Ramsay 06 - The Baby-Snatcher by Ann Cleeves Read Free Book Online

worry. It was part of the job description. But she hadn’t asked to be responsible for two middle-aged eccentrics whose thoughtlessness had caused this panic.
    He gave her a moment to compose herself then asked, ‘Has your mother ever been ill?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Has she ever had any nervous trouble, suffered from stress or depression, anything like that?’
    ‘No,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I don’t think so.’
    ‘Who’s your GP?’
    ‘Dr Lattimer in Heppleburn.’ She looked up at him and he saw that despite her sheltered life she could be mature and perceptive. ‘You think she’s had a sort of breakdown?’
    ‘It’s one possibility.’
    ‘She wouldn’t have committed suicide,’ Marilyn said, and again he was surprised at her ability to follow his train of thought. ‘Absolutely not. She wouldn’t want to leave me alone.’
    ‘No.’ He saw what she meant. ‘But the breakdown? She did seem rather tense when I came here last September. Did she ever really explain what happened that afternoon?’
    ‘Not to me.’ It was said too quickly but he didn’t feel it was the time to push her.
    They waited for a moment in silence.
    ‘I’m not doing much good here,’ Ramsay said, ‘but I don’t want to leave you alone. Can we get your aunt to stay with you? I could talk to her employer. Explain. Where does she work?’
    ‘She’s a nanny to the kids in the Coastguard House. Don’t go up there. They think I’m daft enough already. That’s where Dad was working yesterday and I burst in and made a scene. Claire will be home soon. She’s only gone in for a couple of hours to help clear up after the party. Anyway, I don’t mind being on my own.’
    ‘Well,’ Ramsay said. ‘If you’re sure …’ She had, after all, been on her own when he found her. ‘Perhaps I’ll have a walk around the Headland. See if your dad’s come back.’
    Outside it seemed very cold and the mist was thicker than ever. Ramsay carried on up the track until he arrived at the high, whitewashed wall which surrounded the Coastguard House. To the south a fog-horn belched, marking the mouth of the Tyne.
    He called tentatively, ‘Mr Howe,’ then decided that only a maniac would be wandering along the cliff tops in fog. Besides, if Kath Howe’s husband had returned to the Headland he would surely have called home. Ramsay supposed he was still searching the footpaths in the dene.
    He walked back between the double row of houses towards the club and the jetty. It was only eleven o’clock but there were lights on in the front rooms. In one a pretty little girl was playing at dressing up. She wore a frilly white garment which might once have been her mother’s night-dress, and twirled round and round so the skirt spun away from her body.
    The club was still shut. The door was covered by a grille, the windows by steel shutters. The tide was well on its way in and the gully which had been cut through the rock to let out the coal boats was nearly full.
    Four children were playing on the jetty. They were rowdy, foul-mouthed, cocksure. Future customers, he thought. The oldest had probably already been up before the Juvenile Bench and he’d guess they were all on some register or another. They were throwing rocks at a target floating in the water, swearing indiscriminately whether they hit or missed.
    Ramsay approached them and shouted. They stopped briefly and looked at him, then continued their game, deciding he was nothing to be scared of.
    ‘Hey!’ he called again. ‘Come here.’
    ‘Sod off!’ one of the boys shouted, not taking his eyes off the target. ‘We’re allowed. It’s not private.’
    ‘I was looking for someone. Mrs Howe. Do you know her?’
    They didn’t answer immediately but they did stop throwing stones. They turned and gave him their attention.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I’m a policeman,’ Ramsay said.
    ‘Na!’ The boy was probably too young for school. ‘ We know the copper round here. PC Whelan. He’s