by GS Rhodes
It didn’t surprise Kidd too much that this group of boys had been a nightmare to deal with. David gave off the energy of the kinds of boys that Kidd hated to be around when he was growing up. Asim less so, but knowing that they were giving Mr Paige and the other faculty members a hard time didn’t shock him.
“So, was there anything at the wake that seemed strange to you?” Kidd asked. “We’ve been trying to trace James’ last movements and we’ve managed to pinpoint the murder happening somewhere around ten-thirty.”
“Are you asking me if someone at the wake followed James home and murdered him?” Asim seemed shocked by this. He wondered how much James’ parents had told the other boys about how brutal the killing was, how calculated. David seemed to know a lot, so Asim should have been brought up to speed.
“I’m asking because I want to know if there’s anyone else from the wake that we need to speak to,” Kidd said. “At this stage, it’s very early in our investigations and we don’t want to rule anything out.”
“Oh wow,” Asim breathed. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think.”
“Nothing jumped out at you as strange?” Kidd asked.
Asim shook his head, his dark eyes wide and innocent looking. “I’m sorry.” He opened his mouth to speak again but stopped himself.
“What?” Kidd asked. “What was that?”
“It’s probably nothing,” Asim said. “I don’t want to cause him any more trouble than he’s already going through.”
Kidd sat up a little straighter, a chill snaking its way down his back. He already felt like he knew where this was going.
“Tell us,” Owen pressed. “It might not seem like something to you but if it opens up a new line of enquiry it’s worth mentioning.”
Kidd shot a look of confusion at DC Campbell. Whatever it was he’d had for breakfast that morning, he needed to adopt it as part of his daily routine. He wasn’t usually one to give out credit to Campbell, but he was on fire.
Asim sighed. “Just, Robin Paige,” he said.
“Robin Paige?” Kidd repeated. “Gregory Paige’s son.”
Asim nodded. “He was in our class at school and…I don’t know. We never really spoke to him all that much, sometimes we gave him a hard time but never anything serious. He was just acting a little bit off.”
“Off?”
“I’ve not seen him in years so it’s probably nothing,” Asim said, but the way he had taken his eyes off the two officers, the way he was fidgeting with his hands, told Kidd that there was something there. “He was just acting a little bit weird. More sketchy than usual. Nervous maybe. I’m not saying that he was planning on, I don’t know, following James home and killing him but…I don’t know. He was always a bit of a weirdo…”
Asim trailed off and took a sip of the tea that his mother had left for them on the table. Kidd followed suit and did the same, not taking his eyes off Asim. He wanted to know more about the dynamic between the boys and Robin. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for the bullies to have a different recollection of events than the victim, so maybe Robin would be the best person to speak to. But if Robin had something to do with it, how forthcoming would he be at this stage?
“Anything else to add?” Kidd asked, noticing Campbell’s phone buzzing on the table. Another message from Powell with another address. This was going to be a productive morning after all. If nothing else, they would have details from most, if not all of the lads about what had happened at the wake. It would be a start at least. “Anything about James or any of your friends?”
Asim looked up sharply. “You don’t think it could have been one of the guys, do you?” he spat.
“At this stage we can’t rule anything out,” Kidd said. “I know they’re your pals but if anyone was acting strangely or out of the ordinary-“
“Stephen,” Asim said quickly, blurting it out. “Stephen London.”
Kidd blinked and stared intently at Asim. He looked at his notebook for a moment, the names of the five lads on the first page. James, David, Tom, Asim, Bill. Who the bloody hell was Stephen?
“Who the bloody hell is Stephen?” he growled.
“He said he was coming to the wake,” Asim said. “He was another one of our lot, said he was going to meet us there and then never showed up.” His voice went quiet at the end, high pitched, nervous. “You don’t think he—?”
“Don’t go jumping to any conclusions now, Asim,” Kidd said, trying to ease the boy who was now visibly shaking.
“He’s not been replying to messages or anything,” Asim continued. “I didn’t know if something had happened to him or... Or maybe…” He trailed off again, his eyes getting watery. Kidd hadn’t wanted to rattle the boy quite so much, he’d only wanted to get a few answers out of him. It had worked, he supposed.
“Can we get a phone number for Stephen, please? We’ll see if he’s been reported missing, and we’ll be in touch if anything comes up, okay?” Kidd offered Asim his warmest smile. He barely sent anything back. Maybe Kidd would need to work on that. Bedside manner had never been his strong point.
With nothing left to be gotten from Asim, Kidd and Owen said their goodbyes and left him with a phone number should he think of anything else. On the way down the corridor, Kidd found himself looking at the pictures on the walls, old school photos of Asim in the same uniform they had seen James in on the mantelpiece of his parents’ living room.
Near the front door was a larger picture, one that featured a lot of students in those uniforms. It was one he had seen from a distance at James Blythe’s house, one that now intrigued him as he could see it up close. Kidd turned to Asim.
“Where are you in this?” he asked, pointing at the photograph.
Asim broke into a smile again as he looked at the picture. “We were in Year 7, so right down the front…here.” He pointed to the far right corner of the picture. He could see David and James there too, the six of them pulling funny faces at the camera while the rest of them looked stoically forward. “I swear you can see my brother looking annoyed if you stare hard enough for long enough.”
“How old is your brother?”
“Six years older,” Asim said. “So I was just starting school and he was getting ready to finish.” He scanned the photo again and pointed at a boy who looked quite similar to how Asim looked now staring stern-faced at the camera.
Kidd’s gaze slid over to the guy who was standing next to Asim’s brother. To his surprise, he knew that face. He knew it very well indeed.
“Something wrong boss?” Campbell asked.
“No, nothing at all,” Kidd said, forcing a smile. But there was a face in the picture that he knew better than most, clear as day. Craig Peyton.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
No matter what Benjamin Kidd seemed to do, he couldn’t escape the ghost of Craig. Now more than ever it seemed to be following him everywhere he went. Whenever he decided that he wasn’t going to have anything to do with it anymore, there would be something else, something to drag him back in Craig’s direction.
It was enough to make him want to get out of Asim’s house as quickly as possible. Thankfully the interview was done and they could move on, but even Owen seemed to notice that something was different about Kidd when they got back in the car.
Kidd, however, was grateful that he didn’t make anything of it.
They made their way to the next address that Simon had given them, once again not driving too far from Asim’s parents house to get there. Tom Deaver was much the same as Asim. He was devastated about what had happened to James and offered a pretty similar statement to Asim, but with a few more details.
James had gone outside for a little while and had seemed a little bit drunker when he came back, but no one really thought too much of it. Kidd didn’t remember pathology finding anything but alcohol in his system, but maybe it was worth checking the paperwork again just in case. It was possible whoever he had been speaking to had done something. Maybe it was Robin after all,
or another old school friend. Either way, it was giving them an awful lot to think about as they made their way back to the station in the early part of the afternoon.
“I don’t know, boss,” Campbell said. “You know what they say.”
“What do they say, Campbell?” Kidd said, knowing that he would probably regret asking. Perhaps whatever super breakfast that had made Campbell so good early on in the day had finally worn off.
“Sometimes the obvious choice is the right one.”
Kidd looked away from the road to Campbell. He was going to need a little bit more than that.
“Robin Paige,” Campbell said. “He’s been mentioned by three of the guys. I bet if Simon manages to track down Bill and we find Stephen, they end up mentioning him too.”
“But did you notice how the parents didn’t know who Robin was?”
“What’s that now?”
“James Blythe’s parents gave us the names of David, Bill, Tom, and Asim,” Kidd said. “At no point did they mention Robin.”
“They obviously weren’t that close with him,” Owen said, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms. “Simple.”
“They were bullies and troublemakers,” Kidd said, bluntly. “I think that Robin is the person we need to talk to about that. Look, bullies know what they’re doing, but most of the time, they don’t truly understand the impact and damage they’re doing to their victims. If those boys had been nightmarish to Robin, that could have affected him for the rest of his life.” And, Kidd thought, if Robin’s school time was anything like mine, there’s no way that any of the teachers would have gotten involved to stop it.
There were few things that burned Kidd up more.
“So you think he did it?”
Kidd took a breath. “He might have,” Kidd said, shrugging. “I’m not excusing him if he did, but the motive is pretty clear isn’t it?”
“So we agree,” Campbell said.
Kidd begrudgingly nodded. “Yes, we do,” he said. “I just don’t like it. It feels…I don’t know, it feels too simple.”
Revenge could be a pretty powerful motivator. He’d seen it in the past, seen what it could do to people. He wondered if Zoe had managed to pick anything up from Mrs Paige. She may have even had an opportunity to speak to Robin about it.
“So do we bring him in?” Campbell asked.
Kidd hesitated. On any other day he would have said yes, he would have driven round to the house and dragged him into the station to get the truth out of him, if that’s what the truth was. But his earlier talk with DCI Weaver was making him second-guess himself.
Weaver wanted everything to be done by the book, to the absolute letter, so with that in mind, Kidd needed to wait. They could go and have a chat with him, something DS Sanchez may have already done, but they needed to gather as much evidence as possible and bring him in when they could so without any doubt, or at least without the doubt that was still niggling in the back of Kidd’s mind.
“I don’t know,” Kidd said.
“You think it might have been one of his friends?” Campbell said, turning to look out his window as they drove over Kingston Bridge, getting onto the one way system so they could get back to the station.
“I don’t know,” Kidd said. “We don’t know enough. We need to talk to Stephen. He might be the missing piece.”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t want to rule anything out at this stage,” Kidd said. “All options open. Everyone is a suspect.”
Owen Campbell sighed heavily. “The best kinds of cases, right boss?”
“I love them like a hole in the head.”
Campbell’s phone rang. “Hello?” He listened to the caller for a moment before putting it on speaker phone. “It’s Simon,” he added.
“What’s up Simon? You got an address for Bill?”
“No, sir,” Simon said, sounding somewhat sheepish. Kidd could practically see his cheeks going red as he said it. Simon was a people pleaser for sure, and he wouldn’t want to disappoint Kidd. “Couldn’t get through to him, been trying all morning.”
“So no address, no nothing?”
“No, sorry,” Simon said. “Did you get anything from the other lads?”
“We’ll fill you in when we make it back, have Zoe and Janya arrived yet?”
There was a sound in the background. “Just walked in.”
“Alright,” Kidd said. “Grab the coffees, we’ll debrief as soon as we’re back.”
Campbell hung up and Kidd swung the car down Eden Street and towards the police station. They needed to get all of their ducks in a row. It had been a productive morning and a lot of information had come to light, he just didn’t know how much of it would be useful.
And then there was Bill.
He could have been at work, of course. Maybe Bill was like James and still lived and worked in the area, didn’t know that the police would be out wanting to ask questions first thing on a Monday morning. But there was still an anxious feeling in Kidd’s chest. He hoped the lad was alright.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
There were more cars in the car park than Kidd had expected when they made it back to Kingston Police Station. There were a few people hanging around with cameras, a couple more hooked to their phones, staring at them as if they were waiting for them to ring. Kidd could recognise them anywhere. In fact, there were a few that he did recognise from the local rags, freelance photographers and journalists out looking for a scoop.
“Inside, quickly,” Kidd growled as he turned off the engine.
No sooner had they stepped from the car and a few of them descended, pecking at the two of them with questions, camera bulbs flashing as they walked to the entrance of the station. It made Kidd’s chest feel tight knowing there was nothing he could do about it, nothing he could say to make them stop, nothing he could give them that would make them go away. He just needed to keep walking.
Diane offered Kidd a small smile as he walked through the door, Owen in tow. “They’re out for you again, eh Kidd?” she said.
He sent a smile her way. She always managed to pull a smile out of him even on the darkest of days. “What can I say?” he said. “They know a star when they see one. Obviously need something for their front page.”
Diane laughed. “Front page! You should be so lucky!”
They passed through the security doors and started down the corridor towards the Incident Room. The station around the middle of the day was a hive of activity. They were coming up for shift change so there was a lot of movement. Had it not been for his towering stature—and the way he’d locked onto Kidd’s location with such an intense stare—Kidd might not have noticed DCI Weaver up ahead.
“You carry on, Campbell,” Kidd said. “I’ll be with you all in a moment.”
Campbell nodded and headed on down the corridor to the Incident Room. DCI Weaver nodded to his office door and ushered Kidd inside. This wasn’t going to be good, Kidd could feel it in his bones.
Weaver closed the door behind Kidd, the hustle and bustle of the corridor giving way to an uneasy silence. Kidd took a seat opposite Weaver’s desk, Weaver walking around to sit across from Kidd as they had done many times before.
“What have you got for me?” Weaver asked.
“Excuse me?”
“What have you got?” he repeated. “I assume that’s what you’ve been up to this morning. You’ve been out doing interviews, collecting information.”
“We’re following leads,” Kidd said. “We interviewed James Blythe’s family last night, that lead us to interviewing most of his friends today—”
“Most of?”
“There are two that we can’t get hold of,” Kidd said. “Well, one we can’t get hold of, one we didn’t even know existed until about an hour ago.”
“How does that work?”
“He wasn’t at the wake,” Kidd said. “Apparently, no one has heard from him for a couple of days, which doesn’t fill me with a huge amount of confidenc
e.”
“Hmmm,” Weaver sat back in his chair, running a meaty hand across his chin. He really looked quite harried. His hair wasn’t in its usual neat, presentable state, the bags under his eyes were more pronounced, even his suit looked like it hadn’t been to the dry cleaners for a long time. He just seemed out of sorts, and if Kidd didn’t think it would get his head bitten off again, he would have asked why.
“Sanchez and Ravel went to see Mrs Paige, the widow of the man whose wake James attended,” Kidd continued.
“Anything from that?”
Kidd allowed a smirk to tug at the corners of his mouth. “We just got back, sir. I was on my way to find out.”
“Very good, very good,” Weaver muttered, taking his gaze off Kidd and turning it to the wall. Kidd could practically hear the cogs turning in his head, rusty old cogs that seemed to be struggling to get the job done. He really was somewhere else. Half focussed on this, half focussed on whatever else it was going on in his life. “You’ll keep me informed?”
“Of course, sir,” Kidd said. “As soon as I know something, you’ll know something.”
“And you’re following—”
“The protocol, yes, boss,” Kidd said. “I heard you loud and clear.”
“Thanks, Kidd,” he replied, letting out a heavy breath. “Don’t mean to harp on you, but Superintendent Charles is…well, for want of a better phrase, he’s on the warpath.”
Kidd resisted the urge to say something about how that must have been where the gaffer got it from, but he thought better of it given how he’d exploded at Kidd earlier.
“Station is swarming, sir, have you seen?” Kidd said. “Have you given them anything?”
Weaver sighed. “Diane let me know they were asking a lot of questions,” he grumbled. “We’ve not given them anything but there’s some stuff they’ve found out from the family. It’s enough that they’re putting out all sorts of shit online. No one has the details yet.”
