by SJI Holliday
Davie says, ‘So then what? Did you tell anyone what you’d seen or heard?’
‘No,’ Pete looks confused. ‘I’m telling you now. I wanted to go home after that, but I didn’t get to go home because I walked down by the river and I saw Hayley and I said to her, “What did you do to Katie? Katie was nice.” And she said, ‘Fuck off, retard.” Sorry, but she did say that. And then I don’t know, but I think I pushed her out of the way and then there was a splash.’
Louise says, ‘You pushed her into the river? Did you try to help her get back out again?’
Pete laughs, a strange mechanical sound. ‘Of course I didn’t. I told you. Hayley was a bad girl. I went and sat in the bushes and I watched her for a bit. She was loud, really loud. Shouting all the things at me. So in the end I threw her a stick, but it was too heavy and she didn’t catch it. It hit her on the head. She went under the water then, and I couldn’t do anything because I can’t swim.’
‘Did you call for help? Did you phone someone?’
He looks sad for a moment. ‘No,’ he says, ‘my phone ran out of battery. I’d left it on the internet for too long. It always runs out when I do that. I’m waiting for my dad to buy me a new one. I closed my eyes then, because I didn’t want to see her any more. She looked scary, floating there in the water. And it was so cold. But she was bad, wasn’t she? She was a bad girl.’
No one speaks for a moment, trying to take it all in.
Davie says, ‘Interview terminated at 14:37.’ He switches off the tape. ‘I think we need a break, don’t you?’
Rob nods.
Pete says, ‘Could I have a cup of tea, please? And a cheese sandwich? I’m hungry.’
Louise nods. ‘Sure, Pete. I’m going to get someone to come in and look after you for a bit. They’ll take you to another room, and then they’ll bring you some food and a drink. Is that OK?’ She looks at Rob, waiting for a reaction.
‘Sounds good,’ Rob says. ‘Let’s do that, and then we can sort everything out later on.’
‘Then I can tell you about The Collection?’ Pete says. ‘About Katie’s board with the butterflies and the dragonflies? I wish I had the damselfly . . .’
Louise takes a deep breath and walks out of the room.
The damselfly.
42
Neil
‘Is it OK if we go through here?’
Neil nods and follows Detective Jennings to an area behind the front desk. There is a small kitchenette and a couple of chairs. A partition separates it from the desk and the rumbling hubbub of the station’s reception area.
‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘we’re a bit short on space at the moment. I’d take you into one of the interview rooms, but we’ve, er . . . Pete is in one of them and the other is our HQ. This station isn’t big enough for an investigation like this.’
Neil sits down and lets his shoulders drop. He’d been feeling tense and scared since his meeting with Polly and then the bloody awful thing down at the river, but Jennings is making him feel at ease. They all know he had nothing to do with it, but he still has to be questioned. He will have to sign a statement.
‘Tea?’ she says.
He nods again. What is it with these grown-ups and their constant cups of tea? He used to think it was ridiculous, the way everything seemed to be made better after a hot drink, but he realises now that it’s not just about the drink. It’s the ritual – the boiling of the kettle, waiting for it to brew, deciding on milk and sugar. Choosing a biscuit. Delay. Delay. Delay. Then you can talk, right? He’s not complaining, although maybe a wee shot of whisky in the tea would help relax him further.
He zones out as Louise goes through the familiar ritual. The bubbling of the kettle sends him off. He thinks about Hayley, floating towards him in the water. Imagines her screaming, distorted face as she realised she was going to drown. Imagines Pete, crouched there in the bushes, watching. Did he watch? Or did he close his eyes and put his fingers in his ears and hum la la la and pretend that it wasn’t happening?
He closes his eyes, clenches his fists. Wills the images to go away. Katie comes to him then. That smile, head cocked to the side. A wink. Beckoning him with a curled finger.
‘No. No!’
‘Neil, are you OK?’
He opens his eyes. Realises he has shouted out loud. Jennings looks alarmed. Her hand hovers over the cup, spoon inside, teabag halfway out.
‘Sorry, I don’t know what happened there. It’s like I’m having nightmares when I’m awake now.’ He runs a hand through his hair, mutters, ‘Fuck.’
‘Don’t worry. This won’t take long. You’ve already told us what happened, but I just want you to go through it one more time so I can write up a report, then you can sign it off and we’re done.’ She drops the teabag onto a stained saucer. ‘Listen . . . do you have anyone you can talk to about all this? If you need us to sort something out for you – we’ve got victim support, who can help. They aren’t counsellors; they’ll just be there to listen. Or if you need more, it might be worth speaking to your GP. I’m sure that they can get you a speedy referral for trauma . . . and grief, of course. I’m so sorry, Neil. You’ve had a hell of a few days.’
Neil gives her a small smile, then looks away. He can’t deal with the pity in her eyes. He knows that they know about Brooke. What a shit boyfriend he was. Polly will have told them. He’s sure they know about him being there when Mr Crisp got attacked too, but they haven’t asked him. Either they’re waiting for a better time, or maybe they know that he’s not going to tell them anything. There’s no way he’ll tell them that Brooke was responsible for that. Despite her failings as a sister, he’s not going to add to the shit. He’s got a feeling she’s going to wake up soon. See what a stupid little bitch she’s been.
‘I’ll be OK,’ he says. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
* * *
Neil walks out into the biting wind and makes his way down the High Street. He’d normally be tempted to walk down by the river, but the place has lost its appeal. He’s not sure if he will ever go back there. Not after what he saw. He wonders what will happen to Pete. There have been rumours about him in the past, but he’s never been found guilty of anything. Could this be it, after all? Could the police have been wrong about him before? Maybe he was involved with those girls at the Track last summer . . . maybe. No. He didn’t want to think it. Could he have killed Katie too? No. No. Hayley was an accident. He didn’t mean it. He panicked . . .
Don’t think about it. He can’t think about this shit any more. It’s going to drive him mad. He’s walking, rolling a cigarette. His head is down. He’s not paying attention until he walks smack into something and the something shouts at him and shoves him out of the way.
‘Oi, watch it . . . Oh, Neil. It’s you . . . fuck . . .’
‘Quinn? Sorry, pal. What’s up? You look like shit.’
Quinn grabs him by the arm and pulls him into an alleyway, off the street and out of the wind, which has picked up again, throwing icy blasts down the street. ‘Neil, I’m so glad I bumped into you. I need to talk to someone, but I don’t know who . . . I spoke to the police yesterday.’
Neil frowns. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘They wanted to know if there was anything I might know that might help them work out what had happened to Katie. I said I doubted it. She was the only one of that lot who spoke to me, but I didn’t have anything to tell them that they didn’t already know. Anyway . . . actually, can I have one of them?’ He nods towards Neil’s cigarette.
‘I’ll roll it. Carry on.’
‘So, they asked me if I could try speaking to Mandy. Jesus. You know what she’s like. I did phone on Monday night, but she wouldn’t speak. I decided to go round last night. Wasn’t really expecting her to let me in.’ He pauses, takes the rollie from Neil and bends towards him while Neil lights it. He takes a long drag, then takes it out of his mouth, peers at it like David Attenborough discovering a new species. ‘Knock off baccie?’ he says. Neil rolls his
eyes. ‘There was a copper there. She let me in.’ He takes another drag.
‘And? Get on with it, will you? I’m fucking freezing. I was going down Landucci’s for something to eat.’
‘I’d come with you, but I have to get to work. Not that you were inviting me or anything. Right, sorry. Where was I?’
Quinn is fidgety, nervous. Neil wonders if he might be back on the smack, but, looking at his eyes, it doesn’t seem likely. They are clear and alert. It’s just the rest of him that’s jittering like a road worker with a Kango hammer.
‘I spoke to Mandy. She was . . . fuck. She was out of it. Off her face. Drink, I think. Not drugs. But too much, you know? I think she might be on vallies too. The two combined has quite an effect. Anyway, she was rambling. Talking shite. At least I think it was shite. I don’t really want to believe there was any truth in it. She was confused. That’s all it was—’
‘Spit it out, Quinn. Fucksake!’
‘She said . . .’ He takes another drag on the cigarette. Drops it on the ground and grinds it with his heel. ‘She said that she saw someone leaving the house . . . and that . . . fuck. She said that Katie was still alive when she came back from work.’ He gives Neil a look. A look that says, I don’t want to think about what the fuck this might mean.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Neil says. ‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ He pokes his head out from the alleyway, out onto the street. No one is nearby. No one has heard. But this changes everything. If it’s true, it means that Mandy was in the house when Katie was killed. It means . . . that Mandy knows the killer. Fuck. No wonder she’s been in such a state. ‘We need to go to the police, Quinn. Right now.’
‘But—’
‘I’m not arguing. Come on. I’ll walk back with you.’
43
Louise
They pull up outside Mandy’s house. The street looks dull, desolate. A piece of broken crime-scene tape flaps in the breeze. The snow has gone now, leaving dirty grey pavements, leached of life and colour. The bare trees look bored. Indifferent. It’s only been a few days since they first came to this house, saw Katie in her bedroom for the last time. Less than twenty-four hours since Lucas Crisp was set upon by a mob of ill-informed yobs. No time at all since the body of Hayley Marsh was found floating in an icy pool.
‘Well?’ Louise says, as they walk together up the path to the front door. ‘What’s all this about?’
‘We’ll soon find out,’ Davie says. He holds his finger down on the doorbell.
No answer.
‘Go round the back,’ Davie says.
Louise is opening the side gate when the front door squeaks open. ‘What do yous want?’ Mandy’s voice is tired, slurred. As Louise walks back towards the front door, she can detect the smell of stale alcohol in the stilled air.
‘OK if we come in for a minute?’ Louise says.
Mandy opens the door wider. Louise is shocked by what she sees. On Monday, when they’d first arrived here, the house had been tidy. Mandy had looked as normal as she could, under the circumstances. She was clean, in decent clothes. Today is a different story. She stinks of fags and booze. Her hair is hanging in greasy clumps. She looks like she’s slept in her clothes.
They step inside and close the door behind them. Mandy has already retreated to the kitchen, where the air is tinged with smoke. Inside, the place is littered with empty cans, bottles. Several ashtrays heaped with fag butts. A few polystyrene chip wrappers are scattered around.
‘Are you going to sit down? I’d offer you a tea, but I don’t think we’ve got any milk. There’s beer in the fridge . . .’
‘No, thanks,’ Davie says. ‘We won’t be long. Just wanted to check a couple of things with you.’
‘Like what?’ Mandy lights another cigarette off the end of the last.
Louise sits down opposite the woman. Tries for a soothing tone. They don’t know how much she’s had to drink. They have to try and keep her calm. ‘We’ve uncovered some new information . . . we just wanted to double-check with you what time it was you got home on Monday morning. You know, in case you’d got confused with the times, what with everything happening. If you came back a wee bit earlier than you thought you did, you might’ve seen something. Maybe you didn’t realise . . .’
‘That bastard.’ She said it under her breath, and Louise wasn’t sure she’d heard right at first.
‘Sorry, what—’
‘That bastard. Fucking Quinn. I thought I could trust him.’
Louise glances at Davie, and he pulls out the other chair and sits down. ‘Trust him with what, Mandy?’
She starts sobbing. The hand holding the cigarette falls towards the table and Louise reaches across and removes the cigarette, placing it in the ashtray. She squeezes Mandy’s hand. ‘What did you see, Mandy? Quinn told us he came round to see you . . . said you told him you’d come home earlier than you said . . . said you’d seen someone leaving the house.’
Her sobs turn into a wail. She starts to cough. Davie pushes his chair back, goes across to the sink and finds a cup, rinses it. Returns with a cup full of water for her. She tries to take it, but her hand is shaking too much.
‘Who did you see, Mandy?’
She stops crying. Gives Louise a hard stare. ‘That fucking weird kid. Fuck knows what’s wrong with him, but he clearly got it from his mother’s side of the family.’
‘Who, Mandy?’
‘Pete! Pete Brotherstone!’
Davie puts a hand on Louise’s arm, indicating that he’s going to take this. ‘Where did you see him, Mandy?’
‘Walking down my path. Happy as fucking Larry – he had our Katie’s beasties under his arm. I couldn’t work out what was going on. Why did he have it? She’d never have given that to anyone. Not unless . . .’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless she was shagging them, or something. I couldn’t believe it. Her and that bloody freak? He’s no’ right. Everyone knows that. Gets away with God knows what, all ’cause of that father of his.’
‘Martin?’
‘Aye. Martin.’ She spits out his name like it’s given her a bad taste in her mouth.
‘So then what happened?’
‘Well, I marched upstairs to see our Katie, didn’t I? I had to find out what was happening. I mean, she wasn’t to know, but still . . . I couldn’t understand what she was doing with him. I’d seen Brett hanging about with him, warned him off too. But Katie . . . and she had no idea who he was . . .’
Louise feels her heart start to beat faster.
‘And who is he, Mandy? Apart from being Martin’s son . . .’
Mandy snorts. She nods towards Davie. ‘He knows. He must fucking know.’
‘Know what, Mandy? You’ve lost me . . .’
‘Mandy . . . was Katie alive when you went upstairs?’
Mandy looks away. ‘I need a drink,’ she says. ‘OK if I get myself a drink in my own bloody house?’ She stands up and wobbles towards the fridge. That’s when Louise realises how drunk she really is, although she has been handling it fairly well up to now.
‘Mandy,’ Davie says. He stands up. Walks round to where Mandy is pouring lager into a glass; her hand is shaking and she is sloshing most of it on the worktop. ‘Was Katie alive when you went into her bedroom?’
Mandy picks up the glass and downs it.
‘No, of course she wasn’t. I already told you. I came back home, and I . . . I held her wrist, but it was too late,’ she says, eventually. Her voice is shaking almost as much as her hands. She won’t look Louise in the eye.
‘Are you sure, Mandy? Can you make sure you have a good long think about this before you answer, because this is really, really important, OK? Was Katie alive when you came back to the house?’
Mandy pours more vodka into her glass and starts to cry.
44
Polly
Polly feels sick. Pete Brotherstone. The janitor’s assistant. The one that Brooke called a retard. Horrible word, but kids are cruel. She k
nows plenty about that. Polly has only met him briefly. He’d seemed quiet, maybe a bit strange. But was there something wrong with him? Was he dangerous? She wants to call the police, tell them about this. But first she wants to hear it from Brett.
‘Tell me about Boggy then. About Pete. You said you played in the woods sometimes. Went hunting?’
‘I told you. Not real hunting. He hasn’t got a gun or anything. He used to hang round with a guy called Jake. They used to shoot stuff. Little things, like voles and rabbits. But one time Jake caught a badger. I’ve seen it. It’s gross.’
‘What do you mean, you’ve seen it?’
‘They stuffed it. Well, sort of. I don’t think they had the proper chemicals and things you need to do it properly. Most of the stuff they have in The Collection is just bones now. It stinks a bit, but it’s cool. Maybe he can bring it in to school one day, to show you?’
Polly shudders, imagining this. And the mention of Jake scares her too. Jake was mixed up in what happened at Black Wood. He was mixed up with Jo and Claire too. Everything seems to be turning full circle.
‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea,’ she says. ‘But tell me more about it. You said something before, about insects.’
His face lights up. ‘Yes – the insects were really, really cool. Katie knew how to fix those up properly. Mr Crisp taught her, she said.’ His face grows dark again. ‘I miss Katie. I never thought any of this would happen. I just wanted him to be my friend. Wanted him to think I was worth hanging out with.’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
‘Because I’d never caught us anything good. But then I told him about Katie’s damselfly, and he got really excited then. He wanted to see it. I knew Katie wouldn’t let me bring the board into school, especially not when the glass was broken on the front of her display. She’d smashed it herself, by accident, trying to hang it up. Mr Crisp was going to help her fix the glass, but they never did it. So I knew there was no way she would let me bring it in to school to show Pete. Can I have a biscuit, please?’
