Next to Die (26 page)

‘You better come up,’ Joe said.

Joe held the door open to his office as the man walked past him. He took another look at Joe’s face and then turned away quickly.

Joe gestured towards a chair, and as the man sat down, Joe took his seat on the other side of the desk. He wanted it as a physical barrier, to prevent an attack.

The man fidgeted for a while, so that the only sound was the creak of the chair legs, and Joe let the silence build. He was going to let him start the conversation.

The man dropped his hands and said, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Parker, about your eye.’ A tear ran down his cheek and his chin trembled.

Joe was confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I hit you. I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, I get that, but what the fuck? Why did you do it?’ The man didn’t answer, and so Joe let him sob quietly for a while before he said, ‘Okay, we’ll start with your name.’

The man looked up and wiped away a tear with the heel of his palm. ‘David Roberts.’

‘I don’t know it,’ Joe snapped, his impatience showing.

‘My son was Nat Roberts.’

Joe closed his eyes for a moment. He should have guessed. He had been receiving cards highlighting events Nat Roberts would have enjoyed had one of his clients not killed him in a pointless street-fight, if you could call it that. Nat had been in the wrong place and looked at the wrong person, who was angry, drunk and looking for a fight after being thrown out of a club. Nat had walked past him, and then there had been a shout, and whatever Nat had said got him a punch for his troubles, except that when he went down, he cracked his head on the edge of a pavement. Nat bled his young life away on a Manchester side street, and his attacker pleaded guilty to manslaughter. He received just five years in prison, and would have many decades of life in front of him when he got out – decades Nat would never have.

So Joe had received pictures of Nat’s grave, and a birthday card on the day he would have been twenty, and photos of the niece he never got to meet.

‘Nat would have been twenty-one on Monday,’ David said. ‘I came down here to tell you, to shout it at you, because you have no idea how angry I feel, how cheated. But I couldn’t do it. I’m a coward.’

‘I’m sorry for Nat,’ Joe said quietly. ‘I know you won’t believe me, but doing my job doesn’t make me less human.’

‘You made Nat’s death seem so unimportant, that it was just some argument, how we should be gentle on the person who killed him.’

Joe didn’t respond. His client hadn’t meant to kill Nat. It was a drunken punch, a routine Saturday night happening. David Roberts hadn’t seen the tears cried by his killer, how he could never really look at Joe whenever they went through how Nat had died, but Joe knew that Nat’s father didn’t want to hear that. Not yet. Joe had made enough apologies for his killer.

David looked at the ceiling and more tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘Now I’m just like him, that bastard who killed Nat. I was angry. I needed a focus. I can’t get over losing Nat. I never thought being a parent would involve me burying my son, and I don’t know how to deal with it except feel angry, and so I hated you, Mr Parker, for not giving me any kind of justice. It seemed like we were the people who mattered the least.’

‘And so you were watching me?’

‘I wanted to tell you how it was for me, to let you know what you did to me. What he did to me, your client, and Nat’s mother, and his family. We are just left behind, and I don’t know if I can carry on. Then I found out that you’re doing it again, helping someone else get away with murder. I couldn’t handle it.’

‘So why last night?’

‘Because I was going to confront you, at last, I was building up to it, just to tell you how I felt, so that maybe you’d understand. Then I saw you drinking and enjoying yourself, like freeing killers is just another day for you, and that people like me don’t matter, the ones left behind. And so I couldn’t stop myself. I followed you in and punched you, but you hit the sink. It was such a crack, and I felt sick, and you didn’t move.’

‘You don’t have to say any more,’ Joe said, holding up his hand.

‘No, I do, because what I did was no different to what he did to Nat, which makes me just like him.’

‘He’s just like you, and me, and like anyone who did something stupid that turned out to be far worse than intended.’

David wiped his eyes. ‘I understand now, and I’m sorry. I won’t write again. I’ll go to the police and tell them what happened.’

‘There’s no need. I haven’t told the police.’ David looked confused, so Joe said, ‘If hitting me helped you understand a little more, and lets you grieve a little easier, then I’m glad you did it. Not as hard, perhaps, but it’s all worked out.’

David swallowed and then nodded with relief. ‘Thank you.’

Joe stood up and gestured towards the door to tell him that the meeting was over.

David moved away from his chair, but then stopped and said, ‘I ought to warn you that I wasn’t the only person watching you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When I was in the gardens yesterday. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but I saw someone head towards your building, before backing away, as if he had changed his mind. He was pacing up and down. He seemed really nervous, looking up at your window all the time. I knew something wasn’t right.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Tall, thin, scruffy, except that he wore a blazer with some sort of crest on it. It didn’t look right.’

‘A blazer?’

‘It looked worn out, but it didn’t suit him, because it looked like he thought he was someone important, some kind of faded war hero.’

The description was familiar.

Joe went to his desk and the papers Gina and Monica had left the day before. He pulled out the news clipping of Terry Day, showing him on the Remembrance Sunday march, in his beret and array of unearned medals.

‘Is that him?’

David squinted at the picture. ‘Yes, that’s him. He looks more like a real war hero in that picture, but he didn’t look like that yesterday.’

Joe thanked him, and once he had the room to himself again, he sat down and pondered on what he had just been told. Terry Day was keeping watch on him, and it seemed like he wanted to talk. Why would he do that? He had learned the answer to one mystery, except that now it seemed like another one had just taken its place.

Forty-Four

Sam avoided the hard gaze of DI Evans as he went into the Incident Room. He could see from the greasy bags that had once held hot sandwiches that some of the other officers had been there for some time. He slipped into the chair he had been on the day before and tried to log on, but less than a minute passed before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up.

‘Talk to me, Sam,’ Evans said, her voice soft, and then she turned away, the signal to follow.

No one looked up as he threaded his way through the desks, although he could tell what they were thinking from the way they avoided his gaze – that he had blown it. The Major Incident Team expected dedication. A girl was missing and he had rolled in after nine as if it was some kind of quiet shift.

When he got in front of her desk, she made a show of looking at her watch and said, ‘Explain.’

Sam had been looking down as he thought about what to say, but when he made his decision to talk, he looked Evans in the eye.

‘I’ve got some information,’ Sam said. ‘I went to see Ben Grant yesterday, like you said.’

‘Go on.’

‘He referred to my sister, Ruby.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I had another sister, Ellie. She was murdered fifteen years ago.’

Evans went as if to say something but then faltered, before she gave a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

‘Ruby was born two years after Ellie was murdered. Grant knew about her.’

‘Ben Grant is locked up. He will never get out.’

‘I know that,’ Sam said, ‘but as you know, these cases are linked to Ben Grant’s case somehow, and Grant mentioned her. Then Ruby came home from school yesterday and said that someone had been following her.’

Evans tilted her head, surprised, her eyes keener now. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this last night? You could have got my number from someone.’

‘Ruby might have just got it wrong. She feels like she’s always been in Ellie’s shadow, so she does things to get attention, and two days ago was the anniversary of Ellie’s death. It had all been about Ellie, and then Ruby made it all about her. I couldn’t be sure.’

‘Something has changed,’ Evans said.

‘I went there this morning. It’s a quiet path that runs towards Ruby’s school. It was where Ellie was killed.’

‘And your sister still goes down there?’ Evans said, her eyes wide.

‘It’s not the same to her. She never met Ellie. Anyway, I think she was right. I saw some movement in the trees, just like Ruby said.’

‘What time did Ruby think she was being followed?’

‘Yesterday. Four o’clock.’

‘I’ll call the school and ask them to remind pupils not to go that way,’ Evans said. ‘We’ll put someone down there today, just to see if anyone turns up. It might be just some local voyeur, watching teenage legs from the woods, but whoever it is, I want him in this station to explain himself.’

Sam nodded, satisfied.

‘So you’re still okay to do this?’ Evans said. ‘You’re the link we have between Ben Grant and Ronnie Bagley, through your brother, and as Grant wants you involved, he might spill something.’

Sam nodded again. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Back to Ben Grant,’ Evans said. ‘Did he say anything useful?’

‘For the case, no,’ Sam said, shaking his head.

‘Just an ego boost?’ she said.

‘Something like that. Like I told you yesterday on the phone, he told me how he started out because his sister used to let him wash her hair, until he killed her.’

‘He was wasting your time.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I looked into it after you called. Ben Grant didn’t have any sisters. He was an only child.’ When Sam appeared confused, Evans said, ‘Forget about Ben Grant. He has nothing to tell us. The link is still there, but it doesn’t seem to be anything he knows about.’

As he walked away, Sam remained deep in thought.

Ben Grant might not have had a sister, but the story meant something. He just had to work out what.

Forty-Five

Joe sat in his car and dialled Monica’s number. He’d found an old phone in his desk and was able to use his SIM card. Still no answer. He dialled Kim Reader’s number instead. He wasn’t sure if she would answer, because she might be in court, but after a few rings, he heard her say, ‘Joe, I can’t talk properly right now. Not if it’s about this morning when I rang. Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.’

There was noise in the background, and the echo told him that she was on the court corridor. For a moment, he imagined her in her gown and crisp white wings.

‘This is a courtesy call, sorry,’ he said. ‘A professional obligation.’

‘I recognise your court voice,’ she said, and Joe heard a trace of disappointment in hers. ‘Go on, what can I do for you?’

‘Terry Day. I’m about to pay him a visit.’

There was a pause, and then, ‘You can’t do that.’ The warmth had slipped from her voice. ‘He’s a prosecution witness.’

‘There’s no property in a witness, you know that,’ he said.

‘That’s not the point, and you know that too.’

‘And that’s why I’m calling you, to let you know.’

‘Joe, don’t be an arsehole,’ she said, anger in her voice now.

He sighed. He had wanted it to go differently, for her to shrug it off, but he knew she was a better prosecutor than that.

‘I’m trying not to be an arsehole,’ he said, his voice softer. ‘I’ll call you afterwards, to tell you if there’s anything you ought to know.’

‘Joe!’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got Gina with me. She’ll be a witness, to make sure I can’t be accused of anything.’

‘Or so you can both concoct a story to get yourself out of trouble.’

‘You know me better than that,’ he said, and then clicked off his phone.

He stared out of his window for a few seconds, his hand around the wheel, gripping it tightly, knowing that he had created a rift. It wouldn’t last long, professional disagreements didn’t, but it might make their non-professional relationship a little cooler.

‘It sounds like the romance is over,’ Gina said.

When Joe turned towards her she was smiling.

‘I’ve always been good at getting it wrong,’ he said, and then reached for his door handle.

‘You didn’t have to tell her. You didn’t bother last time.’

‘I think this visit might be different.’

He looked up at Terry Day’s house again as Gina joined him on the pavement. She led the way, her hips swaying as she walked up the steps and pressed the doorbell. They waited a couple of minutes, and were about to turn to go when the door opened a crack and Terry Day’s face appeared.

Joe smiled and said, ‘Good morning, Mr Day.’

Terry Day didn’t move at first, just looked between Joe and Gina, only a sliver of his face revealed. When Joe said, ‘I think we need to talk, don’t we?’ Terry stepped back and let the door swing open.

Terry went towards the stairs, and so Joe and Gina followed. As they went past the first door, the entrance to Ronnie’s flat, Joe made as if to go towards it, blocked off by crime scene tape, when Terry shouted, ‘No!’

Joe stopped.

Terry swallowed and then said, ‘The police told me not to let anyone in there, at least until after the trial.’

‘Why did they say that?’

‘In case the defence want to examine it.’

‘I am the defence.’

‘No, they meant an expert, bloodstains or whatever. They said that if I don’t look after the scene, it might give the defence something to use, because it makes it look like it’s unfair for them, as they can’t examine it if it’s been spoiled.’

Joe moved away from the door. It was a reasonable answer. As Terry started to climb the stairs, Joe said, ‘So you’re left all alone now?’

‘I like it that way,’ he said. ‘I just wish I didn’t need the rent money.’