Free Blood Money by Chris Collett Page A

enquiries about the crèche recently, someone who wanted the information but didn’t then go ahead and book in a child.’
    ‘So you’re thinking it’s pre-meditated?’
    ‘I think it has to be, at least to some degree. It would be a hell of a risk to just walk in off the street and take a child. All sorts of things could go wrong. And I think she has to have known about the crèche.’
    ‘Unless she was just incredibly lucky.’
    It was the word ‘incredibly’ that Mariner found hard to disregard.
    ‘We are sure it’s a woman?’ Sharp said, suddenly.
    ‘Yes, ma’am. The description’s corroborated by both Leanne and Christie; a woman, white, middle-aged with short or probably tied-back brown hair. We also have a sound description of what she was wearing. Christie got a better look and seems to have more about her, so I’ve sent her back to Granville Lane with DS Knox to look at some mug-shots and to put together an efit, which we’ll get out to the media as soon as it’s ready.’
    ‘Good.’ Sharp seemed to drift off for a moment. ‘It’s your worst nightmare, isn’t it?’ It was spoken from the heart. ‘How’s the mother doing?’
    ‘About what you’d expect. Millie Khatoon is with her.’
    ‘Right, I should come and meet her.’
    As she spoke, the buzzer sounded again, making them jump. Mrs Barratt appeared from her office, Ellie’s car seat in her hand. Mariner and Sharp stood back and watched as she opened the door on a young woman who, to Mariner, looked far too young to be a consultant in anything. There was no greeting exchanged and the young woman didn’t appear to have much interest in her child, nor Ellie in her, as the baby was handed over with no more sensibility than if she’d been a package. Mariner remarked on this as they watched the baby seat carried down the path and put into the back of the car parked right outside.
    ‘The au pair,’ said Mrs Barratt, anticipating Mariner’s next question. ‘Ellie’s mother called a little while ago to say that she’d been held up so would be sending her. I don’t suppose she speaks much English. Young, inexperienced and probably paid peanuts, poor girl.’
    Poor girl? Mariner thought back to the girls who had travelled with Katarina, expecting to be employed looking after other people’s children. They’d have happily traded places with Ellie’s au pair. Compared with those girls her life was charmed, though she didn’t appear to appreciate her good fortune and her eyes seemed to carry that same haunted look. But maybe she was just homesick.
    ‘Is she working here legally?’ Mariner couldn’t help it.
    ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Mrs Barratt, tightly. ‘That really is none of my business.’ Even DCI Sharp gave him a disapproving look.
    ‘At any rate she’s not very deserving of a car,’ Mariner observed, noting the elderly vehicle that pulled away. The wall clock said a little after twenty past six.
    ‘Ellie can’t see a lot of her mum,’ DCI Sharp remarked.
    ‘This government wants women back in the workplace,’ replied Mrs Barratt. ‘It keeps me in business, but the consequence, to be truthful, is that lots of children don’t see much of their parents.’ She didn’t indicate whether or not she agreed with the principle, but presumably she was complicit, as she was making her living from it.
    ‘How long have you been open?’ Davina Sharp asked, conversationally.
    ‘Nearly ten years.’
    ‘A lot must have changed in that time.’
    ‘There’s more paperwork, if that’s what you mean,’ said Trudy Barratt, with feeling. ‘Endless guidelines and regulations. ’
    ‘I was thinking more about the huge expansion in childcare provision. It must have created more competition. Any rivalry with other local nurseries?’
    Mrs Barratt smiled. ‘In my view there’s nothing wrong with a little healthy competition. It helps to keep us on our toes. And there are plenty of children to go round.’
    ‘Your contract with