by Anita Waller
Adam shrugged. ‘I’ll be fine. I sometimes earn a few quid, and then I eat.’
‘How do you earn a few quid? Drugs?’
He shook his head. ‘Not on your life. Don’t touch ’em. No, I busk. I earn a bit till I get moved on.’ He nodded towards the back corner of the garage. ‘That’s my guitar.’
Mike stood and walked over to the instrument. It was in the shadows, in its case. He opened it and looked at it. ‘Nice one.’
‘It is. My granddad bought it me a couple of years ago, just before he died. I brought a few clothes and that with me when I left. And twenty quid out of my mother’s purse. I got moved on quick today, so only got about a pound. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ Adam finished the last of his fries, and took a sip of the still-hot coffee. ‘This is good.’ He reached across and picked up the apple pie. ‘My mum used to make apple pie before she met the wanker.’
‘That what you call him?’
‘Not to his face. That’s his occupation. I left when nobody was in the house, because he’d hammered me the night before and I’m not big enough to tackle him. I had a black eye, and a massive red ear. Bruises all over. I decided next time he might kill me, so I was out of it. I’m okay in here.’ He looked around his garage. ‘I’ll have to try to find a padlock or summat for it, though, if coppers are going to come visiting.’ He smiled for the first time.
‘I might check on you occasionally,’ Sam said, ‘but you’re old enough to make your own decisions so we won’t hassle you. This is my card. Ring if you’re in trouble, or simply ring. Now, we need to talk to you about a car. As you’re in this area, you might see things we can’t see. We can’t be here all the time. This is a picture of the car we’ve been looking for.’ He held out the picture of the Fiesta and Adam looked at it while eating the scalding-hot apple pie. He handed back the picture.
‘No, sorry, I’ve not seen it, but I’ll look out for it.’
32
Adam froze in mid-bite. The two police officers had left him their apple pies so he had something to eat next morning, and he had saved the dregs of his coffee to slake his thirst, but he’d never had a visitor at seven in the morning before. This didn’t feel good.
‘It’s only me, Adam,’ Sam said. ‘You awake?’
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. His fear was that Wanker would track him down one day.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Having breakfast. Sorry I can’t offer you any.’
Sam laughed. ‘It’s a good job I called and got us a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea each then, isn’t it? Think you can manage one?’ He held up the carrier bag he was holding.
‘I’ll try.’ Adam grinned, and stuffed the final piece of apple pie into his mouth. ‘Your mate not here?’
‘No, we don’t start till eight this morning, worked late last night. I’ve brought you a couple of bits to make life easier for you while you’re here. If you do move to a flat or hostel or something, pass them on to somebody else.’
Adam bit into the bacon sandwich, his face lighting up. ‘God, this is good.’
Sam took a bite of his, and lowered himself to the sleeping bag. ‘You don’t cater for visitors, do you,’ he joked.
‘Don’t want visitors. I’m okay on my own. What you brought me?’
‘An old but serviceable garden chair, a rug to put under this,’ he said, patting the sleeping bag, ‘so it’s warmer at night, and a couple more blankets. Oh and a cooker.’
Adam blinked. ‘A cooker?’
‘Yes. We used to go camping, so I asked Mum if we’d any stuff left. I spent an hour sorting out the loft last night. Not only a cooker, I found a bag full of gas canisters in the shed, so try not to blow the garages up, yes? And Mum’s sent you some tins of soup, beans, that sort of stuff, some white candles, matches and a tin opener. And a plate and a dish. And a knife, fork and spoon. I’ve packed most of it into a big plastic box to stop it rotting, so you should be okay for a bit till you can earn some more with your guitar.’
‘Why? Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I can. You’re in need of help, it’s what I do in my job, and you’re not a run-of-the-mill yob who’s out to make a bob or two through the drugs route. And I felt uncomfortable leaving you here last night, especially when the rain started.’ He looked around. ‘Seems dry enough in here though. Has it been okay through all this bad weather?’
‘Yeah. No leaks. This car you’re looking for. They done something bad?’
‘Do you know about the five women who’ve been killed and left by the river over the past couple of weeks?’
‘Kind of. Seen it on newspaper headlines.’
‘It’s connected with that. We’re following all and any leads, so keep your eyes open. Don’t approach the driver, ring either me or Mike.’
They finished their breakfasts, and Sam stood to empty the car of the promised booty. When he’d finished he handed Adam a padlock. ‘I’ll keep one key,’ he said, ‘in case you become ill or anything, but I promise we’ll only come as visitors, maybe bring you the odd beefburger. Lock up when you go out, and nobody will make off with your stuff. I’m going to work now. Don’t forget, ring if you’ve any problems, or if you see that car.’ He took out his wallet and handed Adam a twenty-pound note. ‘And don’t be hungry.’
He bent to lift the door, and straightened into a squally rain. ‘You’ll not be busking today. Bye, Adam.’
‘Bye, Sam. And that car… first garage as you come on to this site. But she’ll not be there yet, she usually only takes it out evening time.’
Sam waited in the car park at the station until Mike arrived, then spoke to him before they walked upstairs to join the other members of the team. Sam couldn’t see any way around involving Adam, and he knew Adam had recognised that when he had given him the location of the car.
‘I come from an area where we don’t trust the police,’ had been his simple explanation, ‘but you brought me all this to make sure I was warm and safe. You didn’t need to do that. That bird has helped me as well, the one who owns that car. She brought me the blanket, sleeping bag and pillow, and she always brings me some food when she comes for the car.’
And so the eight o’clock briefing went by without any input of any significance from Mike and Sam. They merely confirmed they had used a lot of petrol driving around the garage sites, with no sighting or information about the car.
Flick talked through her day, explained she would be meeting the waitress for a chat, using her new status as author to get the girl talking, and would try to bring in the issue of any women who visited the café, and made themselves friendly with the other female customers. She said she would give it one more day to try to get the information they needed. She confirmed she had photographs of all females who had been in the café the previous day.
Mike and Sam followed Erica to her office and asked to speak to her. She liked these two officers, had observed how well they worked together, yet had recognised a certain amount of reticence as they had given their report in the briefing. She waited, knowing the little mystery was about to be solved.
Sam took the lead, explaining how they had met Adam in the first place, their subsequent revisit to show him the picture of the car and to leave their telephone numbers, alongside feeding the lad.
‘And he is safe?’ she asked.
‘He is,’ Sam confirmed. ‘I wrecked our loft last night and took him some stuff and a bacon sandwich to make life more bearable this morning. He suddenly seemed to find some trust, possibly because we didn’t hassle him about anything, and told him to ring us if he was in trouble. He’s a nice lad, boss, but happier living in an empty garage than living at home with his mum and…’ Sam stopped himself from continuing.
‘His mum and?’
Sam sighed. ‘Wanker the boyfriend. Adam’s name for him, not ours.’
‘Okay. Is that all?’
‘No! I gave him a padlock to make sure he could lock his stuff in the garage, and told him I’d keep one
key in case he was ever taken ill. I kind of feel responsible for him. It seemed to open him up, and he said the car we were looking for was inside the first garage on the site.’
Erica stood. ‘Did you check?’
‘We checked all the garages yesterday, boss,’ Mike said. ‘It’s how we found Adam. He wasn’t there when we checked. But it was obvious somebody homeless was using it, so we went back later to see if they were anywhere about. He was. But when we were first there we found Adam’s place unlocked, two other garages with damaged doors that we could see into, and the other five were secure and solid. We showed Adam the picture of the car, and asked him to keep his eyes peeled for it, to ring one of us if he saw it. It was only Sam taking him his breakfast and the other stuff he’s taken that made him realise we were the good guys, I think, and he said where the car was.’
Erica sat, deep in thought. ‘Sit down, lads. We have to think this one through.’
They sat and waited.
A few minutes later Erica picked up her phone, looked at it, then replaced the receiver. Then she picked it up again. Replaced it again.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘We have a problem.’
‘That’s what we thought,’ Sam said. ‘I think your problem is the one I thought about before haring off down to that garage when Adam gave me the information. If we send Forensics in, or even a lowly copper single-handed, and she sees us, we’ve blown it.’
‘You didn’t go near it?’
‘No, didn’t even look at it when I drove past. I did tell Adam not to go near it, as well. However, he did say that she only goes in the evening. Anytime from five onwards, he said. And not every night. Whenever she does, she takes him some food. I didn’t say anything out there in the briefing because I hadn’t had chance to tell you, didn’t want to second-guess how you would act.’
She nodded. ‘I realise that. The truth is I don’t know what to do. I need to see the place for myself, but again if she turns up… can we get surveillance there?’
‘Not easily. It’s an access road of hard-packed earth, surrounded by trees and grass. Nowhere to hide, no convenient buildings we could wait in – except for Adam’s garage. I think he trusts us now, but…’
‘I don’t want to use his place,’ she said quickly. ‘I want everything to appear normal to her until she gets in that car. I don’t want any slip-ups when we catch this evil bitch. I want her firmly linked to that car by actually being in it, and presumably she won’t be in it before she takes some food to Adam. Do you think he would be amenable to having an alarm he can press to tell us she’s left him? We can have surveillance outside on the street that can move in when she gets to her own garage. He can press the alarm to notify us the second she leaves him.’
‘Maybe. We can ask him. I don’t think he’ll be busking today, it’s too wet, so we can pop down and see him. You don’t want to interview him?’
‘One day, but let’s get her first. He’s a nice lad?’
‘Seems to be. Around sixteen or seventeen, that’s all, plays the guitar and earns a few quid by busking until he’s moved on. He didn’t bother telling anybody he was leaving, his mother’s boyfriend, Wanker as he calls him, beat him up so he left the next morning with a few clothes, a guitar his granddad bought him, and twenty quid from his mother’s purse. He looked terrified when we first opened up his door,’ Mike said.
‘I’m glad you did. And well done, you two, for looking after him. He doesn’t want to go into a hostel?’
‘No. I got the impression he was scared he could be tracked down there. He’s okay in this garage, but it’s bloody cold.’
‘And has Adam only been having contact with this woman since this spree started. Two weeks or so?’
‘No, that’s the strange thing. She appeared on the first night he went to the garage. It was a hot night in July, and he left the bottom of the door open slightly, She pulled it up and saw him. She’s been regularly ever since. Getting the car in safe working order? It would hardly make a speedy getaway vehicle if it broke down, would it. I think she’s been working on it so it didn’t let her down, and now she only has to go and change the number plates and she’s good to go.’
Erica sighed. ‘And the nightmare is, when does she feel she’s good to go again?’
33
Flick ordered a coffee and chose the table with the best view of The Coffee Pot’s front door. It was busier this morning, and tables seemed to have two at each one, rather than the solitary aspect presented the previous day.
She took her phone out of its case and stood it on a small stand she had borrowed from her younger brother, who seemed to have every gadget ever invented by man. She focused it on the door, and hoped it wouldn’t be obvious that she was taking photographs of anybody who entered the café.
Her first job was to send a quick email to Erica explaining where she was – she hadn’t wanted to intrude on the meeting that had been happening with Sam and Mike, in Erica’s office, but hoped that they had something helpful to the case to pass on.
The door opened and she clicked her phone. Tonight she would put all the pictures from both days on a sheet, then hand them around at the next briefing. She looked up as the waitress approached with her coffee.
‘I can take a break in ten minutes,’ she said, ‘before the eleven o’clock rush starts. Have you time to talk to me? My name’s Georgia Knight, by the way.’
‘Flick, easier to say than Felicity,’ Flick said with a smile. ‘I’m here for a few hours, so any time is good with me.’
The door opened and Flick felt mildly panicked because it was a woman and she daren’t press her phone with Georgia standing by her side, but fortunately Georgia moved back to the servery in time for Flick to swivel the phone slightly and capture the image. She moved it back to position and opened up the document she had spent the previous day composing.
Her evening after work had been spent online mixing with various authors on book clubs accessed through Facebook. She had read through their many humorous anecdotes about an author’s life: missed deadlines, earning little but knowing they had to do it because they had to do it, and she listened to authors such as Stephen King who had made YouTube videos of their working lives. It had been an exercise that had surprised her.
She had imagined, without really giving any thought to it, that you had an idea for a story, you made a few notes and you sat down and wrote it. It seemed that wasn’t the case, and Georgia was about to sit down with her and ask questions about writing that Flick had only discovered the previous evening. She felt nervous. She wasn’t particularly good at this undercover stuff, and realised belatedly that she should have picked a different persona for her first stab at infiltration of the ungodly. She stifled a giggle. It was nerves.
She didn’t need to be nervous. Georgia brought a coffee with her and sat down beside her. She looked into Flick’s face, holding her gaze.
‘Is it part of your research for this book that you’re taking photographs,’ she asked quietly, ‘or are you not really a writer?’
Flick had only seconds to think about her answer, and she carefully pulled out her warrant card. She showed it to Georgia who nodded.
‘Okay,’ the waitress said. ‘We’ll keep our voices low. I actually thought yesterday you looked like a policewoman, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Why are you here? The dead river women?’
The dead river women. Flick hadn’t heard them referred to in that way before, and she wondered if that was how the population of Sheffield thought of them. To anybody who wasn’t directly involved with the deaths, she supposed it was natural to lump them all together. Or was it how this particular waitress thought of them? She would have known them all, or at least the first four…
Flick gave a small nod. ‘Yes. We have several leads we’re following up, and I’m sorry I had to deceive you, but I would have gained nothing by coming here in my official capacity. I am taking photographs, but I can tell you it’s not the men we’re interes
ted in. This gym, and as a result of the connection to the gym, The Coffee Pot, feature high on the list of follow-ups for us.’
Georgia grinned, but kept her voice low. ‘This is much more exciting than writing a novel. This is real life. Maybe I can help because I know most of our customers. I was flummoxed by you because I didn’t know you.’
‘Tomorrow I’ll have a printout of everybody I’ve snapped over yesterday and today, so I’ll pop down in my official capacity, and sit with you for a while until we’ve identified as many as possible. I’ll clear it with your boss tomorrow, so don’t worry about having to wait for your break.’
‘Huh, she’ll be chuffed.’ Georgia laughed.
‘Doesn’t really matter how she feels. It’s police business whether I’m being a pretend author or a real detective sergeant. I’m staying for a few hours, but I’d appreciate you keeping my author thing going.’ Flick took out the picture of the car. ‘Does this look familiar? Have you seen this car anywhere in this area? Picking anybody up?’
Georgia took the picture from her. She studied it for a few seconds, then shook her head. ‘I thought I did, but the one I’ve seen has a different number plate, so sorry, no I don’t know this one.’
‘You remember number plates?’ Flick’s eyes widened at the thought that anybody could remember number plates. She struggled to recall her own, never mind strangers’ ones.
Georgia smiled. ‘Don’t think I’ve got a superbrain, please. The one I remember, and I don’t remember all of it, has my initials and my year of birth on it. It starts off GK01. There’s three other letters after that but I can’t remember them. But this car can’t be the one I’m thinking of, because this is different altogether.’
‘How do you know the one you can remember? Does it park around here?’
‘I’ve seen it in the gym car park. I used to go and sit out there during the summer to read, while I had my evening break. If we do the late shift, we get a break around six.’
