‘Let’s get one thing straight, though’ Jane said. ‘I’m still angry with you. I’m only here because I want to help Christopher.’
I nodded and took our order to the food counter. I had about twenty minutes before it arrived. Sitting back down, I asked her how Murdoch was doing.
‘As you’d expect,’ she said, ‘he’s in pieces. His wife has been murdered.’
‘How about the police? I assume they’re in close contact with him?’
I stumbled over my words but Jane cut across me. ‘If you mean, are they treating him as a suspect, I don’t know. What’s your interest?’
I told her I’d been investigating his wife. ‘Do you know her?’
‘Not really. I’d met her at functions but I wouldn’t say I knew her.’
‘How was their marriage?’
Jane put her drink down and stared at me. ‘I know what you’re doing.’
‘What am I doing?’
‘For whatever reason, you’re fishing. I don’t know why and I can’t say that I want to know. I know how you make a living, Joe, and frankly, I find it a bit strange. All I want to do is help Christopher as much as I can, so whatever it is you want to know, can we get to the point?’
I nodded. Definitely business not pleasure. ‘How long have you worked for him?’
‘About five years. I met him when we both worked for the council. When he set up on his own, he asked me to come with him.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I assist him. Work on projects, meet people. It’s not a specific job.’
‘I assume you two get on?’
‘Absolutely. I wouldn’t work for him otherwise. He treats me well; I’m well paid, given interesting projects to work on and I’m left to get on with things. And I get to help shape the future of the city. It’s perfect for me.’
‘And away from work?’
‘We don’t really socialise too much. We both have lives away from work but I have nothing bad to say about him. He’s a decent guy who people warm to. Feel free to ask others who know him.’
I assumed you had to be likeable in some way if you were trying to bend people to your way of thinking. If you’re fronting regeneration projects, it’s also inevitable you’re going to face opposition and be unpopular. ‘Has he said anything about his wife’s murder?’
‘Like what? Do you think he did it?
‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time it was the husband.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Christopher isn’t capable of such a thing.’
I leant closer. ‘I’m trying to level with you, Jane. These sorts of things don’t happen by accident. If I accept he didn’t do it, then it means one of them has seriously pissed someone off. Does he have any enemies?’
‘Of course not. He’s a businessman, not a gangster.’
‘Does he have an alibi?’
‘Not that I’m aware of, though he shouldn’t need one. He didn’t do it.’
She put her drink down and smiled at me. ‘How about you? Anybody new on the scene?’
I wondered how she could be so certain about him before telling her there was no one special in my life. The food was brought to our table and we ate in silence.
I was happy to have the excuse of a meeting with Donna’s boyfriend from the factory to escape from Jane. It had been a mistake talking to her. As I waited for the barman to give me my change, I picked up my drink and looked around. The pub was run down and practically empty. Shabby, nicotine stained wallpaper adorned the walls, reminding me how much the smoking ban had cost places like this. There were few people in the place, but one or two who’d probably been there since opening time. The old man stood next to me at the bar continued to stare as I walked away. I spotted who I was looking for in the corner and walked across the room.
‘Simon?’
He looked me up and down before nodding.
‘Joe’ I said, introducing myself.
‘How did you find me?’
I looked at the man who Donna had met at the factory. He was wearing an out of date Manchester United shirt and dirty jeans. I guessed he was about 40 years old. ‘I’m a private detective.’
He snorted. ‘That doesn’t answer the question.’
‘I rang the factory and asked for you.’ Sometimes it really was that easy. I got to the point. ‘Tell me about Donna Platt’ I said.
‘Not much to tell.’
He was going to be hard work. ‘Did you meet Donna at the factory?’
‘Where else?’
The pool table was the only sign of life in the pub, with two teenagers in caps laughing loudly at each other’s shots. I looked at the black and white photographs of the local area on the wall whilst I waited for him to elaborate.
‘She was on the line I supervise’ he eventually said. ‘And it just sort of developed.’
I nodded. ‘People meet at work and things happen.’ My mobile vibrated in my pocket but I ignored it. ‘What was Donna like?’ I asked.
‘Different.’
‘Different?’
‘Vulnerable. She needed some company, someone to talk to. I suppose I liked being that person.’
I wasn’t sure whether his answer was uplifting or just plain creepy. I wondered if he’d taken advantage of her. ‘Where did you do your talking?’
‘Sometimes in here, sometimes at her flat.’
‘Her flat?’ I asked him for the details. ‘Did she ever talk about her singing career?’
He turned to look at me.
‘What singing career?’
‘She used to sing around the clubs. She was in a band called 2’s Company.’
He laughed. ‘She was a singer?’
I nodded.
‘I had no idea.’
‘She never mentioned it? I was surprised. The band had been her life.
‘Why are you asking me about this?’ he asked.
‘I need to speak to her.’
‘Why?’
‘Her mother wants to know she’s alright.’
‘Can’t help you, I’m afraid.’
‘You’ve not heard from her recently?’
‘Not since we split up.’
‘When was that?’
‘Three, four years back. A long time ago.’
‘Any idea where she went?’
‘None at all.’
‘Apparently she just upped and went. Was it because you hit her?’
‘What did you say, cunt?’
‘Did you hit her?’ We were eyeballing each other.
‘You best watch your mouth.’
I removed a post-it-note from my pocket. ‘1992, conviction for assault followed by another in 1995. Charges dropped in 2000. It looks like a habit to me, Simon.’ Don had done good work. ‘Do your employers know about these?’
‘Get fucked.’ He’d turned away from me. There was no venom. He was beaten. ‘Did you hit Donna?’
‘I never laid a finger on her and that’s the truth.’
‘Where did she go, Simon? I need to know.’
‘Look, you can throw your weight around all you like, but I still don’t know. Once we finished, I had nothing to do with her. It was easier that way.’
‘What about at work?’
‘She said she was going to transfer to another shift. I didn’t see her and after a while I assumed she’d got herself another job.’
‘Away from work?’
‘I never saw her again.’
‘Why not?’
‘My wife found out about us..’
Lauren skipped out of the kitchen, smiling and headed in the direction of the front room.
‘It’s a good job you can do maths’ said Sarah.
I smiled. ‘It’s maths for nine year olds. Besides, you’re supposed to be our book-keeper.’ I needed to catch up with Sarah and going to her house was the easiest option. ‘I don’t remember learning that stuff at nine.’
Sarah playfully punched me on the
shoulder. ‘It’s hard stuff.’ She collected up the plates from the dining table and placed them in the sink. ‘Sure you’re not hungry?’
I said I wasn’t and told her not to change the subject. ‘It’s only percentages.’ She’d text me earlier in the evening, asking if I wanted to come round to help with Lauren’s homework. The text said I owed, but I was pleased to help. I was pleased not to be sitting by myself in the flat and was determined I’d take the leftovers home with me. I was passed a coffee refill. ‘‘You’re exaggerating’ I laughed. ‘It’s not quite that difficult.’
‘You want to try explaining why you can’t help to her teacher.’
‘Not at all..’ Everything’s easy if you know the answer, I thought.
I took the coffee off her and set it down on the kitchen table. Sarah switched the television off.
‘Donna Platt’s first boyfriend’ she said, passing me over a neatly typed report.
I glanced at the in-depth information. ‘Tell me about him’ I said.
‘As we know, Tim Nicholson met Donna at the shop his parents own. They both worked there part-time. Donna was seventeen when they met, Tim was twenty. A bit of a difference when you’re that age, but he tells me it wasn’t a problem to them.’
‘What does Tim do now?’
‘He’s an account’s clerk for a local builders merchants.’
It didn’t sound too exciting to me. ‘I’d have thought he would have stuck with the family business.’
‘They’ve got three off-licences around the city but he said he wanted to strike out on his own. To be honest, I think he was under his parents thumb in the shop and he wanted away.’
‘Did they approve of Donna?’
‘At first, but it became fraught. Tim was quite open about it. When they first started dating, everything was fine. Once the band started, her attention turned to trying to be famous. It turned his parents off. His father had worked on the docks as a bobber, unloading the fish off the trawlers when they came home. When the work dried up, he used the money he’d saved to put a deposit down on the first shop. I don’t think they had much time for Donna’s dreams. They were more traditional. Hard work got you what you wanted. You didn’t achieve it through pipe-dreams; that kind of thing.’
‘What did Tim think about it?’
‘They drifted apart. She wasn’t the girl he first started dating. She changed; she became high maintenance. She was loud and difficult for him to deal with. He didn’t like what she had changed into.’
‘Who dumped who?’
‘She dumped him. Said he was too boring for her.’
‘Did he get to meet her family?’
Sarah nodded. ‘He was a regular visitor to their house.’
‘How did he get on with them?’ I wanted to know more about Donna’s background.
‘He said it was difficult at first. Donna’s dad, Ron, was part of a crew that’d go out to sea for weeks and come back loaded up with fish. Because Tim’s dad worked on the docks, they vaguely knew each other.’
‘Did he approve of them being together?’
‘Tim said he was keen to see his daughter settled down; married with children. He was quite traditional in that way.’
‘Presumably her singing in a band didn’t sit well with him, then?’
‘No. He didn’t approve and apparently they often argued about it. He didn’t like the way she dressed, the places she went, or who she was hanging around with.’
‘Sounds like he pushed her away.’
‘Sounds like it.’
I was intrigued by Ron Platt and wondered what kind of role he had played in forcing his daughter’s disappearance. I wanted to know more about the man.
Sarah stood up and checked on Lauren. I heard them go upstairs and get ready for bed. I flicked through the newspaper which was on the table before Sarah came back into the room with a bottle of wine. ‘Shall we?’
I nodded and smiled.
‘Truth is Joe, I’m under pressure.’
I shrugged. Coleman’s problems weren’t my concern. I’d considered not answering his call earlier, never mind agreeing to meet in a near-by pub after I’d left Sarah’s house.
I wasn’t in a rush to go home, and although Don and Sarah had reassured me to a point about not being a potential suspect in Jennifer Murdoch’s death, I was intrigued to hear what he had to say.
‘We should be working together’ he said to me.
‘Why?’ I wasn’t in the mood to make it easy for him.
‘We both want the same thing here, don’t we? We both want the truth. We might be coming from different angles, but it’s the same bottom-line.
I sipped my drink and continued to stare around the bar
Coleman turned to face me, clearly angry. ‘For fuck’s sake, Joe. I’m not pissing around here. I know we’ve had some differences in the past but we’ve got to move forward. Some co-operation might go a long way. I’m sure there are things we can work on together.’
‘Work together? My wife is dead.’
Coleman put his drink down and lowered his voice. ‘We did our best, Joe. We really did. Nothing got overlooked; everything was given our full attention.’
It was my turn to sigh. I knew I was being unfair, but it was hard to admit it. I couldn’t bring Debbie back and though the cliché about time being a great healer contained some truth, I still harboured bitterness towards the police and in particular Coleman. I wasn’t surprised he was under pressure to make a breakthrough. On the face of it, Jennifer Murdoch was an upstanding member of the local business community. It was the kind of case which could quickly become the police’s worst nightmare. I sat there and said nothing, letting Coleman take the lead.
‘It’s a chance to start again’ he continued. ‘I’m sorry for what’s happened in the past, really I am.’
‘Sorry?’ I cut in. ‘I lost everything. You didn’t.’ My hands were ripping up the beer-mat they were holding. I needed to get a grip.
‘We can’t keep going over old ground, Joe. I know you’re still working the Jennifer Murdoch case and I might be in a position to help.’
‘How do you know what I’m doing?’
‘It’s my job to know.’
‘How’s the wife?’
Coleman sighed. ‘We don’t need to do this.’
‘How’s your wife?’ I repeated.
‘She’s fine.’
‘She was pregnant when we met.’ I was going to add, when you were implying I had a hand in my wife’s death.
‘A girl. She’s nearly two now.’
‘Congratulations.’ I drained my glass and placed it on the bar. ‘Be seeing you, then.’ I got up and walked out of the pub. I didn’t care what he thought we were doing. To me, we were just two men talking, passing the time of day.
Coleman followed me out and shouted. ‘Come on, Joe. You know you need me if you want some answers.’
I ignored and him and continued walking, my night ruined.
The drink had made me hungry, so when I returned home, I made myself pasta surprise. The surprise part of the recipe was whatever vegetables were left available in the fridge. I’d stirred in a tin of chopped tomatoes and with the aid of some herbs and pepper, it had at least been edible. Actually making something had helped pass twenty minutes and I still had Sarah’s left over lasagne for tomorrow. I switched the stereo on and The Clash leapt out of the speakers. I pressed skip, as they tore into ‘I Fought The Law’; it wasn’t appropriate.
I thought about the hours spent in the station with Coleman and how I’d let Don down. I’d messed up by going direct to Frank Salford without knowing the full story. It contradicted everything Don had taught me. Not only had I compromised an investigation, I’d paid the physical penalty. I couldn’t prove it was Salford’s men who had attacked me, but I knew it had to be his doing. More than anything, letting Don down hurt more than the beating. When I had been drifting, it was Don who took a chance on me, who saw the potential in me. He’d t
reated me like a son, picking me up and putting me back together when I was in pieces.
Our partnership had started about three years ago. Don was a seasoned private investigator with over thirty years police service under his belt. By contrast, I’m still very much learning the ropes. After spending countless years in dead-end jobs, I’d sort of fallen into the profession. To my surprise, I was good at investigating. Although I could do the work, I had no idea how to run a business. And that was when I was introduced to Don. Don was looking towards retirement and wanted to hand his business on. He needed some fresh blood to help him with the work, and had even started to advertise himself as ‘Ridley and Son’, in an attempt to give the impression the business was more than just one ageing man. It’s an unusual profession, and one that Sarah hadn’t shown any interest in. With a never ending supply of the desperate, the needy and the downright nasty to deal with, it’s certainly not glamorous. Over the last year or so, she’d relented and started to work part-time for us, initially as administration help. When we had needed female help with a surveillance job, she’d proved herself to be a natural. As I fell asleep on the couch, I knew I owed them everything. I needed to get some answers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
We’d battled through traffic and made good time for our appointment with Maria Platt. She’d agreed to meet us before she went to the doctors. Her illness meant we couldn’t be choosy when we spoke to her.
Don had rung me on my mobile as Sarah was driving, to tell me about his drink with Bill, a veteran detective still working the cases, despite being officially retired. Like all forces, Humberside was so short of experienced detectives, it was re-employing retired detectives on short-term contracts. Judging by the leaflet I had been given the previous day, they were desperate. I’d watched the highlights of the police’s press conference on the local news bulletin whilst I ate my breakfast. Jennifer Murdoch was found dead in her bed. She’d put up a fight but to no avail. The detective in charge of the investigation had been interviewed to camera, appealing for anyone who knew anything to come forward. It sounded like Don and Bill had cagily exchanged information last night. Bill told him Murdoch’s killer had seemingly gained access by breaking a window, but there was doubt as to how genuine this appeared to be. I assumed from that they meant they were looking at her husband. There were still no DNA results, but that wasn’t unusual. These things moved slowly, even in urgent situations. Don had told Bill what we knew about Jennifer Murdoch’s life, which admittedly still wasn’t a huge amount. The police hadn’t been aware of Sonia Bray and her link to Murdoch and I felt guilty thinking about the storm I could have brought down on her. She was fragile enough.
Broken Dreams Page 6