Fiona

by D Attrill

  “Listen up, pal.” Armitage seemed ready to receive answers, whether or not amicably “It weren't us you were hiding from, were it? No. It was your past, what's what it were. Your new-found love life's started to lure you back into it; dragged you kicking and screaming, into your own no-go area.

  “You forgot to tell her about it, didn't you said Garstone “Is this why you've been changing pub every night you've popped out to see her?”

  “Tell her what? Totally lost me there.” Payden tilted his cup briefly, then let it stand free.

  “Did you bother reminding her you needed to go incognito, now you're hanging round these parts again?”

  "Nah, you totally lost me.”

  “You thought, while out and about, why not have a dig round for a different reg? Successfully executed and all, aye... until it backfired horribly on you.”

  “Heading home again for dinner, you hear a few sirens in the distance. “Armitage stepped in to continue. "You were probably shitting thissen so badly, you somehow didn't see that big red light in front, in time to hit the brakes. You maybe had to dodge round it instead, you know, aim to hit something that were softer."

  “Aye, like Mr Summers’ leg.” Garstone tried to level with Armitage’s no-hold attack “Careering away over the horizon, you couldn't live with what you'd just done; not only that... you couldn't sense maybe, your front right wheel had become even softer.”

  He showed Tom Payden the hubcap again, to adjust his memory.

  “I still don't know where this were from.” Payden indignantly shoved it away,

  “It were from when your car went up against the kerb; before you went into Mr Summers.” said Armitage. “You must have smacked your front wheel harder than you did him. It got you so frustrated, you had to go hide for a bit.”

  “I only parked up in a layby...”

  “I'VE NOT FINISHED YET.” Armitage shrieked.

  “This was at 11.45 am.” Garstone took back over. “Ms Radcombe left work at 12. She usually walked up your partner's neck of the woods, heading home.”

  “Good for her.” heckled Tom.

  “Maybe not that good for you mate. She met her end, sometime between 12.30 and 5.05pm, Thursday afternoon. That gave you four and a half hours. You didn't have an alibi for your activities during that time, but you did have a hot lass with you, with a score to settle. Kapow!” Garstone started on his Marcel Marceau act as he laid his vision of things out in front of Payden. “Nice and dark, come five. BING! It's time to dump the body...yeah go on love, you tell her, I know a nice quiet footbridge just round the corner. You forgot one thing with all the rushing about you were doing though. That slightly wonky hubcap had finally had enough, so it thinks 'oh sod this, I'll sleep here, the night. A bit cold out here; I wouldn't have minded that lovely big blanket, only that bird he's just murdered had first dibs on it.'

  Tom was sitting up, right back against his chair, wide-eyed, like a rabbit snared right in someone's headlight.

  “Don't worry, I would have forgotten as well if my girlfriend and I'd had an afternoon as busy as you, heh heh.”

  “Does this mean I'm booked now or not?” Payden's face hardened.

  “I don't know, Tom. I can tell you this though - this is gonna be either this is the most significant day in circumstantial evidence's history, or...”

  “PC Stannings enters the room.” Armitage cut the interrogation.

  “There’s a lad in reception.” Stannings said, quietly, obviously regarding the recorder “He says he’s here to collect his brother.”

  “Really? Bully for him.” Garstone hardly accepted the news more than he did the disruption.

  “Why don’t you take it up with Dawn instead of dropping in on us?”

  “I’m struggling to shut him up.” she pleaded. “Daren’t use force - the poor lad’s on crutches.”

  “Shit.” He realised who this ‘lad’ probably was. “Leroy.” he whispered to his colleague. “Keep it up with ‘Payden Major’ can you - I’ll get back in a mo’.”

  Garstone waltzed into the reception. He was immediately introduced to a very familiar young man in a faded black sweatshirt. One of his legs was clad in plaster, up to the calf.

  “You pleased now, pig?” Gary Payden showed him his stick “Ankle were broke.”

  “At least you’re not gonna be as much a handful for the magistrate, heh heh.”

  “You done wi’ our Tommy?” demanded Gary .“I got us car waiting out, ready.”

  “You drove here?”

  “It’s an automatic in’t it? Only need one foot.”

  As Gary pointed through the window, Garstone could see a small white nose end behind the gates.

  He went outside to see. On what he found, he almost had a baby.

  A W32-registered, white Vauxhall Corsa was moored there in all its glory. He stood looking, spellbound by the plate. W32GV - the very same one that was outside Gary’s house on Friday; the very same one that left Saddleworths, re-christened ‘W52’.

  As much as Garstone savoured the sight of the offending vehicle and its confirmed owner together, it was still hasty to pursue procedural action as yet.

  Still he had to live for the moment.

  Trotting back inside, he had a fast plan at hand.

  “You should have brought it inside mate.” he told Gary.

  “Weren’t allowed, were I?”

  “Rather that, than hobble your way behind another reversing cop car, eh? Shall I?”

  Gary looked inevitably dubious at the idea of a police officer touching his car. After what looked like a moment’s rumination, he reluctantly handed him a trio of keys.

  “Square ‘un’s for opening the door wi’” he informed him. “Bring us them back when done, won’t you, ok?”

  Garstone went back gleefully and got the ignition started. He turned the Corsa into the car park, gliding it onto a space between Thompson’s vehicle and a visitor’s, then radioed Armitage.

  “Stopping out here, a few more minutes. See if you can break that bastard for what he’s got left, otherwise just read him his rights.”

  He could scarcely believe he’d ever entrust Armitage such responsibility alone, although he knew his co-worker deserved a shot at the promotional duck himself.

  Garstone made sure there were no nosey officers staring through the window before he got underway. He turned Gary’s ignition off, shut the door then squatted by the wheel, looking to examine the hubcap.

  The space was shocking to work in with only 21 inches between it and the adjacent vehicle. Trying to use his mobile as a torch, hardly improved matters.

  Garstone could do with getting it off for a quick peek - all it took was for it to match the broken one nestling in the evidence room...bam! They’d bring Tom Payden down like a tent in a tropical storm. The space he had was shocking to work in: there were only 21 inches between it and the adjacent vehicle. Even trying to use his mobile as a torch hardly improved matters.

  Sacrificing his precious trench coat as a mat, he instead made himself into a mechanic-like posture, then set about trying to work it off.

  Was he wrong about what he’d listened to Tom Payden telling him?

  This was an almost perfectly pristine hubcap. He could see it held onto the wheel without any troubles. Slight scratching was visible along the side but not remotely enough to indicate that the fitting was rushed.

  It had been on here longer than three days, to say the least. Having crawled on his back to cross study the rear-right, he could tell that whoever had changed it had replaced the set.

  Garstone pushed and wobbled his way round the width of the cap, and as he did, thanked himself for neglecting the nail clippers lately. He looked for looser areas; still he found it was fixed solid all the way over.

  There was one other way left to try, as long as it didn’t end with two broken thumbs. He slid his two sets of digits into the rim holes and started to drag it round anti clockwise; as he did, he stuck his right knee against t
he tyre so as not to end up pulling himself the other way. Edging it slightly harder, he still failed to make it travel. He held breath then tried once more. Pressing the hardest with his index and middle fingertips, it finally started to yield. It moved five millimetres but as he applied another press, it retracted twice that distance. He felt his hand almost jar.

  What had happened to the traditional easy-fit English hubcap, he ranted. Tell me this bastard didn’t have alloys.

  He writhed into his pockets for his Parker.

  Plugging the pen into the uppermost rimhole, he pushed on it with his palm. This also failed to initiate further movement. He lost patience and pounded it hard. As his force made the pen drop, he was disturbed by a voice over him.

  “My God, Greg.” PC Thompson was staring down, agog “What are you up to - practicing the mechanic’s limbo?”

  “Do you have your new toolkit kicking about?”

  “PC Hall’s new toolkit, you mean? I‘ll let you guess the answer to that one.”

  “I’m gonna need something strong - this baby’s stuck down proper.”

  Garstone let Thompson help him up, then take a look for himself. After ten seconds bent down to look, the PC stood back up.

  “Pretty unsurprising.” he was pointing “It’s been wired on.”

  Crouching by the wheel to look, Garstone realised he’d been unable to see such detail, whilst under his own shadow. The scratches he thought he’d seen were in actual fact fishing line.

  “Have we got anything we don’t need to go back inside to fetch? If the kid sees this, he’ll blow a gasket.”

  “There might be a chance if we search this car.” Thompson was hinting.

  Garstone stood up to view through the window. He could see the back seats were taken over by boxes.

  “Grab some gloves, Will.” he asked Thompson, quickly.

  His friend obliged, also producing forensics bags.

  Having kitted up, the two officers climbed in by separate sides. Thompson went in from the left, toppling an overladen grocery box in doing so. Its whole contents fell onto the concrete.

  “Clever, Will.” Garstone chastised him, casually.

  He carefully helped him clear up the landslide. A diabolical, sickening odour, like that of overdue cheese, swept up suddenly throughout the Corsa. Raking up other items from the footwell, a jar of Macaroni-flavoured ‘Harricotts’ appeared, minus lid. The best before date of August 4th made for incrimination. Finding a further five - which were thankfully unopened - he rammed them right to the bottom of the box and set as many items as he could on top.

  Picking the rest of the carnage out revealed the side of a child seat.

  “Take some of this crap off us can you?” he handed Thompson several bags of ‘Squeezo Shapes’ plus a Duplo set, or what was left of one. A fairly newish booster seat sat fixed, amongst the clutter.

  “It’s not giving, not one single bit.” Thompson was trying to waggle the seat loose.

  He pushed it up towards the left as much as he could without damaging it. Garstone found why he was struggling - the fixings on one side were set solid, as if driven in by nails. Steadying his palm on the car seat, he felt something wet and also none too pleasant.

  “It might be best for all concerned if we backed it out again.” Thompson was suggesting.

  “Go for it.” Garstone resigned to common sense.

  Surrendering the keys to Thompson, he stood back and welcomed him to do the turn. He signalled him back carefully out, ensuring Gary Payden could still not hear.

  Just as the Corsa cleared its space, a terrible screech came from beneath it. Sparks shot out, as if a long lost firework had just been discovered in the floor.

  “Cut!” he called crazily to Thompson.

  The car had lifted up about a foot and a half at the rear, resting lopsidedly in mid air. Beneath it, a badly disfigured exhaust was pinned on end.

  Thompson was already jumping out, to see.

  “Bloody hell!” he knelt to look closer.

  “No wonder the kid wouldn’t bring it in.” Garstone was short of laughing.

  “Got a mechanic’s business started have we?” An artificially enthusiastic voice swirled them round.

  “Or SCRAPYARD, should I say?”

  Leyton was standing there, having seen everything.

  (ii)

  “Great you can still show yourself round here, some of the day ma’am.”

  Garstone dared not admit what he was doing, for the life of him.

  “I nearly didn’t.” Leyton started “Having almost been mowed flat by the very same car we’ve been chasing this last seventy two hours.”

  “That’ll serve you right for sneaking off on personal matters half the day.”

  “DC Garstone, a word with you. In the office.” She had turned abruptly firm.

  “Ok, ma’am.”

  Garstone signalled Thompson to do what he could with the Corsa for now - which probably involved loads of tape and cones - and followed her inside. As he re-entered the station, Gary Payden rose to intercept him.

  “Me car alright?” Gary asked, which slightly gave away that he’d watched.

  “To be honest mate, I’m afraid it isn’t.” Garstone got down beside him, beckoning him to sit. “Don’t know where you’ve been taking her, kid, only it ain’t done your exhaust a job of good.”

  “How am I supposed to get us home?” Gary’s face took on a tearful, reddish expression.

  “I think it’ll only be you, Gaz.” he broke it to him with difficulty “Your brother’s being questioned on suspicion of murder.”

  It was horrid but he had done it. He gulped, waiting to see how Gary reacted. The boy could have broken into tears or a torrent of raging expletives at that very second - instead, he collapsed speechless onto the seat.

  “I’ll arrange with my colleague to drop you off home.”

  “Mr Garstone, I said now!” Leyton was shouting from the department door.

  “Stay here, pal.” he told Gary. “If we’re gone too long I’ll have the officer get you a tea, ok?”

  He scuttled away after Leyton. Once through the double doors, he found himself almost pinned against the wall.

  “So what’s been going on behind my back today?” she had her arms folded, authoratively.

  “You’ve been stealing cars to corroborate evidence, is that how it now works?”

  “Is it, bollocks? We just hit across a stroke of luck - just a pity you were too busy chasing your lady friend to get a piece of it.”

  “I have no time for insubordination, Greg - even less time for dealing with it now. What I want to know is, what the bloody hell’s Gary Payden doing resting his sleepy head on the reception sofa while his brother’s holed up with Leroy Armitage in an interrogation room? Answers, Perry Mason?”

  “The way Tom Payden’s been acting, he might as well be grabbing a great fuck-off loud hailer and going ‘Hey everyone, it was me!’ from the rooftop.”

  “Translation?”

  “Leroy and I found a sack of hubcaps at his parent's place. Just three. All Vauxhall - a very close match with ours.. except these were still in one piece.”

  “So, not only searching a property without a warrant, you’ve now left Gary on one good leg, whilst his poor brother spends the morning answering a potential murder charge? Jesus, Greg what have you been playing at - Cluedo?”

  A door opened behind, disrupting her scoldings. Armitage stepped through, carrying a folder in one arm plus a crumpled plastic cup in the other. He threw the cup in a nearby bin before he began

  “Don’t know what we can do his big brother on...” Armitage spoke, sounding defeated. “He admitted tearing off from Meadowhall wi’ his missis... that's about it.”

  “Not even the scrapyard theft?”

  “Oh, yeah, he put his hands up to that; also, that sweet little text to his young'un. Other than that... completely blank.”

  “So that means Will's also waiting his time?” Leyton s
ounded all but enraged. “Did you actually show Tom Payden that hubcap... or what’s left of it?”

  “That was right at the point that he started getting awkward.”

  “It's been even worse since you went out, mate.” Armitage enlightened him. “Been getting tears and all. Look ma'am.” he turned to Leyton “he's genuinely terrified. He knows there's others that are waiting for him on the outside.”

  “That'll explain why he's got twenty feet of fishing line wiring his hub caps up.” Garstone got chance at last.“What?" Leyton nearly dropped her files.

  “Saw it myself. All four wheels. Adds up a treat though, going on that text.”

  “I'm still not entirely with you.”

  “Remember the Corsa was interfered with, just after Tom's release?”

  “I recall it as being the windows that had been attacked.”

  “That could just have been him talking in code.” said Armitage “Supposing Gary had people looking over his shoulder while he were reading it?”

  “Two and two, still aren't quite adding up to four here, boys.” Leyton shook her head repeatedly. “How do you know he didn't have those new hubcaps fitted, the day after the murder? Really, Greg. I’d have my leg cut off and folded neatly in four before I'd fall for that one.”

  “Tha’d best follow me ma’am.” Armitage was advising as if suddenly reminded “I’ve got something that might serve 'em up an alibi.”

  Leyton was let into the office by Armitage.

  She stood watching him picking out a stash of receipt-like documents.

  He handed Leyton the top one, nodding at her to read.

  “Sep 15th - Vaux H’cap x 4 - S/hand - £15.99 - Cash paid.” She read out, aloud. “This means...”

  “He had the set replaced two months ago.” Armitage interpreted, redundantly “If that does totally corroborate, we’re dicked.”

  Thompson had appeared with another box.

  “Saddleworths said on statement, that Mr Payden attempted to steal an exhaust replacement. Judging that the one on his car has just collapsed, it tailors a sort of believable account.”