Missing, Believed Crazy Read online

  ‘That’s another thing you’re good at.’ This was Mark. ‘Pretending to be innocent. I think you’re the best liar I’ve ever met.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Jade sat up angrily. ‘I didn’t come here to be—’

  ‘What about contacts?’ Trix asked. ‘Do you know anyone who could help us? What about your brothers?’

  Jade looked away. ‘You don’t want to know about them,’ she said. ‘They’re totally bad news.’

  Trix was about to press her, but Holly caught her eye and shook her head slowly. Jade’s family, it seemed, was a no-go area.

  JADE

  Perfecto. Here were the skills that I was going to bring to the party: showing off and lying. Then there was that question about my contacts. This is what I should have said when they brought my so-called family into the discussion: Hey, guys, rearrange the following words to make a famous phrase or saying: ‘go’, ‘there’ and ‘don’t’.

  THE SMILER

  I like to have contacts. People who tell me stuff. One of my best contacts is a little guy called Spider Webb. Spider’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, never having got around to reading or writing, but he’s bright enough to do the rounds collecting scrap from remote houses and doing a spot of light thieving now and then to keep him in beer money.

  Chatting with me in the pub one night, he mentioned this weirdo Gideon. Lived alone, apparently. Except now he had five children running around the place. What was odd was that, when Spider had called by unannounced, the children had seemed nervous about him seeing them.

  This Gideon bloke was a strange one, according to Spider. Long-haired hippy type. Drove around in a London taxi.

  Somewhere, deep in the Smiler bonce, bells were beginning to ring.

  ‘Tell me about the kids,’ I said. ‘What did they look like?’

  EVA JOHANSSON

  Eddison is a genius. The weekend newspaper stories about Trixie’s passion for justice in the world changed everything. It was as if they had been waiting to find out whether she was a good teenager or a bad teenager. If she had run off with someone she had met on an Internet chatline (which I never believed), then she was not worth quite the fuss in the newspapers.

  Now, thanks to EddisonVogel, they understood my little Trixie. She was a good, caring girl. An angel.

  A genuine twenty-first-century child heroine.

  EDDISON VOGEL

  We had lift-off. The Little Trixie story had it all. There were glamorous parents with a little bit of sad family history, thanks to Pete, the alcoholic father. There was money, privilege and famous friends. There was a detective who looked good in front of the cameras and enjoying playing the part. And then there was Little Trixie herself, the teenager who cared that we didn’t care.

  A whole guilt thing kicked in beautifully. It gave the story what I like to call ‘traction’ – something ordinary folk can relate to. Thanks to Trixie, millions of people would start thinking about their own lives – how selfish they were, how little they thought about the starving kids in the world. They would compare themselves to this innocent little fourteen-year-old. The idea would take hold that somehow the big, uncaring world – that’s you and me, folks – was somehow responsible for what had happened to Trixie. Then the money would start pouring into the Show Us You Care fund, and that would help the story along too. The public likes to be reminded of how big-hearted it can be.

  Newspapers were already desperately looking for new angles. When I told them that Trixie’s best friend might be available for interview, I almost had a riot on my hands.

  I just hoped this Holly kid would play her part. The child element – that was what we wanted. It was going to be a real heartbreaker.

  DETECTIVE INSPECTOR BARRY CARTWRIGHT

  Some investigations are straightforward. There’s a crime, there’s a criminal out there and there’s evidence. My job is to bring those things together in a way that will satisfy a court of law. The investigation begins and ends with the police.

  Then there are the complicated ones. Once in a while there are cases that ‘catch fire’, as we policemen like to say. Everyone’s interested. The crime is a story in which the public is determined to play its part.

  The disappearance of Little Trixie Bell was one of those.

  As the officer responsible for the investigation, I was at first keen to keep the journalists, the television cameras, away from the case. Crime-solving is like managing the national football team – everyone thinks he can do it better than the experts.

  Me, I can do without the amateurs. They think they’re the famous continental detective Hercule Poirot when in fact they’re the famous continental idiot Inspector Clouseau.

  When Eddison Vogel was brought in by Eva Johansson, he made me see things differently. The public, he said, doesn’t have to be the enemy. It can be your friend.

  ‘We’ve got to keep them interested,’ he said. ‘There’s always another big human-interest story around the corner.’

  PETE BELL

  Have you tried to give up drink? It’s not easy. Since the day after Trix had disappeared, I hadn’t touched a drop. My body did not like what was happening to it. I lost weight. My hands shook. I looked – well, I looked worse than when I was drinking.

  No one knew I was dry, of course. My ex-wife continued to look at me as if a bit of dog-do had just walked into her house. She still referred to me, even when I was in hearing range, as ‘the Drunk’.

  MARK

  We had told Gideon that Holly was having to return for a family wedding. While he was taking Holly to the station after breakfast, Wiki and I cycled to the shop during the morning to pick up the papers and the shopping for the day.

  To tell the truth, I had a small twinge of worry as we cycled off, leaving Trix and Jade alone at Hill Farm. Maybe all the talk of crimes and plans the previous evening was getting to me.

  THE SMILER

  You’ll want to know my plan.

  It was simple. For some reason, Pete Bell’s kid was being held by the taxi-driving hippy Gideon.

  No one in the world knew this except the Smiler.

  I would check out the house. The next day I would grab the kid, hold on to her long enough to make Pete Bell suffer like I suffered in jail. Then I would give her back – in return for a few thousand pounds.

  Revenge and cash. It was beautiful.

  JADE

  Maybe you’ve picked up on this already: Jade Hart is not a country girl. When it was decided over breakfast that Trix and I were going to be picking berries while Holly went to the station and the boys did the shopping, my first thought had been: I want to go back to bed.

  But I didn’t because that’s the kind of girl I am – a team player.

  THE SMILER

  The taxi rumbled down the driveway to the small country lane leading down to the main road. From my Discovery, which I had parked out of sight up a lane, I caught a glimpse of Gideon as he drove past. There was a small figure in the back of the car. Little Trixie? Probably. Wherever he was taking her, I sure as hell hoped he would be bringing her back.

  One minute, two. I slipped on my trusty leather gloves, turned the key in the Discovery and eased out of the lane and up the hill. I was on my way.

  JADE

  The sun shone. The birds sang. Trix was up a plum tree and I was down among the gooseberries, getting pricked to hell.

  We had been working about five minutes when we heard the taxi coming back.

  Except it wasn’t the taxi. A big black SUV with darkened windows was moving towards us up the drive. There was something about the way it was being driven – slowly, quietly, like some beast stalking its prey – that gave me a bad, bad feeling.

  ‘OK.’ Trix spoke quietly. ‘We just stay here very quietly, right, Jade. Keep out of sight.’

  Like I needed encouraging.

  The SUV turned in front of the house until it was facing down the hill again. A man stepped out. He wore a sky-blue tracksuit and trainers – not
a good look, I remember thinking, for a man whose hair was grey and who had a paunch like he was about six months pregnant. Weirdest of all, he had on these black leather gloves.

  He walked to the front door, which was open as usual: knocked and waited. After about thirty seconds, he walked into the kitchen.

  THE SMILER

  Something a bit iffy was going on here. Trust me. I’ve got a nose for these things.

  This farm was too normal.

  I’ve never kidnapped anyone myself (although, come to think of it, I did once lock a bank manager’s wife in a lavatory for about six hours), but I’m pretty sure that kidnappers don’t leave the front door open. And there’s probably not the smell of baking bread in the average snatcher’s hideout.

  Not my problem. Whatever the story, the world – including my enemy, the toerag Pete Bell – thought that this girl Trixie had been kidnapped. That was all that mattered.

  I went upstairs. There was kids’ stuff everywhere. The first bedroom I went into was used by boys, to judge by the mess. Next door, it was neater. I was getting somewhere. Beside one of the beds was a framed photograph – some blonde chick, whose face I recognized. It was Eva Johansson, when she was younger. Standing beside her, a stupid grin on his silly face, was Bell.

  Bingo. I opened the top drawer in the table. Some clothes. I took out a small T-shirt. Written on it were the words FEED THE WORLD. I stuffed it in my pocket and went downstairs.

  JADE

  The man was inside the house for a couple of minutes. Trix and I watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he stood, framed by the front door.

  That face. I’ll never forget it. The eyes were cold, alert and, as he looked about him, he had this big scary grin on his face. At one point, he seemed to be gazing down to the orchard.

  Don’t scream, Jade. And please don’t wet yourself.

  He went round the back of the house.

  THE SMILER

  I was done. On an impulse, I checked out the yard, looked into one of the sheds. There were rocking chairs everywhere. On a table in the centre of the workshop there was a big chair someone had almost finished. I ran my hand over the wood. It was a beauty – the ultimate rocker.

  A carpenter-kidnapper? This was one weird situation.

  JADE

  Walking quickly now, the man returned to his car, still grinning like a psycho. He gunned its engine and took off.

  Silence. I looked at Trix. She looked at me. We were both too freaked to move or say anything.

  That’s how we were when Wiki and Mark appeared on their bikes about five minutes later.

  WIKI

  We called for the girls outside, then in the house. We went down to the orchard.

  ‘Maybe they went for a walk,’ Mark was saying.

  ‘Jade? Walking?’ I said. ‘That’ll be the day.’

  As I spoke, there was a sound – a sort of whimper – from the gooseberry patch. She stood up. Even with her Italian tan, she looked pale.

  ‘Jade,’ I said. ‘What is it?’

  That was when she started crying.

  MARK

  Don’t you hate it when girls fall apart? Seeing Jade cry like that, I was reminded of what my dad used to say when I was younger. Spare us the waterworks.

  Jade was gabbling something about a psycho, a car. ‘He was grinning, like he’d been told this big joke,’ she said.

  ‘Where’s Trix?’ Wiki asked.

  ‘I’m here.’

  The voice came from the branches of a tree behind us. Trix jumped down and, glancing nervously towards the drive, she said, ‘We’ve had a visitor.’

  The full story came out. At some point, Jade became hysterical, as if there was all this fear inside her that suddenly had to come pouring out.

  The three of us looked at her, not sure what to do.

  To my surprise, it was Wik who acted first. He moved towards her and put an arm round her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t, you dork!’ Jade yelped, trying to wriggle away. But Wiki held her fast.

  ‘You’re OK,’ he said. ‘Everything is fine now.’

  Slowly she calmed down.

  ‘What happens if he comes back?’ Trix asked.

  ‘Maybe he was just a friend of Gideon’s,’ I said.

  ‘Get real,’ Jade snapped. ‘Gideon doesn’t have friends.’

  ‘Here’s what we do.’ Wiki took his arm away from Jade. ‘We go to the attic and decide on a plan.’

  JADE

  OK, so I lost it for a few moments there. But face it, we were all scared. At least I had the courage to show my feelings.

  I got over it soon enough. The psycho was scary, sure, but having Wiki Church put his arm round me put things in perspective. That was even scarier.

  In the attic, we had this big gang meeting and discussed what we should do next. Talk to Gideon? Get the hell out of there? Give ourselves up?

  WIKI

  It was the first real test for the gang since the big meeting the previous night, and it was not going well.

  Mark and Jade agreed with one another for the first time in living history. We should tell Gideon about the visitor, they said. Trix pointed out that, if he called the police, it would be the end of everything.

  ‘The police?’ Mark laughed. ‘My godfather would never call the police. Anyway, he might know the guy. My dad says that when in doubt—’

  ‘Well, your dad’s not here, is he?’ Trix snapped. She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mark. It’s getting to me, all this.’

  Mark gave an angry little shrug. He reached for one of the newspapers we had bought in the village and opened it. There was a big headline across two pages: ‘THE TROUBLED LIFE OF LITTLE TRIXIE’S FATHER’. A big photograph showed a man who was unshaven and badly dressed. He looked like a beggar on a street corner. It was Pete Bell.

  ‘That’s an old picture,’ said Trix. ‘He doesn’t look like that most of the time.’

  Mark was reading the article. ‘Hey, it says your dad was once the country’s leading crime reporter,’ he said. ‘I never knew he had been famous.’

  Trix said nothing. She was staring at the bottom of the page as if it she had seen something unspeakably terrifying.

  ‘Jade,’ she whispered, then pointed at a small photograph.

  Jade looked down at the paper and screamed.

  JADE

  It was him. Oh my God. The psycho. The hair was longer, the face younger, but there was no mistaking that grin.

  ‘Charles ‘the Smiler’ Prendergast’, the caption read. ‘Once Britain’s most wanted man, Prendergast was jailed as a result of Bell’s investigation. He was released from prison last year, having served eight years for robbery with violence.’

  THE SMILER

  As soon as I got home, I took a closer look at the T-shirt. Carefully – I didn’t want any telltale Smiler DNA to slip through – I made a few cuts with some scissors into the material. Then I popped it into the post, addressed to the Show Us You Care fund address.

  I’d have given anything to see Bell’s face when it arrived.

  WIKI

  We had to get out of there, and fast. Even in those panicky moments, the thought made me sad. I liked these fields, these animals, these birds. It felt like home here.

  Later that morning, waiting for Gideon to return from the station, I sat on my favourite log, looking out over the valley, thinking of my time at Hill Farm.

  At one point, Jade joined me.

  ‘Thanks for all that earlier,’ she said.

  I frowned, unsure of what she was talking about.

  ‘In the orchard. I kind of lost it back there. You were, you know, OK.’

  I smiled. ‘You’re welcome, Jade.’

  ‘Just don’t do it again, right?’ she said, and began walking back to the house.

  GODFATHER GIDEON

  Humans are trouble. I prefer cats or hens or even foxes. Let humans too close to you and soon enough you’ll regret it.

  I had thought small humans,
or ‘children’ as they’re sometimes called, would mean less trouble. I was wrong.

  Ever since the two girls had arrived, I had realized that there was more to this holiday than met the eye. There was too much whispering, too many meaningful glances across the table at mealtimes. Whatever their game was, I wanted nothing to do with it. I had work to do, a life to lead.

  On the way to the station, the girl Holly had chattered away like a sparrow in spring. It was too much noise, too many words, so that after a while I said to her, ‘You don’t have to talk, you know. Enjoy the scenery.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, a bit put out. ‘Fine, right.’ She remained silent until we said goodbye at the station. As we stood by the taxi, she stuck out her hand and said, with the good manners of a performing dog, ‘Goodbye, Gideon, and thank you for having me to stay.’

  I nodded.

  Then she said, ‘One day, you’ll know how important it was.’ With a wave, she was gone.