by Jim Bennett
‘It’s a very noble sentiment, but I think the police are better placed to look into a suspicious death'.
‘The bobbies weren’t the ones giving him a little nosh’. Julie instantly turned scarlet.
‘Thought so’, Mrs McGrath said, looking pleased with herself. ‘You know the dirty then. Who he was hanging about with. What he was up to'.
Julie relayed to Mrs McGrath what she had told DI Morris earlier in the day. She confirmed her and Jack’s brief romantic liaison, even though the wise old coot had already figured that out for herself. Then, she told her about all that money that she had seen Jack with. That horrible little thug who she suspected of selling Jack drugs on her doorstep.
‘Had you seen him before?' Mrs McGrath interrupted.
‘He did look familiar, but I can’t think where I would have come across him. To be honest, I don’t really go anywhere apart from work, and he didn’t look like the type to hang out in a garden centre'.
‘What about the playground? Or the toy shop? You might have seen him when you took your kiddies out'.
She wanted to point out that even when they had first moved into the close, Harry had been 14 and much too old for the park, but something Mrs McGrath had said had sparked a memory.
‘Mr Baker’s shop, that’s it! He was standing outside with his little gang of hoodlums. Last Saturday, I went in to get some bread'.
‘I know ‘em'. Mrs McGrath said. She picked up her stick and Julie was worried that she intended to confront them immediately. Thankfully she only went to one of the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen to fetch a fresh bottle of wine. ‘Greasy hair under those grubby hats. Always trying to cause trouble until you let them know you’re not going to take it'.
Mrs McGrath reached over the table and pushed Julie’s still half full wine glass towards her. Julie took a swig but it didn’t mollify her. She lifted it to her mouth again and drained its contents. She couldn’t remember the last time her mind had been clear. She felt as if she had spent the last few days in a stupor. The fog that had accumulated from cooking the pasta still hadn’t dissipated. Mrs McGrath had continued to talk to her but she hadn’t taken the words in.
‘I’m sorry?'
‘I said that’s where we need to start. Track that wrongun down and see what he was up to with the body'.
‘Jack’.
‘Not Jack no more, is he?'
‘Yes alright. But he was still Jack when the “wrong un” last saw him'.
‘Not if he killed him'.
Julie had to concede that there was some logic in that.
‘But what if Jack had just been buying a bit of dope or something? Nothing wrong with that, is there?’
‘Nothing wrong with asking the question either'. She took another gulp of her wine. Despite having drunk enough to floor a small jungle beast, Mrs McGrath seemed unaffected. Julie in contrast was struggling to keep her eyes open. The old woman continued to rant, but Julie found it harder and harder to follow the random progression of her thoughts. Feeling unsteady on her feet, she said goodnight to Mrs McGrath and went to bed. She woke up at around three in the morning still fully dressed absolutely parched with a pounding headache.
Chapter Eleven
Julie had managed to get back to sleep after raiding Mrs McGrath’s medicine cupboard for some paracetamol and sinking a few pints of water. She was momentarily roused by the sound of something knocking against wood. Dismissing it as some over eager neighbour embarking on an early morning DIY project, she let herself drift back to sleep. Five minutes later, she was awoken by something violently prodding into her side.
She flipped over in the bed and saw Mrs McGrath standing over her. Her cane, which had acted as the prodding implement, remained raised and pointed at her ready to strike again.
‘What are you still doing in bed?' She asked, thumping a cup of tea on the bedside table.
‘I didn’t realise I needed to be up for anything'. Even with her trip to the medicine cabinet in the middle of the night, Julie’s head still throbbed.
‘Don’t need to be up for anything? We’ve got a killer to catch girl’.
Julie vaguely remembered some chatter the previous night about Jack’s death.
‘I thought we decided we were going to leave that up to the police’, Julie said, shifting her rear backwards and sitting up in the bed so that she could take a sip of tea. It had an ungodly amount of sugar in it.
‘Not if we want something done about it, we won’t'.
‘For someone who has such a low opinion of the police force, you’re on pretty friendly terms with their officers’.
‘Not officers, that lot', she said with venom. ‘Cept Jimmy. He won’t turn out half bad with a bit of work'.
Julie got half way through asking Mrs McGrath how she knew them in the first place before she interrupted her. ‘That’s not for now', she said irritably. ‘We’ve got things to do. Downstairs in half an hour’.
Showered and dressed, Julie came downstairs to find Mrs McGrath in the kitchen. Walking past the closed door to the living room, Julie realised that since she arrived, she hadn’t actually seen inside. Mrs McGrath was stood by the kitchen counters. She was dressed in a long green macintosh that had seen better days with her customary red patterned scarf covering her head and tied under her chin. To complete the effect, she was wearing a pair of green wellingtons.
‘Get your boots on', she said impatiently. ‘We haven’t got all day’.
Julie put her empty mug down on the kitchen table. ‘What, why?'
‘You bloody know why. How many times do I have to say it? We’re hunting a killer’.
‘Yes, I understand the general sentiment Mrs McGrath, but what does that actually mean?’
‘I’ll tell you in the car'. She picked up Julie’s keys and thrust them into her hand. Then the indomitable Mrs McGrath put her arms up as if Julie was a wayward cow and hearded her towards the front door.
‘Mrs McGrath, I really can’t'.
‘Got a lot on, have you? Your social calendar is so pressing that you can’t help out an old lady for a few hours?'
Julie wanted to protest. However when she realised that the only plans that she currently had were to attend a summer fete at the seniors centre, she begrudgingly climbed into the car.
‘You sure you haven’t been moving bodies around?' Mrs McGrath said, pointing to the large, red stain on the passenger seat.
‘It’s pollen, or something else from some flowers I got from work. I tried to spunge it out but I think I’ve made it worse'. Julie reached into the backseat to find a carrier bag for Mrs McGrath to sit on. Before she could hand it to her, the old woman was already installed in the passenger seat next to her. ‘Which reminds me, can I call my boss and let him know that I won’t be in again today? Or will justice not permit it?'
‘If you must', Mrs McGrath said, sounding unimpressed. Mr Peg had been surprisingly compassionate, telling her to take as long as she needed. Julie felt sorry for Mike, being trapped alone with Mr Peg and all his sand.
It was only as they were leaving the street that Julie thought to look at her house in the rearview mirror. There was still police tape in front of the front gate and a man in a white forensic suit was walking through the front door.
‘Right here', Mrs McGrath said when they reached a junction. She sounded frustrated that Julie didn’t know where they were going. To the chagrin of her fellow motorists, Julie crossed over the middle lane of traffic to allow her to turn as instructed.
‘I think I’ve been more than accommodating', Julie said after a few moments of no further instructions. ‘The least you can do is tell me what we’re doing’.
‘I was down at the shops this morning. Getting some milk and bread in. Don’t normally need to go until later in the week, but got another mouth to feed, haven’t I?' Julie noted the angry glance shot in her direction out of the corner of her eye. ‘Anyway, I came out the shop and one of them was standing out there. Least, I
think it was him. Can’t tell one from the next’
‘One of who?’
‘Those hoodlums. Part of that mob that sold your fancy boy his drugs'.
‘Okay…’
‘He got on the bus, number 9, so I did too. Rode it all the way to the terminal. Right sketchy neighbourhood it took us to. He heads off down towards those old warehouses. You know where the print works used to be before they shut it down? Didn’t think it would be a good idea to go in alone. Not sure how many of them would be in there'.
Julie was incredulous. She was tempted to perform an emergency stop right here and now so that she could give her full attention to reprimanding Mrs McGrath.
‘You mean to tell me we’re on our way to an old warehouse to confront a group of teenage gangsters? And you’re not even sure whether one of them is who I saw talking to Jack?’
‘What if he isn’t?’
‘If he isn’t then why are we doing it?'
‘That’s what police work is about. You try one thing and if it doesn’t pan out. That’s the name of the game'.
‘We are not detectives Mrs McGrath!' Julie said, exasperated. More than turning the car around, she was now fighting the urge not to veer across the central reservation into the oncoming traffic.
‘And you’re going to be with that kind of attitude’. She folded her arms and rested her head on her shoulder.
The rest of the journey passed in silence. Luckily Julie had a vague recollection of where the old print works were as Mrs McGrath had now dispensed with her navigating duties. All of the buildings looked much the same, but one on the right hand side of the road had a dirty sign announcing that it was ‘Spriggs and Co: Print Services', which no one had thought to remove when they had gone out of business. It was the last factory in the business park. The road then met some overgrown thistles and beyond that lay the dirty canal, full of old televisions and stolen shopping trolleys. There must have been another entry to access the car park because the only path that would take you to the front of the building was only suitable for pedestrians. Julie turned the car around and parked it on the left hand side of the road ready to make a quick get away before waking Mrs McGrath up.
‘Good', Mrs McGrath said, and went to immediately exit the car.
‘Hold on, hold on'. Julie said. ‘Shouldn’t we agree a plan of attack. What we’re going to say?’
‘There’s too much thinking these days. If the lad who you saw on your doorstep is there, we want to know what he was doing. If he gives us any trouble, then we’ll get him in the car and take him to that pillock Maz'.
‘We can’t do that’.
‘Why the bloody hell not? If he’s guilty then someone needs to take charge'.
‘Well…', Julie searched for a reason that the old woman might accept. ‘I’ve got stuff on the backseat’.
‘He’s better off in the boot anyway', she said, opening the car door and heaving herself out with some effort. ‘Can’t be messing with you when you’re trying to drive then. These criminals won’t stop at anything’. Before she could protest any further, Mrs McGrath was already making her way around the building to investigate further. Julie grabbed her phone, her purse, and her keys before running after her.
Julie had literally no idea what she had expected to find when she emerged on the other side of the path, but was equally surprised at the scene that lay before her. A group of about seven teenagers were engaged in an assortment of activities in the concrete forecourt. The younger boys were doing lazy loops on their bikes, every so often trying to pull a wheelie or do a small jump, both of which were incredibly underwhelming.
In true Lord of the Flies style, the slightly older members of the gang were sitting behind a metal rubbish bin that they had managed to set alight.
‘Any of them, is it?' Mrs McGrath asked from where she stood next to Julie. They hadn’t noticed the women yet from where they were assembled on the far side of the car park. Julie inspected each of them in turn as best as she could from such a distance. It was difficult, what with them all dressing almost identically.
‘Oi, sweetheart’, one of them shouted, having spotted them for the first time. ‘Come over and say ‘ello'. One of the younger boys on his BMX was dispatched to escort the unlikely pairs to his leaders. When they got a bit closer, Julie recognised him instantly. That rodential face, the little beady eyes peering at her from under his cap. Julie was surprised to see a girl who looked about five years his junior slumped over his lap looking up at him adoringly. Sat next to them was another girl of a similar age busy on her mobile phone. Unlike the other youths gathered around, she seemed to have no interest whatsoever in the scene that was about to unfold before her.
‘What can we do for you ladies?' He said when they were stood before him. He sat up a bit straighter as if he had illusions that he was in fact a reputable business man. He pushed his adoring companion off his lap without a second thought.
‘We want to ask you some questions', Mrs McGrath said. She spoke to him in the same blunt tone that she had used on the telephone engineer, seemingly unphased by the situation. Julie remained half a step behind her, happy to allow the old bulldog to take the lead.
‘It’s all quality gear. If you two had rocked up last week, I would have been shocked. But I had another fancy bird down here yesterday, buying some of the hard stuff. Surprising the clientele you get these days’.
‘We don’t want to buy any drugs’, Mrs McGrath said, again in clipped tones.
‘Then what do you want? I’m a busy man'. He certainly didn’t look like a busy man, Julie thought. In fact he looked like a feckless teenager who had turned to dealing drugs for an easy buck.
‘What were you doing with him? That lad who died'.
The youth looked away from her. ‘Who’s that then?’
‘Jack’, Julie took a step forward to stand, now standing next to Mrs McGrath. ‘Jack Harper. You were talking to him outside my house on Sunday'.
‘I talk to a lot of people', he said, not willing to commit. He took out a packet of loose tobacco and started to roll a cigarette.
‘He was quite well spoken. Nice hair. Wore a lot of vests'.
‘That posh boy. What a twat'. He switched to a surprisingly good imitation of Jack’s plummy tones. ‘Oh nice one ‘guv, it’s good some good shit this. I’ll have to tell my boys about you'.
His cronies, who remained standing behind the two women a bit too close for comfort, laughed on cue.
‘That sounds like him', Julie said, nodding. She was going to attempt to defend Jack before remembering that he had in fact turned out to be a bit of a shit.
‘And he’s dead, is he? Shame, that. Can always overcharge those toffs a bit'.
‘He was buying drugs from you then', Mrs McGrath said, returning to the proceedings.
‘Couldn’t say. Might have been a social call’. He put the roll up in his mouth and his adoring young companion lit it for him.
‘But you said he was a pillock'.
‘Mix with all types of people in my line of work'. He said, shrugging his shoulders.
‘What if we make it worth your while?'
The youth said nothing, but lifted his head slightly to demonstrate his interest. Mrs McGrath elbowed Julie. She looked in her purse and from the small selection of notes she had in there, she pulled out £5 and held it forward. Mrs McGrath looked at it and then at Julie with obvious disapproval. She went to put the note back in her purse and select a different one but before she could, Mrs McGrath snatched it from her hands.
‘There'. She took out £20 and slapped it against the chest of one of the boys on the bikes who was currently in her orbit. He lost his balance and had to stick his foot out to stop himself from toppling over all together. He took the money over to his leader who stuck it in his tracksuit pocket without looking at it.
‘Alright then. Yeah, he was buying some gear. Met him outside the shop. Asked if I could set him up'.
‘He wasn’t dealing d
rugs for you?’
He laughed. ‘No ta. He would have been a fucking liability'.
‘What was he buying from you? Heroin?'
He laughed unpleasantly. ‘Pretty boy like that, taking smack? Bit of weed, that’s all. Nothing heavy'.
‘You sure you didn’t sell him anything else?' Mrs McGrath said.
‘Actually, I’ll tell you what ladies', he said, standing up. ‘I think my fee’s just gone up. 50 quid'.
‘For what?’
‘It’s obviously information worth having. Why else would you be here?' The three goons behind them inched closer to them. The front wheel of one of their bikes jabbed into the back of Julie’s legs and her knee briefly buckled.
‘We paid for what you gave us and you were lucky to have that', Mrs McGrath said, remaining firm.
‘I think we’ve got a problem then'. He reached into his pocket and took out a short knife. Julie saw that it was in fact something that obviously belonged in a kitchen. Despite her terror at the current situation, she found herself wanting to laugh at how painfully ameteur this whole set up was.
He took a step forward, but Mrs McGrath didn’t move.
‘I wouldn’t recommend that’.
‘What are you going to do about it, granny?'
Julie was sure that Mrs McGrath’s eyes had narrowed at this last word. Without any warning, she threw Julie’s purse back to her and the coppers in the bottom clattered to the ground. In a moment of frenzied activity, she placed her cane firmly on the chest of the yob closest to her and pushed her weight against it . He fell like a bag of potatoes, his bike falling heavily on top of him. Then, she swung her cane round and it connected with the second of the gang’s shoulder with a painful crack. For good measure, she rammed the stick into his ribs which left him clutching his body in agony. The final henchman was putting his foot onto the pedal of his bike to launch his counterattack. Before he could even look up, Mrs McGrath had rammed the cane into his genitals with such force that the boy’s immediately began to water.
