Grantham moved to sit on a green folding chair, ran stubby fingers through hair that was starting to thin. ‘If I’d have known you were coming I‘d have brought the rest of the set,’ he said, ‘there’s another three chairs and a picnic hamper in my garage, bought them on the off chance the family decided to spend time outdoors and not traipse the length and breadth of every shopping centre on their time off. Should have kept my receipt,’ he sighed.
‘We’re happy to stand, Mr Grantham, take all the time you need.’
Grantham spread his hands on his lap. ‘I had a breakdown a couple of years back,’ he began, looking up at them. ‘My business had gone belly up and I’d started drinking. My wife threatened to leave and something inside me stopped working. I couldn’t get up or dress myself; Anne didn’t leave in the end because she couldn’t see how I’d pull myself together. I started doing daft things, only eating certain foods, walking on one side of the pavement, next thing I accused her of trying to kill me. I was sectioned. Sent to Cedar Falls when I was assessed as being psychotic.’
‘How long were you there for?’
Geoffrey pulled a face. ‘It’s not something I like to think about let alone talk about,’ he said, mentally doing the calculation. ‘I was there for two months, one week and three days,’ his mouth formed a grim line as he said this.
‘And how was your treatment?’
Grantham’s face darkened. ‘Have you had access to my medical records?’
‘Not at all,’ replied Ashcroft. ‘We’re contacting you purely because we’ve been given your name.’
‘Yet you can’t share the name of the person who told you about me…’
‘We’d prefer not to say at this stage, to protect their identity until we decide how to proceed.’
‘Surely that’s my decision?’
‘That depends on the nature of the allegations,’ Krispy added.
‘Look, if you can tell us about your time there it’d really help.’
Grantham blew out a breath. ‘I couldn’t get a place in the local psychiatric hospital as it was full, I was put on a waiting list but in the meantime I needed constant care and Cedar Falls was meant to be a safe place. Only it turned out to be the opposite. There wasn’t enough staff, they couldn’t spend the time with you that was needed. Everything was rushed. You could see they weren’t happy about it either. All it took was one person playing up and that was the day’s schedule gone for a Burton. We were constantly threatened with sedation, even when we learned to mind our own business. “Go to your room now or I’ll give you the needle.” That’s what I was told whenever I tried speaking up for myself. I was punched once and kicked, called a dirty bastard because I’d wet myself when I was too drugged to make it to the toilet in time. I told my wife what was happening but the authorities said there were channels she had to go through if we wanted to complain. Then one day when she asked a member of staff to explain why I was losing weight. I’d told her they’d been holding back food as a punishment, you see. She went in all guns blazing; the problem was the person she spoke to was the one giving me all the grief. He cut short her visiting time, forced me back to my room and pinned me down, grinding my face into the floor. He picked on me regularly after that, though I made sure my wife never found out. In the end a space came up in a facility closer to home and she got me transferred. It’s a time we prefer not to talk about.’
‘And the man that treated you this way? Who was it?’
Grantham closed his eyes and blew out another breath.
Then he gave them a name.
*
Lunchtime recess and Coupland still hadn’t been called to give evidence. He’d sat in a side room with Shola Dube alternating between checking his phone and helping himself to the urn of coffee left on a table with sugar coated biscuits he didn’t think supermarkets sold any more.
His phone vibrated signalling an incoming text. Krispy advising that Colin Grantham had given them the name of his abuser. Coupland moved to an empty part of the waiting room and dialled Krispy’s number. He listened as the DC gave his report.
‘Neither Colin Grantham nor Helen Foley want to make a statement, Sarge, both have moved on with their lives.’
‘They can give evidence anonymously,’ Coupland replied, voice low.
Krispy sounded put out. ‘I told them that, but they don’t want an investigation or a trial dredging up bad memories.’
‘I don’t see as we have a choice,’ said Coupland. ‘We have three allegations of assault and you’ve just been given the name of Grantham’s abuser. Bring him in.’
‘Will do, Sarge.’
Coupland thought for a moment. ‘Do Foley and Grantham have an alibi for the night of the fire?’
‘Grantham’s wife was at their daughter’s, babysitting, and Helen Foley was watching TV at home alone, so no.’
‘OK, so our list of suspected arsonists just got longer.’
‘Seriously, Sarge? asked Krispy. ‘You can’t really think they had anything to do with the fire?’
‘You shouldn’t be interested in what I think, Kiddo, just about following due process. Let the facts tell us what to think. And for the record, I have no bloody idea, but I do know that revenge makes folk do unpredictable things, so no; we don’t rule anyone out yet. Their names get added to the incident board.’
‘Yes, Sarge,’ Krispy replied, subdued.
‘You’re doing well,’ Coupland reassured him. ‘Ashcroft messaged earlier to say he didn’t need to wipe your backside once.’
‘Cheers, Sarge.’
‘So why do you sound like you’ve lost a fiver and found fifty pence?’
‘The people we spoke to were treated abysmally. I mean, I don’t think it could get much worse, could it? What I don’t understand is how it was allowed to happen. Is cruelty something you learn, if not to do yourself, at least to tolerate as long as it happens to someone else?’
Something shifted inside Coupland. He’d been mulling over similar thoughts since the accounts of abuse had come to light. Had his mother witnessed this cruelty? God forbid she was part of it…
Coupland sighed. ‘Fear makes people complicit to all kind of things they would normally disapprove of.’ Even so, had she ignored what was going on under her nose, agreed to keep shtum for the sake of her job? If he closed his eyes he could see her smile, put a plaster on his knee when he’d cut it. She knitted him horrible jumpers and let the hem down on his school trousers when a new pair would have been preferable. She wouldn’t mop up an anorexic’s blood knowing a colleague had raped her. Could she?
Footsteps could be heard along the corridor. A court clerk appeared behind the door calling Coupland’s name. He gave her the thumbs up and ended the call.
Saturday
Chapter Eighteen
CID room, Salford Precinct Station
Coupland moved towards his desk with a purpose. The incident room was virtually empty, down to civilian staff inputting data and covering the phones. Keeping his eyes peeled for Alex he slid open his desk drawer and removed the box containing the items taken from his mother’s room.
He’d been halfway through giving evidence when he’d remembered that it was still in his drawer, that Ashcroft was already in Alex’s bad books for not checking through it. He’d fired off an email to the EMU as soon as he’d been able to, explaining the hold-up, but whichever way he dressed it up he was hanging onto property that may be relevant to the case.
Taking a sip of his take away coffee he gingerly lifted the lid. The first item he pulled out was the last thing to be added – the evidence bag he’d picked up from the EMU two days earlier. Inside was a bundle of photographs. Snaps of his mother with people he didn’t know. Friends she must have filled her life with after she’d walked out. There were several of her smiling beside the same woman, in pubs, on beaches, in European cities. The photos showed his mother age over time, become heavier, greyer, but there was a confidence in her eyes that hadn’t been there
during his childhood.
Coupland placed the photographs back in their envelope, returned it to the box. A notepad nestled between a staff handbook and an address book; he reached in to retrieve it.
‘Please tell me this isn’t what I think.’
Coupland nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice behind him. He looked round guiltily, caught the disappointment in Alex’s face.
‘Since Ashcroft didn’t follow up the action I gave him I thought I’d go down to the EMU myself only they told me Barbara Howe’s evidence had already been signed out. By you.’ She moved in close to hiss at him: ‘What the hell do you think you are playing at?’
‘I wanted to find out more about her, that’s all.’
‘And in the meantime prevent anyone else from looking through her effects objectively.’
‘Hardly, I was going to hand them to Ashcroft when I’d finished.’
‘Yeah, after your sticky paws have been all over them.’
‘She’s a victim in all this too,’ he said, swallowing his doubts.
Alex refused to listen. ‘I just don’t understand why, when you’re already being investigated by Complaints, you see fit to flout evidence management regulations as well. They are there for a reason, and we all have to comply. The rules are no bloody different for you, Kevin. Maybe I was wrong when I agreed to give you time to get your head around all this.’
Coupland waited for her to run out of steam. With any luck she wouldn’t ask him to come clean to the boss about his conflict of interest, or worse still, drop him in it. One whiff of his mother’s connection to the case and he’d be toast. Off the case – off the force even, given his recent track record, and no time for a whip round.
Coupland opened his mouth to say something in the full knowledge he’d be cut off.
‘Don’t bother making excuses, Kevin, you’re abusing my trust and I think it’s time you come clean to the boss.’ Alex paused to take a breath. ‘I’m in your corner, truly, I am, but don’t make that job harder than it needs to be.’ She had every right to be hacked off; her loyalty to him was putting her career on the line too. ‘I need to go through the evidence, Kevin. When the investigation is over you’ll be able to go through your mother’s belongings to your heart’s content but in the meantime let me do the honours. I promise I’ll take care of it all.’
She picked up the box, her gaze sweeping over his desk in case he’d kept anything back. A pause, as though she remembered something. ‘I nearly forgot, how did it go in court?’
The look he gave her said it all. ‘Adjourned, pending a psychiatric report. Her lawyer’s claiming she wasn’t thinking clearly due to numerous failed attempts at IVF.’
‘That’s why they earn the big bucks,’ Alex sympathised. ‘I heard Ashcroft and Krispy got a breakthrough on the abuse investigation.’
Coupland nodded. ‘Colin Grantham named Bernard White as the person who assaulted him.’
‘He was interviewed by Turnbull,’ said Alex. ‘He was the member of staff claiming Harkins had something to do with the fire. Made out it was an insurance job.’
‘Nice guy.’
Alex hadn’t budged from beside his desk. She folded her arms as she regarded him. ‘What about the DCI? When are you going to speak to him?’
It was a prompt, not a question, and Coupland acknowledged the fact by scraping back his chair as he got to his feet. ‘No time like the present, I suppose,’ he sighed.
*
Coupland was halfway along the corridor leading to DCI Mallender’s office when he heard someone call out his name. He turned to see Cueball hurrying towards him. ‘I tried calling you but someone said you were in with the boss. Thought you’d want an update following my video call with Danny Martin.’
Coupland nodded. ‘I take it he corroborated his mother’s claims?’
‘Yeah, and more. Says he and McMahon had crossed paths a couple of times, not mates in any sense of the word but they knew the same people.’
‘Course they do,’ Coupland said amiably. ‘Birds of a feather and all that, though not sure what you call a group of drug dealers.’
‘He said McMahon hadn’t been on the scene that long. He owed money to a loan shark. When he couldn’t settle his debt they sold it on to a community fixer who recruited him into their distribution network. His job in the warehouse meant he could keep the doctored sweet bags to one side which were then collected by local dealers for selling on right under everyone’s noses.’
‘So who was he working for?’
‘Danny wasn’t playing ball with that one, Sarge, said information like that was worth a damn sight more than a move to a lenient prison.’
‘Can’t blame the guy for trying,’ Coupland said. ‘But going by the DCI’s demeanour when I spoke to him there’s nothing else in the pot negotiation-wise. There’s more chance of finding a City supporter in the Stretford End than the Super sanctioning anything else.’
A nod. ‘So, we need to take a closer look at McMahon’s associates,’ said Cueball.
‘No names came up when we carried out our initial victimology. These aren’t folk he normally fraternises with. If he kept whoever he was dealing with at arm’s length, minimising his contact to purely when the pickups were made, there’s a chance they’ll be captured on the warehouse CCTV – assuming they use it. When’s the raid organised for?’
‘Monday.’
Coupland nodded. ‘I’m guessing you’ve been told I won’t be joining you?’
A pause. ‘It may have been brought to my attention, Sarge…’
Coupland puffed out his cheeks. ‘Good. I didn’t want you thinking I was cherry picking what I got involved in, the orders have come from up high.’
He glanced out of the corridor window as a squad car pulled up in front of the station’s main entrance. A uniformed officer was at the wheel but when the passenger door opened DC Ashcroft got out of it before moving to open the rear door for a bemused looking man with a straggly beard. ‘Bollocks,’ Coupland muttered, backing away from Cueball, requesting that the DC keep him updated before marching down the flight of stairs leading to reception.
*
Coupland caught up with DC Ashcroft outside the bank of interview rooms. ‘Are you out of your mind?’ he demanded, waiting while Ashcroft opened the first door he came to and ushered the man inside, telling him he’d be back in a minute before closing it behind him. Coupland recognised him as being one of the members of staff on duty when he’d returned Johnny Metcalfe into Harkins’ care after his walk about. ‘What the hell were you thinking of, using a patrol car to bring him in?’
Ashcroft frowned. ‘We couldn’t get hold of him yesterday and the pool cars are being serviced, Sarge, I didn’t think it mattered…’
‘Other than Tunny has eyes and ears everywhere. If he gets a whiff of our interest in Whyte – and the reason – I doubt he’ll make it to trial – assuming we can make a case against him.’
Ashcroft closed his eyes and leaned against the corridor wall. ‘Shite.’ It was pointless rubbing his nose in it, their energy was better served keeping Bernard Whyte in one piece.
‘I’ll go and speak to Tunny,’ Coupland said. ‘Tell him he’s helping us with another enquiry, that if he so much as suffers a paper cut when he leaves here I’ll be back for Tunny myself.’
*
The sun shone down on Salford beneath a clear blue sky. When the weather was good everything changed. The city glistened and its inhabitants abandoned anoraks and parkas in favour of vest tops and sundresses. Coupland flashed a pizza delivery driver pulling out of a line of parked cars into the traffic, flicking on his indicators before moving into the space he’d vacated. An Indian restaurant, Turkish kebab house, and an all you can eat Chinese buffet restaurant occupied the bulk of the units operating on Tattersall Road. Coupland climbed out of his car, headed in the direction of a wine bar on the corner, signs boasting half priced pitchers of cocktails. A crowd of youths stood outside sm
oking. Pale skin starting to redden. Flabby backsides strained against jersey shorts. Shaved heads with buzz cut tops. The girls wore traveller style clothing with drag queen make up trowelled onto spray tanned skin. Every conversation was shouted, punctuated by swear words that would have made a docker blush. Coupland caught the eye of a young man on the edge of an all-male group. His eyes widened when he saw Coupland and he began inching away from his cronies before anyone could see what – or who – was making him twitchy. He inclined his head towards the bar’s entrance, saying to the others, ‘Need to splash my boots.’ Wearing jeans and a slim fit tee shirt, he looked different without the uniform of black anorak and neckerchief he’d been wearing when Coupland had last clapped eyes on him.
Coupland followed him into toilets that resembled a Zen spa; marble effect tiles set off white porcelain sinks with contraptions above them that soaped, rinsed and dried hands without the user having to move. ‘Classy,’ Coupland observed.
He’d no sooner stepped over the threshold than the boy rounded on him. ‘What the hell are you doing here Mr Coupland? Don’t you lot have your own place to chill out in?’
Coupland shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look sorry. ‘I know, Liam, three times in one week, folk are going to talk.’
The youth frowned. ‘Yeah, that’s what worries me, fraternising with the Feds will seriously damage my health.’ He glanced at the toilet’s entrance as though fearful who may walk in.
Coupland moved so that he was leaning against it, preventing entry – or exit. ‘That the reason you acted like a prize prick when I showed up to break the news about Catherine to Tunny and his mam? I mean, it’s not as though I was going to come over and bump fists with you.’
‘It was the first time I’d been invited over. I didn’t want to lose his trust because my mum’s friendly with a cop.’
The first time Coupland had met Liam’s mother was to break the news that her husband had been gunned down in a supermarket car park. They hadn’t kept in touch exactly, but whenever their paths did cross he made a point of asking after her and the boy, the same as he did with any of the families he’d come into contact with over the years. It was impossible to wade in someone’s tragedy then walk away after the case had closed without ever looking back.
Flesh and Blood Page 23
