Innocent Blood (13 page)

Colin had not come to Sherwood’s tonight for a pick-up. He just wanted to be with his own kind, so that he could brood. Think about Paul Snow. Think how he could win him over. Coax the lovely bastard out of his shell. Well, it wasn’t so much a shell as a straitjacket – as he’d told him. They could be good together, mused Bird, as he sipped his gin and tonic, if only Paul would be true to his feelings. The more he drank, the more the fire of determination grew within him. He was not going to be fobbed off. He had lost Brian but he was not going to lose Paul. He would break the fellow down or else he would break the fellow. Whatever he had to do, he would do it to bring about what he wanted. In the mind of this lonely and somewhat disturbed man, the obsession, which only a few days previously had been but a seed, flourished with grotesque growth.

It was while he was on his fourth gin and tonic that a middle-aged man in a double-breasted suit, wearing some kind of club tie, slipped into the chair beside him.

‘Hello, there, chummy,’ he said, his hand slithering over the table to touch Colin’s. ‘Been watching you for a while. Thought you needed cheering up. I reckon I might be the fellow to do it.’

Colin gazed for some moments at the stranger before responding. When he did, he spat the words out with vehemence: ‘Piss off, you queer bastard,’ he said.

Eva Hodge poured herself another generous measure of sherry – up to the brim – and lit up a cigarette. This, along with the telly, was her usual evening’s entertainment. Since her husband had done a bunk with that belly dancer, her life had been dedicated to her little boarding house, business and fags and a few sherries in the evening. As she confided to her neighbour Andrea, actually she got more bodily sensation from a couple of ciggies and several swigs from the cream sherry bottle than she ever did from her ex. Of course, she knew there were a few things missing from her life, but she was happy that one of them was Dennis.

She laid back on the couch and split open a pack of Maltesers. Why not? She knew she had a fat stomach and a saggy bum, but what the hell. At fifty-five the days of trying to lure a bloke to her bed were well over. At her age there were more important appetites. She intended to treat herself, indulge herself until she keeled over in the drinks aisle at the supermarket. The rather dreary drama on TV came to a close as she crunched her last Malteser. Time for bed, she thought. I’ll just watch the late local news and then beddy byes. With some difficulty she pulled herself up in readiness for padding off to her bedroom. The news was as dreary as the drama until something appeared on screen which made her heart jump and her stomach retch. Her chubby fingers reached for the remote control to increase the volume.

There on her television was the face of her new lodger. The version that stared out at her from the screen was clean-shaven and well groomed, the eyes bright with the mouth bearing a natural smile. He was a far cry from the shifty bearded scruff she had just let her spare room to but nevertheless it was the same man. She was sure of it. She only caught the details about the police wanting to interview him. The newsreader quickly moved on to some local football results.

Eva Hodge froze for a moment, her vision blurring and the sound of the television fading to a faint mumble.

‘… the police wanting to interview him …’ Why? What had he done? Was he a rapist? A murderer? Whatever, he was a bloody wrong ’un and he was staying in her house. Christ almighty! At this thought she began to gag and felt her bladder loosen. My God, what was she to do? He might come in at any time and do her in. In desperation she pulled herself to her feet and staggered to the door, the intake of sherry making the room shimmer somewhat. She couldn’t lock herself in because there was no lock on the door to her sitting room. She looked around in befuddled desperation. Her eyes lit upon the armchair. With great effort Eva swung the chair round and rammed it up against the door. In reality she knew that it wouldn’t keep a determined brutish rapist out but it gave her a little comfort.

The fear she felt building up inside her helped to clear her mind and she grabbed the phone. She had to ring the police. Words came awkwardly at first: her mouth was dry and the sherry was still slurring her speech. She hoped to God that the coppers didn’t think this was a hoax call or just some drunk off her head.

‘That man on the telly that the police want,’ she said, desperately trying to articulate each word. ‘He’s here. In my house. I saw his picture on the telly. He’s … got a beard now but it’s him. I know it’s him. He’s here in my house. He could kill me. You’ve got to come and help. Please.’

The voice at the other end asked for details, including Eva’s address.

‘Keep calm,’ the voice said. ‘Someone will be with you shortly.’

‘Thank God.’ Eva replaced the receiver and slumped back on the sofa, tears misting her eyes. She caught sight of the sherry bottle and her hand instinctively reached out for it, but as her fingers clasped the cold glass of the neck, she stopped. Better not, she thought. I need to stay sober. Warily she glanced over to the door and its rather insubstantial barrier, while she hugged herself tightly.

Snow was already in bed when he received the call, but so practised and disciplined was he in matters of getting himself dressed and out of the house at speed that he was turning the ignition of his car ready to set off within five minutes of replacing the receiver.

Eva Hodge’s house was in Berry Rise, the Farwell area of Huddersfield, one of the shabbier locales in the town. It had quite a high crime rate, drugs and prostitution mainly, but it had been the scene of a couple of rather nasty knife attacks, gang related, in the last couple of years. It didn’t take Snow long to locate Berry Rise. There was already a police car with a flashing light parked outside. Apparently the mainstream plods had never heard of the softly, softly catchee monkee approach. Just dive in there with as much illumination and noise as possible, announce your presence to all and sundry, including the guy you are attempting to apprehend. One sight of the flashing blue light and he would have high-tailed for the hills.

There was a burly copper on the door. Paul was about to retrieve his ID but the constable recognised him.

‘Evening, sir.’

Snow nodded and entered the property. He made a left and turned into the main room, where two uniformed officers, one male and female, were talking to a blousy middle-aged woman who was clasping a small tumbler containing a brown fluid. Brandy, whisky or maybe sherry, Snow guessed. She looked distressed, flushed and a little drunk.

‘DI Snow,’ Paul announced himself, more to the officers, than to the woman.

‘DS Scott, sir, and this is DS Perkins.’

‘So, what is the situation?’

‘The man’s not here. His room is empty.’

‘The man’s not here, and he’s unlikely to return, seeing that there’s a police car with flashing lights outside,’ observed Snow, coldly.

‘Here, you, don’t get narky with these two,’ growled Eva Hodge, shuffling herself forward on the sofa, her bleary eyes flashing with annoyance. ‘They’ve saved my bacon. I don’t want that scumbag to come back. I don’t want him anywhere near this place. I could have been murdered in my bed if these two hadn’t turned up to rescue me.’

‘Of course,’ said Snow diplomatically. It would be dangerous to rub the old soak up the wrong way. He could see that alcohol was already making her irrational. He didn’t want to exacerbate her condition by aggravating her. ‘You were very wise to give us a call. You saw the picture on the television news, I gather.’

Eva Hodge nodded. ‘Gave me the fright of my life. Staring out at me. Like a bloody bogey man. I should have trusted my instincts and turned the bastard away. I felt he was a wrong ’un in me waters.’

‘How long has he been your … paying guest?’

‘Only just a few days. I usually have such smart gentlemen. He was rather rough looking, but he was quiet and paid me up front. Mind you, if I’d known … What’s the bastard done?’

‘We just need to talk to him, to help us with our enquiries.’

‘Enquiries about what?’

‘When did you last see him?’

Eva Hodge screwed up her face. ‘Can’t rightly say. As I say, he’s very quiet. I’ll give him that. Hardly know he’s around. This morning. I think. Yes … that’s right. I caught sight of him as he left.’

‘Does he have a car – or a van?’

‘I don’t know. There’s nothing parked outside.’

‘What name did he give you?’

‘Black, Jim Black. But that’s not his real name, is it?’

‘Would you mind showing us his room?’

With some effort, Eva Hodge raised herself from the sofa and made her way to the sideboard. Opening a drawer, she extracted a bunch of keys.

‘This way,’ she said, beckoning to Snow.

‘You two wait here,’ he told the two officers softly and followed the woman out of the door.

The room in which Eva Hodge’s ‘paying guest’ had stayed was basic in the extreme. A naked sixty-watt bulb illuminated the contents in harsh relief. There was a bed, a cheap wardrobe and chest of drawers, and a bedside cabinet topped by a small lamp. Snow dropped down on the floor and checked under the bed. There was a prodigious amount of grey fluff but nothing else. A small holdall dumped by the bed attracted his attention, but on examination it only contained a couple of shirts, some socks and two pairs of underpants. There was nothing else in the room. The drawers and wardrobe were empty. Frank Hirst travelled extremely light, leaving no significant mark. He was a clever and cautious man.

Snow reckoned that his other stuff must be housed in his van, for surely he would have acquired another vehicle. This was a necessity for his mission. He would most likely park it nearby but not where it could be seen from of the house so that Mrs Hodge wouldn’t catch sight of it.

Snow gave the room one final perusal. He would get the SOCO team in there, but he was fairly sure that they would not come up with anything apart from some patches of mould and the odd bed bug or two. Certainly nothing that would further the investigation.

‘The room is off limits for now, Mrs Hodge, until the technical chaps have gone over it looking for clues,’ he said as pleasantly as he could, fully aware that Mrs Hodge did not care for him at all.

‘They’re welcome to it. But am I safe here? What if he comes back and tries to kill me?’

Snow shook his head. ‘There’s no danger of that, but I’ll get one of the officers to stay with you overnight to make sure you’re safe.’

She shuddered. ‘I should have never let the bugger in. I should have relied on my instincts. They told me he was a wrong ’un.’

As they moved on to the landing, she turned the switch, plunging the room into stygian darkness.

‘Did you always want to be a policewoman?’ Elizabeth Saunders played with her hair absent-mindedly as she sat on her bed opposite WPC Angela Dawes.

‘I think so,’ the officer replied gently. ‘It’s good to help people.’

Elizabeth thought for a moment. ‘I think I’d like to be one, too. Is it difficult?’

Angela smiled. ‘If I can do it, I’m sure you can. You have to be dedicated and put a lot of effort into training, but if you are determined, you will make it.’

Elizabeth pulled a wisp of hair towards her mouth. ‘I bet it’s exciting. Do you get to catch a lot of criminals?’

‘I think that’s enough questions for tonight,’ observed Elizabeth’s mother, who had been sitting in the shadows at the far side of the bedroom.

‘Oh, Mum, not yet.’

‘Oh, yes, it’s late and you have school in the morning.’

PC Dawes nodded. ‘Your mum’s right. If you want to be a policewoman, you’ve got to get a good education and you need to be bright and bushy-tailed for school.’

Elizabeth sighed and pouted her lips. ‘OK.’

‘Good girl,’ said PC Dawes, touching the little girl gently on the shoulder.

‘Thanks very much,’ said her mother. ‘I’ll take it from here.’

Angela nodded. ‘She’ll be safe for the night now. I’ll wait downstairs for a while before getting off.’

Mrs Saunders gave a strained smile, stress clearly etched on her pale features. As a single mother, the burden of the last few days had worn her down. The police had been reasonably circumspect as to the extent of the danger that her daughter was in but, as a sensitive, intelligent woman, she had realised it must be pretty serious for them to give her daughter twenty-four-hour protection. ‘Thank you. Thank you for all your help. It’s a comfort to know you’re around.’

‘No problem,’ said Angela, leaving the room to allow mother and daughter some moments of privacy and intimacy before the little girl settled down to sleep. All she had to do now was wait downstairs in the kitchen until ten o’clock when she would be relieved by another officer.

Upstairs, Mrs Saunders was sitting on the bed, stroking her daughter’s forehead as the little girl snuggled down under the covers.

‘It’s nice having a policewoman in the house, isn’t it, Mum?’ the girl said sleepily.

‘You get a good night’s sleep, darling,’ replied her mother, avoiding the issue. ‘No bad dreams, eh?’

‘No.’ Her little mouth opened in a gentle yawn and the eyelids fluttered momentarily before closing.

Mrs Saunders waited a few moments, watching her daughter with love and apprehension as she drifted off to sleep. How could anyone try to hurt such an innocent little thing? At this thought, tears pricked at her eyes and she felt her chest heave. No, no, she told herself. She must not cry. She must not give into emotion. She had to be strong. Stoical should be her watchword. Nothing – nothing – was going to happen to her lovely daughter.

Nothing.

Leaving the pink nightlight on, Mrs Saunders went downstairs.

Across the road, standing in the shadows under a tree, was a dark figure who was staring at the house, his eyes caught particularly by the soft glow from one of the upstairs bedrooms. That must be the little girl’s room, he reckoned. That was his challenge. He knew there was a police officer inside the house as well as the girl’s mother. Those were the two obstacles he had to overcome. Stepping out of the shadows, he crossed the road, his eyes focused on the house as he tried to work out how he could gain access to the property and then ensure his escape. Was it impossible? Maybe. But he couldn’t fail in his mission at this late stage. He didn’t really want anyone else to get hurt – just the child. Just the survivor. He shook his head. As he approached the house, he saw how impossible a task it was. He could easily gain entry, but how was he to snatch the child and escape with her? Get her to his van. Well, he couldn’t, could he? He would have to re-think. It had to be at the school. He would have to snatch her at the school. Somehow. Some way. He had to do it there.