Red is the Colour

by Mark L. Fowler

He let the man light another smoke, and regain a modicum of composure. Then he asked him, ‘Okay, Phillip. If Jenkins was doing the hitting, what were the rest of you doing?’

  ‘Dammers was holding him,’ said Swanson. ‘Me and Doug were joining in the singing. We never actually hit him.’

  ‘So that makes it all right, then?’

  Swanson didn’t answer. He pulled heavily on his cigarette.

  ‘Did any of you, apart from Jenkins, assault Alan Dale?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t actually kill him that evening, did you?’

  ‘We didn’t kill anybody.’

  ‘No, you didn’t. Not that evening. You went back another time to finish the job, didn’t you?’

  ‘I wasn’t there that second time.’

  ‘But you knew about it? So, where were you?’

  ‘In the park. There was a game.’

  ‘You saw them taking Alan Dale back down the path, isn’t that right?’

  Swanson was looking down at the table, nodding frantically.

  ‘Jenkins, Hillman and Dammers?’

  ‘Jenkins and Dammers were there. I don’t know about Hillman.’

  ‘You’ve had a visitor recently, I believe. Someone doing the rounds – someone from the past giving you all a briefing in the wake of the discovery of Alan Dale’s corpse. Hillman just turned up, out of the blue, did he? Where did he visit you?’

  ‘I didn’t see Hillman.’

  ‘Who, then?’

  ‘I spoke to Dammers. I had a phone call. He said that he’d been talking to Howard Wood.’

  Tyler felt the glow ignite inside him.

  ‘When was this, exactly?’

  ‘After the report about the dead boy being Dale. Wood was expecting a visit from the police and Dammers told him to play it cool.’

  Tyler’s heart was thumping in his chest, and he tried to keep the effect of it out of his voice.

  ‘He’d been to see him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think so.’

  ‘But he didn’t come to see you?’

  ‘He was on the phone a long time, and I thought I’d convinced him that he had nothing to fear from me.’

  ‘That you could keep your mouth shut? That you could handle the authorities?’

  Swanson lit up another. ‘Something like that. But then he turned up.’

  ‘How nice for you. And did he say anything about visiting Jenkins or Marley?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Had you seen Jenkins recently, or any of the others?’

  ‘None of them, I told you that.’

  ‘Howard Wood?’

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘The occasional match, perhaps? Relive old times? Matter of fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if Wood hadn’t suggested coming forward. Help the police out – funny how a discovery of a corpse like that can do wonders for the memory. It was such a long time ago; a bit of harmless fun. Get your stories in first because, after all, you didn’t really do anything, right? Not even withholding valuable information at the time – and for thirty years afterwards.

  ‘And perhaps you took it upon yourself to alert Dammers or maybe Hillman directly. Let them know that there was a weak link or two in the chain. Maybe you saw Steve Jenkins. Maybe he made the suggestion about coming forward. Some interesting possibilities around Steven Jenkins, wouldn’t you say – considering he ended up getting his throat cut so deep that it practically took his head off.

  ‘I’m in the territory, am I not, Mr Swanson?’

  Swanson buried his head into his arm and began to weep, while Tyler watched with disdain.

  When Tyler came out of the interview room, followed by a somewhat bemused DC Clarke, barely back off sick leave, and looking about ready to jump back overboard, he needed a gallon of tea. But when the desk sergeant gave him a list of messages his thirst was instantly forgotten.

  Everything appeared to be moving at the speed of light.

  Mills had come in and from his account Hillman had not been good company. Berkins had already caught wind of events and expected a call from Tyler immediately.

  Tyler said that the chief superintendent would have to wait as there were more important matters to be dealt with first.

  He took a stunned Mills into his office to give him the update following Swanson’s interview.

  ‘You’re shaking, sir.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You don’t know it – you’re bloody shaking.’

  Mills went to organise an urgent drink and then he helped Tyler into a chair.

  28

  Tyler came round and Danny Mills’ face was the first thing he saw.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You fainted. Some people will do anything to get out of returning the chief’s call.’

  Tyler groaned. ‘You know, I was starting to like this city.’

  ‘Make the call, sir.’

  ‘I don’t expect that Berkins will be overly impressed with our methods of late. Mine in particular.’

  ‘Why don’t you find out?’ Mills gestured towards the phone.

  ‘You could book me a hospital bed for the night, Danny. Put me in Douglas Marley’s old bed. I can wait to see which visitors I get.’

  ‘They don’t have to worry about him opening his mouth now, sir.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That was in poor taste.’

  ‘I think we’ll get over it. Now, if I were you, I would make that call. He’s probably on his way over as we speak.’

  ‘No point in wasting a phone call, then. And as for being me – you wouldn’t want that.’

  Mills, filling up Tyler’s cup again, lowered his head towards him. ‘Have me for in subordination if you like, Jim. But first up – make that fucking call.’

  Tyler conceded defeat, laughed hysterically for about thirty seconds, and then he picked up the phone.

  Berkins sounded glad to hear from him.

  Mills listened as Tyler attempted to explain his actions to Chief Superintendent Berkins, impressed as he heard the detailed account of the interview with Swanson and the complicated possibilities and permutations likely to follow. Mills thought he heard Berkins making noises about somebody getting himself a job as a confidence trickster, as Tyler held the phone away from his ear.

  When the call ended, Mills said, ‘Not happy, then?’

  ‘Somewhere between apoplectic and certifiable. But they hedge their bets at that level. Secretly, I think he was full of admiration, and at the same time soiling his pants. If it works out, I’ve done nothing wrong, and he can bask in the glory. If it doesn’t, he’s going to want a head in the basket. And all he has to do is ask. So, place your bets.

  ‘Come on, let’s get this show on the road.’

  ‘Are you up to it?’

  ‘No question about it. I have to be.’

  Dammers didn’t say anything while the technicalities of the interview were explained to him. He appeared strangely more confident in the interview room than he had done at home. It wasn’t the first time that Mills had witnessed that phenomenon; a person was often most vulnerable in their private space, and more guarded.

  And in the case of Paul Dammers, dealing with the police at home was no doubt alien, whilst dealing with them here was like putting on your work clothes. Doing what you got paid to do and not taking it too personally.

  His manner suggested that he knew the process as well as the solicitor sitting next to him. Mills wondered if that arrogance wasn’t going to let him down hard.

  Tyler recapped carefully the conversation that had taken place at Dammers’ house earlier in this long day of days. The punishment at the hands of Wise for vandalism, corresponding with the beating, that same day, of Alan Dale on The Stumps.

  Dammers neither denied nor confirmed anything, leaving it to his solicitor to interject. ‘Have you brought in my client merely to have fun assassinating his character, DCI Tyler?’

  Tyler conjured up the day when the five of them had taken
Alan Dale down The Stumps to show him what happened to a kid who supported the wrong team. Tyler painted a vivid picture, all the time watching Dammers’ reactions to the trip down memory lane.

  There was fear in his eyes, fear but not a modicum of shame. And the fear was kept in check, thought Tyler, by the knowledge that his solicitor knew the word ‘evidence’ as well as he knew the word ‘proof’.

  And in the knowledge gained through a career in probation work: that the odds were always, always going to be stacked in favour of the offender and not the victim when it came to which version of the ‘truth’ would ultimately prevail.

  ‘Do you intend backing up any of these old stories, or shall we begin the process of demanding a formal apology for my client now, perhaps – for subjecting him to these rather unsavoury allegations?’

  Dammers was still to speak, but Tyler had finished the knuckle-cracking and was about to insist upon it.

  ‘A number of people – ex-pupils from your school – have given testimony that you held Alan Dale down while he was repeatedly beaten. Do you deny that, Mr Dammers?’

  Paul Dammers looked at his solicitor, but the question was deemed a fair one.

  ‘Whose testimony?’ he said at last.

  The question surprised Tyler. After all, Dammers had seen Swanson here at the station already. Did he want to see how many cards the police were holding before committing himself?

  ‘Phillip Swanson,’ said Tyler.

  Dammers didn’t even blink at that.

  ‘Douglas Marley.’

  Not a flicker.

  ‘We have Martin Hillman waiting outside, and we will be talking to him directly.’

  The mention of Hillman’s name and the suggestion of his presence appeared to come as a shock, but still Dammers didn’t exactly fall to pieces at the news. Tyler asked the question again, and Dammers looked again to his solicitor.

  ‘Will you please answer the question,’ said Tyler.

  The solicitor whispered something into the ear of his client, and a moment later Dammers asked if he might take a break. Tyler spoke to the tape machine, announcing that a short break would now take place before the interview resumed.

  Outside the door, he took Mills to one side.

  ‘We only have Swanson and Marley’s testimony and one’s dead and the other’s a nervous wreck. Push too hard and fast and he’ll play safe. We can’t trust to Hillman opening up.’

  ‘He won’t know that Marley’s dead, sir. Not yet.’

  ‘Time to spin the wheel and see what colour our probation officer and his brief are placing their money on. God, talk about a den of iniquity – MPs, probation, social workers and solicitors. We pulled out a royal flush this time, Danny-boy. Talking of which … make a start on the messages while I pay a visit.’

  When Tyler came out of the gents, he made his way to the CID office. Mills was waiting and he was beaming. ‘We have a result from the CCTV, sir.’

  ‘Dammers?’

  ‘Hillman.’

  Back in the interview room, Tyler switched on the tape machine and announced the resumption. And then he repeated the troublesome question: was Dammers prepared to admit that he was present that afternoon, holding Alan Dale while he was assaulted?

  Dammers glanced at his brief, and then turned back to Tyler.

  He nodded.

  Tyler pointed toward the recorder.

  ‘Could you please speak for the tape, Mr Dammers.’

  ‘Yes, I was there.’

  ‘And did you hold Alan Dale while he was assaulted?’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘You don’t believe so? Mr Dammers, did you or didn’t you hold—’

  ‘It was a long time ago. I can’t imagine that I would have done, though.’

  ‘Do you recall who was assaulting Alan Dale?’

  Tyler again observed the face of the gambler, trying to weigh up which hand to play. It was always useful to have a scapegoat in situations like this one. To confess to the lesser charge and hide behind the ‘real’ culprit. Even better if the scapegoat was conveniently deceased.

  ‘I think it was Jenkins.’

  Bingo, thought Tyler. Surprise, surprise. No doubt when the news got out that Marley was dead, he would figure more prominently in the accounts too, particularly when it came to allocating the violence.

  ‘Steven Jenkins was the only person assaulting Alan Dale?’

  ‘I think the whole thing was his idea.’

  ‘So why did Steven Jenkins wish to inflict such a beating on a defenceless child, Mr Dammers?’

  ‘I think it was because of the football thing, like you said. But like I say, it was a long time ago.’

  ‘And you think that was fair and reasonable, do you? He doesn’t support your team, so you—’

  ‘DCI Tyler, I believe that my client has already answered your question.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. So, Mr Dammers: Steven Jenkins assaulted Alan Dale, but there were five of you present. Six including Alan Dale, is that correct?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Did you hold Alan Dale while Jenkins assaulted him?’

  ‘It may have been one of the others. I was there, but—’

  ‘So, who else might it have been?’

  ‘I think it might have been Swanson.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  There was a lightening of tone as Dammers said, ‘Actually, it could have been Marley. It was one of them, maybe both of them. Like I say, it was—’

  ‘Yes, Mr Dammers. A long time ago, I realise that. So, what about Martin Hillman? What part was he playing?’

  Dammers seemed to lose the lightness of a moment ago. ‘I don’t particularly remember him being there. I mean, he might have been, but I’m not sure about it.’

  ‘I see. So, let’s move on to two evenings later, shall we.’

  Tyler painted the scene once again. A fine summer’s late afternoon, a game of football organised in the park. This time only three of them present to torment Alan Dale.

  ‘Another beating, was it, or something more this time? Alan Dale had a fractured cheek, aside from the injuries that actually killed him.’

  The solicitor interjected, and the immediate brightness reflected again in the face of Paul Dammers.

  Tyler continued. ‘You were there that second evening, Mr Dammers? Along with Steven Jenkins and Martin Hillman?’

  Dammers glanced towards his solicitor.

  ‘Will you please answer the question, Mr Dammers,’ said Tyler.

  Dammers turned back to the detective. ‘We were just messing about, not meaning to do any harm.’

  ‘You fractured the boy’s cheek.’

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector!’

  ‘Please go on, Mr Dammers.’

  ‘It was Steven Jenkins who punched him.’

  Ah, the dead man again, thought Tyler. ‘And was there any particular reason for this vicious assault on a defenceless child?’

  ‘As far as I was concerned, we were just mucking about.’

  It sounded too thin, and Dammers knew it. He went on, ‘I think Steve – Jenkins – had a bee in his bonnet still, about the football.’

  ‘About Dale supporting a different team?’

  Dammers nodded.

  ‘For the tape, please, Mr Dammers.’

  ‘Yes, because of that.’

  ‘And about the fact that he had been punished by Mr Wise, which he may also have blamed Alan Dale for.’

  ‘Yes, possibly that as well.’

  ‘But not Martin Hillman?’

  Dammers looked blank.

  ‘Martin Hillman didn’t have a grudge, despite the fact that he too had been punished “on account of Alan Dale”?’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘But he was there, wasn’t he? The three of you had gone to all that trouble to take Alan Dale back down the path. Except that this time what you had in mind was far worse.’

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector
—’

  ‘This time the beating was just a warm up exercise, wasn’t it? Get the party going?’

  ‘DCI Tyler, I think that my client has helped you as far as he is able with your enquires. And now if you don’t mind …’

  ‘We’ve almost finished,’ said Tyler. ‘So, if you could bear with me for just a little longer.’

  Tyler turned back to Dammers. ‘You’re still not sure of Hillman’s involvement, on either occasion?’

  ‘Like I said, it was a long time ago.’

  Tyler felt his hands making fists under the table, and at the same time he recognised the relief coming into the eyes of Paul Dammers: the man was starting to believe that he was home free. That all of the significant cards had already been played.

  ‘Cast your mind back, a final time, to that second evening, Mr Dammers. Steven Jenkins, for whatever reason, hit Alan Dale in the face, fracturing his cheek. Alan Dale was never seen again after that day, until his corpse was found recently. He died in that place. You, along with Steven Jenkins and Martin Hillman, were the last people to have seen him alive.’

  Dammers was licking his lips.

  ‘You have something to say, Mr Dammers?’

  He had something to say, alright; his eyes were filled with it. ‘The one thing that I do remember – was the girl coming.’

  ‘Girl?’

  Tyler caught Mills’ eye, but all it reflected was his own bemusement.

  ‘We went when we saw the girl coming.’

  As Tyler tried to re-assemble his scattered thoughts, he heard Mills ask, ‘Do you know who this girl was?’ And then Dammers strident reply: ‘No, but I think she looked familiar. Didn’t the boy have a sister?’

  29

  ‘They all seem to want to keep Hillman out of it,’ said Mills, when Tyler returned from speaking on the phone again with Berkins.

  ‘And that includes Berkins,’ said Tyler. ‘He’s on his way over. He’ll be in time to pin a medal to our chests or else roast us.’

  ‘Where’s your money?’

  ‘Don’t know about you, but I’m not strictly the medal type.’

  ‘I think you underestimate yourself.’

  ‘I just work from the evidence available.’

  Mills laughed. ‘Talking of which – what do you think about this “girl”?’