Ghigau 20

Lenny sat at the end of Lydia’s bed, feeling despondent, powerless and angry. Lydia was crying; silent tears left glistening tracks on her face. He couldn’t bear seeing her in pain. 

    He leaned in and stroked her hair. “It’s going to be ok my love, I promise.” 

    His daughter looked at him, and he could see how desperately she wanted to believe him. She was young enough to still hope her Dad could make anything ok, but old enough to know that some things were beyond his control.

    “How do you… know… though?” She asked haltingly, her breath coming in jags.

    “Because Mum would never, ever, leave you.” He said emphatically.

    “But what if something’s happened, I mean happened to her?” Lydia’s tears flowed freely again.

    He placed an open palm to his chest. “Because I’d feel it in here, ok?” He lifted her chin. “ I would know.”

    She fought some kind of battle with herself, chewing her bottom lip and frowning, as her mouth twitched and shivered with the effort of not sobbing. “Did you know when, when Jamie…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

    He had been waiting for this question. “It’s not the same, Jamie had an accident, he was in another country. This is different.”

    “How?”

    “It just is darling, it just is.” Lenny said softly.

Julia came in the room and Lenny motioned to her to come and sit next to him.. 

    “Why don’t I read some of that story to you Lydia?” She said, glancing at Lenny and telling him with her eyes that she would take over, and he could leave.

    Lenny was grateful for the interruption. He didn’t want Lydia to see he was fearful too. He had to be strong, so she would believe in him.

 

    Later that evening, he rang Detective Tate again. Her phone was answered by someone else. 

    “I’m sorry, she’s still in an interview.”  The female voice said. He had heard this three times already.

    “Well, can you at least tell me if she’s interviewing someone about my wife’s disappearance?” Lenny said exasperatedly.

    The phone went muffled for a moment, he guessed whoever it was had covered the receiver with their hand; then the voice said, “There is a note here for you Mr Talbot, which says, ‘Making progress and will call tonight no matter how late, keep your phone on’.”

    This at least, was something. “Thank you, thank you very much, please let her know she can call me no matter what the time, It’s not like I’m sleeping anyway.” Lenny said.

    “I will sir.” said the voice, before ending the call. 

He wanted a drink but didn’t want to be fuzzy headed or unable to drive if he needed to. He contemplated walking to the corner shop and buying cigarettes but didn’t want to smell of smoke if Lydia called him upstairs, which had happened most nights at some point.

    He needed something to distract him. He took out the printed messages he’d photographed at his meeting with Tariq Hussain. He shuffled the pages, scanning the words for the umpteenth time. He tutted in disgust at some of the crude language and threatening tone. Whoever had sent these couldn’t even spell; typing decieve instead of deceive. Surely these messages must be something to do with Nikki’s disappearance? Whose car had she got into? What possible reason could she have for going off?

     He didn’t like to admit it but somewhere at the back of his mind there was this tiny, minuscule, almost undetectable, but nevertheless present, fear that she had left of her own accord; that she didn’t want to be with him; that she had run away from him, from her daughter, from her business, from her whole life. 

    He shook his head, ‘Ridiculous’ he said out loud. ‘You're being ridiculous.’

 

Sam Tate took her time drinking her coffee. It didn’t do any harm to let O’Donnell sweat while they waited for the team she’d sent to search his property to report back. Something wasn’t right though, she could sense it. O’Donnell just wasn’t scared enough. Either he was a great actor, which she doubted, or he was, at least partially, telling the truth when he claimed he hadn’t been anywhere near Regents Park at the time Nikki went missing. 

    Tench approached her desk. “About time we had a second go don’t you think?”

    Sam nodded. “Yup, I’m just waiting for the search team to report.”

    Tench turned down the corners of his mouth. “You think they’ll find anything? Our friend downstairs doesn’t seem to be too concerned that we’re questioning him about a missing woman, or that his vehicle is on the cctv.”    

    Sam acknowledged this, “You’re right, he doesn’t.” She thought for a second. “Any ideas?”

    “He’s too smarmy for my liking, cocky. I’m not sure how, but I think his alibi is going to check out.”

    O’Donnell had claimed to be on a long distance trip on the day in question, dropping two VIP customers to the ferry port in Hull. He knew nothing about Nikki Talbot, hadn’t been near Regents Park in months and if the car in the picture had his plates on it — he didn’t know why.

    As if on cue, Sam’s desk-phone rang. She answered and for a few minutes responded to the caller every few seconds or so with an ‘ok’, or a ‘right’.

    Tench watched her face for any clues, and when she put down the phone, asked, “Well?”

    “Well, your gut feeling was right. At least it looks that way. A Mercedes with that registration was parked at the Port of Hull from 12.15pm - 4.04pm on the day Nikki disappeared. If it’s the same car it couldn’t have got to London until at the very earliest 8pm. 

    “Bollocks, said Tench,” expressing his disappointment.

    “And if it isn’t the same car, ours has to be a clone, which is why O’Donnell is so bleeding cocky.” Sam grimaced at the thought of not being able to pin anything on the irksome Mr O’Donnell.

    A mobile phone rang. This time it was Tench’s; the search team calling from O’Donnell’s home. He listened for a few moments, then his face split into a grin.

    “Bingo!” he said.

 

O’Donnell had been moved to a holding cell while he waited and was now brought back in to the interview room. He looked smug. 

    After the tape formalities Tench kicked off in what seemed a conciliatory tone. “Well, Alan, you don’t mind if I use your first name do you Alan?”

    O’Donnell smirked. “Only of I can use yours.”

    Tench smiled, “Sure, its Phillip, or Phil if you prefer, although everyone round here calls me Tench.”

    O’Donnell now looked confused, unsure why he was suddenly being treated with what appeared to be respect. “Uh, ok uh, Phil.”

    “So I’ve got good news and bad news Alan,” Tench went on, “which do you want first?” Although his demeanour hadn’t changed there was a hardening of tone that made this offer seem like a choice between being kicked in the balls or punched in the eye.

    O’Donnell’s solicitor piped up, “If you have something to tell Mr O’Donnell please could you get on with it?”

    Tench gave the young lawyer a look that made the man visibly shrink, before turning back to O’Donnell.

    “The good news Alan, is that your story checks out; we are going to have to check with the people you took to Hull and confirm it was actually you of course, but for now it seems you might be telling the truth. 

    O’Donnell looked triumphant, “I told you it wasn’t me — Phil.” He sneered, stressing Tench’s name so it sounded like a playground taunt.

    “The bad news is the amount of cocaine you have stashed in your bedroom wardrobe —  and not the cleanest of bedrooms I might add — is probably going to get you several years in the pokey —  Alan.” Tench added, poking a thick finger at O’Donnell’s face for emphasis, his broad features splitting into a cheerful smile.

    “O’Donnell’s face was the picture of shock. If he was pale before, he was alabaster now.     “F… fucking drugs?” he stammered, “If there is, you planted 'em you bastards, I n… never had anything to do with drugs, I d… don’t even take ‘em myself, there’s no way you found that in my house you f… fuckers, you’re fitting me up.” He was breathing hard and his eyes were wide with fear. “You never found any drugs at my house, there’s no way, no fucking way.”

    Tench glanced at Sam and each read the other’s thoughts, experience and instinct told them that O’Donnell’s shock was genuine, and if that was the case, and someone had put the drugs in his house, someone who wanted the Police running around chasing a patsy, then perhaps that someone knew something about the disappearance of Nikki Talbot