‘It’s working, then,’ said Coupland. ‘By the time he wakes from whatever sofa he’s been dossing on there’ll be half a dozen messages from his mates warning him to keep a low profile. Best thing he can do is turn up to work as normal – one of the benefits of being in tow with a gangster is the protection that brings – no one’ll have a pop at him without Tunny’s permission.’
*
Krispy returned from lunch chomping on a donut, oblivious to the clumps of chocolate icing dropping onto his trousers. He caught Coupland staring at him and his face paled. ‘Shit, Sarge, I forgot to pass on a message. Your Federation Rep called. He said you’d arranged a meeting with him for today. He didn’t seem best pleased when I told him you were out.’
‘That’s all I need,’ Coupland muttered. ‘Did he leave a message?’
Krispy began stabbing at a brown stain that had formed around his crotch, anything that prevented him seeing Coupland’s displeasure. ‘Said he’d see you at the Professional Standards hearing. If you can be bothered to turn up, that is.’ Krispy’s cheeks flooded as he looked up at Coupland. ‘His words, Sarge, not mine,’ he added hastily.
‘Forget it,’ Coupland sighed. ‘I’ve got bigger fish to fry.’ He was looking through the Facebook memorial page created for Catherine Fry by her family. Close to two hundred people had already posted their condolences, many of them strangers. ‘I don’t get it,’ he muttered, summoning Krispy over to take a look. A variety of images had been posted to convey the depth of emotion felt following Catherine’s death. ‘What is it with these bloody emojis?’
‘It’s just a form of shorthand, Sarge. A way for people to express how they’re feeling.’
‘Yeah, ‘cos nothing conveys sorrow like a row of crying faces.’ There were sad faces. Loudly crying faces. Faces that resembled something from The Scream. A broken heart. Rosary Beads. Hands clasped in prayer.
Coupland let out a slow breath. ‘Jesus wept.’ He didn’t need to look at the profile of the person who’d posted the last emoji. Instead he put a call through to Shola Dube. Let it ring several times. Nor did he bother with niceties when she answered; instead he asked her for the name of the boy that she’d worked with. The one she’d told him about, who’d suffered a trauma but whose lack of symptoms meant he’d slipped through support service cracks. Shola didn’t hesitate, gave him none of the bollocks about data protection, just came right out and told him the name. A name he should bloody well have suspected.
He was on his feet, reaching for his car keys. ‘Liam Roberts started the fire!’ he shouted over to Alex.
Alex blinked in confusion. ‘I thought we were after him for the hit and run?’
Coupland screwed up his face. ‘Yeah, I dunno, that too maybe. But he started the fire, I’m sure of it.’
Alex was halfway to his desk but was he already at the door. ‘You’re off the case remember, you need to tell me what’s going on and I’ll deal with it.’
‘I don’t have time.’
‘Then I’m coming with you.’
‘You need to arrange back up, tactical unit, the full shebang. If my hunch is right then we’re going to bloody need it.’
‘Do you know where he is then?’ Coupland glanced at his watch. ‘I do now,’ he said, giving her the address.
Not every crime could be solved using the PACE handbook, sometimes it really was just about keeping your eyes open, paying attention to the detail most folk didn’t give a toss about. Habits and haunts. In the end, when it came down to it, most folk were predictable. Coupland flicked the windscreen wipers on to clear the rain spatters that were blighting his view. In contrast, the thoughts jumbling for space in his head became suddenly clear. He pulled out his phone and jabbed at the Google icon, typing in the details of what he was looking for where prompted. He hit the search button, plugging his phone into the hands free system before dialling the number that came up.
The drive would take ten minutes with his foot down.
*
Tunny was already seated in the barber’s chair, passing the time of day with Ken while he shaved his scalp. ‘Thought you were going for a change of style,’ Coupland commented as he entered the shop, careful to keep things casual while he got the lay of the land.
‘Perhaps you can’t teach old dogs new tricks after all,’ Tunny replied.
Liam glared at Coupland from beside Tunny’s chair. ‘What are you even doing here?’ he hissed.
‘Same as I’ve always done, Son, keeping the good people of Salford out of harm’s way.’
‘Is that right?’ The young man’s weight shifted from one foot to another. ‘This is harassment, this is, and you’re bang out of order.’
‘Wind your neck in, knob end. Did I give you permission to speak?’ Tunny turned in his seat as much as was possible while the barber ran the shaver over the back of his head, the skin around his mouth tight. ‘Liam showed me what you’ve posted on social media. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? You’ve practically hung him out to dry.’
‘That was my intention,’ Coupland said, his eyes seeking Liam’s, ‘Wasn’t it?’
Liam dropped his head, compliant once more. Satisfied, Coupland turned his attention back to Tunny. ‘I promised you I’d keep you updated with any news,’ he said, ‘And I can finally say that I have some.’ He turned to look out of the shop window as a van pulled up across the road, ignoring the yellow lines and the sign that said ‘Loading Only’.
‘Thinking of dobbing them in to the traffic cops?’ Tunny asked.
Coupland shook his head. ‘If I called in every violation I saw we’d be tied up in paperwork. Sometimes you need to choose your battles.’
The gangster’s eyebrow raised a fraction. ‘Sounds interesting. Go on.’
‘I always thought the culprit behind the fire was bound to be close to home. An act of intimidation gone wrong, and we know how irritating Harkins can be. Now hear me out,’ he said, raising his hand to silence any objections. ‘I know it cuts both ways, it could have been a rival trying to hit you where it hurts. Either way I fully expected a route back to you. The abuse allegations that came to light provided us with a motive – the culprit could have been a patient seeking revenge. But the callousness of the act, the disregard for the lives lost made me realise my initial suspicion wasn’t that wide of the mark after all.’
‘You got a death wish, Mr Coupland? There was no reason for me to intimidate Alan Harkins; he’s like putty in my hands. I thought you and me had an understanding yet you march in here accusing me of killing my sister?’
Coupland turned to Tunny. ‘I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Liam.’
Liam’s cheeks flooded with colour. He leaped towards the barber’s apron and pulled out a flash of steel. He was faster on his feet than the men standing beside him; sidestepping their lunges he slashed it against Tunny’s neck. Only the razor had been replaced with something blunt.
Coupland charged forward and put Liam into an arm lock. ‘There’s an armed unit outside, keep back!’ he yelled at the henchmen moving towards them, keeping as much distance as he could between Tunny and his would-be assassin. He’d put Liam’s bitterness down to youthful rebellion, but now he understood it had hidden something much darker.
‘I may not have got to you but at least I got your sister!’ Liam spat at Tunny. ‘Now you know what it feels like to lose someone you love! All those years you said you knew how I felt, but how could you? The only way you’d truly understand was if I took something away from you that you cared about.’
Tunny’s hand shook as he rubbed his neck. ‘Why you little—’
A red dot appeared on his forehead, several more appeared on his henchmen.
‘I told you to keep back!’ Coupland warned. ‘Put your hands above your head. Let my officers take him away.’
The gangsters stayed still while armed officers jumped out of the unmarked van and stormed into the shop. Tunny was still cursing, his arms beginning to lowe
r. Coupland glared at him. ‘No sudden movements man, for Christ’s sake don’t give them the excuse they’ve been looking for.’
It was as if the occupants of the room were playing a game of statues. Coupland waited while the Tactical Unit Manager gave the signal that the room was secure before handing Liam over. Once he had been taken away, and the officers stood down, he let out a long sigh. ‘Elvis has left the building,’ he said, moving towards Tunny who had slumped in the barber’s chair. He was breathing heavily, his minions stood around him unsure what to do.
‘So that’s the reason you were here!’ Tunny gasped, staring at Coupland, his face clouding with anger. ‘I was like a father to that boy!’ he snarled.
‘You wouldn’t have had to be if his old man hadn’t died on the job. A job you’d orchestrated.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you warn me?’ He turned to his barber, ‘And you for that matter.’
‘I told him it would most likely save your life,’ Coupland said, ‘and because you’d have made Liam disappear, and I need him to stand trial.’
‘Why does it matter?’
Coupland took a breath. ‘Because my mother was in the fire. She worked there.’ Coupland said her name.
Tunny nodded in recognition. ‘My condolences. My sister liked her. One of the good ones, in my view.’ He stared as Coupland moved suddenly and walked to the other side of the room, a noise coming from low down in his throat, but when he turned his face gave nothing away.
‘There’ll be questions to answer, Tunny, like your involvement in that hit and run last month, but there’s something more pressing I need to attend to.’
Tunny tilted his head as he regarded Coupland. Waited until the detective had reached the shop door before speaking next. ‘Something else we have in common, Mr Coupland,’ Tunny observed.
‘What’s that then?’ Coupland asked, pausing in the doorway.
‘Grief.’
*
The custody sergeant stared back at Coupland, refusing to play ball. Word had gone round about Coupland’s mother; there was no way he was going to let the moody detective anywhere near Liam Roberts.
‘If I was going to do anything to him I’d have done it by now!’ Coupland reasoned but his words fell on deaf ears.
‘The only person I’m letting in that cell is DS Moreton or the DCI himself and if you’ve a problem with that take it up with them. I’m doing you a favour, man,’ he said quietly.
Deflated, Coupland headed to the incident room to bargain with Alex who wasn’t as polite as the custody sergeant, giving Coupland two words in reply.
DCI Mallender was more restrained: ‘Zip it Kevin,’ he said, when Coupland turned up at his door. ‘It’s for your own good.’
To make matters worse the CID room resembled the Marie Celeste. Only Turnbull could be seen at his desk, tapping on his computer keyboard.
‘Where is everyone?’
‘Krispy and Ashcroft are interviewing Alan Harkins and Bernie Whyte regarding the abuse allegations. DS Moreton’s just headed downstairs to interview Liam Roberts while Robinson oversees a search on his home.’
Everyone bar Coupland had a purpose. Seeing as he was surplus to requirements he moved to his desk and logged onto his PC. He scrolled through his emails until he found the report Krispy had produced listing Cedar Falls’ patients in chronological order, cross checking it against patients who’d admitted they’d suffered abuse. An hour later and he was convinced of one thing: His mother hadn’t worked there when Mark Flint, Helen Foy or Colin Grantham were patients, but if Harkins or Whyte turned out to be the abuser she had certainly worked alongside them. Had she known what was going on?
‘Kevin!’
Coupland looked up to see Alex hurrying into the CID room and making a beeline straight towards him.
‘You really are on a fast track to inspector if you’ve charged him already.’
Alex’s smile was fleeting. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though it does feel as though the case is finally coming together. Robinson’s found a pair of gloves at Liam’s home with lighter fuel residue on them.’
Yet instead of doing a jig she perched on the edge of Coupland’s desk and picked at a nail. He put her reticence down to caution. An unwillingness to count chickens until they’d been cracked open with a mighty sledgehammer. ‘Can’t beat a good honest to God confession,’ he said.
Alex nodded, ‘Turns out he’s been supplying Bernie Whyte with cannabis. Their paths crossed one visiting time when Liam accompanied Kieran during a visit to his sister. Said he took one look at Whyte and recognised a stoner when he saw one. He approached him and offered him a regular supply at a discount. Off the books, so to speak. Bernie worked the night shift; most evenings would nip out through the fire exit for a sly smoke in the garden. Liam knew Whyte’s pattern, knew he left the door ajar so he could slip back in without being seen. On the night of the fire he waited while Whyte slipped out and he slunk in with a couple of cans of lighter fluid.’
‘Is Krispy still interviewing Whyte?’
Alex nodded. ‘I’ve just spoken to him, for obvious reasons Whyte isn’t admitting to smoking dope at work but it explains his absences during each shift.’
Coupland sat back in his chair. ‘There’s every chance Harkins knew what he was up to and used the time Whyte went AWOL to his advantage.’
‘That’s what I was thinking. All he had to do was wait for Bernie to slip outside before picking a patient and subjecting them to all kinds of hell – if they did complain Whyte wouldn’t have an alibi, one that he’d be happy to own up to, anyway. I’m on my way to sit in while Ashcroft interviews Harkins. Today’s events have been a game changer as far as he’s concerned.’
Alex looked into the middle distance as though, like for Coupland earlier, she was seeing things more clearly. ‘Now Liam’s opened up he can’t stop. He’s confessed to soaking several of the bedroom carpets with fuel as he couldn’t be sure which one was Catherine’s. He knew the place would go up like a tinder box but once he’d got the idea he didn’t care about the consequences. He’s given me a full account – he wants the glory of being the person who hit Tunny where it hurts.’
Coupland ran his forefinger and thumb over his chin. ‘Why now, though? He’s been working for Tunny for a while.’
‘He said it was the hit and run that tipped him over the edge.’
Coupland frowned. ‘I don’t get it. You’re telling me Liam had been working with McMahon but he wasn’t involved in the hit and run?’
Alex nodded. ‘He said he was there when Tunny ordered McMahon’s execution. He said it was the last straw, made him realise that as far as Tunny was concerned everyone was disposable. Two more kids had lost their dad because of him. He wanted to put a stop to it.’
And in the process rob three infants of their mother, not to mention the hell he’d jettisoned the other victims’ families into. That was the problem with revenge; it removed any semblance of logic.
‘Does he know who carried out the hit and run?’
‘No.’
Coupland was already shaking his head. ‘He’s lying!’
‘He’s come clean about everything else, Kevin. Besides, he says he’s willing to give evidence that Tunny sanctioned McMahon’s murder.’
‘He really is on a death wish,’ Coupland muttered. It was as well to be hung for a sheep as a lamb, he supposed.
Alex looked as though she’d taken root on his desk; she seemed in no hurry to join Ashcroft in the interview room. She was building up to something, though he had no idea what. ‘There’s something else, though. He swears he didn’t kill your mother. He says he didn’t even see her.’
Coupland’s head snapped up, ‘Where is he now?’
‘He’s been taken back down to the cells.’
‘I need to speak to him.’
‘I believe him, Kevin. He’s got no reason to lie. Besides, it’s my case now.’
Coupland looked away, took a breath as
he processed this. Come on man, stay focussed. Bloody well think. He fixed Alex with his full beam stare. ‘He’s the closest we’ve come to finding out who rammed that car into James McMahon, leaving him for dead. And that’s my case, if you recall.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
DCI Mallender sanctioned that Coupland could interview Liam Roberts on two conditions: that Cueball would partner him in the interview room, and that Coupland would remain seated throughout the duration. Coupland was more than happy to comply, and equally happy for Roberts’ solicitor to accompany his client, even though in this instance Roberts was merely helping them with their enquiries.
‘Just for the record my client is here to assist with your investigation into the murder of James McMahon, he is doing so voluntarily. He has been advised to seek advice where an answer may incriminate him in any other ongoing investigation.’
‘I’m sure he has,’ Coupland replied, ‘those school fees won’t pay themselves.’
He put the folder he’d been holding onto the table. It contained a copy of Roberts’ confession that he’d started the fire at Cedar Falls. Coupland had read it but had no intention of referring to it in relation to this investigation. ‘I understand you have denied having anything to do with Barbara Howe’s murder, Liam,’ he began, ‘so I’m going to park any questions relating to that right there,’ he said. His eyes fixed on the solicitor to show he knew how to play nice when he had to. ‘What I want to know is who killed James McMahon.’
‘I already told the other detective I don’t know.’
‘But it was Kieran Tunny who ordered it?’
‘I already told her that, too.’
‘Yeah, but what I want to know is if he’d asked you instead would you have done it?’
‘There’s no relevance to this question!’ the solicitor barked, but the look Liam shot in Coupland’s direction told him his words had hit home.
‘I know you want to point the finger at Tunny, Liam, but others are complicit. Murders like this will keep happening if we don’t put away every link in the chain.’
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