The Bones in the Attic by Robert Barnard Page B

wonder why none of the Brontës was interested in father and daughter relationships. In fact, none of their characters has any parents at all for long.”
    â€œI’ve got a case at the moment of parents who didn’t have their daughter for long,” shouted Charlie from across the hall, as he lowered Carola into her cot. “She was murdered thirty years ago and nobody seems to have given a toss. At least, nobody reported it.”
    Felicity’s face twisted in distress.
    â€œHow horrible. How come you know about it now?”
    Charlie came over and stood in the doorway, half his mind still on his daughter, and whether she would go straight off to sleep. When he was satisfied with the sound of her breathing, he came in and told Felicity the story from the beginning. It was rare for Charlie to bring his work home, but this seemed a matter a mother might help on.
    â€œWhat chance of finding out what happened?” she asked, when he came to a stop.
    â€œPractically none, I guess.”
    â€œSo resources are not being lavished on it?” Felicity knew all about the stern exigencies of police priorities.
    â€œA dribble of interest for a week or two more is the most we can expect,” said Charlie.
    â€œWhat about this footballer? He’s obviously interested.”
    â€œOh, yes. I realized he was interested from the beginning. Now I know why. Yes, he definitely wants to know what happened.”
    â€œAnd that’s not because he’s a media person now?”
    â€œAbsolutely not,” insisted Charlie. “He’s interested because he was around at about the time, and because, though he was very young, he was getting vibes from the setup in those stone houses that disturbed him. I guess that as time passes more will come back to him, particularly if he finds out anything. One thing may trigger memories of more things—that’s a pretty frequent pattern in crime investigations.”
    â€œAnd couldn’t you feed him things that you’ve got hold of?”
    Charlie shot her a glance. She knew him through and through by now.
    â€œNot systematically. On the other hand, there are ways of dropping items of information casually into a conversation.”
    â€œThat’s what you intended to do anyway, wasn’t it? That’s why you brought the case up now.”
    Charlie spoke slowly and carefully.
    â€œHaving a daughter of my own, whom I love to bits, makes me care a lot about a kid who apparently was killed, hidden away, and then forgotten. Having gone through the hideous agony of a formal church wedding for this beautiful little girl—”
    â€œYou loved it.”
    â€œâ€”not to mention three days in Morecombe for a honeymoon because you wanted to use it in this damn novel I’m not allowed to see—”
    â€œThat, I admit, was beyond the call of duty.”
    â€œâ€”I just feel that this is a little girl I’ve gone through a lot of suffering for. And there’s this little bundle of bones shut away in an attic that apparently nobody cared for or compassionated at all. It’s about time someone did.”
    â€œSo you’re using me as some sort of sounding board—”
    â€œI am using you as a moral touchstone. Having a father whose only morality is rampant egotism, you are especially sensitive on moral issues.”
    â€œYou always see my father off, no problem. Don’t gloat. So you’re using me to give you the moral backbone to bend police rules?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œGo for it. You’re just wanting me to confirm what you intend to do anyway. So do it.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Blackout

The move came about ten days later. He could have roped in some friends, hired a van, and gone in for some macho heaving and pushing, but he decided against it. Being the wage earner and full-time caregiver surely excused him from that sort of posturing. It wasn’t as though he