Alice Teale is Missing Read online

  ‘You and DS Black will be taking over a case in Collemby,’ Everleigh told her. Beth had heard of the Northumbrian town, but she had been brought up south of Newcastle, on the other side of the river, and had no memory of even having driven through the place before. ‘DI Fraser has elected to take early retirement.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Black. ‘What has he done?’

  Everleigh shot him an angry look. ‘He hasn’t done anything. For God’s sake, Black, not everyone here is bent, you know.’

  Black didn’t react to this telling-off. ‘The girl hasn’t been missing all that long,’ he explained. ‘You wouldn’t have given Fraser the case if you knew he was planning to take early retirement, so it’s sudden.’ Even Beth knew that detectives who abruptly elected to take early retirement were often escaping investigations into their misconduct, which would cease if they were no longer serving police officers. It was an unwritten rule that, if you went early and quietly, no further action would be taken against you, unless you’d done something very serious indeed.

  Though Everleigh didn’t contradict the logic of DS Black’s argument, he didn’t appear impressed by it either. ‘He wasn’t planning to leave,’ said the DCI, ‘he was offered a package. Our new chief constable has been tasked with major cost savings and that includes manpower, as always.’

  Was there no end to these cuts? There seemed to be a leaving do every week and it was always seasoned detectives who were going, because the force wanted them and their more generous salaries off the books. No one seemed to be replacing them, though.

  ‘We’re encouraging voluntary redundancy. They’re trying to get people out ASAP, so they get an offer and either go straight away or it’s immediately withdrawn. The package is a generous one, if you are the right age and have served enough time. Fraser is a family man with a grandkid. It makes perfect sense for him, but that leaves us with a gap on the Alice Teale case.’

  ‘You want me to take over from DI Fraser?’ asked DS Black.

  ‘Until your own DI gets back, yes.’

  ‘And do we know when that will be, sir?’

  ‘No,’ admitted the DCI. ‘That’s … open-ended.’

  ‘So, it’s me and DC Winter here.’ He sounded unimpressed. ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘Fraser had a couple of DCs. I’ll keep them on it, but you are on point on this one, as it were.’

  ‘Four of us, including a complete novice?’ He didn’t look at Beth, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t seem to give a damn that she was standing there in the room when he said it. ‘This could be a murder,’ Black reminded the DCI.

  ‘And it could just as easily be a runaway. There is no body. She may very well be shacked up with a new boyfriend somewhere.’

  ‘Still –’

  Black was interrupted by the DCI’s raised palm before he could object further. ‘Frankly, there’s no one else’ – he made it sound as if Black and Winter were the last two kids picked for games at school – ‘but I know you’ll get a result.’

  ‘Your faith is touching, sir.’ Black’s tone was unchallengingly neutral but his words were still scathing.

  Everleigh chose to ignore this and turned to Beth. ‘Thoughts, DC Winter?’

  ‘Er … just that I’m looking forward to proving myself, sir, and … er …’

  ‘And er … what?’ The DCI didn’t appear to appreciate her hesitation.

  ‘What do we know about this girl, Alice …?’

  ‘Teale.’ He really did look irritated now. He obviously expected her to remember the name he had mentioned. Everleigh made a point of slowly spelling it for her, as if she were a slow learner. Beth nodded when he had finished, as if she were grateful for his time, while secretly deciding that her new boss was a bit of a twat.

  He continued, unabated: ‘Alice Teale is seventeen and has been gone for several days now. She was last seen leaving her after-school club on Friday evening, but she failed to reach her home. DI Fraser has been unable to uncover any obvious reason or motive for her disappearance, aside from a somewhat tangled private and home life.’

  It seemed that was all they were going to get from the DCI.

  ‘Do we get a briefing from Fraser before he goes?’ asked Black.

  ‘If you don’t hang about. He has one day left. Get down to Collemby. Fraser’s set up a major-incident room in the town hall there. You’ll need to notify the parents that you and DC Winter are now heading up the investigation. Their details are in here.’

  He handed Black a slim file on the case.

  ‘And DS Black …’ Was that a supportive half-smile on the DCI’s face or a grimace? ‘Be aware that I’ve already vouched for you to those on high, so don’t let me down.’

  The big man took large strides and Beth struggled to keep up. She was almost jogging as they reached the lift together. Black didn’t seem inclined to say anything, so she thought she’d better break the ice, but what could she say to him?

  So, is it true you killed someone?

  Possibly not the best opening gambit, so instead she settled on, ‘I just wanted to say, I know you’d prefer someone with more experience but I’m really grateful for the opportunity to join the team.’

  ‘I’m not the one giving you the opportunity. DCI Everleigh is.’

  ‘Still …’ And she couldn’t think of anything else to say, until she recalled the mention of his detective inspector. ‘Your DI is away at the moment?’ she asked, hoping that might draw some sort of response from him.

  ‘He won’t be back in a hurry.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’

  Black sighed, then: ‘He had a breakdown.’ He gave her a withering look. ‘Do you want all the details?’

  They rode in excruciating silence after that until finally there was a ping and the lift doors opened.

  The Journal of Alice Teale

  I love this journal. Love, love, LOVE it! Best gift ever!

  There, I finally wrote something inside it, and a little part of me is already regretting defacing its pristine pages. What could I write in here that’s significant enough to justify its inclusion? Even so, I still feel like a character in a Jane Austen novel. It’s so much cooler than all those electronic diaries online. You can actually pick this up, touch and hold it. It feels real.

  And it has a lock. A small but sturdy little clasp with a key only I get to keep, which is just as well, because I don’t intend to waste any of these precious pages on bullshit. This journal will hold the real and honest thoughts of Alice Teale or it will contain nothing at all, so you’d better not piss me off or you’ll end up in here. Hah! This is my sacred place, to be filled with secrets but no lies.

  I’ll put my story ideas down in here, too, then I can work on them so they don’t just swirl endlessly round and round in my head, going nowhere. I WILL be an author one day, and I am going to look back and say this was where it all began. They say that truth is stranger than fiction, and I won’t have to look far for inspiration around here.

  I love the cover! It’s leather, I think, and I should probably care that some animal has died for me, but I don’t because it smells amazing.

  And it has my name written through it, printed on every page. Love it!

  Thanks for this, bro.

  I love you, too.

  4

  Black drove an inexpensive Japanese car. Beth was expecting something bigger and flashier, like most of the other male detectives drove. She respected him a tiny bit more for not caring about it, or perhaps she was clutching at straws, desperately searching for a reason to like her gruff new partner.

  ‘Where are we –?’

  ‘Where do you think?’ he interrupted.

  ‘I was going to say, going first. I know we are going to Collemby, but to see DI Fraser or the parents?’

  ‘I’d better prioritize DI Fraser before he leaves. When you’re gone, you’re gone. I don’t think he’ll appreciate it if I keep popping round with questions. Mentally, he’s probably already on the
golf course.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, and waited.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said I, not we,’ Beth reminded him, ‘so I’m waiting to hear what I’ll be doing while you’re being briefed by Fraser.’

  ‘It’s quicker this way,’ he said. ‘He briefs me then I brief you. I want you to go and see the parents.’

  Great, thought Beth, so I get to explain that the man leading the investigation into the disappearance of their daughter has gone and we are starting all over again. At least he hadn’t tried to convince her it was the cushier job.

  ‘Read the case file now,’ he continued. ‘The quicker you grasp that nettle, the faster we can get on with it, and see what you can learn about Alice from the family while you’re there. Meet me when you’re done.’

  He didn’t say another word for at least three miles. She used that gap to read the flimsy file on Alice and her family, but the silence in the car was getting to her.

  ‘What did Everleigh mean when he said you were on point?’ she asked when she could take no more.

  ‘It’s an army phrase,’ he said. ‘It means the first man in a patrol, the one who leads it through hostile territory and is the most exposed so more likely to be shot. Sometimes the DCI likes to use military jargon.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Maybe it makes him sound more macho. Perhaps he thinks I’ll respect him for it because I used to be in the army.’ Was that what Anne Hudson had meant when she said Lucas Black had killed someone? He had been a soldier, so perhaps he’d shot somebody in Iraq or Afghanistan. Beth felt a little silly, now there was such an obvious explanation. ‘Maybe he just likes the sound of his own voice.’ He shrugged, as if it was of no consequence whatsoever.

  ‘Don’t like him much, do you?’

  ‘Whether I like him or not is irrelevant. He’s the DCI.’

  ‘He must have done something right to reach that rank.’

  ‘He has a degree in criminology, which he likes to refer to – a lot. One of the newspapers christened him “the thinking man’s copper”, which he pretends to be embarrassed about, but I reckon he secretly loves it. He’s very aware of his public image and will be disproportionately aggrieved by anyone who undermines it. He wants to be chief constable one day, so God help anybody who gets in his way, including us.’

  ‘Meaning we do what we are told?’ It was a genuine query. She was finding his answers hard to interpret.

  ‘Meaning we listen to what he has to say then use our discretion and initiative in the real world to solve the case. Look, we’re not going to get any advice from Everleigh at ground level. He hasn’t arrested anyone in years. Think of him as a politician, and try very hard not to piss him off, because he has the power to move us to some godforsaken corner of Northumbria Police from which we are unlikely ever to re-emerge. Got it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘So, do you know this town, then?’ she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  ‘Collemby? Of course.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she admitted, and when it appeared this wasn’t a strong enough hint: ‘Could you tell me a bit about it, please? If you don’t mind.’

  ‘Not much to tell,’ he said, and for a second she thought that was all she was getting. ‘It’s a typical, small Northumbrian town, around ten thousand people living there. It used to be known for its pit.’ Then he said, ‘Its coal mine.’

  ‘I know what a pit is.’

  ‘It also has an old railway station, but the railway is long gone.’ His tone was brusque. ‘There are some pubs, a few shops and a library. They have a market on Fridays. That’s about it. It’s not a tourist place like Seahouses or Tynemouth. You don’t go to Collemby unless you have to.’

  He flicked the indicator and started to turn off. ‘And we are here.’ He swung the car into a left turn and up a steep, winding hill that brought them into Collemby town centre. Beth took in a number of buildings, including a town hall with a large, white-stone war memorial and a marketplace that doubled as a car park when, like today, there was no market. There was a tiny local library that had somehow survived the latest round of cuts, a working men’s club, several pubs and a row of shops.

  One pub in particular, which was almost opposite the town hall, caught her eye as he parked the car and they got out, because its ancient, rusty sign was swinging in the wind, making a jarring, squeaking sound.

  ‘The Black Stallion?’ she said.

  ‘There used to be another pub here called the White Horse,’ he said. ‘Years ago, someone opened a new pub opposite and called it the Black Stallion.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Dunno – maybe to wind up the owner of the White Horse. Anyway, the two pubs were in direct competition for half a century or more, until the White Horse closed down and shut for good.’

  ‘Leaving the Black Stallion as the clear winner.’

  ‘Yes, except no one from Collemby ever calls it that.’

  ‘What do they call it, then?’

  ‘The Dirty Donkey.’

  He pointed to a side street that led away from the market square. ‘Head down there and make a right turn at the bottom of Neale Street, follow the road along for a bit until you see Neville Street on your left. The Teales live at number seven. Meet me back here when you’re done.’

  Yes, sir. She almost snapped to attention but thought better of mocking him.

  She watched as Lucas Black started towards the town hall then went her own way along Neale Street.

  DS Black could see that DI Fraser was still hard at work when he walked into the makeshift major-incident room at the town hall – hard at work entertaining his team, on his last day on the job, with stories of the old days. Fraser was halfway through an anecdote as Black entered the room, his voice animated – ‘He’s wearing these black shoes that have got – no word of a lie – a mirror shine on them. They were spotless …’ – and there was laughter from his audience of two detective constables. They hadn’t noticed Black yet. He crossed the room towards his table. DC Rodgers was the only one who could have seen him from this angle, but he either didn’t notice Black or chose not to. Black knew him of old, so perhaps it was a calculated snub. Fraser continued: ‘… so the chief constable finally steps out of the building, thinking he’s the absolute doggy’s little bollocks, chin up, head held high, not a care in the bloody world’ – he paused before the punchline – ‘then he treads right in the middle of a steaming pile of horse shit.’ The two DCs collapsed laughing at the image of the chief constable’s spotless shoes tarnished with manure. ‘But we’ve all got to stand there at attention, without reacting. He’s trying to scrape it off on a clump of grass but that shit is clinging to his shoe like a jealous girlfriend and the smell …’ DI Fraser stopped suddenly, noticed that Rodgers was looking at something, turned, evidently displeased that the merriment had been cut short. He realized DS Black was standing right behind him.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘Everleigh gave it to you?’

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘I am,’ he said, ‘I’d have thought he’d put another DI on it, in case this turns out to be a biggie.’ He meant a murder case and smiled a humourless smile. ‘But then, your DI is still off, isn’t he?’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘Any idea when he’s due back? It’s been a while.’

  ‘No,’ said Black, and the single word tersely communicated that he did not wish to discuss it further.

  ‘Bit of a poisoned chalice. We’ve not been able to come up with anything much.’

  ‘It’s been a few days, right?’ This was Black’s way of pointing out that they’d had enough time to come up with something.

  ‘We’ve not been idle,’ flared Fraser. ‘This is just a tea break.’

  Black surveyed the number of dirty cups on the table and, since there were two for each man, it looked like the tea break had been going on for a while.

  ‘The boys will be back out agai
n afterwards,’ he added.

  ‘But not you?’

  ‘It’s my last day, DS Black. I’ve got paperwork to finish, then I am offski.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘I’m surprised you weren’t interested in the package. You must have put in a few years by now?’

  Black didn’t answer.

  ‘I thought, after what happened, you might be keen to ride off into the sunset. No offence.’ He was the kind of man who thought adding the words ‘no offence’ to his sentences made them less offensive. He was wrong about that.

  ‘Can we talk about the case,’ asked Black, ‘since you’re so keen to be off?’

  ‘Sure. It’s all in the file, though.’ He handed over a larger file than the one the DCI had given Black earlier.

  ‘It’s never all in the file, Gavin, you know that.’

  ‘Gavin?’ he sniffed. ‘You can call me that tomorrow, DS Black, but I’m still entitled to a “sir” until then. Rank has its privileges.’

  Was this really what they were going to fall out over on Fraser’s last day? A slip of the tongue from their earlier days, when they were both detective sergeants on a different team? Fraser’s face was serious and Black was sorely tempted to tell him to fuck off. He knew the man would be too lazy to make a formal complaint with just a few hours to go. That wouldn’t bring Alice Teale back, though, and he owed it to the girl to do this by the book.

  ‘Apologies, Detective Inspector Fraser, old habits die hard. Now, if you would be good enough to spare me some of your valuable time to go through the case, I would be very grateful, sir.’

  Fraser narrowed his eyes, as if carefully scrutinizing Black for any sign of mockery in his tone or demeanour, but he found none. Detective Constable Ferguson was smirking behind the DI now.