Death's Cold Hand

by J. E. Mayhew

  *****

  Detective Constable Andrew Kinnear had a head full of thoughts as he drove home that night. It had been his husband Chris’ idea to adopt initially. Kinnear had agreed but part of him wondered if he’d done that just to please Chris. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that he’d been quite happy with their life together. He didn’t feel like there was a huge void that needed to be filled by a child. They both had busy jobs.

  Chris was a teacher and brought a lot of work home with him after the school day. There were parents’ evenings and meetings that meant he wasn’t always home. Kinnear’s own job was a nightmare for anyone who needed routine hours and flexibility. Although he didn’t need to, Kinnear was constantly apologising to Chris for meals burnt while waiting in the oven, missed anniversaries, cancelled parties and generally getting in late most nights. How would a child fit in with that?

  Kath’s comments about having a teenaged daughter had filled Kinnear with panic. She’d only been teasing him but it had really hit home. He didn’t want to be an absentee father. His own childhood had been happy, idyllic even and he wanted that for any child of his own. Maybe now just wasn’t the time to do it.

  Chapter 18

  Blake had taken something of a detour, on his way home, one that he suspected he would regret later. He had also come home to what looked like a dirty protest all over the kitchen by Charlie and Serafina. It looked like they’d been chasing around the house, too, judging by the broken vase, and torn curtains. Why they’d done that was beyond Blake. Ian Youde had left a note to say he’d called in to feed them and taken Charlie for a walk and Serafina had the cat flap to get in and out. Maybe the quiet house freaked them out. Blake glared at the cat who glared back. Maybe it was the antibiotics upsetting her and she, in turn, was upsetting Charlie.

  “Or maybe you’ve got it in for me,” Blake said to Serafina. After cleaning up, Blake dragged himself upstairs to bed.

  All through breakfast the next morning, Serafina sat on the draining board and growled at Blake.

  “Jeez, don’t you start,” Blake muttered. Charlie had constantly jumped up and down, burying his head in Blake’s groin or under his arm. “I’m going mad, Charlie,” he said, scratching the dog behind the ear. “Listen to me. I’m talking to a cat. I guess I could take you for a quick trot round the block myself, couldn’t I?”

  It was cold outside and still early. The river lay glassy and still, lights from the other side reflected in the grey mirror of water. At least it wasn’t raining. Blake stood in the lane just listening to his breath. A few solitary birds sang in the trees that dotted the old gardens of the big houses. The general hum of traffic had begun already as commuters began their daily pilgrimage to offices, factories and shops. It was going to be another long day and he wondered if they’d get anywhere nearer the truth by the end of it. Charlie gave a yap and Blake paused, frowning.

  A dark BMW sat at the side of the lane, just outside the house next door. Blake peered harder. Someone sat in the driving seat. As soon as he took a step towards the car, its engine grumbled into life and it began to pull off. It vanished up the lane in a haze of exhaust fumes. Blake didn’t have his phone on him, but he memorised the registration number and made a promise to himself that he’d check it out as soon as he got to HQ.

  *****

  Standing in Superintendent Martin’s office, Blake knew straight away that this was about his little diversion on his way home last night and that he was going to get cut off at the knees. Martin leaned back and looked hard at Blake. “Cavanagh has spoken to me about last night,” Martin said, in a calm voice that was somehow more unnerving than when he was ranting. “Have you anything to add?”

  “That depends on what he said, sir,” Blake said, wondering if it was worth acting dumb or just confessing straight away.

  “That you drove past the house of a person of interest, thus jeopardising his investigation.”

  “I wasn’t thinking, sir, or rather, I was thinking. I lost track of where I was going while I was thinking, sir. I didn’t mean to jeopardise anything. I’ll apologise to DCI Cavanagh when I see him.”

  Martin grunted. “Thinking? What were you thinking about? Laura Vexley?”

  “No, sir. The Port Sunlight killing, sir. Honestly, sir, as soon as I realised where I was, I got out of there. It was a genuine mistake.”

  “Cavanagh’s officers said that you paused at the gate. Quinlan isn’t an idiot, Blake. If he recognises your car or that Vexley woman does, then…”

  “Then they’ll just think it’s just me, sir. Looking for Laura. It would be more suspicious if I didn’t come looking for her. Nothing would tip Quinlan off more than my complete absence when it’s common knowledge that she’s back…”

  “And is it common knowledge?”

  “She walked into the Seraph a while back and told everyone to spread the news. It would have got to me eventually besides…” Blake hesitated.

  “What?” Martin snapped, a dangerous look in his eye.

  “I think Quinlan might be watching me. There was a car outside my house early this morning and the night before last. It drove away both times when I approached it. A black BMW.”

  “Did you get the registration?”

  “It belongs to Quinlan, sir…”

  Martin let out a hiss of disgust. “Nothing is ever simple with you, is it, Will?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I have no control over what Quinlan does. I…”

  “Okay. Do you think Quinlan is a threat to you?”

  “Not that I know of, sir. I’ve never met the man. He might be jealous or suspicious of me in some way but I’ve no immediate concerns about him wanting to harm me.”

  “I can authorise some surveillance on your house if you want me to.”

  “No, sir. Thank you. I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Then, at the very least, you’ll let us know if Quinlan’s car appears outside your house again.”

  “Yes, sir,” Blake said.

  “And I have your word that you’ll stay away from Laura Vexley?”

  Blake took a breath. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good because if you break that promise, that’s it, Blake, do you understand? It’ll be a disciplinary matter. I’m tired of you grandstanding and running off with your own agenda. This is Cavanagh’s case and, as far as I can see, Laura Vexley has thrown her hand in with Quinlan. That might be hard for you to stomach but I won’t have you compromising the surveillance. The other case, your case is getting ticklish. Hannah Williams from Media and Communications has told me that it’s getting a lot of attention on Twitter. All kinds of speculation going on. You can imagine; a veteran murdered on a war memorial. It’s a powder keg just waiting to go off. All it takes is for someone to yell ‘terrorist’ loud enough and we’ll have a major public order problem on our hands. Now go and find this teenager and don’t come back until you’ve got some good news.”

  Blake hesitated for a second. He didn’t mind being bollocked because of his behaviour last night but he objected to being accused of grandstanding. Martin looked up from his paperwork with a ‘you still here?’ look and Blake thought better of it.

  The team were assembled in the Major Incident Room, but it was obvious word had got round judging by the lack of eye contact. “Okay people, what have we got? Good news, I hope.”

  “Bobby Price’s new address has just come in, how’s that, sir?” Alex Manikas said. “He still lives quite close to Port Sunlight. That’s the good news.”

  “I assume from your tone that there’s some bad news.”

  “His father is Lex Price.”

  “Lex? Were his parents Superman fans?”

  Alex smiled. “He changed it by deed poll after seeing one of the Christopher Reeve films, apparently, sir. More importantly, he has form. The Niche database lists multiple incidents of assault and threatening behaviour. He did ten years for an armed robbery in the mid-Nineties. More recently, he’s been accused of hate crim
es…”

  “Who against?”

  “Everyone and anyone, it seems. But recently, he’s had a go at some asylum seekers living in Birkenhead. He got off lightly – bound over. He can’t go near the flats where the refugees are housed.”

  “Think we might need armed back-up, sir?” Kath Cryer said, rubbing her wrist. Kath had been caught in a shotgun blast over a year ago and was still recovering.

  “I don’t think so. It’s his son we need to interview, after all,” Blake said. “If we’re heavy-handed, it might make things worse.”

  Kinnear put his hand up. “I’ve managed to get a warrant to dig into the finances at Pro-Vet, sir. Ian Ollerthwaite will be reporting back as soon as he’s been through them.”

  “Can’t wait,” Blake said.

  “It’ll take a while. Ian said not to get too excited…”

  “Those were his exact words?”

  “More or less, sir,” Kinnear said, keeping a poker face.

  “And Harley Vickers has turned up at Reception with his mum, sir,” Kath added.

  “Okay. So we’ve picked up some leads. Kath, can you talk to Harley Vickers and his mum and try to get to the bottom of why he ran away in the first place?”

  Kath gave Blake a nod and a smile. He could see the relief on her face. “Can do.”

  “Right,” Blake muttered. “Let’s go and see if we can’t bring in some glad tidings for Superintendent Martin.”

  Chapter 19

  If Blake had been asked to plant a pin on a map of the world to show the most likely place for Lex Luthor to live, he would not have chosen Rock Ferry. Just North up the main road from Port Sunlight and not far from Blake’s own home in Rock Park, Rock Ferry was a mix of houses, some large and grand, others split into bedsits. Most were spacious semi-detached houses built sometime after the ferry itself and the, then-famous, bath house attracted the large Victorian Villas of Rock Park. As the boundary of the settlement drew nearer the Cammell Laird shipyards, the houses became smaller, humble terraces. When the wealthy merchants moved out of the area and the railways rendered the ferries uneconomic, Rock Ferry began to decline. Many of the houses decayed or were split into flats. Many were demolished for a by-pass that cut the place in half.

  Lex Price lived in a road of large semi-detached houses near the station. They were old but Lex’s looked to be very well maintained with double glazing and modern cladding. A black Jaguar XE stood in the drive. Whatever Lex did for a living, he made plenty of money from it. Blake had brought along some uniformed officers but had requested that they wait at the end of the road rather than all piling in. With DC Alex Manikas and DS Vikki Chinn, he knocked on the shiny black front door.

  Blake was a tall man with a good physique but Lex Price towered over him. Even taking the height of the doorstep, the man must have been almost seven feet tall. He filled the grey sweatshirt he wore, his neck wider than his completely bald head if that was possible.

  “Yeah?” he said, looking from Blake to Alex, to Vikki and back to Blake. “What d’you want?”

  Blake showed Price his warrant card. “DCI Blake, Mr Price. We need to talk to your son, Bobby Price, if possible.”

  “Oh right,” Price said, folding his arms. “What’s that all about then?”

  “I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to discuss the details of the investigation, sir, but Bobby may be a key witness,” Blake said. “We also need him to talk to us about assaulting a police officer outside Bebington High School yesterday…”

  A look of annoyance spread across Lex price’s face and Blake braced himself. “Dozy, little prick,” he muttered. “Excuse me, one minute.” The door closed and the sound of Lex running up the stairs shook the windows.

  Muffled shouts and barked commands came from inside then a thumping and banging noise. Vikki Chinn winced and looked to Blake who raised his eyebrows. Something smashed and another yell ripped through the air. Blake was about to force his way in when the thunder of someone falling down the stairs ended in a thud against the back of the door. A second later it opened.

  Bobby Price dangled in Lex’s grasp, looking sorry for himself. He was a weedier, acne- ridden copy of his father only with a badly cut head of hair. “Sorry about that officer, he was a bit over eager to come and talk to you and fell down the stairs as he ran to the door. I’ll be his appropriate adult. Can we follow you in our car?”

  *****

  Back at the station, Harley Vickers sat in the interview room staring at the tabletop while his mum scowled at him. Kath Cryer sat opposite them, wondering how best to start.

  Mrs Vickers broke Kath’s train of thought. “He came back this morning,” she said, suddenly. “Thought I was out and was going to bunk off school for the day. Well, he didn’t know I had a day off, did you?” she gave her son a poke. “I brought him in straight away.”

  “Harley, my name’s Detective Inspector Kath Cryer. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions…”

  “No comment,” Harley said.

  “Sorry, Harley, you aren’t under caution or anything. It’s just a chat, that’s all.”

  “No Comment.” Mrs Vickers gave him a shove with her elbow.

  “It’s okay, Jane. No need for that. I bet you’re thirsty and hungry Harley, with you being out all night. Can we get you anything? Burger? Fries? Hot chocolate?”

  Harley looked up and his stomach growled. As soon as his mum had set eyes on him, she’d freaked and grabbed hold of him. They’d argued so much that he hadn’t had chance to get any breakfast. “Yeah…”

  “Yes, please,” Mrs Vickers said, jabbing her finger in his arm.

  “Yes please,” Harley said.

  “Okay,” Kath said. “I’ll go and arrange that, you have a little rest and a think, there. Would you like a brew Mrs Vickers?”

  Harley’s mum looked slightly startled. “Oh, yes…”

  “Yes please,” Harley muttered. Kath smirked.

  “Yes please,” his mum said, giving him a sidelong glance.

  Kath nipped out of the office and phoned down to Madge to find someone to do the honours. Back in the interview room, Harley looked more relaxed already.

  “Right, that’s organised. You aren’t in a hurry are you Mrs Vickers? Good. You gave your mum a fright, Harley, running off like that. Were you okay last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do if I didn’t have my bed to go home to. Did you find somewhere dry to sleep?”

  “Yeah. I… I found this pill box… you know like the concrete gun places.”

  “Wow,” Kath said, glancing at mum. “And it was okay, was it? Nobody else there?”

  Harley shook his head. “No, it was okay. A bit smelly, like a toilet but it was dry. There were no druggies in there or nothing.”

  Kath smiled. “Sorry, Harley. In my line of work, I come across all kinds of horror stories about kids running away from home. Sounds like you were lucky. Best not to put your mum through something like that again, though, eh?”

  “You listen to the Inspector, Harley. You could’ve been killed,” Harley’s mum snapped.

  Kath winced as Harley closed up again. “It’s all right, Mrs Vickers, Harley strikes me as quite a streetwise young man. Is that true, Harley? You got a lot of common sense?”

  Harley slouched in his seat. “I suppose so. Anyway, most people on the street are harmless. They’ve got more problems than me.”

  “I knew you were a kind lad, Harley,” Kath said, smiling. “I don’t think you’d hurt anyone on purpose would you?”

  Harley shook his head. “No way.”

  “Good lad,” Kath said as the door opened and Madge came in with a tray of tea and biscuits. “The burger is on its way, Ma’am,” she said, placing the tray on the table.

  “Thanks Madge,” Kath said, pleased at the cosy feeling Madge generated just by lifting the lid of the pot and giving it a stir. “Want a biscuit while you’re waiting for the burger, Harley? Jammy Dodger, great ch
oice.”

  Harley gave a fleeting smile, changing for a second to a little kid rather than a defensive teenager. “They’re my fave.”

  “So, Harley, can I ask you, what happened in school yesterday? I promise you aren’t in any trouble.”

  Harley glanced from right to left for a second as though he was searching for an escape route. He swallowed the biscuit. “I saw Bobby Price outside school, and someone said he was after me.”

  “Why would he be after you?”

  Harley’s face darkened and he stared at the tabletop again. Kath held her breath, fearing she might lose him and then the door swung open again and the smell of burgers and chips filled the room. They sat in silence watching the teenager demolish the burger in a matter of seconds.

  “Blimey,” Kath said. “You were hungry, weren’t you?”

  Harley nodded and took a huge slurp of coke. He looked up from his cup and caught Kath’s eye. “He thinks I grassed him up, but it wasn’t me it was Alfie Lewis.”

  Kath nodded. “And what did Alfie Lewis grass him up about?”

  “About the old man…” Harley bit back on the next words, realising he’d said too much.

  “Alfie has already grassed Bobby up, Harley. We’ll pick him up. In fact I think another team may well have picked up Bobby Price already. You may as well tell us everything you know and get it off your chest. You’ll feel better for it, I promise…”

  Harley looked at his mum and then at Kath. “I stopped hanging round with them. Bobby’s a psycho. He hit that old man with a baseball bat just cos he gave us some lip about litter.” Harley paused. “And Bobby said he’d killed that other bloke. The one on the war memorial. Bobby said he’d done it…”

  “He actually told you that?” Kath said.

  “He kind of hinted at it. Said something about the soldier fella getting what he deserved or something. Anyway, I ran away when he hurt that old man. I’d had enough.” He looked up at Kath. “I never hurt anyone. Really, I didn’t. Will I go to prison?”

  “I very much doubt it, Harley,” Kath said, catching Jane Vicker’s eye. “Listen, you’ve been very helpful. Could you just wait outside while I have a chat with your mum?”