‘Here and there.’
‘Don’t play games, Mr Bentley. Just answer the question.’
‘Why do you wanna know?’
‘Because a little girl has gone missing, and Mr Abbasi says you were in his shop at the same time as she was.’
For the first time in a long time, Bentley cursed his addiction to booze and drugs. He had very little recollection of his movements (apart from up and down on Shona before the ill-fated attempt to act out one of his many fantasies with her). ‘I was with Shona.’
‘Shona?’
‘My bird.’
‘What time did you meet up with her?’
Bentley shrugged. ‘Dunno. I don’t keep a diary.’
‘Where did you meet her?’
‘Didcot.’
‘How did you get there?’
‘Drove.’
Palmer scribbled in his notebook, then fixed Bentley with a look to suggest he didn’t think he could drive. ‘Where’s your car?’
‘Down by the garages.’
‘Make and registration?’
‘Vauxhall Nova. X312 SBE.’
‘I take it you have a current driving licence, tax, and insurance?’
Bentley nodded.
‘And you wouldn’t have any objection to us having a look inside the vehicle?’
Bentley tried to remember what incriminating evidence might be inside the car, but his mind was incapable of doing a snap inventory. ‘Why?’
‘Just to rule out any involvement on your part.’
‘You don’t think I had anything to do with that kid disappearing, do you?’
Palmer shrugged. ‘I’m just making enquiries to establish a timeline and rule people out.’
Bentley tried to recall where he’d gone after seeing the kid, but there were massive chunks of life missing from his memory. He remembered going back to the flat at some point and smoking a spliff before driving to Sainsbury’s carpark to pick up Shona. He also knew that they’d gone to the river and returned to Feelham sometime later that night. But all the in-between bits were blank. Wiped from his memory like files from a computer.
Maybe the kid’s hiding somewhere in that doped-up head of yours, a voice whispered. The one closely related to paranoia.
‘So, would you mind if we take a look in the car?’
An image of a blood-stained boot popped into his mind. The child lying inside with her hands and feet bound with rope. But that was just bollocks. His mind playing tricks on him. He’d never hurt a kid… would he?
‘Jim?’
‘Fill your boots. You won’t find nothing in there.’
‘Did Shona stay with you all day Friday?’
Easy one. ‘Yeah.’
‘Never left your side?’
Bentley shook his head. But there were some large slices of Friday missing as well. Right up to when she’d buggered off squawking as if he’d tried to cannibalise her. Booze and dope suddenly turned from allies into enemies. ‘Not unless she went somewhere while I was asleep.’
‘But you were here all day?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And you haven’t left the flat for anything since you brought Shona back to the flat?’
‘No. I don’t know why you’re wasting time with me. It’s—’
‘I’m trying to establish what’s happened to Jodie Willis. After all, you do have a bit of form with underage girls.’
Bentley tried to snort but only hacked phlegm. ‘I wondered when you’d bring that shit up. For a start, that vicious little bitch was almost sixteen. And she was begging for it.’
‘According to your file, you raped and abused her because she owed you money for drugs.’
‘Bollocks.’
‘Beat her black and blue.’
‘She got someone to do that to her. Fucking bitch set me up because I didn’t want to see her again as soon as I found out her real age. She told me she was eighteen, and so did her tits and her makeup.’
Palmer scribbled in his notebook, lips compressed, brow furrowed.
A memory. Sudden and jolting. How the fuck had he forgotten? ‘I’ll tell you who you ought to be talking to.’
Palmer looked up, eyebrows raised. ‘Who?’
‘That retard, Mathew Hillock. He was in Abbasi’s shop babbling a load of shit about killing someone. He’s nuts. The whole family’s fucking cuckoo.’
Palmer nodded. ‘We’re well aware of what Mr Hillock said.’
‘No wonder you lot can’t catch a cold. You should be arresting that sicko instead of pestering me.’
‘Thanks for the advice, Jim. I’ll be in touch if we need a psychiatric evaluation for Mr Hillock. Oh, by the way, Jodie’s phone was switched off in Didcot.’
‘So?’
‘Just saying, seeing as you drove there to pick up your girlfriend.’
Jim’s heart almost careered off the road. ‘Hundreds of people drive to Didcot every day. There’s no law against it, is there?’
‘No. But we can rule out most people because of the timeline. Where does Shona live?’
‘Milton Heights. Why?’
‘What number?’
‘Fifty-six.’
Palmer wrote it down. ‘Does she live with her parents?’
‘Just her mum.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘You sure about that, Jim?’
Bentley wasn’t. ‘That’s what she told me. But I never asked to see her birth certificate.’
‘Maybe you should have, what with your track record.’
‘Maybe I should’ve done a lot of things.’
‘Or not.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. What’s Shona’s surname?’
‘McGee.’
Palmer made a note of it. ‘I think that’ll do for now. I’ll see myself out.’
Bentley watched him walk along the hallway and vanish out the door. He needed a spliff. Or a six-pack of Strongbow Super. Or both. Jesus Christ, this couldn’t be happening. He didn’t even know the bloody kid had gone missing. But he knew Mathew Hillock had been jabbering on about murdering someone, and now, hey presto, the girl was missing along with his memory.
Maybe you’d better call Shona. Go through the timeline between Thursday night and now. Get your stories straight. Fill in the missing blanks before the coppers do it for you.
And wasn’t that the cock-sucking truth? They’d stitched up enough poor bastards to strip the cotton fields bare. It wasn’t about what you’d done – it was about what they thought you’d done; and there was a whole Grand Canyon of a gap between the two.
Jim Bentley banged his head against the table several times. His brain bounced off the walls of his skull. Why did bad shit always happen to good people like him?
Chapter Nine
Mathew tried his best to keep still, but his feet and hands seemed to have other ideas. He tapped the dining table, and his feet scuffed against the laminate flooring with rhythmic squeaks. His mother was in the kitchen making sandwiches for lunch. Ham and pickle. His favourite, only today he wasn’t hungry. Not while Jodie was still missing.