Running Girl
Page 10
Only one. Abdul picked her up about six from the shops near the Academy and took her down to Market Square in the city centre, where most of the bars and clubs are.
‘What was she like?’
She wasn’t like Chloe.
‘It’s all right, man. You can forget about Chloe. I’m just interested.’
The woman was much older than Chloe for a start, maybe twenty, maybe twenty-five – it was hard to tell with some women. She had a lot of very black hair. And a lot of make-up. Abdul tutted to himself. She was a strange woman.
‘How strange?’
She wasn’t sure where she wanted to be dropped in Market Square. She made Abdul drive round the one-way system three times while she peered out of the window. Then there was the funny business with the tip.
‘What business?’
The woman seemed to have no idea how much to give. As if she’d never been in a cab before. She took money out of her purse, put it back, got angry with herself, and in the end gave Abdul a twenty, more than the cost of the ride itself. He’d given it back to her, and she’d got flustered and bolted and left him with nothing.
‘Très perturbée, Garvie man.’ Abdul laughed and waggled his finger at his head. ‘Eh? Crazy like cat.’
Garvie said nothing for a while.
‘Abdul?’
‘Oui?’
‘What was she wearing, this crazy woman?’
Abdul considered this. A blue dress, he thought. And a white jacket. She was dressed up to go out, even though she didn’t seem to know where she was going.
‘And where did you pick her up?’
‘By shop.’
‘Which shop?’
‘Aphrodite shop. You know?’
‘Aphrodite’s beauty salon?’
Abdul nodded.
‘Is that where she’d been?’
Abdul hadn’t considered this before but now he saw that Garvie was right. She had so much hair and so much make-up, she must have been in Aphrodite’s, getting ready to go out.
They drove on a little way in silence after that. They were in Limekilns now. Here the houses were all prefabs, with wood-panelled fronts and lean-to porches with corrugated plastic roofs. The roads were patched with iron plates. There were no shops. It was a poor area. Garvie wound down the window and leaned out, and even the air tasted poor.
Abdul let him out at a deserted street corner. He was looking anxious again. ‘This bad bad place, Garvie man.’
‘It’s OK, Abdul. I have a friend lives here. Listen, Abdul.’
‘Yes?’
‘About that woman. Did you tell the police about her?’
He shook his head.
‘Maybe you should. Just to be helpful. They might even be grateful.’
Abdul looked doubtful, but Garvie didn’t say anything else, and in the end he drove off.
Garvie turned off the street and walked down a dirt path across waste ground heaped with rubbish and brambles, under an old railway bridge and along a ditch until he came at last to an abandoned-looking maisonette with boarded-up windows.
Parked outside was a squad car.
At that moment the front door of the maisonette opened and a policeman came out, looking thoughtful. A policeman in a turban. For a second he stood on the doorstep, musing. Then he looked up and his expression changed at once.
‘Detective Inspector,’ Garvie said politely. ‘Our paths cross again.’
Singh removed all traces of surprise from his face and came down the path. ‘I warned you about interfering with police business,’ he said.
‘I’m not interfering with anything,’ Garvie said.
‘Then why are you here?’
‘I just stopped by to score some drugs.’
Singh stared at him.
‘But,’ Garvie added considerately, ‘I promise not to make the transaction until you’re far away.’
For a moment Garvie thought Singh was going to lose his cool; but the man just blinked and, stepping backwards, took a notebook out of his pocket.
At that moment his phone rang. Frowning, he turned away to answer it. Garvie heard him say, ‘Yes. What do you mean, another technical hitch? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I’m coming now. Yes, now.’
He gave Garvie a long bitter look as he went past him and got into his car.
Garvie waved goodbye as he drove off, but the inspector did not return the gesture.
Inside, the squat was semi-derelict: bare boards and crumbling plaster covered in graffiti. There was a smell of old smoke. Downstairs in the front room a couple of kids stopped playing cards when they saw him.
‘Got anything for us, Smith?’ one said in a whining voice.
‘Not today.’
The kid spat on the floor and they went back to their game, and Garvie went past them up the splintered stairs to where Alex was camping. Once a back bedroom, it was now a wreck. The sagging ceiling had split open and someone had tried to rip out the washbasin. Alex was lying in a sleeping bag on a mattress in the corner rolling a joint. He was wearing his varsity jacket, and Garvie looked at it a moment before going over. He crouched down next to him and they touched knuckles.
‘Back again?’
‘Can’t keep away, man. Such a lovely place.’ Propped up on one elbow, Alex went on rolling. He was big and powerful for his age: six five at least, and broad. Good-looking too, in a screwed-up-eyed, hip hop sort of way. Until recently he’d been the Marsh Academy’s premier athlete, star of the soccer team and all-round action man. But though he looked tough, he was usually gentle, soft even. When Chloe dumped him he’d fallen apart. Since her death he seemed to have lost the will to live. Like the squat itself he was in a state of terminal disrepair, his former laid-back manner a distressing sham.
‘Don’t think it’s much good for your health, to be honest,’ Garvie said.
Alex shrugged.
‘Or your nerves. Those kids downstairs get nastier and younger every time I come here.’
Alex said, ‘I got protection.’
‘Protection! You sound like a TV gangster. Don’t you miss your mum and sister? Or your home comforts? I still remember your mum’s stews.’
Alex scowled. ‘I’m no pussy.’
Garvie looked around. ‘What would your mum say about this place, big man?’
‘I can look after myself.’
‘What would Chloe say?’
Alex shut his mouth and gave Garvie a fierce look, which Garvie ignored.
‘What would she say, Alex?’
There was a long silence in the squalid room.
‘Leave it, Garv,’ Alex said in a low thick voice of gravel and chalk. ‘She ain’t around to criticize no more.’
Reaching into his sleeping bag, he took out a small packet and tossed it towards Garvie.
Garvie shook his head.
‘What you doing here, then?’
‘Interfering with police business.’
Alex rolled his eyes. ‘I done my bit. OK? Got punched on, spent a night in the cells. Your man in the turban’s just been here again.’
‘I know, I just met him. Looking surprised.’
‘Surprised?’
‘Surprised he didn’t find a Porsche parked outside, I think.’
Alex sneered. ‘All that about a Porsche. Is nonsense, Garv. You know that. She didn’t ride in no Porsche.’
‘Still. Everybody knows dealers drive those things. Singh probably thought you had three or four.’
‘Not even funny, Garv.’
‘Blinkie drives one.’
Alex’s glance flicked at Garvie and swerved away again. ‘Who?’
‘That gangster you run with. Dude with the eye-patch.’
‘I don’t run with Blinkie.’
‘But he has a Porsche, right?’
‘Maybe. How would I know?’
‘And it’s black. Right?’
‘I don’t run with Blinkie. I never been in his Porsche.’
‘All right, Ale
x. Stay calm, mate. I’m just trying to get inside Plod’s head.’
Alex grimaced and rubbed his hand across the top of his head. ‘I can’t take much more, Garv.’
Garvie nodded. ‘I know. What did you tell him, by the way? The plod.’
‘Nothing.’
‘Good. Just a few questions, then. Won’t take long.’
Alex finished rolling his spliff, lit up and lay back down, scowling up at the ceiling.
‘I’ll be gentle with you,’ Garvie said.
18
LOCATION: SLUM DWELLING; upstairs room; décor distressed; smell of wet chalk and piss.
Aspect of interviewer: casual; cute; dressed in black, rumpled Marsh Academy school uniform.
Aspect of interviewee: tense; shiny-faced; dressed in white vest and trackies.
DI GARVIE SMITH: So. You were harassing her.
ALEX ROBINSON [obscene phrase]
DI GARVIE SMITH: Calling her, texting her, following her.
ALEX ROBINSON: You know it. [Smokes, passes spliff] Everybody knows it. So what?
DI GARVIE SMITH: So what happened?
ALEX ROBINSON: Nothing happened. She didn’t want nothing to do with me. No calls. No texts. She’d walk away from me in the street even.
DI GARVIE SMITH [smokes]: You used to watch her at the track, right? After school.
ALEX ROBINSON: After school, lunch time. She used to get the Scot to come shoo me. Like some little dog. You seen it, Garv.
DI GARVIE SMITH: I remember. [Passes spliff] So was it you stole her running shoes?
ALEX ROBINSON [snorts]: That’s weird.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Weird?
ALEX ROBINSON: Your man in the turban asked that too.
DI GARVIE SMITH [laughs]: Singh’s learning. Did you steal them, Alex?
ALEX ROBINSON: Never took nothing of hers. Wish I had, almost. Something to keep. [Smokes] If you want to know about Chloe’s stuff being stole, ask Jess. [Passes spliff]
DI GARVIE SMITH: I already did. This is good, by the way. [Lengthy silence]
ALEX ROBINSON: That it, then? Detective Smith.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Not quite. Done any deals up at Pike Pond recently?
ALEX ROBINSON: No, man.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Sure?
ALEX ROBINSON: I ain’t used that place for ... I don’t know. Weeks. I told all this already to the copper.
DI GARVIE SMITH: So when did you last see Chloe? Was it on the Friday? Friday afternoon?
ALEX ROBINSON: No way on Friday.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Thought you kept tabs on her every day. Isn’t that what stalkers do?
ALEX ROBINSON: Thursday I saw her. After school. She was on the track. Didn’t speak to her. Didn’t even get near her. Usual story. Pretended I wasn’t there.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Here. [Passes spliff]
ALEX ROBINSON [smokes]: You done now?
DI GARVIE SMITH: Nearly. Last thing. Just tell me what you told Singh just now.
ALEX ROBINSON: I didn’t tell him nothing. [Passes spliff]
DI GARVIE SMITH: Yeah you did. Something secret. Something you’re not telling me. He told me on his way out.
ALEX ROBINSON: He told you?
DI GARVIE SMITH: The expression on his face told me. Just before he looked surprised he looked thoughtful. Like someone who’s just found something out.
ALEX ROBINSON: Garvie, man, you’re a freak. All right. It’s not such a big deal. I was in Chloe’s garden on Friday.
DI GARVIE SMITH: You said you didn’t see her on Friday. So it must have been Friday night, later on.
ALEX ROBINSON: Yeah. Late. No, I didn’t see her.
DI GARVIE SMITH [smokes]: What were you doing? [Passes spliff]
ALEX ROBINSON: Nothing. Just watching the house. Thought she might show up. [Smokes] Wasn’t the first time I’d been there at night, to be honest. It used to help, to see her sometimes, you know, up in her bedroom window. Not that night. Not any night now. [Silence] Anyway, when Plod turned up I went over the fence.
DI GARVIE SMITH: And he saw you.
ALEX ROBINSON [shaking his head]: No way. Too dark for that. I was just unlucky.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Unlucky how?
ALEX ROBINSON [lifts up the sleeve of his jacket]: See where the button’s gone? It got ripped off on the fence going over. He found it. [Passes spliff]
DI GARVIE SMITH: What a clever plod that Singh is. [Smoking] That’s good, Alex. But you’re still not telling me the truth, are you?
ALEX ROBINSON: What’s not the truth?
DI GARVIE SMITH: You weren’t in the garden to catch a sight of her, were you?
[Silence]
DI GARVIE SMITH: You wanted to see her new boyfriend, didn’t you?
ALEX ROBINSON: Jesus, Garv. Your man told you that too?
DI GARVIE SMITH: You told me.
ALEX ROBINSON: What? When?
DI GARVIE SMITH: Don’t you remember what you shouted at Pike Pond? ‘What did you do it for, you stupid bitch?’ Felix said you must have thought she’d killed herself, but that didn’t make any sense. I wondered what she could have done to make you so mad. And I thought maybe seeing someone new.
ALEX ROBINSON: All right, then. You worked it out right.
DI GARVIE SMITH: How long had you been looking for him?
ALEX ROBINSON: Few weeks.
DI GARVIE SMITH: And who was he?
ALEX ROBINSON: I don’t know. I never found out. She hid him.
DI GARVIE SMITH [passes spliff]: But you had some idea of the sort of person he might be.
ALEX ROBINSON: Yeah. Bastard-sort.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Obviously someone she didn’t want people to know about.
ALEX ROBINSON: Right. She was hiding him away.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Someone older? Maybe someone she met clubbing. Some married guy.
ALEX ROBINSON: I don’t know, Garv.
DI GARVIE SMITH: Someone a little bit dangerous maybe. Someone with a bit of money. And a Porsche.
ALEX ROBINSON: That’s bollocks about the Porsche. I never saw no Porsche. You know what she was like, Garv. Just dreaming. She was definitely seeing someone, though, I could tell. I could tell something else too. She wasn’t happy. [Smokes] You’re right: it was making me mad.
DI GARVIE SMITH: But you don’t have any idea who it might have been?
ALEX ROBINSON: No.
DI GARVIE SMITH: But you were looking for him?
ALEX ROBINSON: That’s right. And would’ve found him, in the end.
DI GARVIE SMITH: And what would you have done to him when you found him?
ALEX ROBINSON [smokes in silence]
DI GARVIE SMITH: Right. And what would you have done to Chloe?
[Silence]
DI GARVIE SMITH: Alex? Alex, mate. You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?
ALEX ROBINSON [smokes]: Listen to me now. I know what you thought of her, you and Smudge and Felix and everybody. You didn’t have a clue, none of you. Didn’t have the first idea who she was. No one knew her, except me. It’s true. I was the only one. Not her mam, not the Scot, not the bastard-sort. Not even you, Garv, and you shared time with her. Only me. So how could I hurt her? Never would have happened. Never, never. No matter what she did to me. People say otherwise, they’re going to learn—
DI GARVIE SMITH: Calm, man. Calm. I understand. Still, we have a small problem.
ALEX ROBINSON: What small problem now?
DI GARVIE SMITH: You’re right, I’ve been coming here too often. That button on your sleeve?
ALEX ROBINSON: What about the button?
DI GARVIE SMITH: It’s been missing over a month. The button Singh showed you is from someone else’s jacket.
ALEX ROBINSON: What?
DI GARVIE SMITH: That’s right.
ALEX ROBINSON [silence]: But that means ...
DI GARVIE SMITH: You weren’t the only one hiding in Chloe’s garden.
[Silence]
Garvie got to his feet, nodded and
went over to the door. Alex lay in his sleeping bag, staring in confusion at the remains of the spliff between his fingers.
Garvie stopped in the doorway. ‘Oh. Nearly forgot. Couple of things. Did she ever ask you for money? Probably not, seeing as you weren’t speaking. But did she?’
‘Money? No. Even if she was talking to me, why would she ask me for money? I ain’t got no money.’
‘Good point. All right, something else. About Thursday after school. After training at the track.’
‘Yeah?’
‘She went home?’
‘I think.’
‘MacAttack give her a lift?’
‘Not that night.’ Alex frowned. ‘He was there, though. Pretending like he’d just run into her accidental like, as usual. Looked as if she was going to ride with him but they just talked, then she walked off.’
‘You didn’t follow her?’
‘I knew she wasn’t happy with me. I wasn’t going to make things worse.’
‘I see. Did she have her kit bag with her?’
Alex slowly shook his head. ‘No. Nothing.’
Garvie nodded. ‘Good. Now we know where her running shoes were that night.’
He loitered in the doorway a moment longer, thinking. He said, ‘And what was she wearing?’
Alex looked blank.
‘Come on, Alex. Think. It’s funny, but the key to all this always comes back to the same thing. What. Was Chloe. Wearing.’
After a long time Alex said, ‘Now you say it, I remember. She didn’t have on her uniform no more. Some sort of dress.’
‘Colour?’
‘Blue. And a white jacket.’
Garvie nodded, fell silent. He stood in the doorway without moving.
‘You all right, Garv?’
He looked up. ‘Alex?’
‘What?’
‘You’re not going to do anything stupid now, are you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, man.’
‘We’re going to find out who killed Chloe.’
‘OK.’
‘Will you do something for me?’
‘What?’
‘I might need you to come into school for half an hour or so tomorrow.’
‘Why?’
‘Never mind that now. I’ll give you a call and let you know. But you’ll come?’
‘If you need me, I’ll be there.’
Before he left Garvie looked back at his friend in the sleeping bag. ‘Hey. It’ll be over soon. And when it’s over, you’ll be able to leave this place and go home. Think of that. Think of your mum’s stew.’