Blue Murder

by Staincliffe, Cath

  Later he wondered if he should have gone over to Douggie and said his goodbyes there. But Douggie wouldn’t have heard him. He had seen the mess that Douggie was and knew you couldn’t be like that and live. When he closed his eyes he could hear Douggie laughing his wheezy laugh and launching into a stupid impression of an ice cream van playing the Teddy Bear’s Picnic.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Janine was in the murder room when she heard about Dean Hendrix. She sent for Richard. He looked guarded. Perhaps he thought she wanted to resume their altercation. His expression soon changed when she broke the news. ‘There’s been an incident. Drugs round-up in Oldham. Went sour. Main suspect got run-over.’ She paused a moment – some young lad, not much older than Michael, dead on the streets. ‘But they got Dean Hendrix. They’ll transfer him first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘There’s more, though.’

  He looked questioningly.

  ‘Guess who Dean’s mate was selling to?’

  ‘Tulley?’ A drugs connection could give them some motive for the killing.

  ‘Ferdie! And Ferdie needed some dosh to set up in business. So he and Colin went and took some.’ She tilted her head, raised her eyebrows, inviting him to work it out. It didn’t take him long.

  ‘The off-licences.’

  ‘That’s why Colin was sweating,’ Janine smiled. ‘That’s where they were Saturday morning.’

  She removed Ferdie Gibson’s photograph from the board. Looked at the two that were left. Lesley Tulley and Dean Hendrix.

  ‘We know Dean was at the allotment, we’ve got the fingerprint, Mr Vincent has identified his photo–’ Richard began.

  ‘He also picked the wrong face in the line-up,’ she countered.

  Richard continued his thread. ‘And Dean’s done it before plus he goes AWOL. Now, all we’ve got on Lesley is a funny parking ticket and the washing.’

  ‘He’s no motive.’

  ‘Nor has she.’

  Janine looked back at the photos. Folie a deux perhaps? ‘They plan it together. Dean kills Tulley and Lesley helps cover the traces. She takes the knife and burns the clothing.’

  Richard shook his head.

  ‘Be interesting to see her reaction to Dean being in custody,’ she said.

  ‘You going to tell her?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she checked her watch. ‘And now I really must make tracks.’

  ‘How’s Tom?’

  She hesitated. She was eager to keep things purely professional with Richard but he seemed genuinely concerned – and he had gone all out to get her to the hospital quickly.

  ‘Sitting up and chattering.’ Pete had rung an hour earlier, updated her. ‘I’m on night shift.’

  ‘If there’s anything I can do?’

  His offer disarmed her. It was what everyone said but she was tired, a bit vulnerable. She felt dizzy, had to look away because the last thing she wanted to do was to start weeping.

  ‘Janine?’

  ‘Just sometimes it feels like it’s all unravelling, you know? Tom, Michael, work, this …’ she nodded at her stomach, took a deep breath. Saying more than she’d intended. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said briskly. He watched her go.

  *****

  Ferdie was almost home when Shap and Butchers caught up with him. ‘Ferdinand Gibson.’

  Ferdie groaned. No more hassle. ‘I’ve already talked to you lot. This is harassment, that’s what this is. I’m going to make a complaint, you know. You want to talk – I want a solicitor.’

  ‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ the new guy said. Fat bloke, stupid cartoon tie on. ‘Ferdinand Gibson, I am arresting you on suspicion of being in possession of a Class A drug, namely cocaine, with intent to supply and on suspicion of armed robbery You do not have to say anything …’

  Shap showed his teeth.

  ‘Aw, Jesus!’ said Ferdie, circling his head in hopelessness. ‘Who grassed me up, eh? Was it Colin? I’ll bleedin’ ‘ave him. Look,’ he spread his palms wide, ‘can I just tell me mam, I only live there, the blue door?’

  ‘We’ll tell her.’

  Shap opened the car door, gestured him in.

  ‘Can I just give her the shopping?’ Ferdie held up his little rucksack.

  ‘You heard that? Sonny Jim wants to drop his bag off,’ Shap said with contempt. ‘Must think we’re bloody stupid. Who’s been giving you lessons, Homer Simpson, was it? Eh? Hah hah hah.’ He chortled at his own joke. ‘Get in, Einstein,’ Shap drawled. Slamming the door after him.

  Butchers started the engine.

  Fucked, thought Ferdie.

  *****

  Janine was collecting an overnight bag for herself and Tom and making sure everything was all right at home.

  Sarah had fed Eleanor and Michael and was holding the fort.

  ‘You should have worn your black suit for the telly.’ Eleanor had watched the Press Conference.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You looked funny.’

  ‘Funny?’ She folded Tom’s pyjamas and dressing gown.

  ‘Your nose looked bigger.’

  ‘Thank you, darling.’

  ‘You know your nose is the only bit of you that never stops growing.’

  Janine looked at Sarah. ‘That’s something to look forward to, eh?’

  Sarah laughed.

  Eleanor showed Janine a card. A child’s drawing of a bed and a stick figure, balloons and dinosaurs. ‘I made this for Tom.’

  ‘That’s lovely, he’ll like that. Now, coat,’ she nodded to the chair where Eleanor had dumped her coat. The girl picked it up and went to hang it up.

  ‘Damn!’ Janine knew there was something else to do. ‘Packed lunch.’

  ‘Whoa!’ Sarah told her. ‘I can do her lunch. Calm down.’

  ‘I hate dumping on you like this.’

  ‘I’d never have guessed,’ she said dryly.

  Janine pulled a face.

  ‘I’ll get you back,’ Sarah warned her, ‘you can defrost my freezer. So what’s the story with Lover Boy?’

  Janine sighed, surveyed the heap of stuff she was packing. Suddenly felt the weight of everything threaten to overwhelm her. ‘Dunno really. Think he might be just messing about, playing the field. I’ve told him I’m not interested. And like I said, look at me.’ She spread her arms wide, then let them drop. Began to put some of the clothes into the bag. ‘Daft isn’t it? Be nice, a bit of love and affection …’

  Sarah gave her a brief hug. ‘It’s lonely, you know,’ Janine said, ‘having a baby on my own.’

  Janine found Michael at the computer. ‘I’m going back to the hospital now.’

  He nodded, no other reaction.

  ‘Michael, I went into school today. Mr Corkland wanted to see me. He told me there’ve been problems at school. And last night the police were here, wanting to talk to you. I don’t know what’s going on but we need to talk about it. Soon.’

  He reached over and raised the volume.

  A flash of anger warmed her face. ‘Don’t push it, Michael!’

  ‘Or what? You’ll lock me up?’

  The doorbell sounded, preventing her replying. She answered it to find the police officer from the previous evening. Great timing.

  Sarah came into the hall and, seeing the policeman, ushered Eleanor upstairs for her bath.

  ‘Good evening, is Michael in?’

  Janine stood aside, let the man in and showed him into the room.

  ‘Michael,’ she said.

  He turned, saw the uniform and paled.

  Janine nodded he should turn the sound off. He did.

  ‘It’s about Saturday, The Trafford Centre. You were involved in an attempt to steal a mobile phone,’ PC Durham said.

  ‘Someone tried to rob me.’ Michael said.

  ‘Don’t mess about, lad. You’re in enough trouble as it is. Now, what really happened?’

  There was a pause. Janine wanted the floor to swallow her up. Feeling desperate for
Michael, angry and sad at the same time.

  ‘We were just mucking about.’

  ‘Bit of fun? That’s not how the other lad sees it; your victim.’

  Michael blanched at the term.

  ‘Wasn’t funny at all. He hasn’t been sleeping very well since.’ He paused, letting Michael stew for a moment. ‘Think yourself lucky, Michael, charges won’t be brought this time but if there’s a next time we’ll pick you up before you can draw breath. Understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘This is an official warning. You look like a decent enough lad, sort yourself out. I hope we never meet again.’

  Janine followed PC Durham to the door. ‘The other lad?’ she asked.

  ‘Shaken up. They pushed him about a bit. There was a free for all, the security guards picked up on it pretty quick and this lot bolted.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Reckon he’ll be all right. Learnt his lesson, they need a bit of discipline don’t they, this age? I’ve seen it before.’

  Janine resented the lecture, the implication that Michael hadn’t had enough discipline. There’d always been clear rules at home.

  When she’d seen him out she leant back against the wall, snatching a moment to recover. She didn’t want to arrive at the hospital ragged and drained. Tom needed her; God, they all needed her. Never any chance for her to be the needy one.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Day 4: Tuesday February 25th

  Janine had slept badly, the makeshift camp-bed that the hospital provided was narrow and uncomfortable and she’d had heartburn. Tom had been much better and seemed to shrug off the experience with the resilience of youngsters.

  She was dressed and ready for work when Pete arrived at eight.

  ‘How you doing, soldier?’ He gave Tom a bear hug.

  ‘I had chocolate cereal!’

  ‘Chocolate!’ He ruffled Tom’s hair. Looked at her, ‘What do they say?’

  ‘They’ll discharge him. We’re waiting for the doctor,’ Janine told him.

  ‘How long’s that going to be?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘And then what?’ There was a belligerent note in his voice. Janine didn’t want Tom exposed to any bickering. She went over to the window, forcing Pete to follow.

  ‘Stop it,’ she said quietly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Using this to pick a fight with me.’

  He gave an incredulous laugh. ‘You are so bloody selfish. I’ve got a life to lead too, you know, a job. I can’t just drop everything either.’

  She would not let him rile her. She kept her voice even. ‘If you take him home, I’ll collect him later. Sarah can get Eleanor.’

  Pete hesitated. What else could they do? Janine wondered. Had he an alternative?

  ‘Look, the kids don’t know whether they’re coming or going,’ Pete said. ‘Tina thinks we need to sort out fixed arrangements.’

  Oh, she does, does she? ‘Shame the pair of you didn’t think a bit more about the kids in the first place. Christ, Pete, she’d barely got chance to get the polish out and her overalls on before you two were at it.’

  Pete looked sick but continued. ‘We need some routine.’

  ‘I don’t do regular shifts, I have to do overtime at a moment’s notice,’ she reminded him. ‘You know that. And kids – things happen, life’s messy. It won’t work if you start being inflexible.’

  ‘Won’t work for you,’ he accused her.

  ‘For them,’ she insisted.

  ‘Dad. Mum.’ Tom held up a model he’d made.

  Janine glared at Pete. They couldn’t sort this out now. They went and admired Tom’s handiwork. Janine picked up her briefcase and coat. Gave Tom a big hug. ‘Dad’s going to take you to his, I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Yes-s-s!’

  She looked at Pete – see how he loves you. Pete looked away, picked up the model and began to play with his son.

  *****

  A doctor had seen Dean at the police station in Oldham. The doctor asked him some questions and talked to the other people there. They seemed unsure of what to do. He heard someone say hospital and then someone said Manchester and he guessed they were talking about the murder. They gave him an extra blanket and some tea which burnt his tongue. All night long they kept sliding the peephole back on the cell door and staring in. Dean didn’t know if he slept or not. Every time he thought about it he was in the same position, hands together between his knees, curled up tight. When he was in care, after his mum died, they said he slept with his eyes open. Freaked the other boys out. He didn’t think he slept that way anymore. Paula had never mentioned it.

  When they had asked him if there was anyone they should notify about him being nicked he said no. Pretty tight that. The world fit to bursting with overpopulation and there’s not one frigging person in the known universe who needs to know that Dean Hendrix is in trouble. He realised he was feeling sorry for himself but he reckoned he was entitled. He doesn’t – who will? Not exactly the best day of his life.

  *****

  ‘And the Gibson angle, the drugs?’ The Lemon’s eyes scrutinised her.

  ‘No link to Tulley, sir. Ferdie Gibson and friend Colin were behind the off-licence robberies. They used the cash to buy cocaine from a firm operating out of Oldham. There was a connection, though; Dean Hendrix chose the house in Oldham to hole up in.’

  ‘Two crimes for the price of one, eh? You’d never have got him without Oldham, would you?’

  ‘Hard to say, sir.’

  ‘Sheer fluke,’ he said dismissively. ‘Can’t claim any credit for that. And one of the suspects was killed in the course of the raid?’

  ‘Car drove over him, his accomplice.’ Poor kid.

  ‘Bloody mess, but that part’s Oldham’s problem. As for ours, I want a written report by the end of the day. Everything ready for O’Halloran. He’ll be taking over from you first thing tomorrow.’

  He couldn’t take the case from her! Not after all this. A sign to one and all that he had no faith in her. ‘Please, sir.’ She’d beg if she had to.

  He didn’t give her the chance. ‘You’ve run out of time, Lewis.’

  She turned away, fists clenched, mouth set. Not trusting herself to say anything.

  *****

  Butchers had traced Laura Belling, the first Mrs Matthew Tulley, to an address in Birkenhead and had used the directory to get a phone number. A child answered at the other end, burbling ‘hello, hello’ over and over down the line.

  ‘Is your mummy there?’

  ‘Who.’

  ‘Is your mummy there?’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Get your mummy.’

  ‘Mummy. Hello.’

  Shap, beside him, scrolling through records on the computer, sniggered.

  ‘I want to talk to your mummy.’

  ‘Who dat?’

  ‘Mr Butchers. Tell Mummy to come to the phone.’

  ‘No.’ The child slammed the phone down.

  ‘Hell,’ Butchers pressed re-dial. Laura Belling answered. ‘Ms Belling, I’m DS Butchers from Greater Manchester Police. You were previously married to Matthew Tulley?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You are probably aware that Mr Tulley is the victim in a murder enquiry?’

  ‘I saw it on the television.’

  He could hear the child beginning to kick up a fuss in the background. ‘I’ll try and be brief; we’re trying to establish what sort of man Mr Tulley was, build up a picture, talk to …’

  ‘He was a bastard.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You heard. They say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but he deserves everything he got.’

  For one crazed moment Butchers wondered if she was going to confess to having done it. ‘He was an out and out bastard.’

  Butchers hesitated, uncertain as to how to frame the next question. The child was bawling now. ‘When you say that, in what respect …’

  ‘He was
a pervert and a bully.’

  ‘Was he violent towards you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. That was the grounds for the divorce. Physical and mental cruelty.’

  *****

  Dean Hendrix was on his way from Oldham and Janine was preparing to interview him later that morning.

  ‘Bag his clothes when he gets here,’ she told Chen, ‘and if the trainers look likely, put them through as a priority request.’

  Richard raised his eyes – more spending?

  ‘I’m not going to see him walk for the sake of a few hundred pounds,’ she said. ‘Anything on Mrs Tulley’s bonfire?’

  Chen shook her head.

  Butchers came in, his face alert; well, as alert as it ever got. ‘The first wife, she cited cruelty in the divorce. Claimed he was physically violent.’

  ‘Was he now?’ Janine frowned.

  ‘Nothing from Tulley’s email addresses,’ Shap said, ‘but we did pick up something dodgy with one of the phone numbers in his diary. The guy, a Ronald Prosser, is no longer there, woman was very suspicious at first – turns out he’s doing time. Found in possession of a class A drug, sentenced in May last year.’

  ‘Connection with Tulley?’ she asked.

  Shap shrugged.

  ‘Get some more on that Shap. I wouldn’t have figured Tulley for drugs, but there’s still the possibility that drugs could be the link between him and Dean Hendrix.’

  ‘Hendrix was associating with known dealers,’ Richard said. ‘Maybe a deal gone bad?’

  She left them to carry on the painstaking work of sifting details and checking facts and set off for Ashgrove.

  *****

  ‘Come in,’ Lesley looked pale, weary. Janine followed her to the kitchen.

  ‘Would you like some tea? No milk I’m afraid. Emma’s gone shopping. Or toast?’

  ‘I’m fine. You go ahead. There’s been a new development, I wanted you to know.’

  Lesley turned, pausing in the activity of getting the bread out.

  ‘We’ve arrested someone.’