Baby Love by Maureen Carter Read Free Book Online Page B

grabbed from her home.”
    And she was found dead.
    “I’ll get the Baby Fay case files out when we get back,” Bev said.
    Byford glanced at her for the first time since they got in the car. “I’ve already put them on your desk.”
    “Just fuck off, will you? She ain’t talking.”
    Terry Roper was hurling obscenities through the warped door of number thirteen. If he had the sense he was born with, he’d have realised it wasn’t yet another door-stepping journalist after an exclusive with the baby’s mother. Though
a bunch of snappers was huddled across the road, zoom lenses poised to shoot.
    Bev flicked a glance at the guv. It was an exclusive chat with the baby’s father they were after. And Terry Roper hadn’t got a prayer of getting in the way.
    “For Christ’s sake,” she hissed. “It’s the police; open up.” Bev was hoping Byford’s paternal presence might persuade Natalie to open up as well, on the sensitive issue of Zoë’s paternity.
    Roper, all abject apology and ingratiating smiles, led them into the tiny sitting room. It stank of vinegar and stale smoke. Mother and daughter were still bonding on the settee. Held by an invisible umbilical cord, they looked as if they hadn’t
budged a centimetre since Bev’s first visit, though Natalie’s bare legs now bore corned-beef marbling from the gas fire.
    “Cuppa tea?” Roper offered.
    The coffee table was littered with enough mugs to open a seconds shop. Noting the colour and consistency of the dregs, Bev declined. She almost succumbed to Roper’s proffered pack of Marlboro. Three months she’d gone without so much as a
puff... But when she went to take one the guv’s glare persuaded her it was a bad move.
    Social niceties out of the way, Byford got to the point. “I want you to know, Natalie, that we’re doing everything in our power to find Zoë.” He ran through the current police activity while mother and daughter supped tea and
swallowed smoke.
    Bev crossed her legs and took out a notebook. Jeez, she’d be glad when Oz was around again. The hard chairs weren’t conducive to comfort, which was fine by her; the secondhand oxygen was soporific. She sat back and observed the big man in
action. Byford was good at this stuff: open body language, voice pitched right, just enough Brummie accent to make Natalie feel at home. She wasn’t exactly putty in his hands, but he was working on it.
    The guv wasn’t Bev’s only focus. She was trying to get her head round the Maxine-Terry Roper thing. His appeal was obvious but Maxine’s charms were all but hidden these days. And not just by a shapeless sludge-coloured
shell-suit.
    Bev looked closer, tried to imagine the woman in decent gear, hair combed, a touch of make-up. It wasn’t that hard. There was some decent raw material under the rough exterior. Maxine might carry a few extra kilos but so had Monroe. And though
currently puffy and pasty, Maxine’s face had the kind of bone structure a lot of women paid through the nose for. It might no longer launch a thousand ships, but it’d have no problem with the odd longboat or two. As for Maxine’s
intellect, Terry Roper probably wasn’t with her for cerebral stimulation.
    Right now Mr Blue Moon was eagerly perched on an armchair close by the Beck women. He was all rapt attention, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his dimpled chin, switching his gaze to whoever was speaking. Natalie was currently in the
spotlight. For the umpteenth time she was saying – in effect – diddlysquat.
    “Honest, I’d tell you if I could.”
    The guv must be feeling the heat; he was running a finger along his collar line. “Natalie, the lad isn’t in trouble.” It was probably true. “We need to have a word with him, that’s all.”
    With any fellow who’d been in spitting distance, let alone shagging.
    The girl was picking a crusty scab on her elbow. “I’ve said. I can’t tell you.”
    “Can’t or won’t?” A tad impatient now.
    “Leave