For Richer, For Poorer

by Kerry Wilkinson

  ‘And were you still upstairs when you heard that?’

  He stared up to the ceiling, biting his bottom lip. ‘I suppose I was halfway down the stairs.’

  ‘And what did you see?’

  ‘When I got to the bottom, I turned towards the kitchen – where the noise was coming from – and there were these men there.’

  ‘What were they wearing?’

  ‘Black – they had these padded top things and plastic bags over their shoes, plus balaclavas.’

  ‘How do you know they were men?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You said they were all in black plus they had balaclavas on, so how do you know they were men?’

  Edward paused again: ‘Um . . . I suppose I don’t – they looked like men and the one that spoke had a man’s voice.’

  ‘Did he have any sort of accent?’

  ‘Oh . . . I wasn’t really paying attention. He asked who was in the house and then wanted our phones. He got Fran and myself sitting in the living room and then smashed them. He said they’d cut the phone line too.’

  ‘What did they do to make you go along with them?’

  ‘Well, there were five of them.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘One of them had a gun.’

  ‘Did he point it at you?’

  Edward shrugged. ‘I don’t know . . . I suppose he waved it around a bit. It all happened really quickly. I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘Was there anyone else in the house?’

  ‘Mercifully not – our children were at their grandparents’ house.’ He made another point of catching Jessica’s eye. ‘Small mercies, eh?’

  Jessica nodded in agreement. ‘What time did everything happen?’

  ‘We’d gone upstairs a little after midday, so I suppose shortly after that.’

  ‘You called 999 at 12.34 – so that would indicate they were here for half an hour, perhaps a little less?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘That’s quite a long time – aside from smashing your phones, what else did they do?’

  ‘They cleared out the safe.’

  ‘Anything else? Did they check the other rooms? Touch anything? Have a wee?’

  Edward was struggling to maintain the eye contact he’d initiated, not exactly stumbling for words but certainly having problems remembering. ‘It’s hard to recall. You say it was half an hour but it felt a lot quicker. I don’t know.’

  ‘Was it you who opened the safe?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘I’ve been doing a lot of business from home, so we moved a few things here that used to be in the office; documents and the like but cash too. They asked where the safe was and there wasn’t much I could do. He had that gun and—’

  ‘Who was he pointing it at?’

  Jessica’s interruption threw him off his story and he started waving his hand in a circle to find the next word. ‘The gun?’

  ‘Yes – who was he pointing it at?’

  ‘Well, me, I suppose.’

  ‘Okay, he was pointing the gun at you, so you showed him where the safe was. Is it easy to open?’

  ‘It’s just a keycode.’

  Jessica scanned through the handwritten note in her hand. ‘It looks like they got away with an awful lot – twenty thousand in cash?’

  ‘I said – it’s because of the business.’

  ‘One hundred and fifty thousand in jewels?’

  ‘They’ve been bought over many years. They’re in a fireproof box within the safe.’

  ‘Most people’s insurance wouldn’t cover those sorts of figures.’

  ‘We had to switch the business insurance to the house because of the office move.’

  Jessica checked a few more things but it didn’t change her opinion of him. As well as the work Archie was hopefully doing, she now had a job for Izzy too.

  Back into the living room, Jessica spoke to Frances Shearer. She was dressed immaculately – matching dark pink skirt and jacket, silky shirt, shiny bracelet, painted nails, matching bag on the sofa. She confirmed everything her husband had said, only elaborating when it came to the children – they were at her parents’ house.

  When she was done, Jessica had two phone calls to make: one to Garry Ashford at the Manchester Morning Herald, one to Izzy at the station.

  For a Saturday she wasn’t supposed to be at work, she really had spent a significant amount of time being lied to.

  25

  After visiting the robbery scene, Jessica stopped at Longsight to pick Archie up and then they were back on the roads again. Archie was thinking along the same lines as her and had switched into enthusiastic puppy-dog mode. Any awkwardness from earlier was gone as he chatted about the names he’d stumbled across going back almost two years. A few phone calls later and he had a shortlist of eight couples who had been married at the same church as Pavel and Rosemary.

  As he spoke, Jessica tuned out, instead remembering what DCI Topper had accused her of: profiling.

  This time, there was no doubt that was what she had done, asking Archie to find certain types of couple based entirely on their names. John and Jane Smith – ignore. Anyone a bit foreign-sounding, make the call. Topper was right – this wasn’t supposed to be how they worked and yet sometimes short cuts were the only way.

  Their first stop was a flat above a Chinese takeaway in Rusholme. The whole vicinity smelled of fried . . . something-not-too-nice. After weaving in and out of overflowing wheelie bins and heading up a set of echoing stone steps, Jessica knocked on the rickety wooden door.

  It opened a sliver; a blue eye and blonde flash of hair peeping through. ‘Who is it?’ asked a woman’s voice with a local accent.

  Jessica held out her ID, even though there was no way it would be seen through the tiny gap. ‘I’m looking for Anton.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I am – where is he?’

  There was a scratching sound and then the door closed even further until Jessica could barely see the woman’s eye. ‘Out.’

  ‘When will he be back?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Aren’t you married to him?’

  ‘Yes but I’m not his keeper.’

  Jessica turned to Archie, giving him a knowing look, only to feel a lot less confident as the outline of a man appeared at the bottom of the stairs. As he came closer, the dim light overhead revealed the heavy work boots, muddy jeans, thick jumper and rough hands of someone who knew their way around a building site.

  The passageway was only wide enough for one person so the man had to stop behind Archie and peer up at the two officers. His accent wasn’t thick but there was a definite Eastern European edge: ‘Hello . . . ?’

  The door in front of Jessica swung open, revealing the blonde woman, who was holding a baby. ‘Anton, hon?’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Jessica looked from Anton to his wife and back again. She could feel Archie staring at her, his cockiness from the journey evaporating in front of her.

  Shite, shite, shite.

  She had been so confident that the priest was a fraud, selling sham weddings for a premium in order to do up his crumbling church, that she hadn’t even thought of what to say if it turned out to be a genuine marriage.

  As she began to stumble, Archie saved her: ‘We’ve had a few reports of rowdy behaviour around the front of the Chinese, so we were wondering if you’d heard anything?’

  Jessica glanced sideways at the woman in the doorway. Her shoulders had relaxed and she wasn’t gripping the baby quite so tightly.

  Archie pressed himself to the wall and Jessica wedged herself into the corner, allowing Anton to join his wife in the doorway. ‘There’s always a bit of noise at night,’ he said. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to keep our baby asleep but it’s not been too bad recently.’

  ‘That’s all we were checking,’ Archie said, peering towards Jessica as she gave him a faint nod. ‘Obviously if yo
u’ve got any future problems then you should call 101 or 999. Thanks for your time.’

  Before anyone could query why Jessica had specifically asked for Anton, both officers had hurried down the stairs and were back in the car heading to the second address on the list.

  For a few minutes, Archie said nothing but then, as they waited at a set of traffic lights, he finally opened his mouth: ‘Do you think . . . ?’

  ‘Of course I do; I’m a sentient human being. Thinking is what sets us apart from the animals.’

  Archie didn’t laugh. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘So say it then.’

  ‘Are you going to shout at me?’

  ‘I’m not your mum.’

  This time there was a smile and a small laugh. ‘Could you be wrong?’

  ‘I bloody hope not.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I thought it made sense too – the church is falling apart so the priest thought he’d make a few quid on the side by marrying off English girls to blokes who wanted to stay in the country. He wouldn’t be the first.’

  ‘Let’s wait and see what happens at the next place.’

  A few streets over into Moss Side and Jessica got her answer when Aleksey Pashkievich opened his front door to confirm he hadn’t witnessed any anti-social behaviour recently but that his wife was at work and their child was sleeping, so if they could keep it down and not go banging on his door for a reason he didn’t understand, then it would be much appreciated.

  Pavlo Dolinski was visiting his family at home in Belarus; Ivan Maruska was at work in the Trafford Centre but his wife said he was available on his mobile if they really needed to talk to him; Marko Novosel was cooking tea for his wife; Fedir Petrik’s wife said he was in the pub around the corner if they wanted him; nobody answered the door at Vasyl and Carol Rybak’s house.

  Jessica didn’t bother checking the final two names on her list: she’d tried to be too clever for her own good. Her only consolation was that because she wasn’t actually at work, she’d had no reason to tell DCI Topper how she was spending her afternoon.

  Archie said nothing, which spoke volumes in its own way: an accusing, intimidating silence. This was exactly what Topper had told her about – she’d even been called into professional standards and yet here she was jumping to conclusions again. There were other ways she could have checked that didn’t involve going to the house of everyone who sounded a bit foreign.

  Jessica drove Archie back to the station so he could finish his shift but he waited in the passenger seat before getting out. ‘You a’ight?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Everyone ballses stuff up.’

  ‘How wonderfully eloquent.’

  ‘What you up to later?’

  Jessica kept her eyes level through the windscreen, not turning to face him. ‘Can you do something for me, Arch?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not ask me that in future. Now sod off – I’ll see you next week.’

  Jessica walked into her house to be met by the smell of something sugary and sweet. Bex’s voice called ‘in here’ from the living room, so Jessica entered to find her and Sam at the dining-room table, textbooks and A4 pads open in front of them. Each was dressed in cotton pyjama-style trousers and tops.

  ‘You do know it’s a Saturday?’ Jessica said. ‘You could be out doing . . . whatever it is teenage girls do nowadays. I’m sure it’s not revising.’

  Bex grinned, tucking a long strand of black hair behind her ear: ‘I hope you don’t mind – we did some baking too.’

  ‘What did you make?’

  ‘Bread and cookies.’

  ‘Why would I complain about that? Well, as long as there’s some left.’

  ‘There’s loads! It’s all in the bread bin.’

  ‘I hope you’ve done something other than bake and revise? It’s a weekend – you’re young.’

  The two girls exchanged a short, knowing glance. ‘What have you been up to this weekend?’ Bex asked.

  ‘Working.’

  ‘All night?’

  Jessica couldn’t stop herself from grinning. If there was one person she was happy to have tease her, then it was Bex. ‘In a manner of speaking.’

  ‘Are you staying out tonight?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We were thinking about streaming a movie, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t mind – but I’ve got to be up early,’ Jessica said. ‘I’m going to church.’

  Both girls stared at her.

  Sam eventually broke the silence: ‘My parents are both really religious. I used to go every week as a kid.’

  ‘Are you Catholic?’ Jessica asked.

  ‘I’m nothing now. My mum and dad are Anglicans.’

  Bex was staring at Jessica in a way she hadn’t before, her head at an angle, eyes slightly narrow. ‘Do you usually go to church?’

  They’d been living together for a few months but Jessica had never been in that time. ‘No – I’ve got someone I need to talk to.’

  ‘For work?’

  ‘How did you guess?’

  Bex bit her bottom lip, suppressing a smile. ‘Can I come?’

  ‘If you want—’

  ‘If I’m going to get in the way, then don’t worry – but I’ve never been inside a church before.’

  Sam replied before Jessica could: ‘Really?’

  ‘My mum would’ve never taken me and then it wasn’t the type of place you go to when you’re on the street. There was this church hall that used to give out food but that was it.’

  ‘What are you hoping it’ll be?’ Jessica asked.

  Bex shrugged: ‘I don’t know – something different.’

  26

  Jessica sat near the back of the church taking in the largely empty pews and not really listening to much of what was going on. When the congregation stood, she stood. When they sat, she sat. When they sang, she opened and closed her mouth silently, like a fish bobbing around a tank. Bex seemed fascinated, whispering questions about everything from the coloured windows, to the incense, to why people were kneeling. Jessica knew some of the answers but was more aware of the glances they were getting. People would quickly peep over their shoulders as if looking at one of the windows, scan across Jessica and Bex, and then turn back to the front again. Some of the younger children in particular seemed fascinated by Bex – skinny, striking straight black hair, multiple piercings through her ears and nose, casually dressed in jeans and a top sporting the logo of some band – there was certainly no one else present who looked like her. At least there was honesty to the children’s interest; the adults pretended to look at something else, acting as if they weren’t interested in the two women sitting together near the back.

  The priest had spotted Jessica relatively early on and she could feel his eyes wandering towards her throughout the service.

  When it was time to receive communion, Jessica stayed in her seat but Bex joined the line and mimicked everyone else by crossing herself and taking the wafer. Jessica didn’t know enough to tell whether she had broken some sort of religious law by doing so when she wasn’t strictly a Catholic but she said nothing.

  Afterwards, Jessica waited in her seat as people began to file out. A few stopped to talk to the priest, with a handful of others leaning across and telling Jessica how wonderful it was to see a new face. Suddenly she felt silly for being suspicious of their earlier glances: they were simply interested in someone different and perhaps making sure that she and Bex were okay and hadn’t run away. Why was she always so suspicious of people?

  Jessica told Bex she needed to wait but the teenager didn’t mind, skim-reading parts of the Bible as the church emptied. Eventually, it was only the pair of them remaining. The priest made his way towards the back of the church, looking slightly weary and rubbing his forehead. He smiled thinly at Jessica but didn’t seem to know what to say about the younger woman engrossed in the Bible.

  ‘I take it this isn’t a social visi
t,’ he said.

  ‘Shall we go to your side room?’

  The priest shook his head slightly. ‘It’s a gloriously sunny day and it’s so dark back there. Don’t you think it’d be nicer to talk here?’

  Jessica only needed a moment to glance at the dancing multi-coloured beams of light streaming in through the stained glass before she shuffled along the pew, nudging Bex along too.

  ‘Is there something I should call you?’ Jessica asked as the priest sat alongside her. ‘I know you said James before but it doesn’t feel right now we’re in the main church.’

  ‘You can call me “Father” or “Father James” if that makes you more comfortable. Do you mind if I ask you something first?’

  ‘Go for it.’

  ‘Are either of you Catholic?’

  Bex looked up from the Bible: ‘This is the first time I’ve ever been in a church.’

  The priest turned to Jessica: ‘And you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why would you want to sit in one of my services? If you want to talk to me, you could come at any point.’

  Jessica felt uncomfortable, knowing Bex was at her side. ‘Can I be honest?’

  ‘If ever there’s a place for it, then that’s here.’

  ‘I thought you were a fraud, Father. When we were here yesterday asking about marriages, I saw the state of the church and you didn’t seem to know very much about the wedding I wanted to hear about. I thought you were marrying people for money, so we started looking into things . . .’

  Jessica stopped because the priest was looking at her so intensely that it was as if he had halted the words in her throat. A shiver slid along her spine and it felt like he could see the real her – the self-doubt that was constantly there under the aggressive air of confidence. The guilt at what had happened to Adam and that unrelenting feeling that if she had done things slightly differently then he might still be there.

  Even though she was facing the priest, Jessica knew Bex was watching her, perhaps for the first time understanding what it was she did.

  She doubted people.

  Father James flattened what was left of his hair and replied slowly and deliberately: ‘Did you find anything?’