Sandra looked to her husband, who nodded. ‘You’ll update me the moment you hear anything, Inspector?’ he said.
‘Of course,’ said Phillips, with a reassuring smile to Sandra.
‘Very well,’ said Hawkins. He helped his wife from her seat and headed off in the direction of the car park.
Once she was sure they were both out of earshot, Phillips puffed out a loud sigh of relief. ‘Well, that was fun.’
‘Like being stabbed in the scrotum with a rusty nail,’ said Jones, his tone laced with sarcasm. ‘What they say about Richard Hawkins being an arsehole clearly isn’t true. I mean, he’s actually quite pleasant once you get to know him.’
‘Come on, Jonesy,’ said Phillips with a grin. ‘Let’s go and see the manager. He’s a Mr Green, so I’m told.’
3
Just as Phillips was about to knock on the door to Green’s office, it opened. The tall, thick-set, suited man on the other side jumped with shock as he came face to face with Phillips, and Jones stood at her side.
‘Mr Green?’ asked Phillips.
Green’s brow wrinkled, accentuating his large pale forehead, as he maintained his grip on the door handle. ‘Yes?’
Once more Phillips produced her credentials, and Jones did the same. ‘DCI Phillips and DS Jones from the Major Crimes Unit. Can we talk to you about the disappearance of Hollie Hawkins?’
Green’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he studied their IDs. When satisfied they were who they said they were, his face softened. ‘Of course, of course. Come in.’ He moved to one side to allow them access to his office. ‘Please, take a seat,’ he said, pointing to two chairs set in front of the large beech desk.
Phillips and Jones sat as Green walked to the other side of the desk and took a seat in the plush leather chair. ‘How can I be of help?’
Jones prepared to take notes.
‘What can you tell us about what happened here tonight?’ said Phillips.
Green’s face was blank. ‘I really don’t know, Chief Inspector. Our annual Halloween party went off as planned, and was a huge hit, as always. We had a full house of members and their families, with fairground rides, toffee apples, candy floss, etcetera, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Then, at around ten-thirty, Mr and Mrs Hawkins came to my office and said they couldn’t find their daughter, Hollie. Mrs Hawkins was in quite a state of panic and very upset.’
‘And how did Mr Hawkins appear?’ asked Phillips.
Green shrugged. ‘How he always appears: austere, to the point.’
‘So, what happened then?’
‘I followed them into the clubhouse to see if we could find her. Together with my head of security, John Robbins, we checked every room in the building, as well as the outdoor tennis courts, but there was no sign of her.’
‘I’m assuming you have CCTV, Mr Green?’ asked Phillips.
‘Naturally. We have one of the most sophisticated security systems on the market,’ said Green. ‘This is a very exclusive club, Chief Inspector. Our members include Premier League footballers, politicians, lawyers, TV stars, etcetera. They demand the utmost privacy, so only the very best will do at Marstons. Plus, our security team is top-notch, hand-picked by me, with many of them coming to us direct from the military. John Robbins is a retired Royal Marine himself.’
‘Can we see the video footage from this evening?’ said Phillips.
Green nodded with vigour. ‘Certainly. John is looking at the tapes as we speak. Please come with me.’
Green stood and walked round the large desk. Phillips and Jones stood as Green opened the office door, then ushered them back into the corridor. ‘John’s office is just next door.’
A moment later, Phillips and Jones followed Green into John Robbins’s office. Robbins was intent on a series of large CCTV monitors fixed to the wall in front of him.
‘John, this is Chief Inspector Phillips and Detective Sergeant Jones. They’d like to take a look at our CCTV,’ said Green.
Robbins turned and stood. A well-built man with a barrel chest and broad shoulders, he was not especially tall – probably five foot ten, Phillips guessed – and, despite wearing a shirt and tie, it was evident he still looked after himself physically. His closely cropped hair was a nod to his military background.
Stepping forwards, Robbins offered Jones his outstretched hand. ‘Chief Inspector. John Robbins, head of security.’
Jones flinched and glanced at Phillips before shaking Robbins’s hand. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Jones.’
Green did his best to rectify Robbins’s obvious assumption. ‘Er, John, this is Detective Chief Inspector Phillips,’ he said, gesturing to Phillips.
Robbins flushed and offered his hand to Phillips. ‘My apologies, Chief Inspector, it’s just I—’
‘Can we see the videos, Mr Robbins?’ said Phillips. She had little interest in his apology.
Robbins cleared his throat. ‘Of course.’ He retook his seat in front of the monitors. Phillips and Jones moved to stand behind him.
‘I’ve spent the last half hour going through tonight’s footage. I started by checking the car park camera’s number plate recognition data against Mr Hawkins’s registration plate.’ Robbins showed them the footage as he spoke. ‘I was able to identify his time of arrival, which was just after 19.30. I then looked at the main entrance cameras. A moment later, we see Hollie making her way into the club. I’ve followed her through the clubhouse and outside onto the tennis courts, where the funfair was set up for this evening’s event. As I switch between cameras, you can see she walks round the entire space before finally stopping to talk to a girl of a similar age.’ Robbins tapped the screen with the index finger of his left hand, revealing a heavily tattooed wrist.
‘Can you zoom in on them?’ asked Phillips.
Robbins followed her instructions.
‘Do you recognise the other girl?’ said Jones.
‘Her name is Charlotte Jenkins,’ Green said. ‘Her father works in television.’
‘Has anyone spoken to her?’ said Phillips.
It was again Green who answered. ‘Yes. Mrs Hawkins spoke to her when she first went looking for Hollie. Miss Jenkins said she and Hollie had spoken earlier in the evening, but that nothing much had been said. Apparently their conversation had ended when Miss Jenkins took a call from a friend, and I’m afraid she couldn’t recall seeing Hollie after that and—.’
‘The footage backs up her story,’ Robbins interjected, rolling the tape forwards. ‘As we can see here, Charlotte takes a call and walks away.’ He paused the tape.
Phillips studied the screen in front of her for a moment. ‘What happens next?’
‘I don’t know. This is where I’d got up to when you arrived.’
‘Ok,’ said Phillips. ‘Let’s play the tape and see.’
On the monitor, Hollie watched Lottie as she walked away, talking directly at her phone screen. Hollie took a moment to scan her surroundings before folding her arms tightly across her chest and leaning against the wall of the tennis court – the unmistakable slouch of a teenager trying to hide the fact she was upset. Hollie stood for a few minutes on her own before she was approached by someone in full costume.