Like This, for Ever (22 page)

‘Whoever found the body last night contacted the police anonymously,’ the detective was saying. ‘Whilst we appreciate their efforts to let us know immediately, we do need to ask them some further questions. If you were anywhere near this yard last night, please contact Lewisham police station as soon as you can.’

‘Morning, Barney.’

His dad looked tired, a bit more crumpled around the edges of his face than normal. ‘I see they found him.’ He was looking over Barney’s head at the TV screen, at footage taken the night before of a large black bag being carried out of the yard. ‘Poor kid.’

‘Isn’t that where Granddad’s boat is?’ said Barney, watching his father’s face carefully.

His dad screwed up his eyes, stepped closer to the screen. ‘Looks like it,’ he said after a moment. ‘Was he found at Theatre Arm Marina?’

‘That’s what they said,’ said Barney. ‘Must have been just by Granddad’s boat.’

His dad scratched the back of his neck. ‘Well, it’s a big area. All the same, we should pop down there soon, make sure it’s alright. Maybe when all the fuss has died down.’

Apparently losing interest in the TV, his dad opened the dishwasher to find it empty. Barney had already washed all the cocoa mugs by hand and put them away. The KitKat wrappers were in the outside bin and the sitting-room looked as if no one had been near it.

‘Why are you back so early?’

Barney shrugged. ‘We all woke up early,’ he said. ‘I didn’t really want to hang around.’

‘Bit messy, was it?’ teased his dad. ‘Dirty socks on the carpet?’

‘Something like that,’ admitted Barney, wondering if he found lying so easy because his dad did. Maybe it was a genetic thing.

‘Make sure you marry a tidy woman, son, or neither of you will have any peace.’

Like you did
, Barney wanted to say. His mum had been tidy.
Is that a genetic thing, too? Did I get my tidiness from Mum and my ability to lie from you?
He couldn’t say it out loud. Mentioning Mum was a taboo he couldn’t possibly break. Even now.

‘Are we going to watch the rugby this morning?’ his dad asked him.

The others from last night would be at the rugby. He could check none of them were having jitters. Reassure them they’d got away with it. The body had been found and no one suspected they’d been involved. It was all fine.

Barney ran upstairs. He just had time to check Facebook before he went. He found his jacket, hat, scarf and gloves while he waited for the system to boot up. He logged on to Facebook and went to the Missing Boys page.

Christ, everyone on the planet had been on the site this morning, he’d never have time to read through it all. Barney started scrolling down. The usual messages of sympathy, expressions of outrage, taunts from the sickos. Barney kept going, looking for the earliest time the news about Tyler’s body could have been broadcast.

Shortly after midnight, the boy calling himself Peter Sweep had posted.

Badly decomposed body of Tyler King pulled out of Deptford Creek at 10.30 this evening. Slightly damp. Who said he would never be found? Never is an awfully long time, and murder will out. Even mine.

Peter had finally admitted that he was the killer.

‘
NO, SORRY. I
think her face was thinner. The sort of face that would be pretty, if it had a bit more flesh on it.’

‘Like this?’

Dana leaned back on her chair. Her eyes were getting sore from spending too long staring at one image on a computer screen. The image of a Caucasian woman, in her late thirties to early forties. ‘Yeah, that’s better. But shorter. A smaller face.’

The image on the screen compressed.

‘Bigger eyes. There was something a bit elfin about her. Yeah, that’s getting closer.’

‘How’s the mouth?’

The mouth was unsmiling, medium in size, full lips with a good natural colour.

‘You know what? I think that’s as close as we’re going to get,’ she said. ‘Can you run a check? See if there’s anything on the system.’

‘No worries. You expecting her to have a police record?’

Dana thought about it for a second. ‘I won’t be at all surprised,’ she said. ‘I’ve definitely seen her before.’

WHEN BARNEY AND
his dad arrived at the rugby club, the Chiswick Crusaders were leading ten points to five against the Lambeth Lions. The wind was rough, stirring up hair and scarves and tempers. Barney took in the field, and knew it was a game without the usual rhythm and grace, a game of irritable break-outs, subdued tension and an undercurrent of violence.

He spotted Sam and Lloyd standing with their dads, some way apart as they’d agreed, and Jorge, Harvey and Hatty, who seemed to have come without adults. Also Huck Joesbury, next to a tall woman with long blonde hair. On the other side of the pitch Mr and Mrs Green stood together. Mrs Green spotted them and gave Barney a wave.

As Barney and his dad approached the touchline, Chiswick were in possession and on the attack. A slick back-row move saw Chiswick’s number 8 slip the ball to one of the two flankers, who threw a long pass to the other. The second flanker, Barney realized, was Huck’s dad. Joesbury Senior accelerated forward from the touchline, sidestepped a tackle, reached the try line and dived over. The Chiswick supporters cheered and Huck jumped in the air, both fists raised above his head.

Jorge, Hatty and Harvey were making their way towards Barney. Both Sam and Lloyd slipped away from the adults too.

‘Won’t be a sec,’ Barney announced, stepping away from his dad. Together the boys and Hatty walked down the touchline until they knew they couldn’t be overheard.

‘Anybody have any trouble?’ asked Jorge. One by one the children shook their heads.

‘Our mum nearly rang yours, Lloyd, to thank her this morning,’ said Harvey, ‘but Jorge told her the whole family would be at church.’

‘What’s church?’ said Lloyd.

‘I still think we should say something,’ said Sam. ‘They’re bound to find out we were at the Creek.’

‘They won’t,’ said Barney. ‘No one saw us, and even if they did, they just saw a bunch of kids. There are thousands of kids in London. And we left it over an hour before sending that text.’

‘Barney’s right,’ said Jorge. ‘There’s no reason for anyone to connect a bunch of kids in the yard with the body.’

‘Is it definitely Tyler?’ asked Hatty.

‘They haven’t said for certain yet,’ said Barney. ‘They need to do the post-mortem first, but everyone’s assuming it is.’

‘I still think we should say something,’ said Sam. ‘What do you call it? Withholding evidence?’

‘We’re not withholding anything,’ said Jorge. ‘We saw the body and we reported it. What else could we tell them?’

‘We could tell them it leaped out of the water. That Harvey saw somebody swimming,’ said Sam.

‘Oh, like they’re going to believe that,’ said Barney. ‘If we start talking about people swimming in the river at night, and dead bodies moving around by themselves, they’re going to assume we’re lying and we know more than we do.’

‘He’s right,’ said Jorge. ‘They can arrest kids our age, you know, keep us all locked up for days. I don’t like it much either, but I think Barney’s right. We say nothing.’

‘What about that bloke on Barney’s boat? He could have been the murderer.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ snapped Barney. ‘Tyler was killed weeks ago.’

‘He could have been keeping the body on the boat, and gone there on Saturday to dump him.’

Why had Barney never realized before how stupid Sam could be?

‘That body had been in the river for weeks,’ said Jorge. ‘The bloke on the boat was probably just some tramp who fancied a dry bed for the night. Next time you go down there, Barney, suggest to your dad that you might need to change the locks again.’

‘I will,’ said Barney.

Shouts from the spectators near by distracted them for a second. Three of the players had gone for the ball at the same time and fallen into a ruck, with each player trying to kick the ball away.

‘He’s gouging, dirty bastard!’

‘Come on, ref! Sin bin!’

One player scrambled up, then the other two. Huck’s dad had possession.

‘Guys, did anyone check Facebook this morning?’ said Harvey. ‘Dead freaky. That Peter Sweep bloke was on at midnight, while the police were probably still there, saying Tyler had been found. How would he know that if he isn’t the killer?’

‘Knowing the body had been found doesn’t make him the killer,’ said Barney. ‘There’s no reason why the killer would have been anywhere near the Creek last night.’

‘Peter Sweep must have been there, though.’

‘Probably just got contacts in the police, or the morgue,’ said Jorge.

‘Morning, lads.’

‘Since when am I a lad, Sir?’

‘I beg your pardon, Hatty. Good morning to you, too.’

Mr Green, the games teacher, wearing the blue and white hooped strip of Lambeth Lions, had approached without their noticing. They really had to be more careful. He could have heard anything.

‘You not playing, Sir?’ asked Harvey.

‘I’m going on at half-time.’ Mr Green looked from one pale face to the next. ‘You lot look a bit bleary-eyed. Bit of a late night, was it?’

‘Study sleepover, Sir,’ said Jorge. ‘We were up quite late discussing
War and Peace.
’

Mr Green raised his right foot behind him, grasped it and pulled upwards, stretching the muscles in his right thigh. ‘Yeah, and I’d call
your bluff on that one if I’d ever read it myself,’ he replied, with a wobble and a grin. ‘Will I see you older ones at football on Tuesday night?’

‘Not me, Sir, because I’m a girl,’ said Hatty.

‘Girls play football,’ said Sam.

‘Only butch ones,’ Hatty told him.

‘You alright, Barney?’ Mr Green was looking at him oddly. He realized the conversation had been going on without him. He’d been staring at the ground like a dork.

Barney made himself look back steadily. ‘
War and Peace,
Sir,’ he said. ‘It’s a very thought-provoking book.’

‘See you, then.’ Mr Green nodded at the group and jogged off along the touchline.

‘Shit, she’s here!’ Harvey dodged behind his elder brother, as if trying not to be seen.

Panic hit the group.

‘Who is?’

‘Where?’

‘Don’t look, idiot! The policewoman. The one we sent the text to.’

Barney fixed his gaze on the match and then let his eyes wander to the left. Harvey was right. Lacey Flint was walking towards them along the path from the car park. Her hair, which she normally kept tied back, was flying around her head. She looked like a mermaid. Or a siren.

‘Crap, she is too,’ said Lloyd. ‘She’s coming towards us.’

‘For God’s sake, calm down,’ said Jorge. ‘And don’t look at her. She doesn’t know a thing.’

‘She must do.’

‘She can’t prove it,’ said Barney, before raising his voice. ‘Chiswick are having a go at goal.’

‘I’m getting out of here.’

‘Don’t move,’ said Jorge. ‘If we leave, it will look suspicious. She’s probably not in the slightest bit interested in us.’

‘So why’s she here?’

‘She knows Huck Joesbury’s dad,’ said Barney. ‘She’s probably come to watch him play.’

‘Which is Huck’s dad?’

‘Number 7, open side flanker. Now will you watch the frigging game?’

The kids on the touchline were watching her approach. Lacey studied each in turn. The smaller boy was edgy and nervous. The girl was bold-faced and defiant, just like she’d been at that age, but scared underneath it. The young were so bad at hiding their feelings. All except Barney, who, she had to admit, was a pretty cool customer. He’d turned back to watch the match again, she’d almost be convinced if it weren’t for the angle of his head. He was watching her. Then the taller of the boys followed his lead, turning his back on Lacey, slinging an arm round Barney’s shoulders, saying something a little louder than necessary. Then he laughed. Barney laughed too, as though the two of them had just shared something hilarious.

As Lacey drew close, the girl looked her up and down, sizing up everything she was wearing, and then turned her back, as though she wasn’t worth any more interest. Little minx. The younger boys couldn’t take their eyes off her. They were like small mammals when a snake gets ready to strike.

Lacey was tempted to make them sweat for a while, but she really needed to talk to Barney this morning, away from his father, and if she wasn’t careful, this lot would scarper.

‘Lacey!’

She jumped, and turned to see the tall, blonde woman with brown puppy-dog eyes and the skinny, dark-haired child. Detective Chief Superintendent Helen Rowley of the Tayside Police, Dana Tulloch’s long-term partner. And not necessarily someone she could count on as a friend any more.

If Helen was aware of the spat of the night before, though, she seemed determined to ignore it. She came up close, put a hand on Lacey’s shoulder and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘And have you met this little fella?’ she asked, looking down at the boy whose head just reached her elbow.

Inexplicably, Lacey felt the same pang of nerves she always experienced when the bigger Joesbury male was close. ‘Hello, Huck,’ she said. ‘I’m Lacey.’

Turquoise eyes met Lacey’s for a second. He looked away, shyly. Then he seemed to think of something and looked back up again. It was quite astonishing, their eyes were exactly the same.

‘Lacey Flint?’ he said.

She nodded, intrigued.

‘You’re number one in Favourites on my dad’s phone,’ he informed her.

‘I’m honoured,’ said Lacey, as Helen suppressed a giggle behind Huck’s back.

‘So am I,’ said a voice behind her. ‘Did you see me poleaxe that guy?’

The few visible parts of Joesbury Senior that weren’t covered in mud were bathed in sweat.

‘I saw you flaying around like an upturned turtle, trying to get back on your feet,’ replied Lacey. ‘Very impressive.’

‘Is Lacey your girlfriend?’ Huck asked his dad.

‘Only in my dreams,’ Joesbury replied, without looking at his son.

‘Huck, I think we need bacon butties,’ said Helen. ‘Why don’t you and I go and join the queue?’

Helen and an obviously reluctant Huck moved away towards the clubhouse. The child glanced back several times as they went. Then they were lost in the rush of people. Conscious of his eyes upon her, Lacey turned to see Joesbury watching her.