‘Won’t the council workers talk?’
‘No, they think he’s a management trainee. They have to do work experience in every department.’
Porteous smiled at the thought that Luke could pass as management material, but Stout was continuing. ‘He’ll have a key and can let our people in at night. If the neighbours get used to workmen being in the place it shouldn’t cause so much gossip.’
‘Good.’ Porteous thought the plan unnecessarily elaborate. They had no evidence that Reeves would try to contact his sister. But he knew Stout wasn’t in the mood to take criticism. Counselling had taught him the futility of knocking his head against a brick wall.
‘I got an address for Reeves from the DVLA. He lives in a small town in the Yorkshire Dales.’
‘Back to Yorkshire,’ Porteous said. ‘Hannah Morton thought Theo had been at school there but we didn’t get anywhere when we checked earlier. Could Alec have introduced Theo to the Brices, I wonder? I suppose it’s more likely to be coincidence. Theo would have been in a boarding school and Alec a care assistant in a Social Services assessment centre so it’s hard to see where they’d have met. Not that I’ve traced either establishment yet. But it shouldn’t be difficult now.’
‘I’ve found out where Reeves worked.’ Stout was jubilant. Porteous tried to be gracious in his moment of glory. ‘It was a place called Redwood. It wasn’t run by Social Services. Not officially. They bought in places there for difficult kids they couldn’t persuade anyone else to take. It was operated by a charitable trust. It closed about a year ago when the person in charge retired. A woman by the name of Alice Cornish. Apparently she’s famous.’
‘Oh yes,’ Porteous said. ‘She’s very famous.’
He was surprised Stout had never heard of her. Alice Cornish had been committed to providing quality care for children before the improvement of residential services became a fashionable cause. She’d worked in local-authority children’s homes in the late sixties and resigned, very publicly, exposing a series of scandals. The press hadn’t known what to make of her and in some quarters she’d been portrayed as an idealistic but rather hysterical trouble maker. She’d gone on to qualify as a doctor and then to set up an establishment of her own – Redwood – in a farmhouse in the country. Her peers found it hard to understand why she was bothering with grubby and disruptive children when she could be earning a comfortable living within the health service, but her qualifications made them take her seriously. She welcomed research teams into Redwood and they had to admit that her methods worked. She had gone on to be hugely respected in the field of social welfare. She had been made a Dame and chaired committees of inquiry into widespread abuse. Yet still she maintained her personal contact with Redwood and the children who’d lived there spoke of her with great affection. It seemed inconceivable that she would have employed anyone suspected of abuse. Porteous said as much, tactfully, to Stout.
‘She wouldn’t have known, would she? He was never convicted. Never even charged.’
‘I just don’t see how he would have got away with it at a place like that. Dr Cornish’s whole philosophy was about listening to children. The kids wouldn’t have been frightened to talk if Reeves had tried anything on.’
‘He’s clever,’ Stout said stubbornly. ‘Cunning. You don’t know.’
Again Porteous saw no point in arguing. ‘Is Reeves at home now?’
‘I got in touch with the local nick. They sent a community policeman round there yesterday evening. If Alec had answered he’d have got a pep talk about the neighbourhood watch, but nobody was in. According to the neighbours he’s a model citizen, keeps his lawn cut, does his stint driving meals on wheels round the village and – get this – he helps organize the Duke of Edinburgh award scheme at the local high school.’
‘Perhaps that’s how he met Theo Randle,’ Porteous said, almost to himself.
‘Perhaps that’s still how he gets to meet young lads.’
‘Had the local bobbies heard that anything like that’s going on?’
‘They didn’t say.’ Stout sounded disappointed. ‘But he’s known as a loner. Well thought of in the village, but no real friends, no wife, no ladyfriend.’
You could say the same about me, Porteous thought.
‘Did the neighbours have any idea where Reeves had gone?’ he asked.
‘Away for a week to visit an old colleague. They think he’ll be back today or tomorrow.’
‘I don’t suppose they mentioned where the old colleague lives?’
‘No. The old lady who lives next door asked but he wouldn’t say. It wasn’t like him. Usually he was happy to have a cup of tea with her and a chat.’
‘Suspicious…’ Porteous said, but only to please Stout. He didn’t want Reeves to be uncovered as a child-abuser and serial killer. His employment at Redwood would be seized upon by the press. Alice Cornish would lose her credibility. And it would mean that Stout had been right all along. He hated to admit it but an element of competition had crept into the inquiry. Stout had found an address for Reeves, but still Porteous hadn’t discovered where Crispin Randle had taken Theo to be educated after the fire. He didn’t want Stout to be proved right about this.
‘I’ve made an appointment to visit Mr and Mrs Gillespie,’ he said. It would be the first formal interview with Melanie’s parents. According to Richard Gillespie the doctor had said Eleanor wasn’t up to it before. Gillespie still wasn’t keen but Porteous had persisted and he’d reluctantly given way. He must have realized it would have to happen eventually. ‘One o’clock. Is that all right with you?’
‘You want me to come?’
‘I don’t want to miss anything. And while we’re at the coast I thought we’d see Melanie’s friends. Rosalind Morton and the boyfriend. You’re good at teenagers.’ He’d thought Stout would be pleased to be asked. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll let us know if there’s any news on Reeves.’
When Stout left the office Porteous made his decaffeinated coffee and spent most of the next hour on the phone. His first call was to an official in the Department for Education. He needed to find out where a child had been at school thirty years ago. It was urgent. A murder inquiry. Was there any way of finding out? There was a moment of silence and Porteous sensed the usual shock and excitement.
‘State sector or private?’
‘Private.’
Another silence. Then: ‘Did he take any public examinations?’
‘O levels. He must have taken O levels because he went on to the sixth form.’
‘You could try the exam boards then.’ The official hesitated then offered tentatively: ‘If you don’t mind giving me the details I can phone round for you. Call you back later.’
Porteous didn’t mind. He gave both Theo Randle’s names and his date of birth. ‘We think he was in school somewhere in Yorkshire.’
He replaced the receiver and felt he was easing back into contention in the race with Eddie Stout. Then he remembered two kids had died and wondered how he could have been so petty.
The next phone call was to Hannah Morton’s house. It was answered sulkily by a girl who sounded as if she’d just woken up. If anything when he identified himself she was even ruder. ‘Don’t come to the house,’ she said. ‘I’ll be working. The Promenade. A big white pub on the front. You’ll need to talk to Frank anyway and I’ll make sure Joe’s there. Make it mid-afternoon when we’re not so busy.’ She replaced the receiver before he had a chance to object.
He was wondering whether to break his routine and have another cup of coffee when the DFEE officer phoned him back.
‘I think I’ve traced your lad.’
‘Go on.’
‘He took O levels in the name of Michael Grey. Passed seven well. A grades in Art and English. Failed Latin.’