by Liz Mistry
‘Spill!’
‘Wh– what do you mean?’
Pursing his lips, he looked at Sampson, who shook his head as if Gus had just announced a death sentence. In a quiet, yet far too reasonable tone, he enunciated his request for the third time. ‘Spill the bloody beans. That’s what I bloody mean. What really happened Saturday night?’
The lad cast his eyes downwards, shoulders slumped. One hand raised to his cheek and he began worrying at an inflamed spot. The pimple burst and a blob of pus spurted out and landed on the table.
For fuck’s sake! Bloody teenagers!
Mr Bates, hands shaking, wiped the offending slurry off the table with a near decimated tissue and then rummaged in his pocket, before producing another one for his son. With a cautious glance towards Gus, he put his arm round the boy.
All of a sudden Gus’ enthusiasm for playing bad cop dissipated. These two were in awe of him, not like some of the little scrotes that he came across. These were law-abiding folk who’d got caught up in something too awful to think about; the sort of thing they read about in the papers or saw on the news yet never imagined themselves being involved in. He had a job to do; however, he didn’t have to enjoy doing it.
Mr Bates pulled his son’s hand away from his face. ‘Look, Matty, if you know more than you’ve said already, you’ve got to tell the…’ he glanced at Gus and winced ‘er… policeman everything. Simon may be in real trouble. Now, blow your nose and smarten up.’
Matty blew loudly into the hankie, looked at the product of his efforts and crumpled the tissue into a ball in his hand. Despite his shaking voice, the lad managed to hold Gus’ stare. ‘Look, I don’t know what happened to Si, honest. All I know is we smoked some bud and we were spaced out. Chilled, you know?’
Gus rolled one hand a few times in a circular motion to indicate that he wanted more.
‘Si was talking to some blokes. Those bikers I told you about earlier.’ He turned to Sampson for confirmation. ‘Then we grabbed some cider and wandered down to the shed to sit and smoke.’ He bit his lip and glanced at his dad. Then he glanced back at Gus, before looking down at the table and mumbling, ‘Well, Si had some blues, so we took a few of them and then…’ He shrugged. ‘Well, we spaced out and went to sleep. When we woke up Si was gone, just like I told you.’
Aware of Mr Bate’s gasp at his son’s revelation, Gus swallowed his sympathy. ‘So, nobody spiked your drink?’
Matty shrugged. ‘Well… maybe. Never reacted like that to the blues before, like. Jake reckons someone spiked them.’
‘You took the pills voluntarily?’
Again, a nod. The kid was shaking, his hands kept creeping back to his acned face and his dad had lost all colour. His hair was dishevelled from all the times he’d run his fingers through it. Gus hated how the system favoured the middle classes. Poor Matty’s dad had probably never been in a police station before and was prepared to trust his son to the system. He could have lawyered up, but he didn’t realise that. He wasn’t a regular offender who knew how to screw the system, nor was he of the same class as Jake Carpenter’s family. They’d known their rights and had been quick to get legal advice. Gus thought the lad was telling the truth. He just needed to be sure. Hating having to do it, he leaned forward, slamming both hands on the table and speaking loudly. ‘It doesn’t add up!’
Matty jumped, wide-eyed and dropped his used tissue on the floor. Hands, empty now, he began to knead his thighs as Gus continued. ‘You see, I think you’re lying. I think you bought those pills. I think you gave them to your friends and I think you know what happened to Simon. You know that’s supplying and it carries a custodial sentence, don’t you?’
Mr Bates’ face paled and Gus thought the older man might vomit. He didn’t really believe that Matty had bought the drugs, although he wanted to judge the boy’s reaction nonetheless.
Matty gulped and shook his head from side to side, ‘No, no! Si bought them. Me and Jake just shared them. I don’t have money for that sort of stuff.’
‘Rubbish, you took the pills, you, or you and your mates, killed the two girls and that’s what really happened.’
Matty looked at him. ‘Two girls?’
Gus stared at him for a full minute. ‘Okay, maybe you only killed the one downstairs, so who killed the other one?’
Matty’s face paled. ‘I think I’m gonna be sick.’
Sampson stood up and helpfully offered him the empty metal bin. He took it and held it in his lap his hands wrapped round it like it was his favourite cuddly toy. Then he leaned over and dry retched a few times.
‘Get him some water, detective.’
When Sampson returned with the water for Matty and a cup of tea for his dad, Gus leaned across the table and looked straight at the boy. ‘Look Matty, Simon’s missing. There’s a mum and dad who had a daughter yesterday and now they don’t. We don’t yet know yet if her death is an accident or not. On top of that, we found another dead girl. Now, her parents don’t know she’s dead yet. However, in a little while, me and Sampson here are going to have to go and tell them. That’s not the worst of it, Matty.’ He shook his head morosely. ‘No, the worst of it is that I’m going to have to tell them she was stabbed to death. Do you understand, Matty? That girl upstairs was murdered on Saturday night.’
Matty’s voice quivered. ‘I swear, I didn’t know. Jake and me didn’t go upstairs on Sunday. We only saw that first girl and we should have told you. I know that, but we were so scared and then Si was gone. We didn’t know what to do.’ Tears spilled down the lad’s face and Gus gestured for his dad to give him a tissue.
Sighing, Gus leaned towards the boy and when he spoke his voice was calmer and kinder. ‘Look, Matty, you’ve done some stupid things; however, I don’t think you’re a killer. We need to speak to Si, so if you know where he is, tell us.’
‘Honest, I don’t. I really don’t!’
The lad knew nothing further about the two girls’ deaths or his friend’s disappearance. ‘Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. You tell the truth, and, believe me, I’ll know if you don’t, and we’ll look at the minor charge of possession of drugs instead of kidnapping and possible manslaughter, okay?’
Matty swallowed and looked gratefully at Gus. ‘Yes. Okay, whatever you want. I’ll tell you the truth.’
‘Who bought the weed and who supplied you?’
‘Si’s got a number of some Pakistani dude. He rings it and then we go up to Heaton village and hang around near the church. A young lad rides up on a bike. We give him the money and he gives us the bud.’
‘Who’s the lad?’
‘Dunno, sometimes an Asian kid, sometimes a Polish kid.’
‘Name of the dealer?’
‘Dunno. Honest, it’s Si gets it, we don’t usually have the money, me and Jake.’
‘What about the vallies, the blues?’
‘Honest, Si got them.’
‘Where from?’
Matty frowned. ‘Someone at the party, I’m not sure who. Wait, hold on, I reckon it might have been them biker dudes, cos I saw him high-fiving them. Or there was some Asians out the back at one point – didn’t know them either. Maybe they sell it.’
‘Okay, so who were the bikers, then?’
‘Dunno. Never seen them before. There were two of them, a bit older than us – in their twenties maybe – with them two girls.’ He frowned again. ‘Didn’t know the girls, either. They were younger, I think.’
‘Right, so you went to the shed to smoke your spliffs, drink your booze, pop your pills and fall asleep. When did you waken up?’
‘Dunno, might have gone to the shed about two or three, then we got up early. We were starving… always get the munchies after smoking.’
Gus and Sampson left the room with Mr Bates tearing a strip off his son. If it hadn’t been for the seriousness of the situation, Gus might have felt sorry for the lad.
‘Well, what do you make of that, Sampson?’
Sampson put on a gormles
s expression that looked just like Matty’s. ‘Dunno.’
Gus laughed. ‘We’ll pass the entire weed information onto drugs, not that they’ll be interested in that. Also, see what information they can give us on blues and, in particular, the suppliers of.’
Alice had watched the interview. ‘Bloody weird, this whole thing, isn’t it, Gus? One murder, one possible accidental death and a missing boy. Doesn’t make sense, really.’
The exact same thought had crossed Gus’ mind whilst he was interviewing Matty. If the girls hadn’t been found in the same house, any link between their deaths would be tenuous at best. ‘No, it doesn’t. There’s something we’re missing at the moment. It’s too coincidental that the girls died at the same party, yet their deaths are so dissimilar. I’m of the opinion that they’re unrelated. The nature of their deaths, to me, hints at two different killers. God knows what to make of Simon Proctor’s disappearance. Is he running scared or is he complicit or even responsible?’ He took a slug from the Wee Bru he’d found on the desk, and grimaced when he noticed it was flat.
‘Listen, Al, you head in and set up the interview with the other kid. I want to catch Mr Bates to reassure him we won’t be pressing charges on the drugs this time. Just wanted to give the kid a fright.’
Alice laughed. ‘You certainly did that, poor kid nearly pissed himself.’
‘I like playing bad cop. It’s a good stress buster. Anyway, when I’ve done that, I’m off to see Simon’s parents again, see if they’ve got anything to add and also to share the news about the drug use. Bet they won’t take too kindly to that. Simon isn’t quite the golden boy they’d like us to believe. DCS Macclesfield has arranged for a televised plea for Si’s safe return, so I’ll brief them on that. Also, Al, set Matty up to look through some piccies of bikers whilst you’re interviewing Jake, yeah?’
26
09:30 Unknown Location
Must’ve dozed off. Lost all track of time in the silence. Cold’s nipping my nose. What if it falls off? What if I get hypothermia, frost bite? Seen a documentary about that, with some explorers in the Antarctica on fucking sledges. Fuck, hope I don’t get that. Half my nose will be mangled – it’ll look like mince. Yuck, I’d look like fucking Quasimodo. Who the hell would lay me then? One of them got their arm stuck in a rock – stupid bastard! Least that’s not gonna happen to me. Most I could get my arm stuck in would be the fuckin chemi loo. Death by shit! Ha ha, that’s funny, death by shit!
Glad I found the lamp, though. I keep it on low. Got to save the gas. Don’t know how long I’ll be here.
Least it’s not too dark. Not like before. Can’t be bothered moving. Exhausted. Fucking camera’s still going off and on. Wonder who the fuck’s watching it? Wish I had my phone, or my laptop. Wonder what’s happening on Facebook. Bet they’re all talking about me. Maybe some of the girls will be crying. Wishing they’d been nicer to me before. Bet they’ll be eating out of my hand when I come home. I’ll be spoilt for choice. Matty and Jake’ll be dead jealous.
What the fuck’s that smell? I lift the blanket and waves of stale body odour waft out. God, I stink. How long have I been here? Can’t remember. A panic flutter bubbles up from nowhere. How long did I zone out for? Hours? Days? Shit, surely not days.
What am I going to do? What am I going to do?
Fuck, where’s my phone… need to check the date? A bubble of panic explodes like a popped balloon in my chest. Where’s it gone? Shit, I remember! The party! Music blaring, more and more people squeezing in, dancing. Fuck, it was hot. House like a damn Tardis. Needed some air. Down to the shed with Matty and Jake… Breathe. Breathe slow… Nice and slow.
Idiot. Check your watch, Si.
Monday. It’s only Monday morning. Everything’s fine. I’m fine. There’s no windows, that’s the problem. No daylight. Nothing to keep my body clock synchronised. I read about that. About folk who go crazy because they can’t see the day change to night. People trapped in places like this… confined spaces, in the dark, with no company and no daylight. Fuck, it’s happening again. I need to breathe. Need to calm down. What did it say in the books? What did it say? That’s me… I’m going stir, fucking, CRAZY!
‘I’m fucking craaazy. Can’t sleep, Can’t see… Oh fucking craaaazy…la di da di la.’
I throw my head back and laugh. This time it doesn’t upset me to hear my voice ricocheting around the cellar. I welcome it. It’s a friend I can talk to, have a conversation with. I jump up and start doing star jumps. Need to get my head right. That’s it… move about. Sing. Talk to myself.
Need to piss again. That’s all I seem to do. Piss, sleep, snack… repeat! Piss, sleep, snack… repeat!
Aw shit, fucking toilet lid’s caught my finger. Is it bleeding? Jamming my finger into my mouth, I suck the blood away like a baby on its dodi. Aw… fuck, that’s gross. Tastes of filth and stale piss. Yeuch! I spit, then again. Bloody taste won’t go. Where’s the water? Two glugs, a gargle, spit… ah, that’s better. Feel a bit light-headed after the star jumps so I sit down to piss, pushing my dick between my legs, like I’m a toddler.
Don’t want to go there… not a fucking toddler! Don’t think about when I were a toddler. Think positive. Forget that shit. It’s in the past. Breathe… slow… breathe.
Least it won’t splash onto my Nikes. Shit, I stink. BO and summat else. Urine… like the lads’ toilets at school. Vile. I dangle my penis for a minute more before standing up, I pull my boxers and jeans up, don’t bother fastening them… let it all hang loose, baby!
Wonder what’s happening outside? Mum and Dad will be home now. They’ll have seen the state of the house. She’ll be furious about the damage. She always keeps it so damn clean. Never a thing out of place, couldn’t breathe there, sometimes, it was stifling… not any fucking more.
They’ll have phoned the police. She’d have been hysterical, and Dad would have taken charge. Wonder where they are right now? Somewhere warmer and more comfortable than here, for sure.
They wouldn’t be at home, though. Coppers will have cordoned it off, like on those stupid CSI programmes mum always watches. Crime scene tape, police, tents… everyone looking for me… there will probably be a TV interview and I’ll be in all the papers. Maybe a search party?
Wish I knew how close they were. Fucking freezing here.
27
09:35 The Fort
‘That you, Jerry?’ Knowles had answered on the first ring. About bloody time too. What didn’t the tosser get about ‘urgent’?
Knowles heard a toilet flushing through the line and when Jerry spoke he had to strain to hear him.
‘Yeah, I got what you want. Mind you, I’m not sure how much shit it is.’
Knowles glanced round, making sure that he was still alone in the office. Last thing he needed was anyone overhearing him getting the dirt on DS Alice ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth’ Cooper. ‘Never mind. I’ll be the shit judge, if you don’t mind.’
‘Okay, okay, keep your hair on and I’ll tell you what I got.’
Knowles’ lips tightened. Johnston better watch his tone. Didn’t the idiot realise that his balls were in a noose and he, Steven Knowles held the end of the rope. Easy enough to tighten. Little by little, he could make Jerry Johnston wish he’d never met him. Knowles was more than happy to tighten it, should the need arise. Clearing his head of his annoyance, he tuned in to what the other man was saying.
‘This DS Alice Cooper seems pretty clean, to me. She was on the fast track. Selected for one of these new units they’ve set up to streamline us. Anyway, seems like she’d been part of a sting on this drug group. Only thing is, stupid cunt didn’t realise her DI was dirty. So, they go into the sting and she’s just about to put the finger on the head of the drug ring, bloke called Big H, when something bad goes down. This is where it’s all a bit hazy. Anyway, the official line is that she senses something behind her and turns, instead of turning straight round she does some dodgy martial arts type spin to the side and duc
ks, just in time to see her DI, firing a dirty gun right at the spot where she’d been standing. Seems she reacted quickly and managed to grab the gun and clout him on the head. By the time the armed response lot get there, the DI’s bleeding and unconscious on the floor and the druggie’s cuffed to a pipe.’
This hadn’t been what Knowles had wanted to hear. He didn’t want to know that Alice Cooper was a damn hero. No, he wanted dirt on the bitch. ‘Fuck! There must have been an enquiry or something?’
On the other end of the phone, Jerry laughed. ‘Yeah, there was. There had to be because the DI, bastard by the name of Kennedy, ended up in a coma – still is, apparently, and with no signs of coming out of it either.’
‘That right, Jerry?’ That was interesting. Had Cooper used unnecessary force? ‘So, what’s the gen on the enquiry?’
‘Well, seems Big H, in order to shave a few years off his sentence, gave evidence against Kennedy. Swore Cooper acted in self-defence and that he supplied the DI with the dirty gun. Cooper was following leads that would implicate her DI. Big H said the plan was to kill Cooper, he’d escape, leave the country and Kennedy would be the hero who managed to wrestle the gun away from an armed man, unfortunately too late to prevent the death of his colleague. Big H said he thought Cooper was getting a bit too close to the truth.’
‘So, she’s the fucking heroine in all this. Not what I wanted you to dig up, Jerry!’
Jerry snorted. ‘I’ve left the best bit for last.’
‘Ah, knew I could rely on you. Let’s have it.’
‘Well, DI Kennedy was apparently diddling his DS.’
Knowles mouth curved into a smile and he punched the air. This was more bloody like it. ‘Go on, I’m all ears.’
‘That’s right. DS Cooper and DI Kennedy were an item. So, stupid cunt was not only betrayed by her boss but by her lover too. Cooper, after the enquiry, which by the way, was hushed up, disappeared for a good three or four months.’
