Nothing To Lose

by Steven Suttie

  “Are you a football fan Billy?”

  “Yeah. But what’s that…”

  “What team?”

  “Well I live in Salford, don’t I? So you should know…”

  “So, you’re a red?”

  “That’s right. Glory Glory Man United!” Nolan raised two arms in the air, his fists were clenched and he was wearing a huge smile.

  “November the first was the night that United played against Paris St Germain in the Champions League.”

  “Oh right, yeah, I remember what I was doing now. Watching the match. One nil to the reds, Jesse Lingard scored off a volley in the second-half. Fucking brilliant goal as well.”

  “Where did you watch the match?”

  “At home.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because we need to eliminate you from our murder inquiry. And if you had just said that you were watching the game at Old Trafford, or in the pub, or with somebody else, we’d be letting you go out the door in five minutes.”

  “Nah, I always watch footy on my own. Can’t stand listening to other people’s opinions and their annoying fucking commentaries. I always watch footy on my own.”

  “But I’m guessing that you can see why it’s a problem for us?”

  “Nah, not really.”

  “Well, you’re saying that you were alone, with no witnesses.”

  “Yeah.”

  “At the same time that somebody was beating your wife’s friend to death on Eccles Field.”

  Suddenly, Billy Nolan sat up and leaned forward. His relaxed, care-free bearing had become much more serious, in the blink of an eye.

  “Let me get this straight, yeah? Because I was watching football on my own, that makes me a suspect in this murder bullshit?”

  Chapman wasn’t phased by Nolan’s sudden aggression, and kept strong, confident eye-contact with Nolan.

  “Well, that’s not exactly the situation. But we have a reason to believe that you have a motive for this attack. The link between the victim and your wife…”

  “Ex.”

  “Okay, your ex-wife. So, we’ve got a problem here Billy. We need some proof that you were watching the match.”

  “Tell you what yeah, I’ve heard what you’ve said, I’ve played along with your little game. And now I’ve found out that all you’ve got to link me to this crime is because of Lindsey. Good luck in court. Now are you charging me or what? I need to go home and fix my fucking front door after your lot have fucked it all up.”

  Kenyon had been silent throughout the interview. He’d spent the time watching and listening, assessing Billy Nolan. His assessment was done and he felt that it was now time to get involved.

  “Thing is though Billy, cards on the table, you know we can’t charge you with anything based on what we’ve told you.”

  “I know yeah, exactly!” Billy Nolan clapped his hands together and laughed. “I like you! You’re alright by me.” Nolan flicked his eyes across to Chapman. “You should listen to this one, knows his stuff!”

  Chapman locked stares with Nolan. He knew what this bastard was all about, and he wasn’t losing a staring contest against him. Kenyon was looking through the paperwork file on the desk. After several seconds he pulled out a photograph and held it to his chest.

  “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘over-confidence sinks the ship?”

  “Nope.”

  “You’ve seen Titanic though, haven’t you?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Well, the guy who was driving that boat got a bit too over-confident didn’t he? Smashed it into an iceberg and sank it.”

  “I fell asleep after the bit where Kate Winslet flashed her titties. What are you saying all this shit for anyway? Trying to sound cool or summat?”

  “Nah, I’m just saying that you remind me of the Titanic.”

  “Nice one. Can I go now?”

  Kenyon placed the photograph down in front of Nolan. “Do you recognise this car?”

  “Looks familiar. I’ve seen one like that outside my house a few times.”

  “It’s your car Billy. It’s registered to you, it’s insured in your name. The tax is paid by direct-debit every month from your current account.”

  “Ah! That will be why it looks so familiar then! Can I go now?”

  “Can you explain what’s happening in these photographs?” Kenyon started placing the CCTV photographs down on the table in front of Nolan. He placed four different photographs down, with the date and time stamps visible in each corner.

  “What you are looking at here is your Iceberg Billy.”

  Billy Nolan wasn’t listening to Kenyon. He was staring down at the black and white photographs of his car in Graham Hartley’s street, just yards from the dead man’s front door.

  “Tell you what DC Chapman. I’m starving. Shall we call it a day? Leave Billy to think up a plausible explanation for this evidence of him stalking the address of his wife’s lover on four separate dates in the weeks leading up to Graham Hartley’s brutal murder?”

  “Yes. That sounds like a good idea DC Kenyon. Could you hear my belly rumbling?”

  Billy Nolan was staring down at the photographs, paying particular attention to one especially. The one where Billy’s face was clearly visible through the driver-side window. Kenyon started picking the photographs up off the desk and stacked them neatly before placing them back in his file.

  “Interview terminated at twenty-ten hours.” Chapman pressed stop on the recorder and waited for the familiar ear-piercing screech of the machine alerting the officers that it had stopped recording.

  “Right Billy, I think its past your bed-time mate.” Kenyon stood and knocked on the door. As he did so, Billy Nolan leapt out of his chair and punched the detective solidly in the face, knocking him off his feet with a punch that landed with a sickening crack. Kenyon crashed in a heap in the corner of the room as the custody officer entered the interview room.

  Bill Chapman jumped off his seat and grabbed Billy Nolan, wrapping his arms around Nolan’s chest, trapping his arms by his sides. The custody officer pressed the panic alarm strip on the wall and within seconds the heavy sound of foot-steps on the corridor confirmed that the panic alarm was in good working order. Nolan was struggling with Chapman, repeatedly flinging his head back in an attempt to head-butt the DC, and kicking his feet backwards, trying to injure Chapman. But the DC wouldn’t let go from his solid body-grip, despite Nolan’s attempts to break free.

  The first of the police officers burst in through the door, followed by five other officers. They very quickly subdued Billy Nolan and had him pinned to the floor, face-down within a few seconds of entering. Nolan was shouting and struggling, but he didn’t have the strength to wriggle away from the police officers who were kneeling on his legs, his back and upper torso. He was quickly cuffed, and his legs were strapped, before being lifted-up by the shoulders and carried out of the interview room and back into his cell.

  Chapman knelt down to see if Kenyon was okay. The DC was knocked out, and Chapman attempted to wake him up as Rudovsky ran into the room.

  “What the fuck?” said Rudovsky as she dropped to her knees and assisted Chapman in trying to rouse Kenyon.

  “Come on Pete, wake up mate.” She said as she patted his face.

  “He needs an ambulance,” said Chapman, checking Kenyon’s pulse.

  “CAN SOMEONE PHONE FOR AN AMBULANCE?” Shouted Rudovsky into the corridor.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The ambulance had arrived pretty quickly, just seven minutes after the custody sergeant had phoned. Kenyon was awake by the time the paramedics entered the interview room. He was sitting on a chair, looking dazed, confused and a little embarrassed.

  “You alright mate?” asked the first paramedic as he approached the sorry-looking detective.

  “Yeah, I’ll be alright in a minute. Never been knocked-out before.”

  “Your jaw is looking pretty swollen the
re, can you say ahhh?”

  “Ahhh!”

  “Open your mouth wider please and say it again.”

  Kenyon did as instructed. The paramedic started feeling the detective’s face, then began shining a torch into his eyes, giving him instructions of where to look.

  “Okay, I think you’ll live, but you’ll have to come in for a check-up.”

  “Aww for fuck’s sake…”

  “Shut up Pete, you’re going.” Said Rudovsky. “It’s procedure anyway, if you don’t go you’ll be on a disciplinary.”

  “It’s gonna be six hours, it’s gonna be about two in the morning when I get out.” Kenyon seemed more annoyed about this than he was about the punch in the face.

  “I’ll come with you. We can pass the time with me showing you how to fight, you big pussy.”

  Kenyon stood, groaning in pain as he realised that he’d hurt his leg as well as he’d crashed into the wall. “Come on then, the sooner we get there, the sooner I’ll get out.” He started walking out of the interview room, and onto the corridor. Chapman and Rudovsky followed behind the paramedics.

  “Well, that was a dramatic climax to the interview.” Said the DS.

  “You can say that again.” Chapman looked as though he was still in shock.

  “You did brilliantly there Bill. If you hadn’t gripped him, God knows what could have happened. I bet he would have jumped on Pete’s head.”

  “I know. He’s a strong bastard though, I’ll give him that.”

  “Well he wasn’t strong enough to get away from you, so well done.”

  “Cheers Sarge.”

  “You did a great job of the interview as well.”

  “Yes, he’s a bit of a thick bastard this Billy Nolan, isn’t he?”

  “I loved where he named the victim of an attack he didn’t know anything about!”

  “Ha ha, I know. Shit for Brains. Right, well, I’m going to get off home now, I’m knackered. Have fun at A and E with Pete, and I’ll brush up on my notes for tomorrow’s interview. I might wear a boxing helmet though!”

  “Oh, on that Bill. Just to warn you, we might not get the chance to interview Nolan again.”

  “What…”

  “Well, Salford division have taken over the investigation surrounding Lindsey Nolan. And Miller’s desperate for us to ditch this case now you’ve cracked it. He wants us to leave Salford to do the tidying up.”

  Chapman looked a bit disappointed. Rudovsky knew that look, and she was expecting him to start kicking off about it.

  “Fair dos. At least we managed to bang him up. Might as well leave Salford to do the donkey-work now.” Chapman smiled, aware that Rudovsky hadn’t quite anticipated that response.

  “Nice one Bill.”

  “I’m quite eager to get on with this betting shop one anyway, it looks pretty interesting.”

  “Right Bill, now I know you’re just taking the piss!” Rudovsky toy-punched Chapman in the arm and they both laughed.

  “Anyway, I’d better follow this ambulance. See you tomorrow.”

  “Night.”

  *****

  Hope Hospital Accident and Emergency was rammed. The big TV screen in the corner said that the estimated waiting time was 4 hours and forty-five minutes. The department was filled with people, some crying in pain, some laughing at jokes, others looking thoroughly miserable and pissed off.

  Kenyon looked the most pissed off. Rudovsky tried to keep his spirits up, but it was a big task.

  “I didn’t see that punch coming Jo. First I knew of it was when Chapman threw that cup of water in my face.”

  “Yeah, it was a cowardly punch that, he waited until you were at the side of him so you wouldn’t see it. He’s a fucking horrible bloke, real nasty piece of work.”

  “He’s alright once you get to know him.”

  Rudovsky laughed loudly at Kenyon’s gag, which made him laugh too.

  “Aargh, don’t make me laugh. It kills.”

  “Serves you right this, anyway.” Rudovsky suddenly had a serious expression.

  “What?”

  “You getting twatted, it’s karma for saying to Bill Chapman that I had a fat arse. Wide-load, you cheeky bastard!”

  Kenyon laughed again and reached his hand up to his jaw as the pain seared through his face once again.

  “Soz. Right, I won’t make you laugh again. Wait here, I’m gonna go and see if we can hurry them up a bit.”

  Rudovsky stood and walked around the back of the checking-in desk and followed the corridor around to where all the cubicles were. Every single one had its curtains drawn, with unpleasant sounds of crying, moaning or vomiting coming from each cubicle. Eventually, Rudovsky found the area where all the nurses, doctors and auxiliary staff worked from. She stood and patiently waited to be spoken to. All of the staff were busy discussing cases, or checking medical notes. Finally, a nurse looked up at Rudovsky.

  “Can I help?”

  “Hiya, yes, I hope so. I’m detective sergeant Rudovsky. One of my officers has been brought in, he’s been attacked, he was knocked unconscious. He’s okay, the paramedic didn’t think it was anything too serious, just a swollen jaw. Thing is, its procedure that he has to be checked over. I was just wondering if we might be able to jump up the queue?” Rudovsky knew that what she was asking was very cheeky and pulled an embarrassed face as she finished talking, which made the nurse smile.

  “Well, we’re currently dealing with some urgent-care jobs, we’ve got a teenager with serious burns, a suicidal young mum, a man with two broken legs and an elderly patient who is receiving end of life care. We’ve also got a serious RTA coming in in about five minutes, so with the best will in the world, all our staff are extremely busy and they are not going to be able to drop what they are doing to check a swollen jaw. I wish we could help, but it’s not likely to be any time soon. Sorry.”

  “Fair enough. Sorry to be a dick.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I know you have to follow procedure and come in, even when you don’t think it is necessary. We would normally boost you up the list, but it’s just not going to happen tonight.”

  “Alright, I’ll go and tell him.”

  As Rudovsky arrived back in the crowded waiting room, she was surprised to see Miller and Saunders sitting on either side of Kenyon.

  “Oh, alright. The cavalry has arrived!” Rudovsky was smiling but Miller and Saunders seemed concerned about their DC.

  “Hello Jo. Just been finding out what happened from Pete.” Said Miller.

  “Yes, I’ve just been to see if we can get him seen a bit quicker but it’s not happening, they’ve got a lot on.”

  “I’ve told yous, I’m fine. I just want to go home and have a beer.”

  “Hey you’ll be getting about five grand compo for this Pete, so cheer up!” Saunders was smiling.

  “Yes, that’s true,” said Miller. “You’ll be able to buy some decent clothes!”

  Kenyon laughed, then grimaced as the pain shot through his skull. His hand flew up to his face again.

  “Looks pretty bad that,” said Saunders. “It’s swollen pretty bad. They’ll probably want to x-ray it.”

  “The paramedic had a feel, he doesn’t think it’s out serious. I’m just here to tick the boxes.”

  “Fair dos. Well, don’t worry, you won’t have to meet with Billy Nolan again, we’re officially off the case now.” Miller looked slightly anxious as he broke the news.

  “Oh?” said Rudovsky. It was quite obvious that she had been expecting the announcement.

  “Yep. Out of my hands I’m afraid. Salford are taking full ownership. It was Lindsey in the flat, she’d been battered to death. Nolan’s absolutely fucked, he made no attempt to clear up after himself, the whole scene has his forensic signature all over it so I guess he realised he was fucked and took it all out on Pete.”

  “Gutted.” Said Rudovsky, looking down at the waiting-room floor.

  “What, about Lindsey? Or being taken off the case?”<
br />
  “Both.”

  “I know, I knew you’d be annoyed, but at least Chapman made his arrest. Any success in court will have Chapman’s evidence all over it, so he’ll have to give evidence and will be credited with his arrest. So, its marginally better than we’d anticipated earlier on.”

  “True.”

  “Besides, we are getting somewhere with the betting shop case, so it’ll be great to have the full team on the investigation from tomorrow morning.”

  Lee Riley’s Story - Part One

  (Three Years Earlier)

  Lee Riley was staring out of his living room window, out across the stunning, rolling landscape of the Calder Valley. It was this view which had first attracted him to this house. He wasn’t fussed about the retro salmon coloured bathroom which would need ripping out and replacing. He wasn’t particularly phased by the creaks of the floorboards or the squeaky doors or any of the various other jobs that had helped to make this property the cheapest on offer in Hebden Bridge. The work which needed doing to the place hadn’t bothered him in the slightest, he was a builder by trade and a bit of hard work never worried him. It was this sensational view that he was most interested in and he had put in an offer as soon as he’d seen the offering from this front window.

  It was an old terraced house, at the end of a row of twelve other identical homes, built from huge blocks of York stone a good 150 years earlier. These houses had been built during the industrial revolution and still stood solid today, albeit with certain issues such as damp and mould, creaks and groans and the occasional slate sliding off the roof and smashing into a hundred pieces on the pavement below. But the view, from Lee’s end-terrace was mesmerising. Everything was there, the woods, the windy moors at the top with the scattered farm-houses dotted along the country-roads, beneath them stood church steeples, old mill chimneys and streets and streets of similar looking houses to his. From this window, Lee Riley could see almost every part of Hebden Bridge, the schools, the town centre, the pubs and shops. Whichever way he looked, the beautiful view was framed by stunning countryside and the long, meandering Calder Valley which carved a gigantic V shape through the area. It looked as though it went on forever.