[DC Laura McGanity 05 ]Cold Kill

by Neil White

  Laura saw Joe’s interest, his fingers drumming hard on his knees.

  ‘How old was he when you adopted him?’ Joe asked.

  Ida looked shocked for a second, and then her fingers toyed with her handkerchief before she spoke. When she said, ‘From birth,’ her voice seemed more hostile than before. ‘We’d tried for our own children, Ted and me, but we had just one. Amanda. We wanted more, and it was hard, knowing that she would grow up an only child. So we adopted.’ Ida wrung her hands and her voice trembled when she said, ‘But it didn’t work out, and I felt like I was to blame.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Joe asked.

  Ida’s cheeks went red. ‘I turned his real mother away,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have done, but she wasn’t a mother to him. She had abandoned him, and we were the ones who’d brought him up.’

  Laura sat forward and lowered her head so that she could catch Ida’s gaze. ‘Shane was always going to want to know about his birth mother,’ she said softly.

  Ida flashed her a steely look that didn’t fit with her gentle appearance. ‘It was wrong, I know that, but she wasn’t good for him.’ She twisted her handkerchief between her fingers. ‘I know what you are thinking, that we were thinking just of ourselves. And maybe we were. Is there anything wrong with that? Have you got children?’

  Laura toyed with her engagement ring and thought of Bobby for a moment, and how he was an only child.

  ‘I’ve got a child,’ Laura said. ‘A boy.’

  Ida softened for a moment and smiled. ‘I can tell. I can see it in you. Contented but tired. If I see women your age without children, they usually look really relaxed because they’ve got easy lives, or else they look hungry somehow, as if they are chasing something to make up for not having children. But how would you feel if someone came along who wanted to take him away? You would fight for him, and that’s what I did with Shane. So I wouldn’t let her close.’

  Laura reached out and took one of Ida’s hands in hers. It was cold, and her skin felt delicate. ‘You’re right, I would fight it, just like you,’ she said.

  Ida squeezed Laura’s hand for a moment. ‘Being a mother isn’t just about giving birth, you know that,’ Ida said. ‘It’s everything else. The hugs, the teaching, the loving. Those midnight illnesses, holding the bowl as he was sick. His first day at school. Helping him with his homework. Reading to him at night. Just holding him and trying to make him feel safe. That’s what being a mother is all about, and then she came along, wanting to take over.’

  ‘But you could have let her have some access, because you knew that Shane would have wanted to know about her when he was older. It wouldn’t have meant he cared for you any less.’

  ‘You make me sound selfish,’ Ida said, dropping Laura’s hand. ‘It wasn’t like that. She was just a child really, and everything about her would have been bad for Shane.’

  ‘What do you mean, bad?’ Laura said.

  Ida sighed. ‘She was young when she had Shane, and perhaps that wasn’t her fault, but she turned bad as she got older. She was drinking a lot, and taking drugs.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Ida paused as she thought about that, and said, ‘We just knew.’ She looked down as she spoke.

  Laura looked at Joe and raised an eyebrow. His eyes narrowed, and Laura knew that he was thinking the same thing – that there was something they weren’t being told.

  ‘And she was a prostitute,’ Ida said, looking up now. ‘She went to court a few times, we read about that. No, it was better that Shane didn’t see her. When she turned up at the house, we wouldn’t let her see him. She carried on though, and so we had to get the police involved. And then she stopped coming.’

  ‘How did Shane take this?’ Joe asked.

  ‘He didn’t know at first, but then one night she turned up, and Shane must have heard the argument. When I went into the hallway, Shane was looking through the stairs. He just looked angry, scowling, but he didn’t say much.’ A tear rolled down Ida’s cheek. ‘It was my fault Shane ended up like he did. He became even quieter after that, and more spiteful.’

  Laura was about to ask a question, but Ida cut her off with a raised hand.

  ‘I’m sorry for telling you that, but it was part of what made Shane the boy he was,’ Ida said. Then she straightened herself, as if confession time was over. ‘So what have you come to tell me? Have you caught whoever did it?’

  Laura looked at Joe, confused. ‘Did what?’ she said.

  It was Ida’s turn to look bewildered. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Have you got a lead in the case?’

  ‘Which case?’

  ‘Shane’s death,’ Ida said. ‘Isn’t that why you’re here, to tell me you’ve got a suspect?’

  Laura exchanged glances with Joe, and then said gently, ‘No, I’m sorry, it’s not why we’re here.’

  Ida looked hurt. ‘It’s a long time ago now, but if you are not here about that, why are you interested in Shane?’

  ‘It’s about Doctor Barker,’ Laura said. ‘I’m so sorry, but he’s been found dead in his house. We’re tracing his former patients, in case there’s a connection.’

  Ida’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Doctor Barker? How? When?’

  ‘This lunchtime. I’m sorry, this must be quite a shock.’ Laura looked at Joe, who was staring at the photograph over the fireplace.

  ‘How did Shane die?’ Joe asked.

  Ida looked at Joe, surprised. ‘Why don’t you know about this?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Shane was murdered,’ Ida said, and then took a deep breath before a tear tumbled down her cheek. ‘Have the police forgotten about it already?’

  Joe leaned forward. ‘Could you tell me more,’ he said.

  Ida wiped her cheek and then sat back. She was looking at her hands when she started to speak.

  ‘Shane wasn’t an easy teenager,’ she said. ‘Some of the boys around here used to pick on him. We did what we could, tried to keep him safe, but boys want to do boy things, like youth clubs and school discos. And why shouldn’t they? You can’t let the bullies win. But those things attract some of the wrong sort, and so Shane would come home upset, and Shane being upset was different to most people, because he wouldn’t cry or shout; he would go quiet, and he would be like that for a few days.’

  ‘Did he do well at school?’ Joe said. ‘Sometimes quiet boys find an outlet in getting good marks at school.’

  Ida smiled. ‘Those are the boys who do well in the end,’ she said. ‘My husband used to tell Shane that. Be patient, he used to say, because all these bullies and thugs fail when they go into the world. They end up in court and then prison, or in dull jobs. Work hard, try hard, he used to say, and you will overtake them all, and then one day you’ll see them pushing a line of supermarket trolleys or delivering your pizzas. But Shane didn’t do that.’ She looked at Laura, and then at Joe. ‘He ran away,’ she said.

  ‘Where to?’ Joe said.

  ‘London,’ Ida said. ‘He called me once, just to let me know where he was. He said that I wasn’t to worry, that he was doing well, and that he would come back one day and he would show us how well he was doing. I asked him why he went, and he said he just wanted the bright lights, away from his boring, northern life, where no one would know him and he could start again.’ Ida shook her head and her fingers gripped the handkerchief tighter. ‘It wasn’t that. He just needed to be far enough away so that he couldn’t get back easily.’

  ‘So what did he do in London?’ Laura asked.

  ‘What most runaways end up doing when they go down there,’ she said. ‘The police said that the kids find it exciting at first, the big busy city, but then they end up sleeping in squats and dosshouses. It was the same for Shane. He must have been so frightened. And then drink becomes a thing, because it gives them something to do, and then it’s drugs. Maybe it was always there, something that he got from his mother.’ She wiped away her tears, and looked ashamed now
, and when she spoke again, her voice was breaking, wretched and filled with emotion. She could barely finish her sentence. ‘The police told me he was a prostitute for a while, because he looked younger than his age, and some men like that kind of thing.’

  ‘How old was he?’ Laura asked gently.

  ‘When he ran away? Sixteen. As soon as he left school. He was nineteen when he died.’

  Laura knew then why Shane’s death hadn’t cropped up when they’d run some checks on him on their way to the house. Police forces didn’t share information back then, and the details of victims wouldn’t have got a mention on the database.

  ‘What theory were the police working on?’ Joe asked. ‘A client?’

  Ida shook her head. ‘No one knows. He was found dead in an alley behind King’s Cross. He had been strangled, but this is the really cruel thing, that he had been set alight, so that I never really got a chance to make him look nice for his funeral.’ She sighed. ‘There wasn’t much left to identify him from. Just the boots he always wore, old Doctor Martens with red and green laces, and an old donkey jacket. There were some papers in his back pocket, all charred. Turned out to be Shane’s dole card. The police looked out for him at the benefits office, just in case it was someone else and Shane needed to make another claim, but he never showed again.’

  ‘How can you be certain it was Shane?’ Joe said.

  Ida smiled at him with teary eyes. ‘Because if Shane was alive, he would have got in touch, because even though he had problems, he loved us. I know it was Shane, and I know he has gone.’ She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and said, ‘I’m sorry this won’t help you finding out who killed Doctor Barker. He tried his best for Shane, but we couldn’t afford to keep going. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault things turned out like they did. Did you think Shane might have been involved?’

  Joe shook his head. ‘We are going through his old patients, that’s all, just to check that it isn’t related. Shane was on the list.’ He reached out and held her hand. ‘I’m sorry we disturbed you, Ida. I know this must all be very painful for you. Thank you for the tea.’

  She nodded to herself. ‘Doctor Barker was a nice man. I hope you catch whoever killed him.’

  Joe nodded and pumped her hand. ‘So do I,’ he said. ‘So do I.’

  They made their exit, and once they were outside, Laura whispered, ‘What do you think?’

  Joe waited until they were back in the car before he said anything. ‘There are two possibilities. One is that Doctor Barker got it wrong.’

  ‘And the other?’

  ‘That he didn’t.’

  Laura smiled at that. ‘That would be some trick, coming back from the dead.’

  ‘The identification of the body was based on assumptions,’ Joe said. ‘It was burnt out, and so there was no fingerprint evidence. If Ida is right, the police assumed it was Shane Grix because of the clothes and his dole card, and because no one challenged it. It went into history as fact and Ida thinks she has lost her son. But what if it was wrong? Doctor Barker thought it was Shane Grix, and he was going to tell us that today. He died not long after. That is one hell of a coincidence.’

  ‘Perhaps he took the file he wanted,’ Laura said. ‘How do we know he didn’t look at the Shane Grix file, realise that he’d got it wrong, and then take the one he really wanted?’

  ‘We don’t, I suppose, but it seems strange that the one file he leaves untidy involves a young boy who died in questionable circumstances, a boy with serious psychological problems, and the personality traits I would expect in a killer.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  Joe checked his watch. Five o’clock. ‘Why don’t you call some of your old friends in the London Met and see whether they can find out anything about Shane’s murder? It will still be a live file, as the killer wasn’t caught.’

  ‘We won’t find out much tonight.’

  ‘I know, but if they start tonight, we might have it for the morning.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The streets of Whitcroft seemed quiet as Jack drove onto the estate. It was creeping towards eight o’clock, and the estate was slipping towards darkness. The street lights were coming to life, but not many seemed to be working. There was a playground ahead, just visible from the silhouettes of climbing frames, and Jack thought he could see dark shapes moving between them, the night rats getting ready to take over.

  Jack went first to Number 19, the house he’d visited earlier in the day. He wanted to see whether Don had paid the occupant a visit, and he got his answer straight away. The net curtain in front of the window had been pulled down, and there was a crack in one of the window panes that hadn’t been there earlier.

  He walked slowly up the path, worried about what he might find when he got inside. He pushed at the door and it swung open slowly. It was dark.

  ‘Hello?’ he shouted. There was no answer.

  He stepped in further and flicked on a light. Furniture had been turned over. A small table lay broken against the wall and the glass shade from a lamp was smashed on the floor.

  Jack whirled around when he heard a knock on the door. There was a man. He looked over seventy, his shoulders skinny in a blue nylon shirt, just grey wisps of hair over his ears.

  ‘What are you doing, lad?’ he said. Despite his years, his voice was strong.

  ‘Writing a story on the estate,’ Jack said as he backed out of the house.

  ‘You a reporter?’ and when Jack nodded, he added, ‘be careful what you say.’ He turned to walk back to the house next door.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There are some who don’t like what’s happening to this place.’

  ‘Do you?’ Jack shouted after him.

  The old man stopped and turned round. ‘No, but it’s not for me to speak up?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’ll get trouble, and I’m too old to want it.’

  ‘What about here?’ Jack said, nodding back towards the empty house.

  ‘Probably won’t pay the security fees,’ the old man said.

  ‘Did you hear what happened?’

  The man nodded. ‘A couple of hours ago.’

  ‘Is he all right, the man who lives here?’

  ‘I saw him walk out, if that’s what you mean, but I don’t think he will be coming back.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘He had a bag with him, and I could tell from the way he looked back at the house.’

  ‘Does it bother you, that you might be the next one to be forced out?’

  The old man smiled and shook his head. ‘No, lad, because I pay my dues.’

  ‘Who to?’

  ‘Who do you think?’ he said. ‘The security firm that you see driving around the estate.’ He stepped closer. ‘I wasn’t old enough to fight in the war, but I knew people who did, and compared to those men, these thugs aren’t brave. Just bullies.’

  ‘So why do you pay?’

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘I’m old, not long left. I don’t want to spend it cleaning paint off my walls or dodging flying glass.’

  ‘But that means giving into them.’

  ‘The price of a quiet life.’

  ‘Would you be prepared to go in my story?’ Jack said.

  The old man shook his head. ‘That wouldn’t make my life easier, would it?’ he replied. ‘But good luck with it, because I wish they weren’t there.’

  ‘What about the police? Can’t they help out?’

  ‘Oh, they do, when they come around. I’ve seen the van driving around sometimes, but it’s got orange bloody stripes all over it. The kids and drunks see it and hide. Once it’s gone, it’s back to normal.’

  Jack scribbled some notes and thanked him. Just before he was about to leave, Jack said, ‘Just give me a quote. What is it like to live on Whitcroft?’

  ‘Like the country,’ he said. ‘Turned to shit.’

  And with that, he turned and went back into his hou
se.

  The Incident Room bore the scars of a hard day’s investigation. There was a dirty cup on every desk, alongside mounds of papers, print-outs of incident logs and crime reports and intelligence sheets. People were leaning back in their chairs, their top buttons undone, ties hanging slack halfway down their shirts.

  Carson was at the back of the room, looking over someone’s shoulder at a computer screen. Rachel Mason was in the middle of three male detectives, her stream of blonde hair standing out against the strident blue of her blouse. She was going through some papers on her knee, separating them into three piles on the floor. To Laura, it looked like she was sifting through suspects, because she had made three piles: possible, maybe and unlikely. She didn’t look up as Laura moved through the room, but when Joe appeared in the doorway, she sat up more attentively.

  There was a new photograph stuck to the notice board at the front. Laura turned to Carson, shocked. ‘Is that the woman who didn’t arrive home last night?’ she asked.

  Carson straightened himself. ‘Caroline Holt. She hasn’t turned up yet, which is out of character for her. It’s not looking good.’

  Laura went closer to it. If she was a victim, it was because Laura had escaped, which made her feel responsible. Caroline was smiling in the photograph, a glass of wine in one hand, her mousy hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

  ‘What’s the news from Cleveleys?’ Carson asked.

  Laura took hold of his arm and pulled him over to the side of the room. ‘It’s the same killer,’ she whispered. ‘Doctor Barker, the man who was at the station this morning, was found strangled, with Jane Roberts’ knickers jammed into his mouth. Which means that it must be someone who knew he was here. It’s too much of a coincidence.’

  Carson looked around the room and put his hands on his hips. ‘We’ve got to trust the team. We can’t operate if we don’t. Is there anything to get excited about from the scene?’

  ‘Nothing obvious, but he might have left some trace behind. We’ll find out tomorrow hopefully. The panties are the best chance, because my guess is that he didn’t plan on leaving those somewhere else when he first took them from Jane.’