’t noticed some of the thefts straightaway, didn’t immediately report the ones she had noticed and had no photos of some items as they weren’t insured.

Ridley was just about to step from his office and comment on how much time was being put into this probable non-case, when Jack got a phone call from Avril. Her voice was whispered and panicked. ‘He’s following me. Right now! I’m in Borough Market, the Green Market section. I have to keep moving or he’ll catch me.’ She sounded more and more out of breath with every word. ‘Please come quickly, DS Warr. I’m not making it up!’

Ridley quickly drove with Jack to Borough Market, where they split up and entered through opposite entrances. They did a loop of the market, before meeting back by the drinking fountain just inside the Borough High Street entrance. Avril was nowhere to be found. After a second, more urgent loop of Green Market, they quickly moved into Borough Market Kitchen to see if Avril had been forced further afield. Jack was constantly calling Avril’s mobile but there was no answer. They were getting worried. If this turned out to be the decisive moment when Avril’s stalker upped the ante and actually made physical contact, the result could be life-threatening for her and the fallout would be disastrous for Ridley’s team.

As they raced around Borough Market Kitchen down parallel aisles, it was Ridley who spotted Avril Jenkins first from Jack’s description. She was perched on a stool outside Mei Mei’s Singaporean Street Food stall. Within seconds, Jack was by his side.

‘Take her home.’ Ridley pushed the words out through gritted teeth. ‘Sign the case back to Kingston. I don’t want to hear the name Avril Jenkins in my station again.’ Then he walked away. In their desperation to save her from potential harm, they’d both jumped into Ridley’s car, meaning that Jack would have to take Avril home in a taxi, but that was a problem he thought it wise not to share with Ridley right now.

Jack walked slowly to Avril’s side, hoping to have calmed his temper by the time he reached her. Avril gave him no more than a fleeting glance as she tucked into an ox cheek rendang curry. ‘Too slow.’ She spat rice as she spoke. ‘You missed him.’

From the street, Jack watched Avril walk up her driveway, her huge home looming ahead of her. He couldn’t tell whether she was deluded, ill, actually being stalked or, possibly, and worst of all, whether she was just a lonely old woman who wanted his attention.

In the garden next door, a man was up a tall ladder trimming his boundary hedge into a wave pattern. Jack introduced himself and the man returned the favour — Bernard Warton was a retired banker in his mid-seventies and was only too happy to tell Jack what a pain in the arse Avril Jenkins was. Noisy, rude and cantankerous were the words he kept coming back to. He said she complained about everything: his hedge was too high, so he trimmed it down only to be told that his trimmers were too noisy. His fountain was too noisy. His cherry blossom blew onto her gravel. His driveway wasn’t weeded to her liking. His bird feeders attracted squirrels.

When asked, Mr Warton said that he did recall seeing a young man in Avril’s garden, on and off, over the years. He knew the man was called Adam because they’d spoken on a couple of occasions. He was mid-thirties, pleasant, well-spoken and drove a silver Porsche. Once, he’d even given Mr Warton some petrol from Avril’s shed, to refill his lawn mower — this had been their secret as both men feared Avril’s wrath if she ever found out.

‘I sometimes didn’t see him for weeks, even months at a time. He could have come and gone, I suppose, or he could simply have been working in the rear garden or the west section over the other side. Her property’s huge, as I’m sure you know. Often, I don’t even see Avril for months! She can be quite the hermit. As time went by and the silver Porsche was a more regular sight driving up and down our private street, speculation then became rife about him becoming her toy boy! Her husband had passed a couple of years after I saw Adam for the first time, so no one was judging her: it had just been amusing gossip for a while.’

Mr Warton couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Adam, but several months ago the small section of Avril’s front garden that he could see from his property had started to look neglected, so perhaps Adam had gone by then. ‘I can only see ten or fifteen yards into the east side of her front garden, from mine. Her driveway is too far away for me to see who comes and goes, and her house is set too far back to be visible from my comparatively modest bungalow. There’s a public footpath running between her and the golf course, round the back somewhere. I can’t see that from my garden at all, so I couldn’t tell you about any comings and goings there.’

Jack ended by enquiring whether Mr Warton had any CCTV.

‘I’ve got a Ring doorbell. That any good to you?’

The two most interesting things Jack learnt from his chat with Mr Warton were that when her husband was alive Avril used to be charming. Her eccentricities came on slowly over the subsequent years. She turned into a woman who no longer cared how she behaved or cared what people thought of her. And the second was that no one had seen Adam Border, or his distinctive silver Porsche, for months. There was no physical evidence that Avril was being stalked at all — but there was evidence that she had declined, physically and mentally, since her husband died. Jack was coming to the same conclusions as Kingston station — that Avril was perhaps lonely, perhaps a fantasist, perhaps unwell. But probably not in danger. He thanked Mr Warton for his time and retraced his footsteps back towards Avril’s house. Taking another look at the proximity of Warton’s bungalow, Jack was certain that very little of Avril’s property could be seen from his home. Neighbours in this street were so far apart, that they made for very bad witnesses.

As Jack headed back down the winding driveway towards the waiting taxi that had brought them from Borough Market, his mobile rang. He turned to see Avril standing on her doorstep, mobile in one hand and a red notebook in the other. ‘Have you spoken to Adam’s girlfriend?’ Jack’s weary sigh could be heard at the other end of the phone. ‘Rude bitch. She used to call and, if I answered, she’d hang up. I dialled 1471 and got her number. Do you want it? I don’t know her name, but she stole from me as well, so that’s another crime for you to look into.’

Jack was considering how to reply when she added, ‘Jewellery. She stole jewellery.’ When Jack pointed out that there was no jewellery on the list of stolen items given to the police, Avril insisted that she wasn’t sure exactly what had been taken, but something definitely had because her jewellery box wasn’t as full as it used to be. Then she said, ‘I’ll make a pot.’

With no option but to follow this potential new lead, Jack reluctantly went and paid the taxi and walked back up the driveway.