by Linda Regan
‘I told you before, he comes and goes. Lysha and I look after each other.’ She turned a piercing gaze on Georgia. ‘This estate lives by its own rules and we know what they are. We need you to leave us be.’
Stephanie’s phone buzzed and she walked outside to take the call. She returned after a few moments. ‘Dawes has picked up Dwayne Ripley and Michael Delahaye.’
Georgia stood up. ‘I’m putting a police guard outside your door,’ she said to Luanne.
‘No!’
‘Just for the time being. They’ll stay put this time.’
‘You’ll make it worse!’ Her voice moved up a notch. ‘Please! Just leave us alone.’
‘OK.’ Georgia put her hands in the air. ‘As long as you promise to stay in and not answer the door. We’ll circulate Alysha’s description, and see if we can pick her up for you. What is she wearing?’
Luanne tapped the fresh bruise on her cheek. ‘I got this for talking to the Feds. I don’t want Alysha to get hurt.’
‘That’s why we are going to find her and pick her up.’
‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Her voice had an edge of hysteria. ‘No one on this estate talks to Feds. It’s not safe.’
‘I thought you said you were tough,’ Georgia reminded her.
Luanne gave her an appraising look. ‘I’m scared for Alysha. You don’t make the law around here, the Brotherhood do.’
TWELVE
Dwayne ‘Boot’ Ripley was as thin as a rat. His narrow, mud-coloured eyes slid from Georgia to Stephanie, and his long face remained motionless. His lank, mouse-coloured hair, pointed features and large ears made Georgia think he would look at home among the vermin that prowled the overflowing bins on the Aviary Estate. All he needed was a few whiskers.
He even smelt as if he had slept in garbage. Georgia took shallow breaths and watched with disgust as he prodded at one of his white-headed pimples with a dirty fingernail.
The solicitor who was unfortunate enough to be on duty was a middle-aged woman in a well-pressed grey pinstriped suit and clean white blouse. She sat as far from him as the small room allowed, and held a tissue in the palm of her hand.
Ripley started scratching his thigh through the white nylon forensic suit he had been given to wear while his own clothes were tested. After a few moments he hunched over the table and started finger-walking like a bored child. He seemed incapable of remaining still.
As yet they had no evidence to charge him with anything. He had admitted having sex with Haley Gulati prior to her death, but claimed it was with her permission. Even his dogs had been declared legal.
But he was here, and she was going to make the most of the opportunity.
‘Why this upsurge of violence on the estate?’ she asked him with steel in her voice.
‘No idea.’ His gaze never left the table, and the finger-walking started again.
He was violent, but he wasn’t very bright, and like many of the Brotherhood he felt protected by Reilly, and did exactly as the bully told him. He’d learned that if you lived where he lived, the best way to survive was to join the strongest army. Georgia pushed a photo of Haley Gulati across the table.
He glanced at it and shrugged. ‘Nothing to do with me.’
‘You had sex with her.’
He shrugged again. ‘She put it about.’
‘Where did you have sex with her?’
‘At the party.’
‘What party?’
‘In the empty flats. We set up some music and we were hanging out, and she came in.’
‘She was thirty-six years old, a churchgoing woman with a niece who is older than you,’ Georgia snapped.
‘She was gagging for it.’ He looked up and met Georgia’s eyes. ‘She liked shagging. Some bints do.’
Stephanie leaned towards him. ‘I think Yo-Yo Reilly forced her to have sex, and you went with the flow.’
‘No.’ He tipped his chair back. ‘She was up for it.’
The duty solicitor blew her nose.
Ripley dug his nail into a pimple on his cheek. His eyes flicked from Georgia to Stephanie, then to the duty solicitor. ‘Plenty of women like gang-banging, but no one wants to admit it.’ His eyes travelled up and down her body, then over Stephanie’s, and he licked his lips slowly.
‘Pack it in and answer the questions,’ Georgia snapped.
He raised his hands. ‘I answered. You asked if I had sex with Haley Gulati and I told you. She liked rough sex. Older women do.’ His eyes pierced into Georgia’s, and the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips. ‘Unless you’re a tight-arse, of course. Some women are.’
The female brief threw him a warning glance.
Stephanie sensed that Georgia was seconds away from landing him a well-deserved smack in the mouth. ‘Why did you stab her?’ she asked. ‘Did she turn you down?’
‘She was into gang-banging, I’m telling you.’
‘Where did you have sex with her?’ Georgia pushed.
‘Told you that too. In the derelict flat, at the party.’
‘Well, you see, we’ve got a problem with that,’ Stephanie said calmly. ‘Your DNA was also found on the wall outside the empty flat.’
There was a second’s pause. ‘I took her outside.’
‘You just said you had her at the party.’ Georgia again.
She was getting to him; he began to tap the table with his knuckles.
‘It was at the party,’ he repeated. ‘The party went outside. Some of us were having a drink outside. By the window, so we could hear the sounds.’
‘It was raining,’ Stephanie said. Ripley made no reply. ‘Where was she stabbed?’ she added casually.
‘Watch my lips. I. Do. Not. Know. I wasn’t there.’
‘I’ll tell you. It was outside the empty flat. By the window. Where the party was.’ Stephanie spoke clearly as if he was a child. ‘She was stabbed where you say you had sex with her.’
He blinked rapidly and raked a cluster of pimples with a fingernail. ‘Well, not while I was giving her one.’ He peered at the finger and wiped it on his jeans. ‘She was a slag. I fucked her. I didn’t stab her. End of.’
‘What time was it when you fucked her?’ Georgia was growing bored with this.
‘Don’t know, mate. I’d had a drink and a couple of pills. I just fucked her.’
‘I’m not your mate. What did you do afterwards? Did you go back into the party?’
‘No. I was tired. I went back to my place. You’ve got my clothes. I ain’t had time to change them since yesterday, what with being harassed by the Feds. You won’t find no blood on them.’ He mimicked Stephanie’s tone. ‘I never fucking stabbed the slag. Got it? I just fucked her.’ He turned to face his solicitor. ‘They’ve got nothing on me. Can I go now?’
‘You admitted having sex with the victim just prior to her death, so we need to eliminate you from our murder enquiry,’ Stephanie answered. ‘Your clothes have been sent for forensic testing, and I’m afraid we can’t release you until we have clearance on them. That may take up to twenty-four hours.’
He spun around to the duty solicitor again. ‘I ain’t done nothing,’ he protested. ‘They can’t lock me up for having a fuck.’
‘It’s not for having a . . . fuck,’ the woman told him quietly, her eyes firmly on the papers in front of her. ‘You’re a suspect in a murder case, and until they prove your innocence I’m afraid you have to stay here.’
‘You’re no fucking help,’ he told her. ‘You’re supposed to be on my side. I didn’t do nothing.’
‘In that case you’ll be out as soon as forensics can corroborate that,’ Stephanie told him.
‘Who attacked Chantelle Gulati?’ Georgia asked him casually, leaning back in her chair.
His eyes slid from her to Stephanie again. ‘What’s happened to Chantelle, then?’
‘She’s been badly beaten. As I think you know.’
The eyes moved to one side, checking the solicitor’s reaction. ‘I didn’t kno
w.’
He was a bad liar. He also wasn’t very bright; if he had stabbed Haley or beaten Chantelle, it would have been on Reilly’s orders. Even if they could prove he had done it, Reilly would find other suckers to groom and take the rap for him.
The problem was like the pimple he kept picking, Georgia thought. There was no point getting rid of the surface, you had to get the root, and the root was Yo-Yo Reilly. Or Jason Young.
Now Young was back, more trouble was brewing and more killings were likely. The only way to prevent this was to get both Young and Reilly behind bars, and to do that she needed to win over one of the gang.
It was quite possible Boot had stabbed Haley. With or without her consent he had had sex with her, and her death followed shortly after. Reilly was clever enough to have ensured that his own clothes would be burnt or buried by now, and they hadn’t found the weapon which Georgia felt sure would point to Jason Young as the murderer. They were at stalemate.
‘Sally Young.’ Georgia looked straight into the shifty eyes. They went on the move again.
‘What about her?’
‘She’s been shot.’
‘Nothing to do with me.’
‘I didn’t say it was.’
‘Why say it then?’
‘I wondered if you had any idea who might want to shoot her.’
‘I don’t have nothing to do with guns,’ he said, folding his arms and leaning back. ‘Try her grandson for that one. I heard he’s just out.’
‘You’re a knife man, are you?’ Stephanie examined her fingernails.
‘Everyone has to carry a shank to survive around ours. We’re the Brotherhood, man.’
Jason slid on his belly like a snake through a hole in the fence at the back of the Aviary estate, at the other end from the derelicts. The whole area was swarming with Feds, even the armed squad, and sirens wailed continuously as more approached. If he was caught with the gun, he’d be back inside for seven years if he was lucky, and the dream of becoming a hip-hop dancer would be history.
But whatever the price, Chantelle was his girl, and Reilly was going to pay for what he’d done to her. South London would be better off without the Brotherhood running the streets. Everyone knew the law would never get Reilly; he was too clever for them. So it was up to Jason. A minute ago he had lost his best chance of taking out Boot and Mince. He’d had the gun in his hand, cocked and aimed, then, just as he was about to fire, the Feds had turned up and arrested both of them. They went off in a van, totally unaware that Jason was lying behind the hole in the fence with a gun pointed at Boot’s groin.
There was too much going on around here. He decided his best plan of action was to hide again until everything died down. When the coast was clear he’d surface again, and with Ripley and Delahaye in custody, Yo-Yo would be without his lieutenants; taking him out then would be a doddle. He was actually looking forward to blowing his balls off and spreading his brains over the wall. The time he spent inside would be worth it.
As long as Chantelle was there when he came out.
Stephanie Green was dunking a Bourbon biscuit in a large mug of tea when Georgia walked into the investigation room.
‘Did forensics come back with anything on the five different shoe prints around the scene of Haley Gulati’s stabbing?’ she asked, perching on the edge of the sergeant’s desk.
Stephanie pushed the rest of the biscuit in her mouth and clicked on the screen in front of her. She found the forensics report to date. ‘The rain didn’t help; they can only tell us there were five different shoes.’ She looked up. ‘We’ve identified three of the assailants. We also know Jason Young was there too, so there’s only one more we need to identify. It’s not impossible it just belongs to some random passer-by.’
Georgia peered at the screen. Stephanie continued, ‘Reilly, Ripley, Delahaye, Young, and one footprint from someone not as tall at Michael Delahaye.’
‘Delahaye is six and a half foot tall,’ Georgia retorted. This was going nowhere. ‘I still think Young stabbed her,’ she went on, ‘regardless of those prison reports. I think he made the call from the phone booth too, to send us in the wrong direction. His DNA’s there, after all. And if he didn’t do it, why did Chantelle lie? It’s not hard to work out, is it? She wanted to buy Young time to get away. So Reilly has her and Luanne beaten for it. Any news yet on Alysha’s whereabouts?’
Stephanie shook her head.
‘OK. So, next bit of the puzzle – who shot Sally Young and why?’
Stephanie swallowed her mouthful of biscuit. ‘If only we could find the gun, or at least the bullet casing. And the knife that stabbed Haley, and whatever they used to crack Chantelle’s head open.’
There was a burst of rap music and Stephanie reached for her phone. She had changed her ringtone again; that’s what having teenage kids did for you, Georgia reflected. She didn’t have a clue how to change a ringtone.
Stephanie ended her call. ‘That was TIU. They’ve got an exact location for Jason Young. He’s on the corner of Tupton Lane.’
‘Let Dawes and Peacock know; they can pick him up,’ Georgia said. ‘Is the CO19 unit still down there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Better let them know too. Young’s likely to be armed and dangerous.’
The rap music trilled again. It was forensics.
‘No gun or blood residue on either boy’s clothing,’ Stephanie said, snapping the phone shut. ‘They both said they were wearing the same trousers last night. No semen stains either. Interesting, that.’
‘So we can’t hold them.’ Georgia clicked her tongue against her teeth. ‘Just when you don’t want forensics to move their arses, they do.’
‘There’s still Jason Young,’ Stephanie said. ‘He’s got a motive, and form for gun violence.’ She wiped sugary hands on her trousers and clicked on her keyboard. ‘He was done seven times for GBH to his grandmother between 2002 and 2005.’
Georgia sighed. ‘When he was between ten and thirteen.’
‘He broke her finger once. Another time he knocked her out and put her in hospital for three days.’
‘And Dawes says guns are his thing.’
‘As well as knives.’
‘There was blood on that sweatshirt, and I don’t think it was Sally Young’s. We still need those forensics results, and we need to pick up Jason Young. Nothing else we can do.’
‘We can pray both Sally and Chantelle will come round soon.’ Stephanie wiped her empty mug with a tissue and put it in the desk drawer. ‘That will be the best result.’
‘We’re not doing too well at the moment,’ Georgia said. ‘One woman dead and two more from the same estate fighting for their lives, and no one, no one saw a thing.’ She put her fingers to her temples.
‘That estate has been gang-run for ten years now. The residents are terrified of talking to us. It’s an uphill battle, but we’ll get there. Think of King Alfred and the spider.’
‘Don’t you mean Robert the Bruce and the spider? King Alfred was the one who burnt the cakes. You obviously flunked history at school.’
Stephanie grinned. ‘I was better at biology. Let’s just hope Dawes brings Young in.’
Apart from his height, Michael Delahaye looked like any ordinary black teenager. He wasn’t even particularly unattractive. But Georgia had a strong urge to knock his drug-inhaling head into another planet. He had raped a woman old enough to be his mother, and didn’t seem in the least concerned that he was sitting in an interview room in the murder unit, possibly in serious trouble.
He must have the IQ of a pea, she thought. His accent was such a hybrid that she had to concentrate to be sure she was getting what he said. The recording of the interview would be very difficult to understand.
But Georgia and Stephanie both agreed that out of all Reilly’s sidekicks, Delahaye was the one more likely to crack.
‘Michael—’ Stephanie began in a friendly tone. They had agreed that she would take a softer line.
�
�Mince,’ he cut in. ‘This is Brotherhood business, and my Brotherhood name is Mince. I don’t answer to nothin’ else, innit.’
Stephanie nodded. ‘Mince. That’s fine by me.’
Alan Oakwood had taken the place of the nervous woman solicitor, clearly on Reilly’s orders and with the promise of a fat fee. Delahaye looked at him for approval.
Oakwood’s eyes were on Georgia.
Georgia leaned back in her chair and studied Delahaye, doing her best to make the boy feel uncomfortable. He had an innocent face, and it took people by surprise when he turned violent. He was handy with a knife, quick and precise at inflicting harm, and had twice done time in Feltham Young Offenders’ Institution, but until now he had never been linked with a fatal stabbing.
There was a first time for everything.
‘I hear you shared Haley Gulati in a gang-bang?’ she said conversationally.
‘That’s not a question,’ Oakwood chipped in.
Mince’s tapping toes betrayed his agitation. He appeared to give the matter some thought, then, ‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘We’re like family, my tribe. Families share things. Food, drink, girlfriends and stuff, innit.’
‘Can you be specific? Did you have sex with Haley Gulati just before she was murdered?’
‘You don’t have to answer that,’ Oakwood said quickly. ‘You don’t know when Haley Gulati was murdered. How would you know if you had sex just prior to her death?’
Delahaye’s eyebrows moved closer together. ‘She was wanting it. That ain’t no crime.’
‘Which one of you stabbed her?’ Georgia asked quickly.
‘Hey, you don’t lay that one on me. No one stabbed Haley.’ He put his hand to his crotch and started to rub himself. ‘We just gave her a good time, innit.’
Georgia felt a strong urge to slap him. ‘Where did you gang-bang her?’ she asked, pressing her hands together.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Of course you do. Where were you when you had sex with Haley?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘I’ll ask you again. Where were you when . . . ?’
‘Outside, by the derelicts.’
‘So you do remember.’ Georgia inhaled deeply. ‘Something else for you to remember. Lying in an interview is an offence. It’s called obstructing an enquiry, and carries a custodial sentence of up to two years, depending on your past record. And yours is a long way from clean.’
