The Sleepover

by Carol Wyer

  ‘Is there something you want to tell me about them?’

  ‘No. I just didn’t get along with them, that’s all.’

  ‘Why are they VIPs?’

  ‘They’re good at bringing in new customers.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘They get VIP treatment for bringing in business – it’s an incentive.’ A timer pinged in the background. ‘My cakes are ready,’ she said.

  ‘They lap dancers?’

  ‘Why are you asking me this?’

  ‘It’s part of our investigation.’

  ‘Yes, they’re lap dancers and clubbers – good-time girls. That’s all.’ She pushed her fringe away from her forehead testily, but some strands clung to the dampness there.

  ‘One last thing. Would you say Gavin was a bit of a ladies’ man?’

  ‘He flirts with customers sometimes but it’s a front. Girls fancy him and he gives them the charm but he takes relationships seriously – really seriously.’ Her face and intonation suggested she was finding Gavin intense. ‘I have to rescue my cakes.’

  Murray tried one more question. ‘You don’t think he was seeing anyone on the side, do you?’

  She threw back her head and laughed. ‘I wish. It would make my life a lot easier. No, fat chance of that.’

  ‘Where is Gavin? He’s not upstairs, is he?’

  ‘No, he and Kirk have gone to London.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They’re visiting some old friends and doing some networking.’

  ‘Do you know where?’

  She wiped at her cheek, felt the dried-on flour there and rubbed at it. ‘No. I wasn’t invited.’

  ‘Any idea when they’ll be back?’

  ‘Later today, tomorrow? I really don’t know. Gavin said it depended on how it went.’

  ‘What about the nightclub tonight? Is it open?’

  ‘They’ll have arranged for somebody to be in charge if they’re not back.’

  ‘What time did they leave?’

  ‘Quarter to eleven. You missed them by about twenty minutes.’

  Murray wound up the interview and left the tea room. The doorbell tinkled merrily and fresh air replaced the warm scent of vanilla. He had new information regarding Daisy and Gavin but he was unsure if it helped in any way. He checked his watch and headed towards the canal on foot to establish how long exactly it would take him to reach it and see if there were any cameras that might have picked up a man headed that way on Sunday evening.

  Having rung Tanya to ensure the Curtis boys received professional help, Natalie called Ian.

  ‘There’s nothing unusual about her finances. I can only see a monthly pay check and child benefit going into her current account. I don’t think she was blackmailing Gavin unless she was receiving cash,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll consider that option again, if we think it’s relevant. At the moment, I’d like to find out more about Habib Malik and Tucker Henderson. Get hold of Lucy, tell her about them and email her their photographs so she can ask Ellie about them, and then join me at Tucker’s flat.’

  It was a twenty-minute drive from the flat on the Stockwell Estate to the other side of Clearview to the Galloway Estate. The barren areas between the large apartment blocks reminded Natalie of post-apocalyptic wastelands she’d seen in sci-fi films, with rusted, burnt-out cars and vans by the side of the road and small tribes of hollow-eyed youths gathered in front of boarded-up shops. She parked away from prying eyes in a side street and waited for Ian to arrive.

  Ten minutes later and Natalie was becoming impatient. Ian couldn’t be much longer. She tried his mobile only to have it go to answerphone, so she left a message. ‘Ian, I’m going inside. I’m parked on Flint Street. Catch me up.’

  The pedestrian underpass to the estate stank of piss and Natalie walked quickly through it, her footsteps echoing noisily behind her, hoping she didn’t come across any troublemakers. She ought to have waited for Ian but her haste and desire to speak to Tucker and Habib had spurred her on.

  She emerged into the bright sunlight and squinted ahead. The building she wanted was to her right, but to reach it she had to pass a group of young men who eyed her suspiciously. She increased her pace, eyes on the entrance.

  ‘You’re not welcome around these parts,’ shouted a voice behind her.

  She continued regardless.

  ‘I said, you’re not welcome.’ The man had suddenly caught her up and brought two of his friends with him.

  She spun on her heel and glared at them, then held up her ID. ‘Welcome or not, I’m here on official business.’

  ‘Coppers shouldn’t be walking about on their own. It’s dangerous around here.’ He cocked his head to one side. He was about the same size as Murray, head and shoulders above her and lean like a basketball player, with dangly arms and long legs clad in tracksuit bottoms. She estimated him to be about Josh’s age.

  ‘Do you know Roxy Curtis?’

  The long-limbed boy continued observing her through heavy-lidded eyes. ‘Never heard of her.’

  Natalie rooted for the photograph of the girl and showed it to him.

  He shook his head immediately. ‘Don’t know her.’

  ‘She was seeing Tucker Henderson.’

  He turned to his friends. ‘You know anyfin’ about Tucker ’n’ a girl?’

  The second boy gave a dramatic shrug. ‘Tucker? He ain’t got no girl.’

  The tallest boy moved closer. ‘See. We don’t know nuffin’ about no Roxy.’

  ‘Then move away and let me do my job.’

  The youth stood his ground for a while longer, then, languidly, took a small step to one side. ‘Not stoppin’ you. Just checkin’ you out.’

  ‘You checked me out now, so excuse me.’ She moved away, determined to maintain a steady pace and an air of authority. Her heartbeat, however, had accelerated. She was foolish to be here alone. Her rank and occupation were no guarantee of her safety in these parts; in fact, they were more likely to cause friction or aggression. She opened the entrance to the flats, aware of the group behind her, and pulled out her mobile.

  Ian answered. ‘Just parking up.’

  ‘There are some kids outside the block. I’ll wait in the entrance for you. Don’t challenge them. They’re spoiling for trouble.’

  No sooner had she ended the call than the door opened and the boys trooped in.

  ‘Tucker’s not in.’ The taller one, the leader of them all, was moving towards her, hips swaying.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He was out when I called for him.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘What does it matter what time it was? I tell you he’s out.’ The boy advanced, closely followed by his friends.

  Natalie took a quick breath and stood her ground. She didn’t want this to turn nasty. ‘Okay. Thanks. I’ll try him later.’ She began to walk towards them but they blocked her path. ‘Could you move out of the way?’

  The leader gave her a cold look and Natalie felt her heart jump in her chest.

  ‘Okay, break it up!’ Ian’s voice was loud. The youngest of the boys shuffled away, immediately joined by the second. The tallest remained where he was, his eyes on Natalie. ‘I said, break it up.’ Ian had reached them both. The boy said nothing, and blinking once, he moved away lazily to join his friends.

  ‘I won’t ask again.’ Ian took a step forward and the boys, one by one, left the building.

  It was only after the door shut with a thud and she watched their backs retreating that Natalie released her breath. ‘Shit! That was a bit uncomfortable. Good thing you turned up when you did.’

  ‘Did they threaten you?’

  ‘They were trying to. Not sure how far they’d have gone if you hadn’t appeared.’

  They watched the youths disappear from view before climbing the filthy staircase. Used condoms were identifiable among small mounds of takeaway cups, plastic bottles and cigarette ends shoved into corners.

&
nbsp; ‘This is awful,’ said Ian. ‘How can anyone live in a place like this?’

  ‘I don’t think many of them get a choice.’

  ‘It’s bloody foul.’ Ian stepped onto the second landing. The flat they wanted was four doors along. Natalie tried the bell but was met with no response. She rang again and hammered on the door but was met with silence. They moved to the door at the end of the corridor, home to Habib Malik. She pressed and held the doorbell but nobody answered the door. Neither boy was at home.

  Ellie’s mother, Jojo, had up until now been quietly supportive of Lucy’s questioning, but as her daughter dissolved yet again into tears, she demanded the interview end, and Lucy had to dig deep for patience. She tried again, ignoring Jojo’s protest.

  ‘Ellie, we know Roxy was seeing Tucker Henderson. She must have told you about him?’

  Ellie’s head shook from side to side. ‘I don’t know anything,’ she wailed.

  Her mother stood up. ‘I don’t see how this can be helping. My daughter’s clearly upset by all of this. She doesn’t know anything. You’re wasting your time.’

  ‘Please sit down. I won’t keep you much longer.’ Lucy played it cool. She was waiting on some vital information to persuade Ellie to talk. The woman dropped back down again and took her daughter’s hand in her own, made soothing noises and ignored Lucy, who was relieved when Ian rang her again on his way to the Galloway Estate to join Natalie. He had managed to contact Boo’s mother at work and email her the photographs of Habib and Tucker. She could tell by his voice that he’d come up trumps. It gave her the leverage she needed. Boo’s mother had identified the boys. She faced the girl again, voice serious.

  ‘We can’t waste any more time, Ellie. We have a witness who saw you and Roxy last Thursday, in the hallway of your apartment block with Habib Malik and Tucker Henderson. They went so far as to say you all seemed very close and noticed Tucker had his arm around Roxy. There’s no point in denying it any longer.’

  ‘Ellie?’ Her mother’s voice was cool now and Ellie swallowed hard.

  ‘She was frightened her brothers would find out about her and Tucker. They hate him and Habib, and if they’d found out she’d been seeing him, they’d have probably killed them. I already told you about Seth. He’s mental. He and Charlie almost killed Habib a few years ago. They’re racist and kicked him half to death. Roxy didn’t want the same thing to happen again so she was keeping it secret.’

  ‘Did she go to see Tucker on Saturday night?’

  ‘She was supposed to meet him but her mum found out and stopped her.’

  ‘Did you know she told her mum she was on a sleepover with you?’

  Ellie’s eyes filled again. ‘No. When her mum busted her, she decided to stay with friends in Armston and still try to see him.’

  ‘So you did speak to her?’

  She sniffed miserably and issued a soft, ‘Yes, on Snapchat. I told her to spend the night with me but she’d already made plans to stay with her friends.’

  ‘Who were these friends?’

  ‘Some women she’d met a few months ago who told her if she ever needed a place to hang out at, she could stay with them.’ Ellie twisted a tissue around in her hands as she spoke.

  ‘Are they called Crystal and Sandra?’

  Ellie’s eyes filled again.

  Lucy spoke more firmly. ‘Are their names Crystal and Sandra? This is really important. We need to know.’

  Ellie’s bottom lip trembled violently and then she spluttered, ‘Yes. They are.’

  Natalie was halfway back to Samford when she received a call from Superintendent Aileen Melody. ‘There’s been a young man found in Linnet Lane. There’s also a suicide note. It’s linked to your investigation.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Teenager by the name of Habib Malik. He appears to have hanged himself from a tree in a field opposite the Langs’ house. He was found an hour ago.’

  ‘Oh, fucking hell! I didn’t expect that. I’ve been hunting all over for him.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry to be the bearer of more bad news. There’s to be a media conference at five and we need to give them clear details of where we are in this investigation.’

  ‘Are we sure he committed suicide?’

  ‘I’m at the crime scene and I think there’s a chance he did, but also a question mark over his death. How far away are you?’

  ‘Ten minutes tops. I’ll let the others know.’

  Ian was close behind her in the squad car; she used the communications unit to let him know there was a change of plan then rang Murray and Lucy to inform them of the latest development. This had sent the investigation spiralling in another direction and she wasn’t sure if they were getting closer to finding any answers or simply further away. She fervently hoped it was the former.

  The small paddock, now cordoned off with crime scene tape, was almost directly opposite number ten. It was approximately two acres in size and empty apart from one gnarled and twisted oak tree close to the opening, wide enough for a tractor to pass through. Tall hawthorn hedging planted around the perimeter shielded the field from the road. It was only after Natalie had entered the field that she could appreciate how large and old the tree was, with a huge trunk and thick, sweeping branches.

  The teenager had been cut down and was laid out on a ground sheet, being checked over by Pinkney. Aileen looked on as he examined the boy’s eyes and neck. Natalie joined her superior, who spoke as soon as she arrived.

  ‘A rambler found him.’

  Pinkney studied one of the boy’s smooth-skinned hands and examined the tidy, clipped nails closely, then repeated the act with the other hand before shifting position and giving Natalie a clearer view of the boy. Habib’s thick dark hair was shaved at the temples and gelled into place. He’d obviously taken care with his appearance; his chin was clean-shaven and his eyebrows had been groomed into two neat arches.

  She dropped her eyes to his neck and the thick nylon rope that had been used to cause his death. She’d attended a lecture in her early years of policing and learnt that falls of more than two metres almost always resulted in decapitation. She was relieved that hadn’t happened to this boy. It was bad enough seeing him lifeless, let alone mutilated.

  ‘As you would expect, there are abrasions around his neck, most likely from the rope, but there are also other marks and light bruising on his wrists, upper arms and ankles.’ He pointed at the marked tissue on the boy’s bicep. ‘These might have occurred while he was trying to set himself up or some time before death, but given their colouring, I would suggest they are recent. I’m going to need more time before I can give you a definitive answer on that score.’ He lifted the noose to search for further markings. It had been cut above the knot, as was usual in these circumstances.

  ‘Can you turn the rope around so I can see the knot?’ Natalie asked.

  Pinkney obliged. It was a simple slip knot. The boy was in a rigid state of rigor mortis, which suggested he’d been dead for between eight and twelve hours and had come to this location the night before. She caught the eye of the forensic photographer.

  ‘I’d like to look at the crime scene photos of him in situ.’

  The officer gave her the camera so she could run back through what he’d already taken. She peered closely at the pictures of Habib, a slim, olive-skinned young man in a short-sleeved, dark-patterned shirt and jeans, dangling from the branch, his feet several centimetres above the ground, then glanced back at the tree. He’d thrown himself from a branch about three metres above the ground. The rope was still attached to it. She gave the camera back to the officer and studied the tree thoughtfully. It would have been easy enough for him to clamber up it. There were plenty of places to gain a foothold, choose a branch, tie a rope around it then put his head through the noose and jump. That thought sent a shiver through her. What a terribly calculating and desperate way to die. She wondered how long it had taken for him to stop jerking and fighting, and for his air supply to finall
y be cut off. Hanging didn’t always cause instantaneous death. Sometimes, victims could thrash about for a long time before finally breathing their last.

  She turned away. Ian was also puzzling over the scene. ‘Considering he came here to kill himself, Habib’s dressed quite smartly, isn’t he?’

  Natalie had thought the same. He’d been wearing a new shirt, the creases still crisply visible, and his hair had been gelled. Had he really come here to end his life? Natalie wasn’t convinced.

  ‘Has he messed himself?’ she asked Pinkney. Often suicide victims soiled themselves.

  ‘Doesn’t appear to have,’ came the reply.

  Natalie clucked quietly to herself. That didn’t seem right. She’d once attended a suicide in a home where the victim had not only wet themselves but suffered an erection.

  ‘What about the note?’ She directed her question to Aileen, who passed her a plastic bag. Inside was what looked like a torn page from a school exercise book. Natalie read the few words written in blue biro.

  I KILLED ROXY AND HER MUM. I AM SORRY. FORGIVE ME. HABIB.

  Natalie released a small sigh. ‘I’m thinking out loud here but this note seems very brief… almost too impersonal. However, we have come across suicides before where no note was left, let alone a brief one. I don’t know what to think. It just doesn’t feel right to me – he was racked with so much guilt over killing Roxy and Cathy that he hanged himself yet left no explanation as to why he murdered them. We’ll put a handwriting expert on it to see if he wrote it.’

  Aileen was in agreement. ‘Any other initial thoughts?’

  ‘Well, Habib was seen with Roxy and her friend, Ellie, and another boy – Tucker Henderson. We’ll find Tucker and talk to him. I’ll work on the premise this is a suspicious death.’ Natalie snapped a photograph of the note on her mobile.

  ‘Yes. Do. I have to get back to HQ but I must be kept up to speed with this. We have to let the media know what’s happening so make sure I have all the facts before the press conference at five. I’ll hand that note to Forensics for examination.’