Fifteen
BY THE SIMPLE EXPEDIENT of making another series of calls, Jackson stymied all Acland’s attempts to speak to her as they returned to the car, but he couldn’t tell whether she was blanking him deliberately or whether the calls were necessary. One was a request for an update on Ben’s condition with a warning that the police would almost certainly want to interview him, another the information that she had taken responsibility for the rucksack herself, and the last an apology to her agency that she would be out of commission for another hour at Southwark East police station.
She was ahead of Acland as they entered the car park and took the full brunt of Chalky’s alcoholic ill-humour. ‘About bloody time,’ he growled. ‘Did you think I’d give up and go away if you held out long enough? Fancy my stuff, do you?’
Jackson ignored him to flick the locks on the BMW. She put her case and Ben’s rucksack on the back seat. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve inconvenienced you,’ she said pleasantly enough. ‘The boot’s open, Lieutenant. Do you want to give Chalky his bags and take your own?’
The corporal moved quickly to prevent Acland removing anything. ‘I’ll do my own, thanks.’ He tossed out the kitbag, then looped his fingers into the remaining assortment of carriers and tatty holdalls. ‘What’s up?’ he asked Jackson suspiciously, stepping away from the car.
‘I’ll leave the lieutenant to explain it to you.’
‘Where are you taking the lad’s rucksack?’
‘Southwark East nick.’
‘Like hell you are. Anything he has in there he came by fair and square.’
‘Then there’s nothing to worry about,’ said Jackson, watching Acland close the boot after emptying it. ‘You can come with me if you like . . . kill two birds with one stone. Sign for the rucksack’s contents, so that nothing goes astray if everything’s kosher, and vouch for the kid’s honesty in front of the cops. Interested?’
‘Depends what you’ve found.’
‘A mobile that doesn’t belong to him.’
Chalky gave a grunt of disgust. ‘You can’t shop him for that. There’s dodgy phones all over London. Easiest bloody things to pinch. That’s no reason to give the lad grief.’
‘It’s not just any stolen mobile, Chalky. The man who owned it was murdered.’
He stared at her out of bloodshot eyes. ‘How do you know?’
‘I got it working,’ she said. ‘It’s still connected to the server. I think the police kept it alive in case anyone tried to use it.’
‘The lad won’t know anything about a murder . . . probably doesn’t even know who he stole it from. No need to say where you found it.’
Jackson shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to.’ She opened the door. ‘The lieutenant’s making his own way from here. Do you want to do the same . . . or come with me? You’ll lessen the grief for Ben if there’s anything you know that might help him.’
Chalky shook his head. ‘There’s nothing ’cept what I’ve already told you. Him and me hardly know each other. Showed him a safe place to sleep and that’s about it. He came maybe five or six times.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Me . . . nothing. Him . . . music and some girl he was keen on. Never really listened . . . just let him rabbit on till he nodded off.’
‘You said you met him a month ago. Have you any idea how long he’d been in London before that?’
‘No. ’
‘You also said gays were interested in him. Do you know if he ever went with any of them? Would he have sold himself if he needed money?’
Disgustedly, Chalky spat on the ground, as if to demonstrate his feelings about anal sex. ‘Didn’t ask. Can’t stand the buggers. Just showed him a safe place to kip.’
‘What would your guess be?’
‘Depends what he’s on. Cider comes cheap . . . heroin comes expensive. Most of ’em do it if they’re on the drugs.’ He made to move away, but a strong emotion suddenly burst out of him. ‘It ain’t right!’ he said loudly. ‘It’s not just the lads these bastards are after, it’s the lasses as well. If you’re going to tell the cops anything, tell ’em that.’
‘Sure,’ said Jackson easily, ‘but which bastards are we talking about? Punters or dealers?’
‘All of ’em! They treat runaways like garbage. When they’re not emptying themselves into the poor little sods, they’re getting ’em hooked on heroin. It shouldn’t be allowed.’ He launched another globule of spit on to the tarmac. ‘You can’t blame the kid for turning vicious. It’s the only way any of ’em know how to survive.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll see you around some time.’
Jackson watched him walk away. ‘Are you coming?’ she asked Acland.
He stared after Chalky for a moment, then opened the back door and put his kitbag inside. ‘Yes.’
*
If either had expected a sense of urgency to greet their arrival at the police station, they were disappointed. The team who’d interviewed Acland earlier had clocked off shortly after his release and the detective constable who was assigned to deal with them appeared to know less about Walter Tutting and Kevin Atkins than they did. Stressed about her work schedule, Jackson quickly
became irritated when he cut short her attempt at an explanation to pull out a form and ask for their names and addresses.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m on call. We need to talk to Detective Superintendent Jones or DI Beale as a matter of urgency –’ her eyes narrowed – ‘and you know perfectly well who I am. The WPC on reception gave you my name over the phone.’
The man looked at her with the same half-amused expression that had been on the faces of the people in A&E. ‘I still need your details, Ms Jackson.’
‘It’s Dr Jackson and Lieutenant Acland,’ she told him. ‘The Bell, Gainsborough Road. I guarantee the superintendent will not object to being woken if you inform him that we have Kevin Atkins’s mobile. It was on a homeless lad who’s been taken to St Thomas’s. Walter Tutting’s in the same hospital.’
He filled in their names and address. ‘Telephone number?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she snapped, losing her patience. ‘Just call the superintendent.’
‘When I’ve satisfied myself that it’s necessary.’
‘Then try DI Beale.’
‘Same answer.’
Jackson eyed him for a moment. ‘What time does the superintendent usually come in in the morning?’
The man shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. It depends on his shifts.’
‘Where can I leave a message for him?’
‘With me.’
She leaned forward. ‘Then put this: “Can’t get past the arrogant dickhead on night duty who has a problem with dykes. Urgent you contact Jackson ASAP at the Bell re gay murders. She has evidence linking a homeless man to Kevin Atkins.” Add the time and tell your boss we’ve taken the evidence with us because we don’t trust you to look after it properly.’ She handed the rucksack to Acland and stood up.
‘I’m merely following standard procedure, Dr Jackson,’ said the constable. ‘If I phoned the superintendent every time someone claimed to have important evidence, he’d be dead of exhaustion by now. Do I take it you’re terminating this interview because you no longer wish to report a crime?’
‘No. I’m terminating it because I haven’t the time to play up to your image of yourself. You can add that at the bottom of the message.’
‘What about you, sir?’ he asked Acland. ‘Have you anything to add?’
‘Only that, in your shoes, I’d consult with someone else before Dr Jackson and I leave.’ He paused. ‘I was signed off by a custody sergeant called Laver or Lavery. If he’s still on duty, you might do yourself a favour by talking to him.’
*
‘You should have let Jones eat him for breakfast,’ said Jackson after the door closed behind the constable. ‘Why so helpful suddenly? What’s a middle-aged Gruppenfu¨hrer to you?’ Acland shrugged. ‘He’s out
of his depth. It’s obviously a big deal to wake the boss in the middle of the night.’ ‘He’s a small-minded bully with a power complex.’ ‘You’re not much better. You only took him on because he was an easy target. I didn’t notice you lamming into any of the patients in A&E for sneering at you.’ She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. ‘It’s bad business practice to attack customers. Policemen are in a different category altogether. They have professional standards to uphold, which don’t include treating members of the public like a subspecies.’ Acland allowed a silence to develop. He still couldn’t decide what he thought about this woman. There was so much about her that repelled him – the forcefulness of her character, her outspokenness, her need to dominate every situation – and little to earn his sympathy other than admiration for her as a doctor and a nagging resentment at the negative reactions she seemed to attract from strangers. He looked up to find her staring at him.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Is it me you have a problem with or women in general?’
Acland gave another shrug. ‘You enjoy intimidating people. Maybe the guy did know your name . . . and maybe he is a small-minded bigot . . . but he wasn’t going to think any better of you for being called an “arrogant dickhead”.’
Jackson refrained from pointing out that this wasn’t an answer to her question. Instead, she said, ‘Why should it matter what he thinks of me?’
‘It doesn’t.’
‘He’d have cocked his leg even higher if I’d been wearing a skirt and make-up,’ she responded lightly. ‘Most people take me for a bloke in drag...or a male transsexual going through gender reassignment. I receive fewer sniggers dressed like this –’ she uncrossed her arms and gestured towards her masculine attire – ‘than if I wear women’s clothes. A butch dyke in trousers and workman’s boots is less alarming than a muscular transvestite weightlifter in pastel pink.’
Briefly, humour creased the undamaged side of Acland’s face. ‘You wouldn’t wear pink in a million years. Not threatening enough. I bet you get a real buzz from seeing people move out of your way.’
Jackson watched him for a moment. ‘Is that what the scars and the pirate-patch do for you? Who moves aside faster? Men or women?’
He didn’t answer.
‘You want to be careful how you exploit that, Lieutenant. Some men get a taste for seeing fear in women’s eyes.’
*
The speed of events moved up a pace as soon as the superintendent arrived. He ignored the detective constable’s explanations about how he couldn’t guarantee the mobile was Kevin Atkins’s because he hadn’t been allowed to see it and addressed his remarks to Jackson and Acland. ‘Where is it?’
‘Here.’ Jackson flipped the locks on her medical case and handed him the envelope. ‘The battery was dead but I used a Cellboost to fire it up because I thought it belonged to a homeless kid who’s in a diabetic coma in St Thomas’s. I was looking for next-of-kin details. It’s still switched on.’
Jones slipped the gadget on to the table. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘In this.’ She lifted the rucksack to show him. ‘It belongs to the boy – we think his name’s Ben Russell – although we haven’t been able to confirm that yet.’ She watched Jones touch the end of a pencil to one of the buttons to light up the LCD. ‘I went into ICE, which gave me Belinda Atkins, and then into Atkins. The number recorded under Kevin is the number of that phone. I recognized the name.’
‘His daughter’s name’s Belinda.’ Jones used the pencil to scroll down the screen. ‘Geoff and Tom are the sons, and Sarah’s his ex-wife . . . still recorded under Atkins. It’s definitely his.’ He looked up with a frown. ‘How did you unlock it? Or do we have Lieutenant Acland to thank for that?’
Jackson shook her head. ‘It was me.’ She described how she did it. ‘I’m not so au fait with other makes of phone, otherwise I might have had an attempt at the other one as well.’
‘Which other one?’
She nodded to the rucksack. ‘In here. Also a BlackBerry and some iPods.’
‘Quite a haul.’ He glanced from her to Acland. ‘Where does the lieutenant fit in?’
‘He’s staying with me.’
‘Meaning what? That you returned to the Bell to pick him up before you came here?’
Acland stirred when Jackson hesitated. ‘She came looking for me,’ he said. ‘I was with the boy and another man when she found me. We were sleeping rough in an alleyway. The kid went into a coma and Dr Jackson had him admitted to St Thomas’s when she realized how serious it was.’
Jones nodded. ‘Inspector Beale phoned to say you’d gone in the opposite direction. How well do you know this boy?’
‘I don’t know him at all,’ said Acland.
The superintendent gave a sceptical smile. ‘You expect me to believe that? You come into contact with two complete strangers in under twenty-four hours . . . Walter Tutting and this kid . . . both apparently connected with the same murder inquiry . . . and you claim you didn’t know either of them previously. That kind of coincidence doesn’t happen, Charles.’
‘Obviously it does or it wouldn’t have just happened to me.’
‘No one’s that unlucky.’
Acland pressed his palm over his eyepatch, grinding the heel into the throbbing nerve ends. ‘If I am, it’s working in your favour,’ he pointed out. ‘You wouldn’t have the phone if Jackson hadn’t followed me and the boy hadn’t fallen sick. A different doctor or a healthy kid, and the stuff would still be untouched in the rucksack.’
‘Assuming it was there in the first place. How long were you alone with the lad before Dr Jackson arrived?’
‘Never. The older guy was already in the alleyway when I got there.’
‘So there was no opportunity to switch items from the lad’s bag to yours, or vice versa, without anyone seeing you do it?’
‘No.’
‘And no opportunity to conveniently lose –’ he smiled again as he put emphasis on the word – ‘anything he was carrying for you?’
‘No . . . but that’s not what he was doing.’
‘Why should I believe that?’
Acland put out a hand to steady himself against the edge of the table. ‘I don’t know,’ he said harshly, ‘unless the boy tells you the same . . . except you won’t believe him either.’
‘You look ill,’ said Jones unemotionally. ‘I suggest you sit down before you fall over.’
‘No thank you. I’d rather stand.’ The lieutenant stepped away from the table and squared his shoulders.
Jones gestured peremptorily at Jackson. ‘He needs attention, Doctor . . . looks as if he’s about to faint. Will you see to him, please?’
She shook her head. ‘Only if he asks for my help . . . not otherwise. It’s well outside my remit to wrestle unwilling patients to the floor. I’ll leave the rough stuff to you and the constable here –’ she watched the superintendent push his chair back – ‘although I wouldn’t advise any unnecessary use of it,’ she finished mildly.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Jones rose impatiently to his feet and walked round the table. ‘Sit down, man,’ he said, gripping Acland’s arm and pushing him towards a chair. ‘This isn’t Guantanamo Bay.’
He barely had time to finish the sentence before Acland seized his wrist and spun him round in a classic half nelson, using one hand to force Jones’s chin on to his chest and the other to put torque on the bones of the forearm. ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he murmured into the man’s ear. ‘I wasn’t bothering you . . . I wasn’t threatening you . . . and I’ve made it clear several times that I don’t like being touched.’
Jones made no attempt to resist. ‘You’ve made your point, Charles. Now let me go before you find yourself in serious trouble.’
Jackson took a step backwards to block the detective constable. ‘You heard the man, Lieutenant. You can put him down now. It’s not a fair fight, anyway. He’s twice your age and three times as flabby . . . and our fri
end here wants to arrest you.’
Acland stared at her for a moment, then released his hold and pushed the superintendent away. ‘What’s a middle-aged Gruppenfu¨hrer to you?’ he asked. ‘I thought you didn’t like bullies.’
‘I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I want them to die of apoplexy.’ She jerked her chin towards the corner of the room. ‘You look as if you’re on the brink of throwing up, so do us all a favour and sit on the floor over there with your head between your knees.’ She watched him retreat, then shifted her attention to the constable. ‘If you’re willing to take the other corner, I’ll see to your boss . . . If you’re not, I’ll hold the line here to prevent another clash. You’re a little too pumped up for my liking.’
‘Sir?’
‘I’m all right,’ said Jones, resuming his seat and loosening his collar. ‘No harm done.’ He took a couple of breaths and addressed his next remark to Jackson. ‘You think me unreasonable to ask tough questions of the lieutenant? We’ve been on this inquiry for months . . . tonight is the first time we’ve had any meaningful leads . . . and they’ve both involved this young man.’
Jackson shrugged. ‘The first one didn’t. It might have seemed that way for a while, but you proved to your own satisfaction that he wasn’t responsible for the attack on Mr Tutting. You might just as well argue that I’ve been involved in both leads – you’d still be searching for the lieutenant if I hadn’t delivered him to you – so why aren’t you asking tough questions of me?’ She smiled slightly. ‘And why isn’t the recorder on?’
‘It’s a good thing it isn’t, otherwise the assault would have been caught on tape and your friend would face charges.’ Thoughtfully, he rubbed his wrist as he studied Acland’s bent head. ‘You’re not dying on me, are you, Charles?’
‘No.’
‘I didn’t think so. That’s one hell of a grip you have.’ He took another deep breath. ‘I’ll string your guts for garters if you try to sue me. This inquiry’s already strapped for cash . . . and I’m damned if I’ll approve compensation because a witness has issues about his personal space.’
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