SHADOW CRIMES a gripping crime thriller full of twists
Page 9
Still, Danny knew that hidden away deep inside, there was still a big sliver of decency in her. She was unhappy, that’s all, and the hard face she presented to the world was a cover. But every day that cover was fixed more firmly, and soon the real Kerry would vanish forever, submerged in a dark bog of cynicism, coarseness and animosity. At least she still washed every day, unlike his mum. And Kerry still looked after him. She made sure he had clean clothes each week and that he had money for dinners. If their mum couldn’t be bothered, Kerry would sneak it out of her purse when she wasn’t looking. Mum was usually too drunk to notice anyway.
Danny’s thoughts strayed to his father, and he shuddered. His grandad always said that the moment she met Liam Fenners, his youngest child had been lost. Mind you, he said to Danny, she’d always been weak-minded, even as a girl.
‘See your uncle Paul and Aunt Penny? They both got on well at school, and they’re in good jobs now. They’ve got nice homes. But your mum? She was always getting herself into trouble, no matter what we did. It’s the luck of the draw, I suppose. Must be something in the genes. What other reason could there be? Now you, Danny, you take after my brother, Dickie. He died in a car crash before you were born. He was always good with words, like you. Dickie went to university and studied literature, and then he got a job as a journalist on a top paper. You could do that, or something like it. You may have Asperger’s, but that shouldn’t hold you back. You’re a clever lad. If you’ve got brains, then the world’s your oyster.’
Danny always puzzled over this expression. How could the world be an oyster? He ought to look it up sometime, maybe when he was next in the school library. Mrs Rendall, the librarian, often talked to him about the meanings of words and phrases when he was in during rainy lunchtimes. He’d sometimes watch a group of older pupils who spent one lunchtime each week doing a crossword from that day’s paper. They were clever. One of the girls in the group was in Kerry’s class. She always said hello to him. ‘Alright, Danny?’ she’d say, and he would smile back, and wish his sister was more like her. He bet that girl never staggered home at night, drunk and spewing up her tea.
As for his father, Liam, he preferred not to think of him at all. His dad worked at the docks, dealing with freight, until Weymouth docks lost its main ferry contract, some years ago now. From that point on, his work hours were cut, and he began to get involved in various shady enterprises. Danny didn’t know exactly what he did now, or who he worked for, but he occasionally spotted him and his mates leaving one of Weymouth’s pubs in the middle of the afternoon. They looked vicious and swore a lot. And when they were drunk, they shouted insults at anyone who looked foreign, even women and children. The victims of the abuse would walk away in a hurry. Sometimes they were in tears.
When his dad was at home, Danny kept well out of his way. His father made fun of Danny’s fondness for books, so he stayed in his bedroom if he wanted to read. He stayed there a lot, mainly because he hated watching TV when his father was in the room. He would hurl abuse at the people on the screen, stuff like, “What a wanker! . . . Look at the fucking tits on her! . . . I’d fuck her over a tree trunk any day of the week . . . He’s a fucking poof. Cut his cock off and stick it in his fat gob! . . . See that fucking darkie? He oughta be back in the fucking jungle.”
When it started, Danny would slip out of the lounge and retreat to his room to lose himself in a book. Even worse was when his dad’s friends came round, particularly that Irish one, that Leary. He wasn’t very tall, but he frightened Danny. He’d stare at you with those piggy eyes and he always looked as though he wanted to punch someone. He had a dog that growled all the time. It growled at Danny, and he was scared it would sink its teeth into him. Even Kerry avoided Tonto Leary and his dog.
Danny couldn’t wait to get through school so he could leave home, and never come back.
He was learning to play the alto saxophone and had one on loan from the county music support team until he could get enough money to buy his own. He was due to play in a forthcoming young musicians’ concert and had spent the first half of this morning rehearsing in a hall in the town. It meant that he’d missed a double French lesson, which was another reason to be cheerful. Rather than carrying his instrument case all the way back to school, he decided to drop it off at home on the way there.
Thus, halfway through the morning he sauntered up the path to his house, not thinking of anything in particular, when he cannoned into a blonde woman who was walking in the opposite direction. She looked pretty smart in brownish trousers and boots, and she had a leather jacket on.
They both spoke at the same time.
‘Sorry.’
‘Sorry.’
They smiled at each other.
‘Is your name Fenners?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ he replied. He didn’t say anything else. His dad would knock him round the head if he knew he’d told her.
‘It’s just that I didn’t get an answer when I rang the doorbell. Isn’t there anybody in?’
He shook his head.
I’m with the police,’ she said.
‘Are you here about Kerry?’ he asked, worried. His sister had woken him late the previous night. She had several nasty-looking gashes on her arms, sustained, she claimed, when she accidentally fell through a shop window in the town centre. She’d obviously been drinking heavily again and needed his help to clean and dress the wounds. He always felt a bit of a warm glow when Kerry asked him to help her rather than their mum. Clearly she didn’t want Mum to find out about her accident.
The woman was looking at him. ‘No. Who’s Kerry?’ she asked.
‘My sister. She hurt herself in the town centre last night, but she’s okay now. I put plaster on her cuts.’
‘That sounds nasty, but I guess you’ve looked after her properly. No, I’m not here about her. I’m a detective on an investigation.’
‘What, like on the telly?’ Danny said. ‘Wow!’
‘Is that a saxophone you’ve got there?’ she asked.
‘I haven’t nicked it,’ he replied anxiously. ‘It’s on loan from school. I’m learning to play.’
She laughed. ‘I wasn’t implying that you’d stolen it. My daughter plays the saxophone too. She’s in the Dorset schools’ senior wind band. What about you?’
He shook his head. ‘Only just started, I’m a junior. I’ve just been to a rehearsal. ‘S why I’m here, to drop it off. Going back to school.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Danny.’ He was wary again.
‘Well, Danny, I’m just checking around the neighbourhood. You can mention to your parents that I’ve called, but I’ll probably be back later. My name’s Sophie Allen and I’m a detective superintendent. Okay?’
He nodded solemnly, and then turned to the door. He needed to get back to school before the end of morning break. It was double science next, his favourite subject.
Chapter 14: Danny’s Diary
1st January. My new year’s resolution is to keep a diary. Mrs Anders at school says we should, just to practise our writing. It also puts your thoughts in order she said. It’s past lunchtime but Mum and Dad are still in bed. Kerry did us both bacon sandwiches for lunch, with ketchup on them. I might go out on my bike later or go and see Grandad.
4th January. Back to school. Everyone else was miserable, even Spoggy. I don’t mind going back. I feel safe at school.
7th January. I went to Grandad’s for tea. He did a stew with dumplings. It was great. He looked at my maths homework, but he couldn’t help. He says he never learned stuff like that when he was a boy, just numbers.
9th January. Kerry’s had to do the washing again because Mum’s been in bed all day. She had to do it or we wouldn’t have anything to wear for school next week. She says Mum’s a lazy bitch. All her friends go into town on a Saturday morning, but she’s stuck at home doing the washing and cleaning. She says she’s going to leave home as soon as she’s old enough. She wants to be a model.
14th January. I hate PE. We did cross country this afternoon and it was freezing. Mum never bought me a tracksuit, so I was in my shorts and I borrowed a zipper from the spare kit locker. I got laughed at by Gary Spedding and his mates. I told Kerry when we were coming home, and she went across and punched him. He wasn’t bruised or cut or anything. Kerry’s great sometimes. She’s just like Mum ought to be.
16th January. Dad’s been out all day. Normally Mum and him go to the pub at lunchtime on a Saturday, but she just watched the telly and asked Kerry to get a pizza for dinner. Then she got angry because Kerry got one of the best ones and Mum said it cost too much. Kerry just swore at her and said she’d pay for it herself if Mum was going to be that mean.
19th January. Dad was horrible this morning. Even more than usual. He wanted Mum to wash some clothes of his but she was still in bed so he told Kerry to do it. She was just on her way out to school so she said no. Dad hit her so she kicked him. Then he punched her, and she cried. I tried to help her up so he hit me and called me a freak. Then he went out. I hate him.
20th January. We had a rehearsal for the concert this morning. I took my sax home before going back to school and there was this woman there who was knocking on our door. She said she was a detective and showed me her ID card. I was a bit nervous. I thought she was there about Kerry breaking a shop window last night but she said she wasn’t. She said it was ok for me to tell Dad, but I’ve decided not to. He might get even angrier than he was yesterday. Why can’t I have normal parents like other people? Ones that are kind to you.
Chapter 15: Liam Fenners
Wednesday
‘What was that all about, ma’am?’ Barry asked as Sophie climbed back into the car.
‘It was the son, Danny. He seems a nice lad, though he’s obviously worried about his sister. Do you know, I wonder if he’s autistic in some way? There was something a bit odd about the way he talked, but sort of innocent too. The house looked at bit shambolic, judging from the quick view I got through the front window. And did you see those hedges? They’re so overgrown they’re taking over the garden.’
‘Where to now?’
Sophie looked at the time. ‘Let’s go down to the docks to see the father. Time’s moving on and we’re no closer to finding out where Andrea is, despite the number of people we’ve got out looking for her. It’s grasping-at-straws time, I think.’
They pulled up outside the harbour office with its view across the water to the Isle of Portland. Not that you could see much of it this morning, with the thin drizzle falling from leaden skies. The wind was picking up again and Sophie wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and zipped up her jacket.
They hurried towards the reception desk where Sophie flashed her warrant card.
‘We need to speak to Liam Fenners,’ she said, ‘and quickly. Where can we find him?’
The receptionist eyed her warily. She checked her screen. ‘He’s out on the far jetty with a repair squad. I can get him in for you, rather than having you wander around outside.’
‘That’s fine. Is there a room we can use?’
Again, the wary look. Understandable really.
‘I’ll just let my manager know.’ She reached for her phone. After a minute or so, a thin man in a suit emerged from a side door and hurried across to meet them.
‘I hope it’s nothing serious,’ he said. ‘Can I help in any way?’
‘If you could just find us a room suitable for an interview, please.’
‘You can have my office.’ He pointed to the door he’d just come through, and they went in to wait. The office was small, with three chairs placed around a desk.
At first sight, Liam Fenners was pretty nondescript. He was in his late thirties, hair already greying, with washed out blue eyes. His face was pale and blotchy. He was undoubtedly the driver of the car parked along from Simon Osman’s house the previous evening. He paused some distance from Sophie, looking wary. Barry slid behind him, blocking any possible attempt to leave in a hurry.
Fenners looked Sophie up and down. ‘What’s up?’
‘Detective Superintendent Sophie Allen, Dorset police,’ she said, regarding him steadily. ‘You were keeping a watch on Simon Osman’s place last night. When I approached your car, you drove off in a hurry. To me, that’s suspicious. Why were you there?’
‘I stopped to check my phone. I just got a message. I’ve never heard of that guy, whatshisname.’
‘That’s clearly not true. You were there when we arrived, and were still there fifteen minutes later when we left. Don’t lie to me, Mr Fenners, it just wastes police time. And lying means only one thing. You’ve got something to hide.’
Fenners shrugged. ‘I’ve told you why I was there.’
‘We have a missing police officer. Osman may have been the last person to see her before she disappeared. It’s in your interest to tell us why you were watching his house. Anything to say now?’
A momentary flicker crossed Fenners’ face. What was it? Uncertainty? The scowl quickly re-established itself. ‘No. You’ve got nothing on me. And that’s it. I’m saying nothing else.’
‘In that case, we’re going to have to take you in for further questioning. We’ll continue this interview more formally, at the station. That’ll give you time to reflect on your best course of action. As I just said, we’re talking about a police officer here, Mr Fenners. No one’s playing games, not any more. If whoever’s pulling your strings has told you there’s nothing to worry about, then you’re being tricked, set up as the fall guy. We’ve got everyone from the chief constable down on this one, even the Home Office. When I get pulled in on a case, it’s because it’s serious. If you’re hiding anything, I’ll find out and your life will change for the worse. A whole lot worse.’ She looked at Barry. ‘Let’s get a squad car here. We can’t waste time.’
* * *
Sophie sat with Matt Silver, informing him of their progress — or lack of it. ‘He’s not talking, Matt. He sits there and just stares at us. I don’t know whether he’s been told to do that, or whether it’s his own choice. So we’re back to square one, getting nowhere fast.’
‘Have you got any leads?’
‘She was sometimes seen at the local marina, even though she didn’t own a boat. Clearly she knew someone who does. Maybe we need to find out if Bruce Pitman has one. I think I’ll go round to see him again, and soon. There’s a lot of other stuff I need to ask him, and I haven’t got my head round it all yet.’
‘Will you have to let Fenners go?’
‘It looks like it. For now, anyway. All we’ve got is his suspicious behaviour last night. We’ve nothing else on him at the moment. It works in our favour in a way, because we’ll watch him like a hawk. He’s not exactly one of Weymouth’s brightest, so my guess is he’ll contact someone before the week’s out. We just need to be sure that we’re there when he makes the attempt.’
Chapter 16: Anglers
Thursday
Mickey Spiller clambered over the last few boulders and stepped onto the rocky shelf. He turned to check where his young nephew Jamie was. The lad was only a few steps behind, surprisingly quiet in his soft-soled trainers. Jamie stepped forward, surveying the scene that spread out before him. The grey water stretched as far as the eye could see, occasionally flashing gold when the rising sun struck the tips of the small waves.
‘Wow!’ he said. ‘This is fantastic, Uncle Mickey. It makes it worth getting up early.’
Mickey grinned. ‘Even better if we catch some f
ish. A few other people fish from this spot, but not this early in the day. This part of Portland is one of the best in the area for fishing ’cause of the deep water, but it’s a bit of a scramble to get down here. We’ve probably got about two hours until high tide, so we’ll be back home late morning, with some fish for dinner if we’re in luck.’
‘What sort of fish?’ Jamie asked, starting to assemble his rod.
‘If we’re really lucky we might get a cod or two or some flatfish, but even mullet will do. Or pollock. It’s too early in the year for bass or mackerel. Let’s just see what happens. To be honest, anything will suit me. There’s less fish around than when I was a lad. That’s why you need a good spot like this, with deep water. And the right tide. I’ve got enough bait to last us a good few hours, so let’s get set up. We’ll do your rod first.’
After assembling their tackle and attaching an eelworm to the hooks, the anglers cast their lines out into the cold water and settled back to watch. It was very calming to be out here, staring out across the gently moving sea. It felt as if they were perched on the very edge of the landmass. Herring gulls were busy on the surface, along with some black-headed gulls.
‘If we’re lucky, we might see some dolphins,’ Mickey said. ‘There’s a pod lives in Weymouth Bay, and they move up and down the coast as they fancy. I’ve sometimes seen them from here.’ He took a pair of binoculars out of his rucksack and laid them carefully on a rock. ‘I’ll leave these out ready. If you leave them packed away and then spot something interesting, by the time you’ve got the binoculars out and adjusted, it’s too late, the dolphins have gone. You’ve got to be prepared, like if you’re taking photos. You’ve got to have the camera ready. Wildlife doesn’t wait around posing for you.’ He looked at his nephew. ‘Are you warm enough, Jamie? Keep your gloves on. It’s always your fingers that get cold first.’