by Mark Tufo
She pulled him close and tried to pick him up again, but she couldn’t cope with his weight. He groaned with pain, his mouth next to her ear, his breath tickling the side of her face. She liked that. ‘What would your old mum think? I kept telling her when she got ill that you’d be all right, and you had been ’til now. What d’you have to go and do that to that girl for, love?’
Mary didn’t have the strength to get him into the café, but she couldn’t leave him here. She didn’t want to leave him, didn’t even want to let him go for a second. In a series of hefts and grunts, she managed to shift his bulk up onto the front step of the pharmacy, the sunken doorway giving them a little privacy.
And she sat him there with his back to the door, one side of his face a mass of purple bruising, blood dripping from his nose, trousers still around his ankles, his hard penis still upright and erect. She kissed him and ran her fingers through his mop of hair. ‘You poor love.’
And he looked up at her with wide, staring eyes, and he pulled her even closer.
Chapter 62
Scott had barely spoken since he’d got back to the house with Tammy. It was late now, almost eleven, and he was still hammering in the kitchen. Michelle had learnt to keep her distance at times like this, and though the circumstances tonight were wholly different, there had been plenty of times like this before now.
Phoebe and George were, thankfully, managing to sleep through. Michelle crept upstairs to check on Tammy. They’d talked – argued – when she and Scott had returned from Thussock. Tammy had accepted she’d been way out of line, but Michelle understood her daughter’s frustrations. She was feeling them herself. She gently knocked on Tammy’s bedroom door, then let herself in. ‘You still awake, love?’
Tammy was lying in bed with her back to the door. The curtains were open, moonlight flooding in. Michelle tiptoed around the room and crouched down. Tammy’s eyes were wide open and she clutched a tissue in her hand. She continued to stare into space before slowly looking over at her mother.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
Michelle shook her head. ‘What’s done is done. That’s not why I came up. I just wanted to see if you were okay.’
A pause. The noise downstairs had stopped. They held their breath and waited until it started again.
‘Of course I’m not okay,’ Tammy answered, sniffing back more tears. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be okay here.’
‘You’ve got to stop talking like that, love. We are—’
‘—where we are. I know. Give it a rest, Mum.’
Michelle sat down on the bed, her legs tired from crouching. She stroked Tammy’s long hair. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What have you got to be sorry about? You haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Doesn’t feel that way.’
‘It’s not you... it’s him.’
‘Please don’t...’
‘But you should have seen him. You should have seen the way he attacked that bloke, Mum. He scared me more than anything else.’
‘I know Scott’s got a temper, but—’
‘He just kept punching him and punching him... there was blood everywhere.’
‘No matter what you think about what he did, Tam, it was for the right reasons. He was trying to protect you, trying to keep you safe.’
‘But I don’t feel safe. Not around Scott.’
‘You have to keep things in perspective. Think about how he was feeling, how worried we both were...’
Tammy sat up, held her mother’s gaze. ‘This was different, Mum. It was like he’d gone insane, completely lost it. It makes me wonder...’ She allowed her voice to trail away, not sure if she should continue.
‘What, Tammy?’
‘It makes me wonder about the body he found in that garden, that’s all.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘It just makes me wonder if he’s as innocent as he makes himself out to be.’
‘That’s just rubbish...’
‘Is it? Hell of a coincidence. All this stuff happened since Scott got here.’
‘You can’t talk like this, Tam.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just listen to yourself. You’re saying Scott’s a serial killer? Seriously?’
‘But you know better than anyone what he’s like, what he’s capable of.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I don’t want him to hurt you more than he already has, Mum. You need to do something because next time might be too late.’
Michelle got up fast, her head full of thoughts she didn’t want to think, certainly didn’t dare vocalise. This was too much. On top of everything that had already happened, this was just too much...
The hammering downstairs had stopped. She rushed back down to Scott.
Chapter 63
Not even six o’clock yet. It was barely even light. Scott had hardly slept. His arms felt like lead from all the work he’d done yesterday, he had to go to work in a couple of hours, and now some selfish fucker was banging on the front door at this hour. Michelle rolled over onto her back and groaned something he couldn’t make out. ‘I’ll get it, shall I?’ he said. Fucking useless family.
Scott grabbed yesterday’s dust-covered T-shirt and jeans off the floor and put them on again. The noise at the door continued. If they wake George up, he thought, I’ll have this fucker’s balls. He felt in the mood for a fight. Another fight.
He fumbled with the chain and the lock, then yanked the door open. The man on the doorstep surprised him. They’d met before at Kenneth Potter’s house. ‘Scott Griffiths?’ Sergeant Ross asked. Scott didn’t immediately respond with anything other than a bemused mumble and a nod of the head. The officer spoke again. ‘Scott Griffiths, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Graham McBride. You are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say will be noted down and may be used in evidence. Do you understand?’
Scott looked at him, blank. Was this a joke? ‘Who the fuck’s Graham McBride?’ he said, then realisation dawned. Last night. Tammy. The pervert outside the phone box with his dick out. Scott’s legs weakened. ‘Shit...’
‘Do you understand, Mr Griffiths?’
‘I understand,’ he said, still not sure he did. ‘Murder? But I didn’t... It wasn’t my fault. He was exposing himself at my step-daughter and I just...’
‘I need to remind you that you’re under caution, sir.’
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Michelle demanded. Scott looked around to try and explain but he couldn’t speak, could barely even begin to process what was happening. His mouth was dry. ‘Scott?’ she said. ‘Scott, what’s this about?’
He just looked at her, then looked at the police officer, then shook his head. He felt numb inside... didn’t know what to do, what to say... Had he killed a man?
Sergeant Ross moved aside to let one of his officers cuff Scott. Scott didn’t resist. Didn’t do anything. ‘Get him in the van, Hamilton,’ the sergeant ordered before turning his attention to Michelle. ‘Mrs Griffiths?’
‘Yes...’ she said quietly, watching in stunned disbelief as they led her husband away.
‘We’ve witnesses who’ve identified your husband as being involved in an altercation with Mr McBride yesterday afternoon, during which Mr McBride sustained serious injuries. I’m sorry to have to inform you he’s since died from those injuries.’
The sergeant continued to talk, and Michelle continued to listen, though nothing she was hearing was making any sense now. She wanted to protest but what could she say? Scott had been in a fight yesterday, but he’d told her he’d just knocked the other man about a bit... just enough to scare him. Then she remembered how Tammy had described the incident. Jesus, exactly what had Scott done?
George was crying now. Tammy was downstairs. She was at the bottom of the staircase, just behind her mother. ‘Mum, what’s happening. Are they—?’
‘Go and see to George,’ Michelle interrupted, screaming at her daughter to move. B
ut it was too late. Phoebe already had George and they were all crowded into the hallway now, watching Scott being bundled into the back of a police van and driven away.
The sergeant told Michelle in no uncertain terms to stay home and wait for news. All she could do was watch as the convoy of two patrol cars and the van turned right out of the drive and headed for Thussock.
Tammy shut the door. Michelle leant against the wall, then slid down to the floor and stayed there, feet sticking out across the hallway. Numb.
‘What’s going on?’ Phoebe asked.
‘They took Scott,’ Tammy started to explain.
‘Took him where?’
‘Where d’you think? The police station.’
‘But why?’
‘You tell me. You never know with Scott. I think he—’
‘He’s there because he tried to protect you,’ Michelle screamed at her.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, I just...’
‘This is your fault. If you hadn’t disappeared yesterday, none of this would have happened.’
Tammy’s visible shock turned to anger. ‘It’s not my fault. How is any of this my fault? Come on, explain it to me... I had to get out of the house because I was sick of the noise and the atmosphere – not my fault. The local pervert decides to flash his dick at me – not my fault. Scott decides to beat the crap out of him – not my fault. You marry a fucking idiot who makes all our lives hell, treats you like shit and knocks you about, then drags us the length of the country away from anyone and anything that matters to us when he fucks up – that’s not my fault either.’
Sobbing, Michelle got up and walked into the kitchen, her head spinning. Tammy followed her. Phoebe – eyes wide, nervous as hell, still holding onto George – didn’t move.
‘Scott messed up,’ Michelle said. ‘I get it.’
‘No, Mum, you don’t. Scott messed up again. We all get hurt because of him again. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.’
‘You’ve got him all wrong.’
‘No I haven’t. It’s you who’s wrong. You’re the one in denial. Scott ruins lives, it’s as simple as that. Yours, ours, that bloke from yesterday, that little girl...’
‘It was an accident. Stop bringing her up. There’s not a day goes by when he doesn’t—’
‘No one else matters to Scott but Scott, don’t you see that?’
‘That’s not true. What happened with that little girl could have happened to anyone.’
‘He didn’t stop. Bloody hell, Mum, he didn’t stop. He hit her and he didn’t stop.’
‘He went back...’
‘It was too late. She was already dead.’
‘We’ve been over this a million times. He made a mistake. He accepts that now. He paid the price.’
‘No, we’re paying the price.’
‘Look, I know you resent him and—’
‘I don’t resent him, Mum, I hate him. I hate him for what he’s doing to you.’
‘And I love him. I know what he is and what he does, but I love him.’
‘Jesus, that’s pathetic.’
‘Well it happens to be true. Please don’t fight against me, Tammy. I need you and your sister. I don’t know if I can go through all this again.’
‘Do you think he did it?’
Tammy’s question floored Michelle for a moment. She answered instinctively, though with enough hesitation to reveal a trace of doubt. ‘No.’
‘You know what he’s capable of. You more than anyone. He’s hit you enough times...’
‘He’s not a murderer. He might be many things, but he’s not a murderer.’
‘Who are you trying to kid, Mum?’
‘Tammy, just leave it,’ Michelle yelled. ‘I can’t handle this, not now. We’re right on the edge here, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘He’s already been responsible for one death...’
‘You think I don’t know that?’
‘But he never takes responsibility. He always finds someone else to blame or finds a way to squirm out of it.’
‘Please, Tam... please just stop.’
‘No, Mum. You need to face facts and—’
‘There’s nothing I can do, can’t you see that? Christ knows I’ve already tried. I don’t have a way out, love. There’s nowhere left for me to go. I’ve got nowhere left to run to.’
Chapter 64
The processing brought back all kinds of foul memories Scott thought he’d buried forever. It was a different police station with different officers who wore different badges and spoke with different accents, but their routine and intent was immediately familiar and the helplessness he felt took him straight back to that day. The noises. The smells. The way they looked at him and spoke to him, at him. And in his gut it felt just the same too. He knew what he’d done to that poor little girl as soon as he felt the van hit her and bump over her tiny, fragile body, and he knew what he’d done to that pervert last night too. But should he have just let that freak wave his dick at Tammy until he’d got bored? Christ, imagine what they’d have said if he’d just sat back and not done what he’d did. No, he’d had to do it. He’d been right to do it.
After the frantic activity of the last hour, time had now slowed to an unbearable crawl. All kinds of thoughts ran through Scott’s mind as he waited in the cell, all kinds of buzzwords and phrases he’d heard used before: reasonable force, self-defence... but nothing fitted his circumstances. He was fucked. He kept thinking he should try and put up a fight to clear his name, but what good would that do him? It was fighting that had got him here. Part of him thought he should just accept what was coming, to confess to whatever they charged him with in an attempt to cooperate and hopefully reduce the hell he knew he was inevitably facing. Just get it over with...
And then things changed again.
Everything suddenly stopped being quite so uncomfortably familiar and became even more uncomfortably unpredictable. He knew this wasn’t how things were supposed to be, that the police were turning a blind eye and playing fast and loose with procedures, but why? Was it, as he suspected, a clichéd case of locals closing ranks to deal with an outsider who, they’d decided, had harmed one of their own? Or was this just the way things were done up here? Whatever the reason, it was playing out like a scene from a bad TV drama: just him and a plain-clothes officer facing each other in a grey and featureless room. The door was slightly ajar. There was someone waiting outside.
‘I need a lawyer,’ Scott said, remembering the TV routine. ‘I’m not saying anything until I’ve got a lawyer.’
‘On his way,’ the officer said. He looked to be in his mid- to late-fifties, grey-haired, with a bulbous, purple-tinged, drinker’s nose. Scott could see straight through him, trying to act all casual and matey, like he’d just decided to stick his head around the door on the off chance Scott felt like a chat or maybe confessing... save them all a load of hassle. This guy really seemed keen to live up to all the clichés: world weary, jaded, been around the block a few too many times... Scott might have risked taking the piss if he hadn’t been so bloody frightened. This your last week in the job, officer? One final case to crack before you hand in your badge for good? Do you keep a bottle of whiskey in your desk drawer? Do you live alone? Wife got bored and found someone else because in all your twenty-plus years together, you’ve always really been married to the force...
‘Who are you?’
‘My name’s Detective Inspector Litherland. I thought we might try and help each other out, Scott. Your brief’s going to be a while getting here. That’s the problem with living somewhere like Thussock, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered. It takes forever to get anywhere.’
‘I’d rather wait.’
‘Your prerogative, of course. Don’t be too hasty, though. You scratch my back, and all that shite...’
‘Nice. What is this, Taggart?’
‘You’re in no position to take the piss, sunshine. I’d be very careful if I were you. B
elieve me, you’re in a shitload of trouble right now.’
Scott bit his tongue. He knew the detective was right. He swallowed hard and looked away, not wanting him to see how nervous he was. But then again, it wouldn’t have taken a body language expert to work that out. The back of his shirt was drenched with sweat; dark, wet rings under both armpits. He constantly chewed the ends of his fingers.
‘Okay, Scott,’ the detective said, ‘I’ll lay things on the line for you here, just so you know what we’re dealing with. Graham McBride is dead, and we’ve several witnesses who saw you beating seven shades of shit out of him shortly before he died.’
‘No comment.’
‘I’m not really asking for your thoughts just now, sunshine, I just need you to listen. Absorb and understand, okay? Now, as I was saying, you were seen kicking seven shades of shit out of Mr McBride—’
‘He was harassing my step-daughter. He had his dick in his hands for Christ’s sake. He was wanking himself off. She’s not even seventeen... what would you have done?’
‘Calm down, Scott, I’m not here to—’
‘Sure I punched him a couple of times, but I didn’t do enough to kill him.’
‘Medical expert, are you?’
‘No, I—’
‘Or is it that you checked Mr McBride was okay after you finished beating him up? Oh no, that’s right, you didn’t. You left him at the side of the road, barely even breathing.’
‘It wasn’t like that. I didn’t—’
‘Slow down, and calm down. Take your time. As I said, listen to me first, then we’ll talk. You see, my biggest problem right now is that it’s not just Mr McBride we’re talking about here. Poor old Graham’s not the only death we’ve had to deal with recently.’
‘I don’t know anything.’
‘Think carefully, Scott.’
‘I told you, I—’
Litherland raised his hand, silencing Scott mid-sentence. ‘Remind me again, how long is it that you and your family have lived in Thussock?’
‘We moved here last Saturday.’