Page 79 of Making a Killing

Daily Telegraph, 26th July 2024

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When Quinn gets back to St Aldate’s, the first thing he does is aim for the coffee machine, and the first thing he sees is DC Roberts, clearly on the lookout for him, with a face like he just found the Holy Grail down the back of his sofa.

Quinn stares at the machine as if he’s actually considering what to have; it doesn’t do to look too eager, not if you’re a DI.

‘What’s all the excitement?’

‘I think I’ve found her, sir. Kate Madigan.’

Quinn punches some buttons and the machine thuds into life. Roberts is having trouble standing still.

‘Want to take a look?’

Quinn takes his time moving his bag to the other arm and reaching for his cup.

‘OK,’ he says eventually, ‘let’s see what you’ve got.’

In the main office, there’s a definite fizz in the air. As Roberts takes his seat in front of his screen, the others start to gather and Sargent comes up to Quinn.

‘Just to fill you in, sir, I spoke to Alison Stevens, the head at Kit’s, and she told me that all they ever knew about Kate Madigan’s plans was that she was “going back to Galway”. She was supposed to leave a forwarding address but it was months later before they realized she never had, and the mobile number was out of service by then. Stevens didn’t think it was odd at the time – she just assumed Madigan had replaced it with an Eire one. But the one thing she was absolutely sure about was that Madigan was Irish – her passport details were on the documentation from the supply agency when they hired her. They’re sending them over.’

Roberts glances up. ‘So, I’ve been working on the assumption that she was heading back to Galway just like she said, and if she did have Daisy with her, that they’d have travelled by boat.’

Quinn takes a sip of coffee; still too hot. ‘Why? Why not fly?’

Roberts blinks. ‘Because on the ferry you don’t have to show your passport.’ He looks round at the rest of them. ‘I know. I did Fishguard to Rosslare last year –’

‘Shit,’ says Ev suddenly, staring at him. ‘A ferry.’

‘Right,’ he says, blinking again, ‘Common Travel Zone and all that –’

‘No, I meant the ferry part –’ She bites her lip. ‘I knew there was something bugging me. When Gis and I went to see Madigan at the school that summer there was a display of stuff the kids had done about what they were going to do in the holidays. And Daisy said she was going on aferry.I only remember it because we went to the bloody Isle of Wight every year when I was a kid, and I felt sorry for her because all the other kids were gallivanting off to New York or on safari –’ She makes a face. ‘Shit – it wasright thereand I didn’t bloody realize –’

‘Oh, come on,’ says Sargent kindly. ‘How were you supposed to know?’

‘Proves she knew, though, doesn’t it?’ says Gis. ‘If she was writing about ferries as early as that, she knew damn well what was going to happen.’

‘Right,’ says Stillwell. ‘Though I’m amazed Madigan put a reference to it on the wall – they were practicallydaringpeople to notice. That woman must have ice in her veins.’

Ev is still shaking her head and muttering something about how she should have checked with the parents.

‘Anyway,’ says Roberts, bloke-oblivious, ‘I’ve been checking passenger lists for all the main ferry routes from the UK to Ireland from the week the 2016 summer term ended through to the beginning of September. If Madigan was starting another teaching job she’d have needed to be in place by then.’

He taps his keyboard and they gather round the display screen on the wall as it pings to life.

And there it is.

‘Holy shit,’ says Gis, with a low whistle. ‘She even booked it in her own name.’

‘Well, no one was looking for them, were they?’ says Ev grimly. ‘Especially not us.’

‘What did I say about ice in her veins?’ says Stillwell. ‘Not just to bowl up to that ferry and hope no one asked any awkward questions – look at the date:17th August. That’s a wholemonthafter Daisy went missing. She must have kept her hidden all that time.’

‘Jesus,’ says Ev. ‘Just imagine – lying awake every night, just waiting for the knock at the door.’

‘Must have made it a whole lot easier, though,’ says Quinn heavily, ‘that the kid in question didn’twantto be found.’

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