‘No? Why’s that?’ she asked defiantly.
‘Probably because you’ll know a lie when you hear one. So allow me. Your friend George here was Neil Watson’s alibi the night that poor child got beaten to death. Even if his story were true, Watson’s to blame because the death was known to be cumulative. You know what that means? It means the poor little mite was beaten on a regular basis, and the ongoing effect of those beatings created weaknesses in the boy’s skull. That’s awful enough, I’m sure you’d agree. But the fact is, I don’t believe George’s story. I don’t believe he was with Neil Watson that night. I believe he’s covering for him – for the kind of man who would beat a child so often that the poor little sod had physical damage and old breaks too numerous to count.’
‘That’s not possible,’ Bell said. She shook her head fiercely. ‘I know from having my own son, Charlie. You go to emergency with any cut or break and they’re on you, always suspecting the worst.’
Bliss nodded. ‘That’s often the case, yes. But it’s the follow-up that counts. Social care teams are always overstretched, and cases get away. Some kids fall through the cracks because their parents are plausible and the case workers are exhausted. One such child fell victim to Neil Watson and his rage.’
Bell’s face flushed and glistened. ‘You don’t know that. You can’t. Otherwise he’d be locked away as well.’
‘There’s knowing, Christine, and there’s proving. It wasn’t my operation, but I know it as if it were after reading through the case file and talking to the investigating officers. They went after him for doling out the fatal blows on that night. Then along comes George Moss, says Watson was at his place at the time. That was in Huntingdon, not too far away from where Watson lived with the woman and her son. But according to Mr Alibi here, he and Watson were together from early evening until long after that little boy succumbed to his final hiding. The moment the investigators could no longer push that angle, the case for proving Watson’s involvement over time also fell apart. Especially after the kid’s mother coughed to the lot, absolving Watson of any and all responsibility.’
‘There you go, then!’ Moss cried, a hand tossed carelessly in the air. ‘What more do you people need? She says he never hurt the kid, not once. Then she says she laid into her son that night while Neil was with me. You wanted to bang him up, and when you fucked up you decided to try to fit him up instead. Don’t listen to him, Chris. You’ll only ever hear lies from his sort.’
Bliss wiped a hand across his face; it came back slick. ‘Christ, it’s hot enough to boil a monkey’s arse in here. Listen to me, George. Whether I’m with the police or not really isn’t the point. Why did you lie for him that night, and why did you meet him for a drink today?’
‘What?’ Bell turned, hands on hips, her face rapidly turning crimson. ‘You told me you were at work all day!’
‘Yeah, well, I stopped off on my way home to see Neil. What of it?’
‘You didn’t tell me, is what. You made it seem like you came straight home.’
‘What the fuck does it matter? I met him. We had a couple of pints. Big fucking deal!’
‘Why today?’ Bliss wanted to know. ‘Why did you need to see him today?’
‘I don’t see how that’s any of your business. In fact, I don’t even know why you’re still here. You’re the filth. You ain’t got no right to be here. So why don’t you fuck right off?’
Bliss took a breath. Calmed himself. ‘On the contrary, George. I have every right to be here. It was Miss Bell who invited me in. This is her home. Her name on the rent book.’
Anger creasing his features, Moss turned to Bell, a desperate look in his eyes. ‘Tell him, Chris. Tell him to go fuck himself and leave us alone.’
She swallowed a couple of times, blinking as if she was having trouble seeing him clearly for the first time. Bliss noticed tears in her eyes and knew he’d got through. Eventually she shook her head. ‘No. No, I don’t think I will, George. I think I want to know more.’
‘Why? Because this prick says so?’
‘No. Because I’m not sure if I believe you.’
For a moment, Bliss thought Moss might launch himself at her. Tensing, he readied himself to get between them if needed. But he decided it would be safer to remove her from the equation. ‘Miss Bell,’ he said, keeping a watchful eye on Moss. ‘You mentioned a child earlier. Is he with you? Here in the flat?’
‘No. He’s at my mum’s.’
‘Close by?’
‘Yeah, not far.’
‘Good. Then you can do us all a favour. We need to take some of the tension out of this situation – plus, I need to speak freely with George. Take yourself off to your mum’s place. Spend an hour or so there while me and George get to know one another better.’
‘Chris… take no notice of this bloke.’ Moss looked terrified, his voice high and pleading. ‘You stick around. I want a witness.’
But Christine Bell seemed to realise something was not quite right; it was as if she instinctively knew there was more to this story. And Bliss could tell she wanted no part of it, no matter who or what Moss was to her.
Less than five minutes later, the two of them were alone together. Moss had collapsed into an armchair the moment Bell closed the front door behind her, as if doing so might somehow prevent what was about to happen.
Bliss remained on his feet. He stepped closer until he was looming over the frightened figure. ‘I don’t know what kind of man you were before you agreed to alibi Watson,’ he said in a hushed voice. ‘I don’t know what kind of man you’ve become since. But I do know what kind of man you can be, George.’
‘Yeah? What’s that?’
‘A better one. A smarter one. The kind of man who finally tells the truth. Because I think that truth has been weighing on you. See, I reckon Watson wanted to meet with you today to find out if he could still rely on you. He’s in trouble, George. Starting to feel the pressure I’m applying. He needs to make sure your story remains the same and will hold up to further scrutiny.’
‘And it will. Because it’s the truth.’
‘So you say. Fair enough. But you know, there are two things wrong with that.’ Bliss paused, waiting for Moss’s eyes to find and hold his own. ‘First, if Watson is starting to get anxious, he might suspect you’ll fold completely once the necessary weight is applied. I don’t reckon he’s a man to take things on trust, George. Sooner or later, he’ll come to the conclusion that you’re a problem he needs to deal with.
‘Second, there’s me. See, whatever you may think I am, whatever you may think I do, right now it’s just me standing here in front of you. But Neil Watson will have his own way of dealing with you. I can’t imagine it’ll be painless, and I can only assume it will be fatal. Me? I’m not that generous, and I’m considerably more in control of my temper. I can make pain last a bloody long time when I put my mind to it, George. I can keep it up for hours. Days, if necessary. I’ll hold back on making it fatal, and all you’ll know is that continuous agony. But there’s an easy way to prevent either of those eventualities from happening.’
‘Yeah? How’s that?’
‘You tell me the truth.’
‘I can’t do that. You know I can’t.’
Bliss nodded. Smiled. Then narrowed his gaze. ‘I know you can’t. Of course I do. But I also know you will, eventually. If you want to endure the suffering I’ll put you through first, let’s get on with it. I’m game.’
‘You can’t do that. You’re a copper. I know you are. There’s no way you can threaten me like that and get away with it.’
‘I can not only make the threat, George – I can also follow up on it. You know why? Because I’m not stupid enough to get caught. Christine doesn’t know who I am. If we’re both gone by the time she gets back, she won’t know we left together, nor where you are.’
‘I’ll tell everyone after you let me go.’
Bliss lowered his voice. ‘Oh, George. Who said anything about le
tting you go?’ He smiled. ‘On the other hand, you can save all that shit and tell me everything I need to know right now.’
‘What kind of choice is that?’ Moss asked, throwing up his hands.
Bliss shrugged. ‘No choice at all, George. But either way, you’d better tell me how this is going to go, because it’s getting late, I’m tired, I need a drink, and I’ve had fuck all to eat. That combination makes me even more irritable than usual. So… what’s it going to be? I can manage another hour. Can you?’
Thirty-Seven
Bliss awoke to a grey morning and a sky that looked as forlorn as he felt. Low, dark clouds ploughed weary furrows across the sky, looking eager to unleash their cargo. It felt to him as if a couple of them detached to hover above his head while he took a shower. As he soaped away the last remaining residues of a restless night, he contemplated a couple of conversations he’d had the previous evening.
The first was with Bishop, who himself had received a call from DC Ansari. The search for the Parkinson family remained ongoing; there had been no sign of either Nicola or her children. Tracking their financial movements was the next stage, but authorisation could not be obtained until the morning.
‘Any word on who the contracted hit was placed with?’ Bliss had asked.
‘None. We’d only be speculating at this stage, what with Drake having gone outside his own organisation. I had Glen check the NCA system for Drake’s personal finances, which they’ve been monitoring since we first brought him in. No sign of him directing money anywhere over the past twenty-four hours.’
‘We have to assume he has cash squirrelled away somewhere, then. And somebody he trusts with access to it whenever only cash will do. We need to think hard about who that might be and come up with a name.’
‘I agree,’ Bishop said. ‘I don’t know of any hitman who wouldn’t demand at least half up front. Money is going to change hands soon, that’s for sure.’
‘And when it does, we need to be prepared. Any joy with tracking down the Dark Desires server?’
‘Do we even need it now? The hope was it’d tell us who was running the show, but I think we all agree it was Nicola Parkinson and her vermin brood.’
Bliss nodded, though he knew Bishop could not see it. ‘True. On the other hand, knowing its precise location may lead us to an address we don’t have listed for her or the Drake empire. A fresh address gives us renewed hope of finding something concrete. If we let ourselves get too carried away with the chase, we might forget to pick up the evidence wherever it can be found.’
‘Of course. You’re absolutely right. I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.’
Up next was Chandler; for some reason she hadn’t been able to turn in for the night without rubbing more salt into his wounds. ‘Did it at least help with your aches and pains?’ she asked after she’d finished laughing.
‘Actually, it did. Very much so. I felt so loose afterwards, though it’s all starting to tighten up again. Trish is good at what she does.’
‘She said you were a good sport. She’s glad you didn’t whip your towel off and tell her to spread the oil thickly.’
Bliss put his head back. The memory left a huge smile on his face. ‘So am I. That would have been a sight for sore eyes, if you’d burst into the room at that point.’
‘Oh, believe me, the sore eyes would’ve come afterwards. I’d have poked them out with a stick.’
They’d laughed together for a while longer, before turning to Phoenix. They discussed the case for twenty minutes without getting any further, before saying goodnight.
As he got dressed, Bliss’s thoughts drifted back to George Moss. The man was every bit as vulnerable as he’d assumed, caving in at the mere thought of suffering the kind of pain Bliss had described. Fearing the repercussions, he’d demanded protection. Bliss assured him of it, though he had no intention of going out of his way to provide any once they had the man’s new statement in evidence.
‘I… I gave N… Neil an alibi,’ Moss had stuttered. His voice cracked and dry, he seemed broken by the admission. ‘He turned up unexpectedly that night at the place where I was living. He was all pumped up and red in the face. Actually, he looked bloody terrified.’
‘And what exactly did he say to you?’ Bliss had asked.
‘He told me he’d given the kid a hiding from time to time, that it was what good male role models did to make sure kids had discipline later on in life – plus it forced the kid to do as he was told there and then. He said he’d been at home all evening taking care of the little brat while the boy’s mother was off gallivanting with her trampy friends – his words, not mine.’
At that point Moss had broken off from his story, looking across at Bliss as if seeking some kind of acknowledgement that the difference between him and Watson was plain to see. Bliss had nodded for him to continue, which Moss did after clearing his throat.
‘Anyway, it turned out that the boy hadn’t eaten all night. Neil had assumed the kid’s mother had fed him before she went out, but she’d left it for him to do. When the two of them started arguing, the boy butted in, and Neil lost it. Completely. He told me it felt like someone else’s hands and feet laying into the poor little sod, until he noticed the blood all over his own clothes, and felt it on his face. He warned his other half not to say a word to anyone about him being there. Said he threatened her, but he didn’t go into details about it.’
‘So you knew he’d snapped and killed the boy, and still you covered for him,’ Bliss had said in disgust. ‘Perjured yourself for him, knowing he was a child-killer.’
‘Yeah.’ Moss had not been able to meet his eyes. ‘But not because we were mates – it was never about that. Any other friend and I wouldn’t have done it.’
‘Then why?’
After a moment, he managed to look up. ‘Because I was shit scared. That’s the truth of the matter. Neil terrifies me when he goes off on one, and I had no intention of being on the end of it.’
Bliss shuddered at the memory, and at the image currently playing on a loop inside his head. Hearing this new version of events, it felt almost as if he had been there with Watson. If he closed his eyes, he could see the heavily muscled lunatic, eyes wide with rage, foam spilling from his lips. Slapping, punching, kicking the defenceless little boy. And later picking up the lad’s cricket bat…
How must that have looked through the kid’s eyes?
How must it have felt?
Bliss quelled his mounting fury before setting off for work. He also placed a call to an office at Hinchingbrooke HQ.
‘DS Nicholls.’
‘Harvey, it’s Jimmy Bliss.’ The man’s real name was Paul, but where was the fun in that?
‘Hiya, Jimmy. What can I do for you this dull morning?’
‘I was wondering if we could meet around lunchtime today. Say half-twelve?’
‘I can do that unless I’m called out, of course. What’s up?’
‘It’s about Neil Watson.’
Silence. Then, ‘I was afraid you were going to say that. You weren’t able to let it go, were you?’
‘No. And it’s not a matter of me second-guessing your case against him, Harvey. You did nothing wrong. He pulled a fast one, and it had the desired effect. But I may have opened the door for you.’
‘And we need to discuss it in private, I’m assuming?’
‘We do. I didn’t exactly go through the proper channels to obtain the information I have.’
‘Of course not. Why would you?’
‘Don’t be like that. I know I went behind your back, but it had to be done. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else. You want what I have or not?’
‘If it helps nail that sick fucker – absolutely.’
‘Good man.’
They agreed upon a meeting point before Bliss disconnected – not only from the call, but from that particular investigation. A more pressing case awaited him at Thorpe Wood, and for one poor young woman each minute that pas
sed had to feel like a lifetime.
The rain was holding off when he stepped outside the front door, but he could smell it in the air and feel it settle beneath his skin. The old labrador lay nestled close by, so Bliss quickly went back indoors to fetch a dish of water and a few crumbled-up treats for his relatively new pal.
He took his first call of the day as he settled behind the wheel of his car. It was from Sandra Bannister.
‘If you’re calling to give me a bollocking, save your breath,’ he said. ‘I apologise. I should have come back to you sooner.’
‘You’re damn right about that! Have you seen the front-page story the Express is running with today?’
He hadn’t, but immediately felt familiar hooks of anger and frustration raking at him. ‘I’m guessing it’s about the serial we appear to have inherited?’
‘What the… what’s going on, Jimmy? You have something this big, and you leave me out in the cold? Why am I only finding out after some gleeful prick who wants my job sends me a web link?’
‘I’ve not seen the article, Sandra. But it’s a leak, not a plant. We didn’t want this out there.’
‘Are you sure about that? I know how you people operate, remember?’
‘I’m certain. There’s no way this is good for us or our investigation.’
Bannister paused. They’d built up a fair amount of trust over time, and he hoped she’d realise he was telling her the truth. ‘Fair enough. But why am I only learning about it for the first time now?’
‘I’ve said I’m sorry, and I am. I did call you; you didn’t answer and I decided not to leave a message. I forgot to call back, but it didn’t seem urgent. When I saw your name pop up, I thought you were getting back to me for an update. I genuinely had no idea this was going on.’
‘None of which helps, to be perfectly honest with you, Jimmy. My editors expect me to be on the leading edge of activity at Thorpe Wood. I’m being asked how I could have missed something of this magnitude.’
The Autumn Tree (DI Bliss Book 8) Page 28
