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*** MATTHEWS RESIDENCE - 9:20 AM *** |
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The officers arrive outside the house, having just come from Cheetham Road Primary, where after some delicate persuasion on Burnside's behalf, they were able to obtain the address and stepfather's details. Viv slams the car door closed as she looks up at the Sergeant. |
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WPC Martella: |
Remind me again why we're tipping him off, Sarge? |
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Tommy sighs wearily. |
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DS Burnside: |
We're not tipping him off, unless you stuff up, Martella. This way we get to check out our man in advance, see what he's made of. Basically we come round here and scare the living daylights out of him and see if he slips up. If he does, we nick him. If not, we go away again and he's none the wiser. It's a win-win situation! |
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Tommy slams his door shut and locks the car he nods gruffly at Viv and the two officers walk towards the front door. |
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WPC Martella: |
Just you remember what's at sake here. |
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DS Burnside: |
How could I forget with you reminding me every five seconds? |
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Viv smoothes down her skirt and jacket, folding her arms tightly. Tommy reaches the door and bangs on it loudly with his hand. |
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DS Burnside: |
Tact and discretion, Martella. That's how we'll play this. Just follow my lead. |
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Greg drags himself from the sofa, heading for the door. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Yeah, who is it? |
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DS Burnside: |
Police! Open up please. |
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Tommy bangs once again on the door. Greg opens the door with a very surprised look on his face. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Yes? |
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DS Burnside: |
Mr Matthews? Mr Gregory Matthews? |
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Tommy gives Greg a toothy smile. |
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Greg Matthews: |
What's it to ya? |
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Greg glances from the experienced-looking officer to the younger WPC with an innocent grin. |
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DS Burnside: |
You missing anything, Mr Matthews? |
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Greg clears his throat, feeling for his wallet and keys with a confused look. |
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Greg Matthews: |
I don't think so, officer. Are you sure you have the right person? |
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Viv raises an eyebrow. |
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WPC Martella: |
Oh, we've the right person, all right. |
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Viv is quickly silenced by a glare from Tommy. |
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DS Burnside: |
Do you live here with a young girl? Cute little thing, blonde hair in a ponytail? About this high? |
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Tommy indicates with his hand. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Polly? Well, yeah, what's this all about? |
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DS Burnside: |
Well is the young lady inside? We'd like to talk with her! |
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Greg stuffs his hands into his pockets with a vague expression. |
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Greg Matthews: |
She's, she's at school. Look, I really would like to know what's going on. You owe me that much. |
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WPC Martella: |
You quite sure about that? Only we've just come from her school and she's not there. |
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Greg thinks for several moments. |
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Greg Matthews: |
So? |
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DS Burnside: |
Well you've just told us a lie, Mr Matthews, which doesn't put you in a very good position, does it? Can we come inside? |
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Greg sighs and gestures towards the living room. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Go on through. |
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Tommy and Viv trudge inside the house, Tommy careful to wipe his feet on the doormat before stepping inside. |
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DS Burnside: |
Nice gaff you've got here. Does it cost much to run? |
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Greg narrows his eyes with a scoff. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Excuse me? |
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DS Burnside: |
Your place. Does it cost much to keep yourself living in this sort of style? |
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Tommy nods around the well-furnished hallway. Greg shrugs. |
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Greg Matthews: |
My wife works full-time and me part-time. I'm not sure I see the point in all this. Mind reminding me again why you're here? |
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Tommy yawns. |
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DS Burnside: |
Just making polite conversation, Mr Matthews. I was wondering how you manage to support the family with your wife away all the time. Train driver isn't she? |
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Greg takes a seat on the sofa with a smirk. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Flight Attendant, if it's any of your business. You still haven't explained to me why you're on my doorstep or why you've been at my daughter's school. |
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DS Burnside: |
It's quite simple, actually. Last night two of my officers came across your stepdaughter lying in an alleyway crying her eyes out. They took her back to the station, fed and clothed her but unfortunately she managed to escape from the station and we think that she's back out on the streets again. I'm sure you'd agree that's no place for a young girl of tender years. We've just been trying to find out where she is, which is why we checked at her school and why we have come here to speak with you. |
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Greg nods slowly, looking between the officers. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Look, before I wasn't being straight with you. |
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Greg sighs. |
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Greg Matthews: |
She did run off last night. Her dog died unexpectedly and she was extremely upset about it. I didn't report it because it's only been twelve hours or so. She'll show up sooner or later. |
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Tommy affects a look of shocked surprise. |
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DS Burnside: |
You mean you let a ten year old girl run out of the house all by herself? And you didn't lift a finger to stop her? |
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Greg Matthews: |
She's eleven. She was upset. I thought she just needed some time by herself. To deal with it. I mean, for all I know she spent the night at a friends' or something. She's not a baby you know, she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. |
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DS Burnside: |
Time by herself, out on the streets? She's still a child, legally. She was placed in your care. Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't report you to social services for criminal neglect of a minor? |
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Greg rolls his eyes. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Look, if you're that concerned I'll start looking for her. But I'm telling she's probably just befriended some mutt under a railroad bridge or something! |
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DS Burnside: |
You don't seem overly worried about her, I must say. Yet before you were practically adopting her as your own daughter. Why the sudden change of heart, Mr Matthews? |
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Greg gets to his feet, raising his arms in defence. |
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Greg Matthews: |
What, because I wanna give her some space I don't care about her? Of course I care about her! I just know with kids that the louder you yell, the less they hear. She'll come home with she's sorted it all out. |
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Tommy sighs, changing the subject. |
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DS Burnside: |
Well do you have any idea where she might have gone? Can we have a list of her friends, her usual haunts? |
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Greg shrugs. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Honestly, I haven't a clue. If she's not at school, then she's either with her mate Vicky or out on her own sulking somewhere. |
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DS Burnside: |
I see. Do you know this Vicky's address? |
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Greg rolls his eyes and quickly reaches to the coffee table, scribbling the address on a crisp, white sheet of paper, handing it to Burnside. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Satisfied? |
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DS Burnside: |
Thank you Mr Matthews. Now, I have a few more questions that I'd like to put to you concerning your stepdaughter's disappearance, purely routine matters I assure you. Would you mind if my colleague takes a look in Polly's room to see if she's left us any clue as to where she might be? |
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Tommy tucks the small piece of paper into his pocket. Greg shrugs. |
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Greg Matthews: |
If it'll mean you'll be out my house any the sooner, then fine. |
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Tommy nods sharply at Viv and she takes the hint, briskly finding her way to the stairs, the fragments of conversation becoming more muffled as she arrives on the first floor. Taking a deep breath, she peers into each of the rooms, finally noticing the one with the pink bedspread and care bears lined across the window. Entering the room, Viv makes her way quickly across to the girl's dressing table, noticing the small jewellery box. Viv sighs as she opens the lavender box, delicately pulling the lining away from the lid and slipping both the diary and jade bracelet from their secret location. Pausing to check that the pair are still safely downstairs, she opens the diary and begins randomly reading: |
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WPC Martella: |
" ...He came into my room again last night. He knows that he hurts me but he always comes up to see me when I least expect it. It's not so often, now that I'm working most nights but he still comes up to my bedroom sometimes. In a way, it's scary because I don't expect it, it's almost worse when it's not a regular thing. When he does it all the time I know what to expect but when it's like this I'm living in a constant state of fear." |
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Viv takes a deep breath, turning the page. |
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WPC Martella: |
"I used to feel safe in my bedroom, then he started visiting me in the night. When he got me out there with Charlie and the others his night-time visits more or less stopped but they have started again. I hate him for it but there's nothing I can do, I have to keep living like this no matter how much I hate myself for what he makes me do..." |
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Viv hears footsteps on the stairs and quickly slips the diary back in its place, closing the box tightly. Pacing across the room, she begins aimlessly searching amongst the care bears. |
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DS Burnside: |
Look, Mr Matthews, WPC Martella is simply looking through your stepdaughter's effects. She's not planting anything or stealing anything! |
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Tommy and Greg appear at the doorway. Viv turns with a slightly shake of her head. |
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WPC Martella: |
Nothing, Sarge. |
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DS Burnside: |
Nothing? Come on Martella, there must be something. A scrap of paper with a name on it, some evidence of a hideout, anything! |
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Viv sighs and glances a final time around the room. |
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WPC Martella: |
Like I said, nothing. Let's get outa here. |
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Tommy sighs. |
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DS Burnside: |
We'll be in touch Mr Matthews. If you hear anything, give us a call, okay? |
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Tommy passes Greg a small Metropolitan Police card.. |
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Greg Matthews: |
Right. |
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Greg escorts the officers back downstairs and out of the front door. |
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DS Burnside: |
Sorry to take up so much of your time, Mr Matthews, but this is a serious matter. |
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Greg Matthews: |
I appreciate your concern but I can look after my own family. |
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DS Burnside: |
I'm sure you can. |
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Tommy makes a move towards the car. Viv follows swiftly behind him, closing her car door with a sigh. |
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WPC Martella: |
Now what? We've no evidence and our only witness is nowhere to be found. |
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Tommy shrugs his shoulders. |
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DS Burnside: |
Well we can always chuck in the towel. Not really my style, but feel free to do it if you want. |
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Viv sighs, shaking her head. |
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WPC Martella: |
I can't, Sarge. Not after everything she told me. |
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Viv pauses. |
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WPC Martella: |
And everything I read. |
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Tommy raises his eyebrow. |
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DS Burnside: |
Is there something you haven't told me that you'd like to tell me about? |
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Viv nods slowly. |
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DS Burnside: |
Well would you be so kind as to tell me then? |
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Tommy's voice is sarcastic. |
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WPC Martella: |
When I was searching her room, I found a secret compartment in her jewellery box, she'd told me about it last night. Everything she said would be there, was there. Jade bracelet, hundred quid note and her diary. |
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Tommy whistles lowly. |
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DS Burnside: |
Her diary? That must have made interesting reading. |
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WPC Martella: |
I didn't get a lot of time, unfortunately. It did however back up what she told me last night. About the abuse and pimping. I didn't want him knowing we were onto him until we have something more concrete then a scribbled diary and a crumbled note. |
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Tommy pauses, thinking. |
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DS Burnside: |
So you left her diary in her room? For him to find and read? |
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Viv rolls her eyes. |
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WPC Martella: |
He's gone two years or so without finding it, I hardly think he's about to start now. Even if he did, it wouldn't put him on guard. He'd still think we haven't a clue. |
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Tommy waves his hand at her dismissively |
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DS Burnside: |
So where was it? And what's this about a bracelet? |
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WPC Martella: |
It was in the lining of her jewellery box, along with a bracelet from the Chief Super. and some money from her best mate's brother. |
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DS Burnside: |
Well you'd better hope and pray that he doesn't find it or you will have flushed perfectly good pieces of evidence down the bog! There's only one thing we can do to try and salvage this situation. |
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Viv folds her arms across her chest. |
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WPC Martella: |
And just how do you suggest we do that? |
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DS Burnside: |
Find your precious little girl. You lost her, so go out there and find her! Call me when you've found her and maybe, just maybe, I'll help you sort this mess out. Until then, you're on your own Martella! |
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Tommy starts the engine and the police officers drive off. |
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Continue...
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