Echoes of Justice (DI Matt Turrell Book 2)

by JJ Franklin

  This had gone on long enough and Kathy had to think of the girls. Okay, they went to school, but she’d heard that Phoebe had dropped her music lessons and Amy the Brownies. She had to get Pam to let her in, see for herself what was going on.

  She’d seen Phoebe one day in the school playground all alone, head down, instead of surrounded by her friends. Kathy tried to talk to her through the railings, but sensed she was holding back, maybe out of loyalty to her mum. If Pam’s state of mind was rubbing off on the children, she had to do something. Would she feel safer now that Jonathan James was dead? Would she have heard?

  ‘Pam, it’s only me,’ she said to the crack in the door. ‘I’ve brought Zoe’s birthday present.’ She held up the parcels in proof.

  The crack widened.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Kathy waited as the smaller shadow came close and she heard a soft voice.

  ‘Please, Mum.’

  There was a pause before the chain rattled and the door opened. Pam peered out, around and past Kathy before she ushered her in.

  Zoe took Kathy’s hand and led her towards the kitchen. ‘Stay at the edge, Gran. We mustn’t make a mess.’

  Bewildered, she followed Zoe’s example, keeping to the wood at the side of the rug that ran down the hallway to the kitchen. Pam followed, also walking at the edge. Once in the kitchen Pam stood as if unsure of what to do.

  Kathy placed Zoe’s presents on the kitchen table and turned to her. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea, Pam? I’m parched.’

  Pam seemed reluctant but moved towards the kettle. The kitchen was operating-room clean and seemed unused.

  As Pam filled the kettle, Kathy turned to Zoe. ‘Happy birthday, Zoe. So how’s my little pudding then? I swear you’ve grown ten inches since I last saw you.’

  ‘I’m in Miss Turner’s class now.’

  ‘And how do you like school?’

  ‘I like it. And, and I got a star for my drawing.’

  ‘Brilliant. I always knew you were a clever girl. Can I see your picture?’

  ‘It’s at school. On the wall.’

  ‘Well, when you bring it home you can put it on the wall here.’

  Zoe shook her head and glanced at her mum as if betraying a trust. Something wasn’t right in this house, Kathy was sure. Pam plugged in the kettle and returned to the sink to wipe up the splashes before moving to the cupboard to get mugs. Kathy was surprised to see them lined up in a complete regimented fashion, all the handles pointing in the same direction. Pam hesitated before removing one mug. She appeared thinner, tired, and Kathy had the urge to go to her and give her a big hug, to hold her and tell her it would be alright, except she wasn’t sure how Pam would react. There was an invisible barrier around her, holding all the sting of barbed wire.

  Instead, she went forward and took the mug out of her hand. ‘Why don’t I make us both a brew while you sit down with Zoe and open her presents?’

  Pam hesitated until Zoe piped up. ‘Can I open them, Mum? Can I?’

  With an echo of the old Pam and a faint smile, she gave in and went to her daughter. ‘Yes. Open your presents.’

  As Pam sat down to help Zoe, Kathy got down another mug and searched for the teabags. ‘Where are Amy and Phoebe?’ she asked, thinking how quiet the house was.

  ‘In their rooms, chatting with friends on their computers.’

  Kathy placed the two mugs of tea on the table as Zoe tore open her main present.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Granny Kathy. I shall call her Wendy. Like in Peter Pan. I read two whole pages to the class. Miss Turner said—’

  ‘Zoe, please stop bothering Granny and go and fetch your sisters.’

  Her face dropped but she slipped down and went to get Amy and Phoebe. Turning back to Pam, Kathy found she was busy carefully folding the wrapping paper into neat squares and pressing them into tidy stacks. ‘How are you, Pam?’

  ‘I’m fine – thank you.’ She paused as if unused to making conversation and with great effort added, ‘Are you well?’

  Kathy wondered whether to mention Jonathan’s death. She might be relieved. ‘Yes, thanks. Have you heard that Jonathan James is dead?’

  Pam shivered and stood up, wrapping her arms around herself.

  ‘I just thought you’d like to know.’ Kathy kicked herself for being selfish, as if she needed praise for accomplishing his death. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’ She reached out to Pam who backed further away, just as Zoe came back with Amy and Phoebe. Kathy noticed they all walked down the hallway in the same way, avoiding the carpet and staying on the wooden flooring.

  Eight-year-old Amy came for a hug, but ten-year-old Phoebe hung back, glancing at her mother.

  ‘Shall we go into the lounge and you can tell me what you’ve been up to?’ Kathy suggested.

  There was a silence, which hung in the air until Phoebe broke it. ‘Mum keeps that room for best.’

  Kathy guessed Phoebe was used to protecting Pam, even colluding with her. She appeared subdued and not at all the bright spark of a girl Kathy remembered.

  Pam was wiping down the draining board and Kathy noticed her shoulders relax at Phoebe’s reply. She felt a flash of anger at the responsibility being placed on Phoebe and tried to push it down, knowing getting cross wouldn’t help.

  Now she was adding to the pressure. If Pam knew she would only stay for a short time, maybe she would be more willing to let her in again. ‘Well, I’d better get on.’ Kathy went to put her mug in the sink, but Pam took it from her.

  The relief was obvious. Kathy kissed Zoe and Amy and looked towards Phoebe, who had gone to stand beside her mum. It seemed as if she was blending into her mum’s shield of barbed wire, so Kathy just spoke to her instead of trying for a hug. ‘Goodbye, Phoebe. Do well at school, love.’

  She nodded and Zoe led the way to the front door. ‘You have my number don’t you, Zoe? Call me whenever you want to.’

  ‘Yes, Gran. If Mummy lets me.’

  Outside Kathy felt the tears threatening to flow. Even Jack’s lilac tree couldn’t stop the pain. As she walked down the path, she heard the vacuum cleaner start up and her grief turned to anger.

  Chapter 5

  The small front garden, deep in weeds and grass, hid several items; Matt guessed at a bike, maybe a couple of tyres with the rest unidentifiable. Mrs James led them past with a mumbled apology.

  Inside was a complete contrast, for although the furniture was shabby, even Matt noticed how tidy it was. A photo of Jonathan stood on the mantelpiece, another on the sideboard and another on the bookcase, all showing a grinning boy aged about eight or nine.

  ‘Please sit down.’ She rushed to move the TV remote and straighten the cushions on the sofa, but she remained standing. She seemed unable to stay still, fidgeting about the room to flick a speck of dust from the table or straighten one of Jonathan’s photos.

  Matt and Jane sat on the lumpy sofa. ‘Thank you. We are really sorry for your loss, Mrs James,’ Matt said.

  Mrs James nodded, unable to reply.

  ‘As you know, we have yet to establish how Jonathan died.’

  Again the nod, face turned away from them. Matt sent an appealing look to Jane, who was the expert in dealing with this kind of situation. She gave a brief nod and stood, moving to stand in front of Mary.

  ‘Mrs James, we’d like you to help us to find out what happened to Jonathan and who he was with on the night he died.’

  ‘I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what he was doing. And I…well, I’d given up asking. He did mention someone called Nod or Noddy once.’

  ‘Do you know his real name?’

  ‘Sorry, no.’

  ‘Might Jonathan and his friends have become involved in the drug scene?’

  Mrs James turned away from her, anger in her voice. ‘No.’

&
nbsp; ‘How can you be so certain, Mrs James?’

  ‘He hated the stuff.’

  ‘Hated?’

  ‘One of his friends died from using. Poor kid was only ten. Thought my lad was done with tears, what with all the knocking about he took. But he was in bits, crying in my lap. Last time I ever saw him like that though. He hardened up after that. Became more like his dad.’ Mary was still for a moment, thinking. ‘That’s when I really lost him.’

  She moved to straighten the small statue of a spaniel on the mantelpiece. The statue appeared decrepit and had lost part of its ear, yet she handled it like a priceless work of art.

  ‘Present. School trip when he was nine.’

  ‘We realise this is difficult, Mrs James. But it’s tough on the streets. Might Jonathan have been dragged into something you didn’t know about?’ Jane asked.

  ‘No. No way. I know what you’re thinking.’

  Matt couldn’t help asking. ‘What are we thinking, Mrs James?’

  Jane shot him a glance of don’t interfere.

  ‘He was a tearaway, getting into all sorts of trouble. I know that.’

  Matt thought Jonathan James was much more than a tearaway, but kept quiet and waited.

  ‘It’s only me who can remember how he was, before.’ Mrs James moved away from Jane and sat next to Matt on the sofa. ‘He was a cheerful little lad. Reminded me of my dad. Then Vince said he was growing up and needed a man’s hand. That’s what he got. The back of his hand for as much as a word. What I got too if I tried to stop him. I watched my little lad turn sullen, resentful and then hard, like his dad.’

  ‘Sounds like there was little you could do,’ Matt agreed.

  ‘No. But I remember how he was and I know that lad was still inside, buried under all the slaps and beatings.’ Mrs James’s face began to crumple and tears ran down her cheeks.

  Matt put his arm around her, letting her cry on his shoulder, despite departmental policy and Jane raising her eyebrows at him. She needed someone on her side.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Mrs James pulled back and Matt offered his hankie. She began to dab at her eyes. Matt knew it was time to get back on track. ‘Can you tell us where Mr James is, Mrs James?’

  ‘I haven’t seen him for years, not since he was arrested and escaped.’

  ‘And he hasn’t been in contact?’

  ‘No. And I hope it stays that way.’

  ‘So he doesn’t know about his son’s death?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘Will you tell us if he gets in touch?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you. Now it’s important we take a look at Jonathan’s room as it may give us some insight into what happened to him. While DC Meadows is doing that, why don’t I put the kettle on?’

  Mrs James nodded and stood to direct Jane to Jonathan’s bedroom. By the time Matt had placed a steaming hot mug of tea in front of Mrs James, she had returned to say the bedroom yielded nothing but a laptop. With Mrs James happy for them to take it, Jane wrote out the receipt while Matt handed over his card, stressing Mrs James should call day or night.

  Driving back to the office, Jane ran over all the information they had, plus the gaps they needed to fill in. ‘She doesn’t seem to know any of Jonathan’s friends. Except this Noddy fellow.’

  ‘He should be easy to track down. Uniform will know. Did you believe her when she said she didn’t know where her husband is?’

  ‘Yes, and I don’t think she wants to. Sounds like she’s better off without him.’

  Matt agreed. He remembered reading about Vincent James when Jonathan was on trial. As far as he could remember, he was a violent career criminal. Jane interrupted his thoughts.

  ‘Wouldn’t she have known if Jonathan had been into drugs?’

  ‘I’d have thought so. She certainly seemed convinced that he wasn’t.’ Even as he said it, Matt realised he would have a hard time convincing McRay.

  Chapter 6

  Sam jumped up in anticipation as they walked into the office. ‘What do we have, guv? Want me to start the board?’

  ‘Best hold your horses, Sam. I’ve got to talk to McRay first.’

  ‘This might help. I phoned Slim.’

  ‘Thanks, Sam.’ Matt took Sam’s scribbled notes of the pathologist’s preliminary thoughts, scanning them as he walked towards McRay’s office. He wasn’t looking forward to trying to convince the DCI something wasn’t right in the death of Jonathan James.

  McRay saw him coming. ‘Come in, Matt.’ McRay waved him to a seat while studying his face. ‘I’ve got a feeling this isn’t going to make me happy. Right?’

  Matt sat down, marshalling his thoughts to get McRay onside. ‘Initially, sir, I did feel, like you, that this would be a self-inflicted drugs overdose. But there are one or two things which don’t add up.’

  McRay gave a sigh and settled further into his seat.

  ‘First of all we have no indications Jonathan was a drug user.’

  ‘According to?’

  ‘Slim found no evidence the victim…’ Matt stopped as McRay gave a grunt of disgust at the word, and waited until he gave an ill-natured nod for him to carry on. Matt read from Sam’s notes. ‘The victim showed no indication of regular drug use. Death appears to be due to a massive overdose of a morphine-based drug. Toxicology report has been fast-tracked.’

  McRay groaned.

  Matt continued. ‘If we wait for the full toxicology report, valuable time might be lost, sir.’

  ‘Trying to tell me how to do my job?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘I should hope not. What about the mother?’

  ‘Adamant her son wasn’t a user.’

  ‘Well, she would say that, wouldn’t she? Did DC Meadows believe her?’

  ‘Yes, sir. We both did.’

  ‘Well, there must be a lot of people happy to see the back of Jonathan James. Take a quick look. How long has he been out of custody?’

  ‘About two months.’

  ‘Might be worth checking with them – they would know if he was a user. And, Matt, I don’t want a lot of time wasted on this but, while we haven’t anything serious on the go, it won’t hurt.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Matt left, giving the thumbs up sign to Sam, who moved to start the incident board. By the time Matt had called the team together, Sam had a picture of Jonathan James in place, together with a host of other details. Matt guessed Sam had been busy doing this basic work while he was out. Moving to stand in front of the board, Matt gave him a nod of approval.

  Most of the team had gathered around Jane’s desk, wolfing down the chocolates, so there was no need for Matt to raise his voice. Only Grant remained oblivious and was intent on his computer screen. Matt decided to ignore him.

  ‘Jonathan James was found in an alley between Pierce and Monument Street at one twenty-five this morning by a club doorman. He called ambulance and uniform, but Jonathan was dead on arrival at Warwick Hospital. Slim is doing the post mortem tomorrow. He estimates the time of death between eleven-thirty last night and one this morning. From his initial findings, he thinks it is likely Jonathan died of a huge drug overdose, most likely morphine-based. However, he found no evidence of routine drug use. Jonathan’s mother, Mary James, is adamant her son was not a user. I know, I know, that’s what they all say.’ Matt held up his hands at the general moan of disbelief, before continuing. ‘However, we both believe her. Slim is fast-tracking the toxicology report.’

  ‘Could he have been branching out, trying something new?’ Grant drawled, finally raising his head.

  ‘There is always that chance, but it’s unlikely he would choose to start with this drug, or that he’d be able to get his hands on such a large quantity. We need to check what’s on the street right now. Grant, could you have a wor
d with the drug team?’

  ‘If that’s what you think is best, sir?’

  Somehow, Grant always seemed to imply Matt’s decisions might not be right, but Matt was used to the man now and didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Thank you. We should also check for break-ins at doctor’s surgeries, pharmacies, etc., for any report that involves morphine or its derivative.’

  Grant nodded and Matt moved on.

  ‘For those of you who weren’t here, or have a bad memory, two years ago, Jonathan James was one of five youths convicted of the manslaughter of Jack Wylde. He was undoubtedly the ringleader and served the longest sentence, although reduced because of his age. We need to trace his co-defendants, just in case one of them has developed a grudge, life ruined and all that.’

  ‘I’ve traced one of the four, guv.’

  Matt stepped back and gave the floor to Sam.

  ‘Harry Winters, aged sixteen when the offence was committed, was sentenced to six months at a young offenders’ unit. He was a model prisoner and since being released managed to get a part-time job at the Chalice…’ Sam paused to review his notes. ‘The Stratford Chalice Hotel in the porters’ department. Not only that, but he’s doing drama at Stratford College.’

  As Sam turned to write Harry’s name on the board, Matt stepped in. ‘Thanks, Sam. Harry seems an unlikely candidate for Jonathan’s death, but we’ll need to see him and chase up the others, to see if they have any idea who may have killed him and to rule them out.’

  ‘What about Jack Wylde’s family?’ Jane asked.

  ‘There was only his wife and three young children. She was present at the time and was traumatized, as you can imagine. Certainly worth checking out. Think you should be the one to do that, Jane.’

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ she said, pulling a face and ignoring the titters from the others.

  She appeared tired and Matt wasn’t surprised when she shoved the chocolate-guzzlers aside and sat down. He’d have to make sure she didn’t take too much on, at least for a while.