Nothing but Trouble

by Roberta Kray

  Wall gazed at Harry from over the top of his fingertips. ‘You don’t seem to know very much about anything.’

  ‘Inspector!’ Morris warned.

  Wall smirked and leaned back in his chair.

  Harry was trying to keep calm, but with every minute that passed his situation was growing increasingly dire. If nobody believed him, he could be spending the next twenty years of his life in the slammer. ‘Look, I did not murder Martin Locke. Why don’t you talk to Ray Stagg? Ask him what he was doing last night.’

  ‘We already have,’ Henson said. ‘He was at his club with hundreds of witnesses.’

  Harry’s hopes slumped even further. He’d been convinced that Stagg must have been the killer. Hearing about the alibi was like another nail in his coffin. Frustration finally got the better of him, and he leaned across the desk, glaring at the two officers. ‘For Christ’s sake,’ he snapped. ‘Can’t either of you see that this is one almighty stitch-up?’

  Richard Morris laid a restraining hand on his arm. He looked across at the two police officers. ‘Gentlemen, my client’s tired. He’s also suffering from a very nasty injury. Might I suggest we take a break now?’

  54

  DI Valerie Middleton was sitting in the incident room going through the file on the Becky Hibbert killing. Her eyes gazed blankly at the information in front of her. Hard as she tried, she simply couldn’t concentrate. Harry’s arrest the previous night had knocked her for six. She didn’t believe he was guilty, not for one second, but she was still angry at him. Raising her head, she looked across the desk at Kieran Swann.

  ‘How could he have been so stupid? I mean, what did he think he was doing going to her house?

  ‘We don’t know the whole story, guv. I’m sure he had his reasons.’

  Having spotted Aimee Locke in the foyer, Valerie had a fair idea of what those reasons might be. The woman was a tall, leggy blonde with a pouting mouth and a figure to die for. Even in her widow’s weeds – a simple black dress with matching jacket – she somehow managed to ooze sex appeal. ‘Yes, I’m sure he did.’

  ‘She won’t get away with it,’ Swann said. ‘Everyone knows that Harry isn’t capable of murder.’

  ‘Try telling that to Bill and Ben.’ DI Wall and DS Henson had been drafted in from another station because of Harry’s previous connection to Cowan Road and his relationship with her. ‘From what I’ve heard, they’ve got him right in the frame.’

  ‘Yeah, well, don’t believe all you hear. It’s early days yet.’

  But Valerie didn’t feel reassured. In fact, she felt the very opposite. Her stomach was twisted in a knot. With so much evidence pointing towards Harry’s guilt, she didn’t trust Wall and Henson to get to the truth. She slapped a hand down on the desk, fear and frustration finally getting the better of her. ‘Jesus, if she wanted her husband dead, why couldn’t she arrange for it to be done somewhere else? Why at the house? Why not at Locke’s office, or in the street? And why the hell did she have to involve Harry?’

  Swann’s eyebrows shifted up at the outburst. It wasn’t often that he saw her so rattled. ‘You know why not. Who’s the first person we look at in situations like these? As Martin Locke’s nearest and dearest, she’d be top of our list of suspects. This way there’s a ready-made scapegoat. If she can make a convincing argument for being stalked by Harry, for being the unwelcome focus of his affections, then it’s only one small step to him bumping off her husband.’

  ‘One small step?’

  ‘Well, you know what I mean. It gives him a motive. Stalkers are single-minded, obsessive, and their sense of reality isn’t the same as anyone else’s. With all the texts and photographs found on the phone, Harry’s being made to look like a fantasist, as if he was convinced that he and Aimee could walk off into the sunset together if it wasn’t for the minor impediment of her husband.’

  Valerie put her elbows on the desk and cupped her chin with her palms. ‘Now you’re really cheering me up.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So what do we know about the black widow?’ Her eyes brightened a little. ‘Maybe we should do a bit of digging of our own, see what we can find out.’

  Swann pulled a face. ‘Come on, guv. If Redding gets the merest sniff of you poking around, he’ll have your guts for bloody garters.’

  Valerie knew he was right. Her relationship with Harry meant she wasn’t supposed to get involved in the case. It was strictly off limits.

  Swann glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening before leaning towards her and saying softly, ‘But I could give David Mackenzie a call.’

  ‘Mac?’

  ‘Get him up to speed with how things stand. Tell him what we know, fill him in on a few details. I’m sure he’ll be keen to do some digging of his own.’

  Valerie bit down on her lip and stared at him. What he was suggesting was more than risky, and if they got caught they’d be facing, at best, a disciplinary hearing. At worst, they could end up fired. But what was the alternative? Aimee Locke had spun a web of such complexity that it would take more than the likes of Wall and Henson to unravel it.

  She was saved from making a decision one way or another by the arrival of DC Joanne Lister.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, guv, but uniform have just brought in a kid called Gary Banks. He was arrested on the Mansfield with a bag full of Es.’

  Valerie frowned. ‘Well, they can sort it, can’t they?’

  ‘They’re still waiting for the duty solicitor to get here. The thing is, Banks wants to talk to you first. He claims he knows something about the Becky Hibbert killing.’

  Gary Banks was seventeen, a short, skinny youth with silver piercings in his lip and eyebrow. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and was sitting back with his arms folded across his chest. There was a stiffness about the pose, as if he was trying too hard to look nonchalant.

  ‘I’m DI Middleton,’ Valerie said, pulling out a chair. ‘And this is DS Swann. I understand you have information about the Becky Hibbert murder.’

  Gary looked warily from one to the other. ‘Might ’ave,’ he said.

  Valerie gave a sigh. ‘Don’t waste my time, Gary. Either you do or you don’t.’

  He gazed sullenly back at her. ‘What’s in it for me?’

  Swann leaned forward, a sneer on his face. ‘What’s in it for you, son, is that you don’t get done for wasting police time on top of everything else.’

  ‘I ain’t wasting no one’s time.’

  ‘So?’ Valerie said.

  ‘I wanna make a deal,’ Gary said.

  Swann gave a snort and glanced at Valerie. ‘Do you hear that, guv? He wants to make a deal.’ He shifted his gaze back to Gary. ‘You think you can give us some bullshit story and we’ll just let you walk out of here? I hate to break the bad news, but it doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘It ain’t no bullshit, man! I saw her and her mates. And I saw him. I saw that guy you’re looking for. I was on the estate that night.’

  Valerie recalled the group of boys that Becky and her friends had passed on their way home from the pub. She was suddenly gripped by the conviction that finally they were about to get the break they needed. ‘Look, if what you tell us turns out to be the truth—’

  ‘It is the truth. I swear it.’

  ‘As I was saying,’ Valerie continued, careful to keep her voice neutral. ‘If what you tell us turns out to be the truth, then when your case comes to court we can let the judge know how helpful you’ve been. It’s the best we can do, I’m afraid.’

  Gary thought about this for a while. He stared hard at the table before slowly lifting his eyes to them again. ‘It ain’t enough,’ he said.

  Swann pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Suit yourself. How many Es was it you had in your possession? You’ll have plenty of time to figure out if you made the right decision when they send you down.’

  ‘Okay, okay!’ Gary said, his eyes growing wide and fearful. For all his bravado, he was still a s
eventeen-year-old boy looking at his first stretch inside. ‘I’ll tell you what I saw.’

  Swann sat back down. ‘Good choice.’

  Gary ran his tongue along his upper lip, making the piercing jiggle. Then he reached out for the plastic cup in front of him and took a large swig of water. His hand was shaking as he put the cup back on the table. ‘You got a fag?’

  Swann inclined his head towards the No Smoking sign on the wall. ‘Sorry, mate.’ He left a short pause before adding, ‘But maybe later, when you’ve given us the facts, we could nip out into the yard for five minutes.’

  Valerie, who knew there’d be no nipping anywhere, gave Swann’s foot a swift kick with her own. She didn’t approve of empty promises. ‘So, Gary, you saw Becky Hibbert on the night that she was murdered?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gary said. ‘We was just hanging, me and some mates.’

  ‘And what time was that?’

  Gary gave a shrug. ‘Dunno exactly, ’bout midnight? Anyhow, we was walking towards the gate and they’re coming the other way. Three of them, like. A bit pissed up, I reckon, laughing and shouting and that.’

  ‘Did you speak to them?’ Swann asked.

  ‘Nah,’ Gary said. ‘We didn’t say nuthin’. They was old, man. You know what I mean?’

  Valerie raised her eyes to the ceiling. If he thought twenty-four was old, he probably had her down as geriatric. ‘Go on.’

  ‘So, we pass ’em and go on out the gate. I didn’t see none of ’em again. We split for a while, twenty minutes or so, and then we come back. We’re just down the road and that Livesey guy walks past and goes on to the estate. He works at the Lincoln, right? I’ve seen him around.’

  Valerie gave an encouraging nod. ‘And?’

  ‘And I’m watching him, right? I mean, not really watching, but it’s kind of quiet and I’m leaning forward with me elbows on the wall having a smoke. I see him walk across to Haslow and he gets out his phone.’

  For the first time, Valerie was certain that Gary was telling the truth. How else could he have known about the call Livesey had made shortly after going on to the estate? ‘Okay,’ she said casually, not wanting him to realise how important this could be in case he started talking deals again.

  ‘Well, then he stops near the door and hangs around a while.’

  ‘How long is a while?’ Swann asked.

  ‘I dunno. A few minutes. Five, maybe. Like he’s waiting for someone. Pacing up and down like he’s getting impatient. And then he goes inside. Next thing he’s up on the tens. I can see him walking along. There’s lights up there.’

  ‘When you say next thing,’ Valerie said, ‘what do you mean exactly? Think carefully. As long as it took him to go up in the lift, or was there a delay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gary said. ‘Pretty quick, I reckon. Well, as quick as them lifts ever are. And then, like I said, I see him walking and he stops about halfway along and he rings the bell of her flat.’

  Swann leaned forward again. ‘How can you be sure it was her flat? In fact, how can you even be sure that he was on the tens?’

  Gary shrugged his skinny shoulders. ‘I know them towers, man. I know a dude who lives on the tens. It’s got two boarded-up flats on the corner, right?’

  He was right, Valerie realised. She could remember walking past them on her way to Becky Hibbert’s place. ‘So he rings the bell. What happens next?’

  ‘He stands there for a while. But there’s no light on so he must figure there’s no one in. He turns around and comes back down. He took the steps this time. I could see him as he turned the corners. Then he comes out and—’

  ‘Straight out?’ Valerie asked. ‘There wasn’t any delay?’

  ‘Yeah, straight out. Then he hangs around the entrance again, doing that pacing thing.’ Gary picked up the cup and took another gulp of water. ‘After that he comes back along the main drive, out the gate and walks past us again. He’s looking well pissed-off. You know, like someone’s just done him over. Not happy, man, not happy at all.’

  Valerie frowned. If Gary was telling the truth, then the chances of Dan Livesey being their murderer were slight. Even if Livesey had met Becky in the foyer of Haslow House he’d barely have had time to kill her. If he had somehow managed it, why on earth would he go on up to her flat afterwards? He’d want to scarper as quickly as he could. And he couldn’t have done it on the way out, not if Gary was right about watching his progress down the steps. Anyway, even the most stupid of killers didn’t normally pace around in full view after they’d just bumped off their ex. ‘Why didn’t you come forward with this information before?’

  Gary shifted his shoulders again, the gesture speaking a thousand words. Residents of the Mansfield never volunteered information unless they had to. Or unless there was some advantage to be gained from it.

  ‘Anything else?’ she asked.

  Gary shook his head. ‘Nah, he just got in the car and left.’

  ‘A car?’ she snapped. ‘You said he was walking. Where did this car suddenly appear from?’

  Gary pulled a face, as if he was undeserving of this sudden change in tone. ‘It was up the road, parked on the corner near the Lincoln.’

  ‘What kind of car? You remember the colour, the make?’

  ‘I dunno, do I? Dark-coloured. Black or blue. Nuthin’ fancy.’

  ‘No chance of you remembering any part of the registration, I suppose?’

  Gary hesitated, perhaps wondering if he should try and make something up, before eventually shaking his head again. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘And then he just drove off?’

  ‘Nah, he wasn’t driving. He got into the passenger side, didn’t he? Some other geezer was driving.’

  Valerie tried to rein in her impatience. It wasn’t easy. ‘You’re sure the driver was a man?’

  Gary lifted a hand to his mouth and chewed on a dirty fingernail.

  ‘Is that a yes or a no?’ Swann said.

  ‘It was kinda dark. I thought it was a bloke, but …’

  Valerie wondered if it could have been Micky Higgs. She waited, but it soon became apparent that they weren’t going to get anything else out of him. After thirty seconds she gave a nod to Swann and rose to her feet. ‘Okay, Gary, thanks for your help. We may need to talk to you again at some point.’

  ‘But you’ll put in a word, right?’

  ‘So long as you’ve been telling us the truth.’

  Swann stood up too and followed Valerie to the door.

  Gary stared after him. ‘Hey, man, what about that fag you promised?’

  ‘Huh?’ Swann said, glancing over his shoulder. ‘What fag was that?’

  ‘Shithead,’ muttered Gary under his breath.

  Swann grinned as he went out into the corridor and closed the door on one very unhappy Gary Banks.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ Valerie asked as they headed back to the office.

  ‘Well, he’s a scumbag dealer, hardly the most reliable of witnesses.’

  ‘Except he did know about the phone call. And he hasn’t really got a reason to lie about the rest of it. Unless he’s trying to cover up for Livesey, I think his story could be true.’

  ‘Which means?’

  Valerie stopped at the base of the stairs and turned to look at him. ‘Which means that Becky was probably already dead by the time Dan Livesey got to the estate.’

  55

  When Jess emerged from Cowan Road, Mac was waiting for her in the dark blue Freelander. She climbed in beside him, sat back and shook her head. ‘God, I thought I was never going to get out of there.’

  ‘They put you through the wringer?’

  ‘That’s putting it mildly. I thought they were going to arrest me too. They kept going on about Adriano’s and the casino, as if it was mighty strange that I’d been with Harry on those two occasions and not someone from Mackenzie, Lind.’

  ‘And what did you tell them?’

  ‘The truth,’ she said. ‘That he asked me along to the restaurant because
no one from the business was available and he’d have stood out like a sore thumb eating on his own. And that he asked me to go to the casino to take my mind off the fire.’ Her mouth twisted in exasperation. ‘They didn’t seem convinced, though. Because I’m staying at his flat, they seem to think that something must be going on between us. And if something’s going on, then obviously I must be covering for him.’

  Mac took an unopened pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He stared at it for a moment before ripping off the cellophane. ‘I’m supposed to have quit,’ he said. ‘Don’t tell Lorna.’

  Jess, who had also given up a few months ago, stared longingly at the pack. What she craved more than anything else at the moment was a heady burst of nicotine. ‘Your secret’s safe,’ she said, ‘so long as I can have one too.’

  They smoked in silence for a minute, puffing guiltily on their cigarettes. Mac was the first to speak again. ‘So, what else did they ask you?’

  ‘They kept going on about Harry’s feelings for Aimee. I told them that he didn’t have any. It was a job, nothing else.’

  ‘And did they believe you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘They kept asking what he’d said about her, how he’d behaved around her. Did I think he was attracted to her.’ Jess took a long drag on her cigarette and tipped the ash out of the open window. ‘I mean, for God’s sake, she’s a smart, sexy blonde. What heterosexual man isn’t going to find his pulse racing? But there’s a difference between a spot of lust and a psychotic plan to dispose of a husband.’

  ‘And did you say that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That she set his pulse racing.’

  ‘No,’ Jess said, frowning. ‘I’m not completely stupid.’

  Mac looked at her. ‘Well, that’s something.’

  Jess knew that she wasn’t Mac’s favourite person, but they had no choice other than to work together if they were going to get Harry out of this mess. ‘How did your interview go?’