Through a Narrow Door

by Faith Martin

  Francis Soames nodded. ‘Good girl,’ he said absently, but he looked wary. He was one of those lean, sparse men, who had quick, bird-like movements and lots of energy. His hair was as blonde as his daughter’s, but looked set to go grey any second, and his nose was on the hooked side. He looked like a man who knew how to handle himself and life, but you could tell he’d had a bad knock recently. There was something in the hollows under the eyes, the stiff way he walked, that gave it away.

  ‘Any tea in the pot, lovey?’ he asked, sitting down and shoving a black briefcase out of the way under the table.

  Heather got up wordlessly and made her father some tea.

  ‘So, perhaps we can begin?’ Hillary said guilelessly, pretending not to notice the look of gratitude the teenager sent her. ‘You were at school the afternoon that Billy died, I believe?’ she carried on smoothly.

  ‘Yes,’ Heather said. ‘We had a free period, just after double French. Mary-Beth and Colleen and me hung around the tennis courts. Colleen always watches Wimbledon, fancies her chances as a pro and all that, and she was practising her forearm smash. Or pretending too. Mostly we just drank cokes and chatted.’

  Hillary nodded. ‘I know you’ve already gone over all this with a constable, but sometimes it takes a few days for the shock to wear off, and then witnesses can remember things they didn’t think of before.’ She said this more for Francis Soames’s benefit than anything else, and it was to him that she turned.

  He nodded, but didn’t speak. He was watching his daughter carefully though, Hillary noticed.

  ‘Were you expecting Billy to be at school that day?’ She turned back to Heather.

  ‘Course. It was the day after the bank holiday. Everyone was back at school.’

  ‘But you’re not in the same form as Billy?’

  ‘No. First time I knew he wasn’t there was at the morning break. We usually spent it together. We’d meet up in the locker room where I had my locker.’

  Hillary nodded. ‘And had Billy seemed odd in any way, before the bank holiday? Did he seem worried, or upset, or anything like that?’

  Heather shook her head. ‘No, he was the same as ever. Asked me what I wanted for my birthday. It’s next month. Said he was going to buy me a diamond necklace, but I told him not to be daft. He said he was though, said he’d seen this tiny diamond drop pendant in a jewellers in Banbury. He was always like that; he loved buying me stuff. He was just a big kid, really.’

  Hillary tried not to smile. At fifteen, that’s exactly what Billy-Boy Davies had been. A big kid. But there was no point in trying to explain this to Heather. Girls grew up faster than boys, and a girl like Heather, who’d already been through so much, would almost certainly regard herself as a fully-fledged adult.

  Francis Soames shifted uneasily on his chair and his daughter shot him a quick look. ‘I know you always thought he was showing off, but he really meant the stuff he said, Dad.’

  Francis Soames opened his mouth to contend with this, then considered his daughter’s wan face, and shut it again. In the end, he merely shrugged.

  ‘Dad didn’t really like Billy,’ Heather explained to Hillary, rather unnecessarily. ‘And Billy was dead scared of Dad. But they’d have got on all right though, in time. I know they would have.’ She paused, then took a deep breath. ‘Do you know who killed him?’ she asked, staring at her with big moist green eyes.

  Hillary smiled gently. ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation, Miss Soames. Can you tell me what the deal was between him and Lester Miller?’ she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

  Heather’s lips instantly twisted. ‘Oh, him. Ginger nut. He was all right, but he was a bit of a hanger-on. You know, like pop stars have roadies, Billy had Lester. Billy was the one with all the ideas and all the brains, and Lester, well, his dad is loaded, or so Lester always said, and Billy let him tag along with us sometimes. Billy always said that as soon as he left school, Lester would be history though.’

  Hillary nodded. The picture was becoming clearer. Billy had tolerated Lester because of the computer, the liberal pocket money, the nice house where he could freeload and get away from the bungalow. She doubted that he’d ever really thought of the boy as a true friend.

  ‘Heather, do you have any idea who might have killed him?’ Hillary asked softly.

  ‘No,’ Heather said at once. ‘I’d have told you if I had,’ she added simply.

  ‘Did Billy ever talk about his family? Did he get on with them?’

  ‘He never really said much. I think his dad got on his case from time to time, and he said his little sister was a real pain in the … I mean, a big pain,’ she shot her father a quick look, hoping he hadn’t caught the near-slip. ‘Said he couldn’t wait to leave home, but I think he got on with his mum all right. Just the usual stuff, you know?’

  Hillary did. ‘All right Heather. Well, that’s all for now. I hope you feel better soon,’ she added, getting slowly to her feet. ‘Mr Soames, if you’d like to see us out?’ she murmured discreetly.

  Francis Soames got instantly to his feet, his mug of tea still untouched in front of him. Outside, they walked in single-file to Hillary’s car.

  ‘I understand you lost your wife recently. I’m very sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘But your daughters must be a comfort.’

  ‘Yes they are. I don’t know what I’d do without them. Debbie’s taken on the housework and cooking and everything. She’s my rock, I always tell her. Heather’s a bit more delicate. Well, you saw. She’s not been well. This thing with Billy has really knocked her sideways. And after losing her mum so recently too. I’m worried about her. Good job Debbie’s so strong.’

  Hillary nodded, suddenly seeing it all. Heather, the pampered favourite. The dumpy Debbie, relied upon and largely ignored. She was beginning to think she’d done the elder daughter a disservice. The reason why she hadn’t told their father about Heather’s pregnancy was now obvious – she didn’t want to heap yet more misery on his plate. Yet being taken so much for granted must chafe, after a while.

  Perhaps it was a cry for help, rather than malice, that had brought Debbie Soames to the station that morning? She’d like to think so.

  ‘You were at work when Billy Davies was killed, Mr Soames?’

  Francis Soames smiled. ‘Not very subtle, Inspector,’ he chided wryly. ‘And yes, I was. I run a carpet cleaning service out of Glory Farm.’

  Hillary nodded. ‘Well, we’ll let you get back to it,’ Hillary said, holding out her hand once more. Francis Soames shook it, but didn’t return to his own car but went back inside the house instead. Hillary tossed her car keys to Janine and slipped into the passenger seat.

  ‘When you’ve got a minute, I want you to visit the carpet cleaners,’ Hillary said, the moment Janine was buckled into her seat. ‘Find out if Soames really is alibied or not. It’s one thing to say, “Oh, I was at work” but what does that actually mean? If he helps out with the actual house calls, he could have been anywhere. He could have cleaned a lounge carpet in half an hour, logged it as an hour, and been in Aston Lea for the other half hour, killing the kid who’d been messing about with his underage daughter. Both Debbie and Heather could be wrong about Daddy not knowing about the pregnancy.’

  ‘Could be,’ Janine mused. ‘Losing the wife could have sent him a bit funny. And if he knew or suspected that Billy wanted Heather to get rid of his grandson or granddaughter, it might have been enough to tip him over the edge. He’s obviously still a man in mourning.’

  Hillary agreed. She’d seen ample examples of how an otherwise sane and emotionally well-balanced person could do extraordinary things when in the grip of grief. ‘Mind you, he didn’t strike me as the type who liked to get hands on. Notice the briefcase? I think he sees himself as strictly managerial. So if he was in the office, make sure you question the secretary well. Does his office have another exit? Could he have slipped out? How often did she see him? If he was on the phone, who with and for how long? I
want Francis Soames’s whereabouts for the whole afternoon of Billy’s death tied up with pink ribbons.’

  ‘Boss,’ Janine said, and turned the ignition key.

  Back at HQ, the desk sergeant nobbled her the moment she walked through the door.

  ‘Hey, Hill. DI Parker wants you over her neck of the woods ASAP.’

  Hillary shook her head at Janine silently telling her not to bother accompanying her, and turned and headed off towards Juvie. It wasn’t yet eleven, and she was curious to hear what Melanie wanted.

  The unit dealing with Juvenile crime was a large one, and – a typical sign of the times – growing larger all the time. The number of criminals caught TWOKING, ram-raiding, drug-dealing, stealing and mugging, would soon all be under the age of sixteen – or so Hillary sometimes felt. She didn’t envy Melanie her posting, or have any desire to join her.

  Melanie Parker wasn’t at her desk, and a fresh-faced DC (who looked about ten, and was probably used to infiltrate raves on a nightly basis) quickly pointed her in the direction of the interview rooms. There she was met by a DS Vernon, who knocked on a door and ushered her in, before leaving them to it.

  Melanie was sat at a table smoking in blatant violation of anti-smoking laws. Opposite her a teenager with so much metal clipped, clamped, threaded and pierced on to his face that he must set off metal alarms at a distance of twelve feet, puffed as enthusiastically away. Hillary felt the back of her throat tickle and bit back the urge to cough.

  ‘Ah, DI Greene. Kevin, this is the officer I was telling you about. Kevin is a pusher at Bicester Comp. Why don’t you tell DI Greene what you were just telling me?’

  ‘First off, I ain’t no pusher, right?’ Kevin said, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray, displaying the spiderweb tattoo on the back of his hand to perfect advantage. ‘That’s just a little joke the inspector here likes to play. I never done time for dealing, yeah?’

  Melanie Parker smiled beatifically. ‘Just give us time, Kev,’ she said softly. ‘We’re only waiting until you turn eighteen when we get to send you down to the big boy’s prison.’

  Kevin snickered, but his eyes flicked nervously between the two women. Hillary pulled out a seat and made herself comfortable. ‘Just so’s we’re clear. I’m just here doing my bit. Being a good citizen, like.’

  ‘You’re here because we pulled you, Kevin,’ Melanie corrected flatly. ‘And don’t think that, even now, officers aren’t pulling the plumbing apart to find out exactly what it was you flushed down the loo.’

  ‘Can’t prove it was nothing to do with me,’ Kevin said at once. And accurately. Hillary knew that Melanie’s people wouldn’t really be inspecting the loos. It would be a waste of time and effort. And with what genuine plumbers cost nowadays, the budget would never stretch to it.

  ‘Just get on with it,’ Melanie said, almost affectionately, as she lit up another cigarette. Hillary felt her eyes smarting, and blinked furiously. She hoped they’d get down to it soon, or else she was going to start breaking out in a rash. She was mildly allergic to cigarette smoke.

  ‘Right. But I ain’t no grass or nothing,’ Kevin reiterated. He had dyed blue hair with a zigzag cut straight across the top of his dome, and matching zigzagging blue eyes. Hillary wondered what he was on. No doubt Melanie could tell her if she asked.

  ‘That’s understood,’ Melanie said impatiently. ‘Stop mucking around like a junkie at an Oasis concert and get on with it.’

  ‘Who’s Oasis?’ he asked, genuinely puzzled, making both women feel about a hundred-and-six years old.

  ‘You want to spend a couple of days in Branston House?’ Melanie snapped, naming a notorious young offenders’ institute near the lunatic asylum in Broadmoor.

  ‘Hey, OK,’ Kevin held up his hands defensively. ‘You was asking me about the kid that got his throat cut, yeah?’

  ‘It was a stabbing to the chest, but close enough,’ Melanie said. ‘Now get on with it.’

  ‘Right, well, he wasn’t dealing. Not that I’d know from experience, like, but some of my friends ain’t as clever as me, and they sometimes buy the odd naughty tablet or two, know what I mean. And that kid that got offed never did no offering.’

  ‘We already know that,’ Melanie said, letting her impatience show. ‘I wouldn’t drag DI Greene over here just to listen to you snivelling. Tell her what you told me, and cut the acting performance. This isn’t the BAFTAs.’

  ‘Yeah. OK. No come back on me, we agreed.’

  Melanie sighed elaborately and nodded.

  ‘Yeah, well, this kid I know, he thought Billy-Boy might be interested in making a few quid, right, so he asked him if he wanted in. But Billy-Boy got really sniffy, and said it was a mug’s game. The bigger boys got all the profit, and kids like my mate got thrown into Juvie if they got caught. Said he didn’t need no dim-wit, two-bit dealer to help him get his hands on readies. He was doing all right as it was.’ Kevin ran the back of his tattooed hand under his leaking nose and sniffed. ‘This really pissed my friend off, right. I mean, who did he think he was? Thing is, Billy-Boy had just come to school on this mean bike, and everyone knew he was boffing the choicest babe in school, giving her gold bracelets and stuff. So he was coining it somehow, right enough.’

  Hillary leaned forward on the table. ‘Did your friend know how?’

  ‘Nope. He only knew he wasn’t doing it by dealing. Didn’t reckon he was thieving either, since his brother has the patch around here. But Billy was cocky, you know? The kind of cocky you only get when you’re doing all right for yourself. Know what I mean?’

  Hillary did. She also wondered why Heather Soames hadn’t mentioned any gold bracelets, then supposed that they hadn’t really had much time to chat before her father had appeared on the scene. Besides, to be fair, she had mentioned that Billy liked buying her expensive gifts. Perhaps a diamond pendant hadn’t been just wishful thinking after all.

  ‘Didn’t your friend lean on Billy a bit?’ Hillary cajoled craftily. ‘After all, if he had a source of income, surely your friend wanted a slice of the action? No crook likes independent operators on his patch.’

  ‘Naw,’ Kevin said. ‘He’d been told by his main man to keep things nice and easy, right. Don’t frighten the chickens. Don’t do nothing to attract the law. He couldn’t have had Billy-Boy kneecapped without drawing attention to himself like. And certain people wouldn’t have stood for that.’

  Hillary saw Melanie twist her lips in a grim smile and shook her head.

  ‘No,’ Hillary agreed flatly. ‘You got any idea what Billy was into?’

  ‘Me?’ Kev squeaked in surprise. ‘Nope. Not unless it was selling porn. He had a way with the camera, I’ll tell you that. And his girlfriends were always lookers.’

  Hillary nodded. It was possible, she supposed. Nowadays, porn didn’t pay all that well – there was too much of it about and cheap at the price. But to a boy of fifteen, selling pictures of nude girls for twenty quid a pop could make him feel as if he’d hit the jackpot. And it would all mount up.

  ‘OK Kevin,’ Hillary said. ‘If you hear anything let me know, yeah?’

  Kevin snorted, ‘Yeah right,’ and Melanie Parker cleared her throat loudly, and his cheesy grin quickly faded.

  ‘Go on then, sod off,’ Melanie Parker said, stubbing out her cigarette in a tin ashtray. And when the boy had got to the door added cheerfully, ‘Catch you next time, Kevin.’

  Hillary returned to her desk thoughtfully. Melanie had assured her that the intelligence, in spite of the unprepossessing source, was probably good. She’d also promised to keep an ear out for any gossip concerning the dead boy and pass it on.

  Hillary sat down at her desk and quickly explained to her team about the possible porn angle, finishing briskly, ‘Frank, this is right up your alley. Find out if Billy-Boy had any contacts he might have been selling to regularly.’

  ‘Right, guv,’ Frank grinned. ‘Mind you, he could have been selling directly to Playboy and what not. That “Reader
s Wives” racket would stretch to nubile teenage girlfriends, I reckon. I’ll have to buy a range of mags and get in touch direct. Any chance of raiding the slush fund?’

  Hillary was still laughing over that when her phone rang. ‘Yes? What? Here now? OK, no, send him up.’ She hung up then frowned. ‘George Davies is downstairs. He probably wants an update on his son’s case.’

  Janine gave her a double take. According to protocol, they should have talked to him downstairs in an interview room but, after a moment, she thought she understood why the boss had asked to have him brought up here. The room was big and full of busy men and women, working flat out. If you’d had a child murdered, the sight of computers being used and phones ringing would reinforce the impression that something was being done.

  Hillary stood up when a uniformed WPC ushered in George Davies. The garage mechanic looked around, but his eyes were dull. To her surprise, he didn’t speak, not even in answer to her greeting, but dug his right hand into his back pocket and came out with a small, dark blue book. Hillary recognized it straight away as the kind that building societies handed out to savers.

  ‘I found this hidden at our place,’ George Davies said flatly. ‘It’s Billy’s. I know all his hiding places. He thought I didn’t, but I found it this morning. Thought I’d better bring it in. I haven’t told his mother,’ he added, the short staccato sentences betraying how agitated he really was. ‘I gotta get back to work,’ he finished, backing away, then turned and walked quickly to the door.

  Tommy looked at her quickly, wanting to know if she wanted him to stop him, but Hillary shook her head.

  She reached for the book instead and opened it. The building society was a high-street name, and the book belonged to their Bicester branch. Hillary opened it and ran a quick eye down the columns. In the ten months since he’d opened it, Billy had amassed just over £1,550. There were a few withdrawals, but by far the most interesting item was a regular payment of £150. It had been paid in at the beginning of every month for the last six months. There were also lesser, but still regular payments of between £60 and £30.