This Little Piggy (23 page)

The police say Jason Craig is still helping them with their enquiries into a range of offences. They urge young people on the estate to calm down and warn that anyone involved in any further disorder will be arrested and charged.

Joe had written
PTO
on the slip of paper. Clare flicked it over to read:
Seaton says he has something interesting to tell us. Come and see me when you’ve finished writing up.

Clare raised her eyebrows, finished her final sentence and typed ‘Ends’. She handed the copy to Catt and asked: “Okay if I go now?”

“I’m sure we’ll manage without you. Hard as that is to believe.”

Clare signalled to Joe and he followed her out to the car park at the back of the newspaper office. “Seaton wouldn’t say what it was about over the phone. Just that we’d be interested.”

At the police station, Seaton called for tea and it arrived with biscuits.

“This is the VIP treatment,” Clare said. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, officer, she’s a terrible cynic,” Joe added.

“She is.” Seaton dunked a digestive into his cup. “And here’s me giving you a tip-off.”

They waited as Seaton sucked at the soggy remains of his biscuit. “Inquest re-opening tomorrow morning on Deborah Donnelly.”

“Only re-opening? I’d have thought you would be able to give a full report by now.” Clare sat forward. “I’d assumed she’d taken too many sleeping pills.”

“That’s what everyone thought had happened. Who’d have blamed a mother who’d lost a baby for overdosing, accidentally or on purpose? Turns out there were pills in her mouth, not swallowed. There’s been a bit of a delay with the lab reports. But we talked to Annie Martin again and there are a few odd things about how Debs was found.”

“What do you mean, odd?”

“The front door was left open, for a start. Annie Martin says they don’t leave their door open, especially since the family was targeted for breaking the strike. And there are signs that she struggled with someone. We’re getting the pathologist to look at the case again. There’s just a possibility she might have been suffocated.”

nine

Clare and Joe looked at each other. “You’re saying Debs Donnelly was murdered?”

“It’s bloody difficult to suffocate yourself, I’d imagine.”

Clare gave a quick smile. “Okay, but have you made any arrests?”

“Not so far.”

“Any leads?” Joe was scribbling fast in his notebook. “Debs died on the evening of the protest outside your station, didn’t she?”

“Annie Martin was there. Debs’ mum. At the protest, I mean,” Clare chipped in.

“And Rob Donnelly was at some meeting about work,” Seaton carried on. “Nine or ten men can vouch for the fact that he was there till late. Until the police called to tell him about Deborah, in fact. His kiddies were with a relative who takes care of them sometimes when Rob’s at work.”

“So have the police got any thoughts?”

“We’re talking again to the person who called the ambulance, just to see if we can piece together what might have happened. It was a friend of yours, in fact, Miss Jackson.”

“Who?”

“The ambulance was called by young Amy Hedley’s mother. It was the kiddie who raised the alarm. Apparently she looked in their window and noticed that Deborah Donnelly was lying on the floor. But then I thought you would know all that, seeing as how you and young Amy are thick as thieves.”

Clare shifted in her seat, aware that Joe was looking at her. “I didn’t know she’d been the one who actually found Debs Donnelly, no.”

She thought back to the conversation on the night of the protest. All Amy and Tina had said was that Debs had been taken away in the ambulance. Poor Amy. That was probably something else she had nightmares about.

“So the police are nowhere near making any arrests?” Joe was saying. “I’m guessing you think there’s a connection with what happened to Jamie, though?”

“We’re working on those lines, obviously.”

“Is it too late for any forensic evidence to be left at the scene?”

“We’re looking for anything we can get.”

“But most of it won’t be there any more?”

Seaton coughed. “Do you watch a lot of detective shows on the TV?”

“All of them,” Joe said, cheerfully. “So I’m guessing you’ll be asking why no one took evidence straight away? Will there be another internal inquiry?”

“Our officers will have done what they thought was correct procedure at the time. We didn’t seriously anticipate there being any other persons involved in Mrs Donnelly’s death. I wish you lot would just do one story at a time.”

Clare almost felt sorry for Seaton. He was doing a good impression of a man who was doing his best but being thwarted at every turn.

“And she definitely didn’t take an overdose?”

Seaton reached for another biscuit and broke it in half. He mopped the crumbs into a small pile with his index finger. “We’re still waiting for a report on what medicine was in her system.”

“That’s taking a long time, isn’t it?”

“Cutbacks, Miss Jackson.”

Clare frowned. “All the same…”

Seaton interrupted. “Not for publication, the original report got lost. Do not ask me to make a comment on that because it wouldn’t be printable.”

Joe gave a short laugh and tried, badly, to turn it into a cough. “You’re really not having much luck with this whole thing, are you?”

Clare winced. “So will some of this, about the possible murder inquiry, will that come out tomorrow?”

Seaton nodded. “We’ve informed the family that we’re working on a new line of inquiry. You can imagine their distress, given what they have already been through after the loss of young Jamie. So I don’t have to tell you to respect their feelings when you go knocking on their door, which I am sure you’re about to do.”

“Just out of interest,” Joe said, as they stood up to leave. “Any reason for the tip-off?”

Seaton gave an exaggerated shrug. “You know I like to keep my friends in the press happy. It would be nice if they paid me back with some friendlier pieces about the police, for a change.”

Clare waited until they got back out to the car before saying anything. “I can’t promise that,” she said. “Seems to me the police are making an almighty cock-up of everything to do with Sweetmeadows at the moment.”

“I’d say that’s a fair comment,” said Joe. “Shit. So another death-knock at the Donnellys. There must be better ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.”

“Joe.”

Joe turned to her, his hand on the car door. “What? Let me guess. The name ‘Amy’ is heading my way, isn’t it?”

“She stayed at my flat last night.”

Joe’s mouth opened and closed. “Tell me you are kidding.”

Clare shook her head. “She had nowhere to go. It was late and she was scared. I couldn’t just leave her alone in the middle of all that stuff, could I?”

“I knew you weren’t telling the truth last night. You’re a pathetic liar. Don’t give me those big eyes.” Joe breathed out hard and swore. “Okay, listen to me. We’ll go back and get her and take her home, on the way to door-stepping the Donnellys. And then listen to me, just for a change, and back off.”

“But what if there’s no one home again? I can’t just leave her all on her own.”

“If there’s still no one home, that’s neglect. We’ll call the council.”

“But I promised I wouldn’t do that, Joe. She’s terrified about being taken into care.”

“That’s tough. You’d still be doing the right thing.”

Clare found her stomach churning as they drove back to her flat. As she turned the key in the door, Max gave one of the low barks that always made her shiver. The first thing that hit her as she pushed open the door was a smell of bleach. She held her breath.

“Amy?”

Amy bounced out of the kitchen. “Hi! You were ages. Can we go and eat? I am
starving
.”

“What’s that smell?”

Amy spread her arms wide. “I’ve been cleaning!”

“You have, haven’t you?” Clare looked around. The place looked quite frighteningly tidy. “What’s happened to - er - all my stuff?”

“I’ve cut all the by-lines out of the newspapers and thrown the rest of the papers away. I put your letters in a pile, over there. I took some stuff out of carrier bags and put it in your wardrobe. I never took the labels off though, in case you want to take anything back. My mam does that with clothes all the time. And then I dusted and I cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen. It was a right old mess, you know.”

Clare stared around. “I don’t know what to say.”

Still standing on the doorstep, Joe gave a loud and meaningful cough.

“Sorry. Come in, Joe. You remember Joe, who works on the morning paper?”

Amy looked at him and widened her mouth into a smile, but Clare could tell she’d rather he wasn’t there. She suddenly felt the same.

“I’ve got an idea. Joe, why don’t you head off to Sweetmeadows and see how far you get with the Donnellys? It might be better if there’s just one of us. I think I owe Amy some lunch after she’s done all this. And then I’ll catch up with you, okay?”

Joe paused. “Fine. I’ll wait for you in the square.”

In other words, he was going to make sure that Clare took Amy home and came back without her. But at least she would have a chance to chat to Amy and, with any luck, to Tina, without Joe watching and butting in.

Once she was sure Amy had had her fill of fried chicken, chips and ice cream, Clare drove her back to the estate. On the way, she asked the question that had nagged her since leaving the police station. “You never mentioned it was you who found Debs Donnelly? And your mum called the ambulance?”

Amy’s brow wrinkled up into tiny lines. “I thought I told you.”

“Nope.” As she drove, Clare glanced at Amy out of the corner of her eye. “That must have been very upsetting.”

“Yeah, it was.” Amy breathed onto the car window and started drawing a pattern on the clouded glass.

“So what happened, exactly? How come you found her?”

“I sometimes play with Becca and Bobbie. I knocked on the door and, when no one answered, I looked in the window. Debs was lying on the sofa and she looked all funny.”

“On the sofa?” Clare was sure Seaton had said she was on the floor. “How do you mean, she looked funny?”

“Like, her arm was dangling down to the floor and her head was hanging off the sofa. I thought you wouldn’t be able to sleep like that, so I thought she must be ill. And her face looked a weird kind of white-y yellow-y colour.”

“So what did you do?”

“I banged on the window to wake her up, but she didn’t move. So then I went inside and gave her a shake, but she wouldn’t move.”

“Do you mind me asking questions about it?”

Amy shook her head and continued steaming up the window then doodling on it.

“Okay. So the door was open?”

“Uh-huh.” Amy nodded.

“Was that normal? I mean, wouldn’t it usually be locked?”

“Dunno.”

“Right. When you tried to wake Debs up, did she feel strange? Like, did her skin feel cold?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Clare thought about this for a moment. So Amy must have found Debs very shortly after she was killed. “Did you see anyone coming out of the flat, or anyone nearby?”

Amy shook her head.

“So you told your mum?”

“Yes, and she rang 999.”

“Good girl. You did the right thing.”

Clare thought for a moment. “Amy, I don’t want to upset you. But the police think someone might’ve killed Jamie’s mum.”

She looked sideways at the girl. Amy rubbed out her latest doodles, so fiercely it made the glass squeak, but she said nothing.

“I want you to think really hard about that day. If you remember seeing anything else, you have to tell me, okay?”

Amy nodded. After a moment, she put her head down between her knees.

Clare glanced at her. “What’s up?”

“I feel a bit sick,” said Amy’s muffled voice.

Clare tutted. “I thought that ice cream was a step too far. I’ll have to apologise to your mum.”

When Tina came to the door of the flat, Clare breathed out. She realised that if no one was there yet again, she really didn’t have a plan.

Tina, her hair short and newly white-blonde, held open the door for Amy and Max. “Have you had fun?”

“It’s been brilliant,” Amy said, tugging Max inside along with her. “We ran out of dog food though. I like your hair.”

“Thanks for having her.” Tina looked ready to close the door.

Casually, Clare slid her foot forward so that her toe would stop the door from closing fully. “Can I have a quick word, Tina?”

Tina didn’t reply but just waited, the door still hovering halfway between open and closed.

Clare wasn’t certain how to start the conversation. “Do you think Amy’s okay? She was telling me about finding Debs Donnelly. I think she’s still upset about that, and about the baby, of course.”

“I think she’s fine.”

“You’ll know about all the trouble on the estate last night? She got quite upset.” And you weren’t here, Clare thought, but didn’t say.

Tina gave a little shake of her head. “She’s got too much imagination, that’s her trouble. She sees things that aren’t there and she makes things up. Don’t you worry about her.”

“I need to tell you that she talked to the police about some of the troublemakers. I was with her. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, aye? It’s a bit late if I do mind, isn’t it?”

“Well.” Clare couldn’t stop herself. “You weren’t here to ask. Amy didn’t even have a number for you. She was effectively looking after herself for two days. Longer.”

Tina glanced behind the door and reached for a packet of cigarettes. She took a minute or two to take one out and light it up. She didn’t say anything. She blew a stream of smoke just past Clare’s face. “Did she tell the coppers that?”

“No.” Clare wafted some of the smoke away with her hand. “And neither did I. Tina, look. I’m not having a go at you. I don’t know what it’s like to bring up a kid on my own and I’m sure it’s hard. But you just can’t leave Amy for that amount of time. She’s a clever kid, but she’s too young. She’s only ten.”

“Nine, actually. I thought you were a reporter, not a frigging social worker. What’s any of this got to do with you?”