Read Online Buckingham Palace Blues by James Craig - Free Book Online

Inside, there was nothing in the room apart from the girl and the bed. It looked like a prison cell. It was a prison cell.
    ‘So . . . what shall we do with her?’
    The older man looked surprised at the question. ‘It’s business as usual. We have bills to pay.’
    ‘Isn’t that a bit risky?’
    ‘What do you want to do? Shut the whole thing down?’
    The younger man looked at the business card in his hand. ‘No, but—’
    ‘You worry too much. The police will lose interest very quickly. They had already handed the kid over to Social Services before you got her back.’
    ‘That’s how I got her back.’
    ‘So everything now is sorted.’
    ‘It’s just so damned annoying to have this type of problem.’
    ‘It’s nothing. Think about it from their point of view. They have lost the girl, and they have no leads. The last thing they want is anyone asking questions about how they managed to lose a nine-year-old girl who was supposedly in their care. Within a week they will have forgotten that she even existed.’
    The girl was quiet, resigned now. It was almost as if she was in a trance. The older man marched over to the bed and pulled her upright by the hair. ‘No more running away,’ he hissed.
    The girl started screaming.
    ‘Calm down!’ The younger man gently freed her and she slumped back on to the bed. ‘She can’t understand you anyway.’
    The older man made a fist. ‘Oh, yes, she can, the little bitch! It’s time that she earned us some money.’
    The younger man stepped back out of the room. ‘She will. In the meantime, if it’s bothering you that much, see what you can find out about the policeman who found her. If it comes to it, we can have him dealt with.’
    Alzbetha rubbed her tingling head as she watched the two men leave the room. The door clicked shut behind them and she heard the key turn in the lock. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she began slowly rocking backwards and forwards on the bed. Looking round the bare cell, she wished that they had at least let her bring her colouring book. She hoped that the nice man who had bought it for her would come and get her, but she knew that he wouldn’t.
    Sitting in Simpson’s office in Paddington Green police station, Carlyle noticed that she had removed the picture of her husband from her desk. As far as he could tell, the photo had been the only personal touch she had ever allowed herself in all the years spent in this cramped, over-heated office. Now it was gone, presumably never to return. Wondering why she hadn’t filed for divorce, he quickly concluded that it was none of his business. He wasn’t really that interested anyway.
    Simpson sneezed, bringing him back to the present.
    ‘Bless you.’
    ‘Thank you.’ She looked up, as if awaiting some barbed comment.
    Carlyle said nothing. Returning her gaze to the desk, she made a scribble on a memo. Arms folded, he waited for her to read the various reports and tried not to look bored.
    After a couple more minutes, she pulled a file from the bottom of the heap and flipped it open. Quickly, she scanned the text in the hope that it had somehow changed since she had read it last. It hadn’t. With a sigh, she closed the file and pushed it across the desk towards Carlyle. ‘We don’t have a lot, do we?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘What other work have you got on at the moment?’ It was an admission of defeat.
    Trying not to smile, Carlyle ran through a dispiriting list of misdemeanours and anti-social behaviour that he was supposed to be sorting out.
    ‘Fine,’ Simpson said. ‘Go and talk to Superintendent Warren Shen in Vice. I’ve sent him a copy of your report. He’ll decide if there’s anything they can do. In the meantime, feel free to shake things up a bit. See what you can find.’
    ‘Okay.’ Carlyle grinned.
    ‘You are right,’ Simpson sniffed, ‘this is horrible. We should give it some of our time.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘But if you find you’re not getting anywhere,’