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The Outcast Dead(41)

By:Elly Griffiths


She had to go back to her digs, says Martin. Im in charge now. I want to shoot the trench sequence again.



Clough is now seeing towers at every turn. Nelson sent him off duty at six but, instead of going home, Clough embarked on a tour of the places mentioned by Irish Ted. Its madness, he tells himself, Im becoming as weird as Cathbad. But what if the lunatic psychic woman was right? What if she really did know where Michael was hidden? Hes alive, Sergeant Clough, but be quick. She cant protect him forever. Times running out, you dont need to be a psychic to know that. His colleagues baby is lost and Clough cant just stay at home watching Top Gear with a microwave meal. He has to do something.

So Clough drives to Cow Tower and The Devils Tower and several piles of rock along the old city walls that look more like rubble than fortifications. He checks all these places for white Skodas and short-haired women until hes seeing both in the shadows. Eventually, he gives up and heads back to the A147. Driving down Riverside Road he sees the castle on his right, lit up like Christmas. Whats going on there? He vaguely remembers Nelson telling him about some filming at the castle. One of those historical programmes. He thinks that Ruth is involved somehow.

Stuck at the lights, he looks across at the floodlit battlements. Despite living in Norfolk all his life, Clough has never been in the castle. He even managed to avoid the obligatory school trip to learn about Boadicea. But now, looking at it, hes struck by how castle-like it is. Just what a kid would draw. A big square like a giant tower.
 
 

 

A giant tower.

Clough performs a screeching hand-brake turn worthy of the boss himself. How the hell is he going to get near the bloody place? Everythings pedestrianised and cobbled and shut off with bollocking bollards. After driving into two dead-ends he stops, frustrated, in the middle of the road. Hes in the historical centre of Norwich, all boutiques and oldy-worldy pubs. Hes practically parked in the front porch of one such place, a crazy lop-sided building, criss-crossed with ancient beams. A woman is glaring at him from the doorway. Clough raises his hand in apology and starts to back out. As he does so, he looks up at the sign. It shows a deer-like creature bearing the pubs name upon its curly horns.

The Red Hart.



Ive got to go, says Ruth.

Frank stares at her. You cant. Martin wants to shoot the sequence again.

Ive got to. I cant explain but its about the missing child. My friends child. Do you know where Danis staying?

Dani? No. Why?

Who would know? Please Frank  …  Suddenly she realises that shes holding his arm, squeezing it tight. Please. Its important.

Aisling would know. Aisling is Danis assistant.

Where is she?

Up at the castle I think.

Ruth is running through the crowd of extras, oblivious to Martins furious shouts. She runs back along the bridge and arrives panting at the castle doors. Where can Aisling be? Shes usually one of those people whos everywhere at the same time, popping up at Danis shoulder with briefing notes, shooting schedules, cold drinks. How can she have chosen this moment to disappear?

Shell be in the production office, says a voice behind Ruth. She hadnt even realised that Frank had followed her.

Its along here. By the make-up room.

He leads the way into the castle.



Nelson hoots his horn impatiently. In defiance of all the signs telling him not to, he has driven across the bridge  –  scattering startled extras  –  and has parked in front of the castle entrance. A sign on the wooden door says, Silence. Filming in progress. Nelson gets out of the car and looks around disapprovingly. The place seems to have been transformed into bloody Disneyland. There are lights and cameras everywhere. The castle grounds are full of people. Someone is selling drinks and burgers from a van. Its like the Golden Mile. Dont they know that theres a child missing?

Excuse me, says a voice. You cant park here.

Nelson wheels round. An earnest-looking youth with a clipboard is looking at him rather apprehensively.

Police, says Nelson briefly. Whos in charge?

The youth now looks terrified. Martin. Hes the assistant director. But you cant just  …

Take me to him, says Nelson.



Ruth doesnt think she has ever run so much in her life. Not since, as an extremely reluctant schoolgirl, she was forced to go on cross-country runs in Eltham Park. She pounds back over the bridge with Frank at her side (not even out of breath, she cant help noticing) and into the Castle Mall, the modern shopping centre that has sprung up beside the fortress.

Shall I get my car? Frank had asked.

No, said Ruth, well be quicker on foot. I know where it is. But now she wonders if she spoke too soon. Norwich town centre is a mixture of old and new, the streets turning back on themselves, ancient timbered houses crammed next to modern shop fronts. The shops are shuttered now and the streets are empty apart from a couple of rough sleepers who look at them curiously. Ruth jogs on, looking down at Aislings scribbled directions. The Red Hart, near Maddermarket.

They are going uphill now. Who said there were no hills in Norfolk? Ruth stops, clutching her side.

We should be close, says Frank. She said it was in the old part. These look like fourteenth-century gables. Beautiful.

But just at the moment Ruth cant see anything beautiful about the old city. The jutting gables seem oppressive, the little alleyways dark and sinister. She imagines it in the time of the plague, raw sewage running in the gutters and doors marked with a red cross.

I think its this way, she says.

Another cobbled street but this one is blocked by a car parked diagonally across the road. Ruth swears, trying to edge past it but Frank grabs her arm.

Ruth! Look!

Hes pointing. Shining his torch on an inn sign creaking in the breeze above them.

The Red Hart.

They burst into the reception area and there, clearly berating the woman behind the desk, is a dark heavily built man.

Clough, says Ruth. What are you doing here?

Clough hesitates and, not waiting for a reply, Ruth rounds on the receptionist.

Have you got a Dani White staying here? Danielle White?

White? says Clough sharply.

Yes, says Ruth. Dani White. I think shes got Michael.

I cant just show people into guests bedrooms, says the receptionist.

Clough gets out a card. Police. Open the room. Now.

The woman looks absolutely terrified but she takes a key from a drawer and leads the way towards a staircase.

Isnt there a lift? asks Clough.

Its a listed building.

They follow her up three twisting, uneven flights. Clough takes the stairs two at a time but Ruth is out of breath long before they get to the top. Frank is still following her. On the landing, the receptionist fumbles for the right key. Hurry! says Ruth. Please hurry.

Finally the room is open. Clough and Ruth burst through the door, Frank and the receptionist following. The room is low-ceilinged and attractive, with mullioned windows and floral wallpaper. It also contains a babys cot, a four-poster bed and a reproduction of John Sell Cotmans famous painting The Devils Tower.





CHAPTER 34


Clough turns on the receptionist. So there is a baby staying here.

The receptionist backs away. Shes young, barely more than a teenager. She said he was her nephew. She was looking after him for a few days.

Dont you know that a child went missing three days ago? Dont you read the papers? Listen to the news?

The girl puts her hand to her mouth. Was that the baby  …

Didnt you ask how she suddenly came to have a child?

It couldnt be her, the girl says, I mean, shes to do with TV, isnt she?

Not for the first time Ruth reflects on the corrosive magic of TV. Dani was trusted implicitly by the hotel staff, just because she was bathed in its reflected glow. Clough looks as if he has more to say on the subject but suddenly Frank shouts, Ruth!

They all turn towards him. Hes pointing out of the window. Ruth, peering round Franks arm, sees a courtyard, obviously now a car park, and a woman putting a baby into the back of a white car. The woman is wearing a jaunty woollen cap.

Its her, says Ruth.

Come on, Clough bounds out of the room, Ruth on his heels.

Outside, they are just in time to see the white car disappearing around the corner. Clough leaps into his car and Ruth runs around to the other door. Call the boss, says Clough, starting the engine. Ruth hasnt given a thought to Frank but, suddenly, there he is, opening the back door and throwing himself onto the seat as the car lurches forward. Whos that? asks Clough, not looking round.
 
 

 

Hes a historian, says Ruth.

Clough laughs. Just what we need. A bloody historian.



Nelson is having a trying time up at the castle. The man called Martin, a nervous bearded type, denies any knowledge of Liz Donaldson.

I dont know the names of all the extras. There must be hundreds here tonight.

Someone must know. Isnt there a list?

Aislings got a list. Aisling! He looks around rather helplessly. Aisling!

A woman emerges from the scrum of cameras and people carrying trowels. Nelson recognises her but without much enthusiasm. Its Shona, Ruths nutty friend, wearing an extremely short skirt and and expression of avid curiosity.

DCI Nelson! What brings you here?

Business, says Nelson shortly. Hes never had much time for Shona and he can see her loser of a boyfriend hovering about in the background. Still, Shona might at least know where Ruth is. He asks. Shona responds with a laugh and a hair toss.

Ruth? Oh she was around here somewhere but I think shes gone off with her boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

Frank, the historian. Have you met him? Hes charming. Youd like him.