The Sleeping and the Dead

Eddie took a deep breath. ‘That,’ he said, pointing to a pale, insignificant man sitting next to Sylvia, ‘that is Alec Reeves.’

Then Porteous did understand the excitement. This was Alec Reeves who’d worked as assistant manager in the hardware store in Cranford high street. Alec Reeves, uncle to Carl Jackson, the lad with the learning disability who’d disappeared not long before Theo. Alec Reeves, who, according to Eddie, liked young boys and had gone off to get a job in a children’s home.

‘I thought Sarah Jackson said he’d left Cranford by then.’

‘She did. He must have come back.’

Porteous looked again at the photo. Although Sylvia was holding Stephen’s hand she was talking to Reeves. Her head was turned to him and she was smiling. It was the relaxed conversation of friends. ‘You said they knew him.’

‘Aye,’ Stout said bitterly. ‘You’d have thought they’d have had better taste.’

‘This changes things,’ Porteous said. Slowly. Not wanting to wind Eddie up any further. But Eddie was buzzing already.

‘Of course it does. Alec was there that night. It must have been the last performance, because Hannah Morton says that’s when the Brices were in the audience. No reason why he couldn’t have got hold of the knife. I bet when we check the records we’ll find other lads in his care who’ve mysteriously disappeared.’

‘Theo wasn’t in his care,’ Porteous said. ‘Not as far as we know.’ And Melanie Gillespie wasn’t a lad, he thought.

‘He could have been. Perhaps the Brices asked Alec to have a word with the boy. Perhaps Theo was depressed because of the mess he’d made of his love life and they asked Alec to help. He was always a sympathetic listener. I’ll give him that. Maybe he offered to take Theo out for the day, offered a shoulder to cry on. He was nearer the boy’s age than the Brices. More like a father.’

‘How would he explain Theo’s disappearance?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ Eddie’s words tumbled over each other. ‘Someone told the Brices that Theo had decided to go back to his dad. It must have been Alec Reeves.’

‘It’s certainly a plausible theory,’ Porteous said. Then gently, ‘Where does Melanie Gillespie fit in?’

‘Maybe she’s the last of a string of teenagers who’ve disappeared. We don’t take missing teenagers very seriously, do we? Not the restless, unsettled ones. We put them down as runaways and hope the Sally Army will do the business for us.’

‘Melanie didn’t disappear though, did she? Her body was found. No attempt was made to hide it.’

‘Perhaps Reeves was disturbed. Or all the publicity about the body in the lake made him want to come out into the open. Could be he’s been enjoying the glory.’

Porteous said nothing. He wished he knew more about the subject. Perhaps after all he would have to talk to Hannah’s fat psychologist, ask his advice. He drank his beer absent-mindedly. He hadn’t eaten and felt it go to his head, mixed with the medication he’d taken earlier in the day. Like Stella Randle, he thought, I should take more care.

‘Sir?’ Eddie was on his feet. He was obviously desperate to move the case forward.

‘Peter. Call me Peter here, please.’ He set the glass on the table, stood up too, tried to sound decisive when all he had were questions. ‘I want to know where Reeves is. Don’t go to Sarah Jackson. I don’t want him frightened off. Put a watch on her bungalow. But be discreet. When you find Reeves, don’t pull him in. Tail him but leave him where he is. We’ll need more evidence, any evidence, before we question him. At present he doesn’t know there’s anything to connect him to Theo Randle and that’s how I want it. Show this photograph to the barman in the Promenade who said someone was looking for Melanie. Reeves will have changed since then, but it’s better than nothing. Tomorrow we’ll talk to her parents. See if the name means anything to them.’ He paused. ‘Go easy on this, Eddie. Bet will be expecting you back for a meal. Most of this you can do from home.’

But as Eddie bounded down the stairs Porteous knew he was wasting his breath. Eddie was a man with a mission and was losing the power of rational thought.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When Porteous arrived at the police station the next morning – early for him though he’d still walked, still kept to the same routine – Stout was already there. He looked as if he’d spent all night at his desk. He’d shaved but he was wearing the same clothes and he spoke too quickly, feverish through lack of sleep.

No use to man nor beast in that state, Porteous thought. Then recognized that as the pious sentiment of the newly converted and he listened to the steps Stout had already taken to track down Alec Reeves.