‘How the other half live, hey Guv?’ he said, smiling, his thick South London drawl in contrast to his wiry frame and gaunt features, which were accentuated by his long beige trench-coat.
Phillips returned his smile and pointed at the Bentley. ‘This one would cost about the same as a small family home, Jonesy.’
‘Not around here it wouldn’t, Guv. A hundred and fifty grand’d get you nothing more than a garden shed in Altrincham.’
Phillips let out a chuckle. ‘Yeah. You’re probably right.’
Just a few metres away, a couple dressed as an angel and a devil walked out of the main entrance. They giggled, arms locked and bodies huddled against the night.
Jones kept his voice low. ‘You said on the phone we’re investigating a missing girl. How old is she, and how long’s she been gone?’
‘From the little information I got from Fox, she’s a teenager,’ said Phillips as she glanced at her watch. It was approaching midnight. ‘And she’s been missing about an hour and half, I’d say.’
Jones raised his eyebrows. ‘The chief super briefed you? Not quite standard procedure for a missing person, is it?’
Phillips shook her head and looked towards the main entrance. ‘I think it’s fair to say the missing girl’s father is not someone you would deem as “standard”, Jonesy.’
Jones’s eyes widened with anticipation. ‘Really? Who is he?’
‘Sir Richard Hawkins.’
Jones paused for a moment. ‘Richard Hawkins, the munitions trader?’
‘That’s the one,’ said Phillips. ‘And he’s just been knighted, so mind your Ps and Qs.’
‘Friends in high places then, is it?’
‘If you call Downing Street “high places”, then yeah.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Jones. ‘I wondered why MCU was involved in a missing persons case. I mean, it’s hardly a major crime, is it?’
‘Depends on the missing person, doesn’t it?’
Jones nodded. ‘Yeah, I guess it does. So how come you and I drew the short straw? Why aren’t Bov and Entwistle here?’
‘It must be because I like spending time with you, Jonesy,’ said Phillips, her tone playful. ‘Not to mention the fact Fox wants a show of force on this one, as does the chief constable. So they’ve got the “dream team” – that’s you and me. Plus, at this stage I’m not dragging the whole team out to look for a rich kid who’s more than likely just run off for the night. For all we know, she’s probably partying somewhere with her mates as we speak.’
At that moment, Sir Richard Hawkins’s large frame appeared in the main entrance to the club. He was talking at high volume into his phone. He appeared almost surreal, dressed as he was in his Halloween costume.
Phillips nodded in Hawkins’s direction. ‘That’s our guy there, Count Dracula. Quite appropriate, I’d say. He’s probably on the phone to the chief constable, questioning our methods already.’
‘Oh, God. He’s one of those, is he?’
‘Yep, I’m afraid so. Which means we should let him know we’re here.’
Phillips walked towards Hawkins, who stood with his back to her, and Jones fell in behind. As she approached the large stone steps up to the club entrance, she pulled her credentials from her coat pocket. ‘Sir Richard?’ she said in a loud voice.
Hawkins turned, the phone still held against his ear. ‘Yes?’
‘DCI Phillips from the Major Crimes Unit. This is DS Jones. We’re here in connection with your daughter’s disappearance.’
‘I’ll call you back,’ said Hawkins into his phone, and ended the call.
‘Shall we go inside?’ asked Phillips.
Hawkins nodded. ‘Follow me,’ he said, his tone flat, and turned on his heels and walked briskly into club.
Phillips turned to Jones briefly and raised her eyebrows. As usual, he knew exactly what she was thinking.
‘A real charmer, isn’t he?’ said Jones, in a low voice.
‘Isn’t he just?’ said Phillips, then headed inside.
Phillips found Hawkins in an empty club lounge, standing next to a woman seated in an armchair. Her hair ragged and dishevelled, Phillips suspected she had recently removed some sort of wig. It was obvious from her puffy red eyes and the streaky face paint on her cheeks that she had been crying. A white handkerchief was clasped in her trembling hands.
As Phillips approached, Hawkins wasted no time on pleasantries. ‘My daughter is missing, Inspector, and you’d better find her or there’ll be hell to pay.’
Phillips bit her lip and chose to ignore the threat. ‘Who first discovered Hollie was missing, Sir Richard?’
Jones removed his notepad and prepared to take notes.
‘My wife, Sandra.’ Hawkins nodded in the direction of the woman in the chair.
‘And when was this?’
‘About ten-thirty,’ Sandra said in a weak voice, without looking up.
Phillips glanced down at her now. ‘And what makes you think she’s gone missing as opposed to run off somewhere? I have to say that, in most cases relating to a missing person, we usually tell families to wait for twenty-four hours before getting too concerned. Especially when it comes to teenagers.’
Hawkins spoke before Sandra could answer. ‘We are not “most cases”, Inspector. I can assure you of that.’
‘She would never have run off without telling me,’ said Sandra, ‘never.’
‘My wife is right, Inspector. Because of what I do, there are many people who would like to take a pop at me. Any one of them could have snatched her.’
Phillips was taken aback. ‘Are you saying you think she’s been kidnapped?’
Jones stopped scribbling and looked up from his pad.
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying,’ said Hawkins.
Phillips sensed that now was not the time to suggest any other possible theories regarding Hollie’s disappearance. Instead, she changed tack. ‘Have you tried calling her phone?’
‘Of course we bloody have,’ said Hawkins, far louder than was necessary in the empty space.
‘It’s switched off,’ Sandra said.
‘And that’s just not like her. The bloody thing is never out of her hand,’ added Hawkins.
Sandra looked up at Phillips and wiped her nose with her handkerchief. ‘Richard is right, Inspector. She lives on that phone. That’s why I’m so worried.’
Hawkins patted his wife’s shoulder, much like a man would pat a dog’s head. It seemed evident he was not someone who possessed a soft touch.
Phillips locked eyes with Sandra and produced a warm smile. ‘We’ll do everything we can to make sure she’s found safe and well, Mrs Hawkins—’
‘You’d better!’ Hawkins interrupted her.
Phillips once more ignored the jibe. ‘Well, we need to have a look round the club and speak to the manager. Can you tell us where his office is located?’
Hawkins gestured with an upwards movement of his head. ‘Down there.’
Phillips swivelled to see a long corridor behind her. She turned back to the pair. ‘Thank you,’ she said, keeping her voice soft. ‘Hollie may well turn up at home in the next few hours, so there’s no sense in you staying here and worrying. Let us check things out here, and if she still hasn’t turned up by morning, we’ll head over to your house first thing. Ok?’