Death's Cold Hand

by J. E. Mayhew

  Harley looked puzzled. “What for?”

  “Never you mind that,” Jane Vickers said, giving him a gentle push. “Go and wait outside before Inspector Cryer changes her mind about prison.”

  Harley didn’t need telling twice and hurried for the door. He sat on a plastic chair outside the interview room. He felt as though everyone who passed him was judging him. Even those who gave him a smile and a wink seemed as though they were laughing at him. Why was his mum in there with that policewoman? The sudden conviction that he should never have come along gripped Harley. His heart thumped as he thought about what they were saying in the room. He could imagine his mum begging the inspector to be kind and not send him to prison, but he’d been part of it, really hadn’t he? He’d stood and watched while Bobby knocked that man down. What if the old man had died? It would be murder and he’d be part of it. Harley sprang to his feet. He wanted to run but he didn’t want to upset his mum. He didn’t want to wait until she came out, though.

  And then, suddenly, Harley was flying across the corridor as Bobby Price appeared from nowhere, howling abuse at him and slamming his fists into his stomach and face.

  Chapter 20

  To describe George Owens, the remaining director of Pro-Vets as angry would have been an understatement. Detective Constable Ian Ollerthwaite thought the man was going to explode. For a while, Owens opened and closed his mouth like a landed carp, then he made strange squeaking noises as he tried to formulate the words that would describe his rage. His red face bulged. “Isn’t it enough that you lot have pried into my private life?” he said at last. “Now you want to disrupt the charitable work we’re doing here. Who do I complain to?”

  “There is a complaints procedure, sir,” DC Ollerthwaite said, carefully. He liked to spell out things like this in great detail. Some people thought he was being pedantic, but he knew that when a complainant was all fired up, they didn’t always take in the facts. “I can go through that with you before we begin our audit if that would help. I’ve just given you the warrant that allows us access to your accounts. You’re holding it. If you could just pinpoint the particular area of the investigation that has contravened good practice or policy, I’d be happy to make amends for that…”

  George Owens just blinked at him. “No… no… it’s just very irregular and awkward.”

  “I understand that, sir. That’s why I’ll be as unobtrusive and discreet as possible. Obviously, we’re investigating a murder and want to leave no stone unturned. I’m sure you understand,” Ian said, quite pleased with his measured pace. “Now, would it be acceptable to work here?” He pointed at Paul’s desk.

  “Oh, very well,” Owens snapped. “I’ll call Quentin, he’s our IT guy. He can get you everything you need.”

  “Thank you, sir, this is my card should you need to get in touch out of hours. You’ll see there’s the main HQ number and my extension but also a mobile number and an email address you can contact me on, too. Otherwise, you’ll be able to find me right here.”

  Owens seemed so keen to have the card that he snatched it and Ian congratulated himself on winning over another member of the public. He settled himself at Paul Travis’ desk and watched with a satisfied smile as Owens hurried out of the office.

  *****

  The interview room felt packed with Bobby and Lex Price, his solicitor, Blake and Vikki Chinn all hunched around a table. As modern and clean as the room was, it wasn’t built to accommodate five people, two of whom were particularly large. Blake had introduced everyone and explained Bobby’s rights to him. The boy had to be peeled off Harley Vickers and Blake cursed himself for not checking if the interview room was free, he’d just assumed it was as he’d booked it in advance. He seemed to have calmed down now but Harley had ended up with a few bruises. He’d probably have a beautiful black eye later. Blake promised himself he’d have words with Kath later, but he suspected that it wasn’t her fault. Harley and his mum had appeared out of the blue and she’d had to interview them in the first available room. He turned his attention to the young man in front of him.

  “So, first of all, Bobby, you need to know that Harley Vickers is not the reason we picked you up. You can blame yourself for that after your actions outside Bebington High School. Some of your old teachers recognised you.”

  “Whatever,” Bobby muttered.

  “Let’s start there, shall we? Yesterday, you were loitering outside Bebington High School when PC Mark Robertson approached you…”

  Bobby glanced at his dad, who nodded. “I was just waiting for some friends when that copper came running at me. I was scared…”

  “PC Robertson and a number of witnesses in the school office maintain that he approached you at walking pace when you ran straight at him. When he tried to defend himself, you headbutted him.”

  “I didn’t know he just wanted to talk…”

  “Okay. Why were you waiting outside the school?”

  “Just waiting for a friend to come out…”

  “It was barely afternoon, Bobby. Hours until school finished,” Vikki Chinn said.

  “So? It’s a free country. I didn’t have anything better to do.”

  “And who were you waiting for?” Blake said.

  “Alfie Lewis and Harley.”

  “A bit young for you to be hanging around with, aren’t they?”

  Bobby gave a dismissive shrug.

  “Were they the boys you hung around Port Sunlight Village with two days ago? The afternoon that Eric Smith was assaulted?”

  Bobby glanced at his dad again. “Who’s Eric Smith? I don’t know any Eric Smith.”

  “He’s the old man who was put in hospital by a young man with a baseball bat. Would that be you by any chance, Bobby?”

  “No,” Bobby said, looking disgusted. “I wouldn’t do nothing like that.”

  Blake nodded. “Well a simple DNA test will clear that up, won’t it?”

  “What do you mean?” Lex Price said, suddenly.

  “Whoever hit Mr Smith left their DNA all over the bat. It’s just a simple case of taking a sample and comparing, really. Obviously, if it turns out that it’s Bobby’s then it’ll look bad in court, won’t it?”

  Lex gave his son a murderous look and then nodded to the solicitor who nodded back. “Did you hurt the man, son?” Lex said at last.

  Bobby Price lowered his head and nodded. “He was banging on about me dropping a can on the floor, slagging us off. I lost my temper. I didn’t mean to hurt him, honest.”

  “So, just to clarify, you’re saying you did assault Mr Smith,” Blake said.

  “No, I hit him with the baseball bat,” Bobby said.

  “And PC Robertson?”

  “I thought he was going to arrest me for hurting the old man,” Bobby said. “I just panicked, that’s all.”

  “It’s good that you’ve been honest with us about that, Bobby. We’re going to charge you with those offences and your cooperation will be noted but it’s also important that you continue to be honest with us,” Blake said, leaning forward. “So tell me, where did you get the baseball bat from?”

  *****

  George Owens found Quentin Ufford hidden behind a stack of packing cases in the warehouse, munching on a large pack of kettle chips. The young man looked flustered as Owens advanced on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Quentin? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. And those crisps are for the punters, not staff!”

  “Forry,” Ufford said, spraying crisp crumbs between them. He cleared his throat. “I was starving, George. I forgot my lunch this morning in all the panic.”

  “You don’t look like you’re panicking now. Do I have to worry about Ollerthwaite finding anything he shouldn’t?”

  “I’m working on it…”

  “No, you aren’t. You’re stuffing your face with crisps that aren’t yours. Get back to your desk and sort this mess out. If that detective finds anything iffy, we’re finished.”

  “Relax, have you
spoken to him? He’s a right dozy pillock. God, he nearly put me to sleep just asking me for the passwords.”

  George grabbed Ufford by the lapels of his brown suit. “He’s dull, yes. Boring, obviously. How d’you think he gets his kicks? Jet skiing? Paragliding? No, his idea of a good time is picking through our accounts digit by dreary digit. He’s exactly the kind of person who will pick us up on every fucking dot and every fucking dash. So those accounts better be squeaky clean by the time he gets to them, or else!” He pushed Ufford back, sending him crashing into a pile of boxes and stormed off.

  For a moment, Quentin Ufford lay there amongst the crushed boxes, shocked. There was no need for George to be like that, but he knew what would happen if Ollerthwaite found any irregularities. He clambered to his feet.

  Terry White appeared, looming over him. “You okay, Quentin?” he said.

  “Yeah, Terry, I’m fine,” Quentin said, watching George stamping across the warehouse. “As you were Terry, as you were, mate.”

  *****

  Looking at Lex Price, Blake wondered if there would even be any point in trying to restrain him if he kicked off. The man rippled with muscle. Blake had seen enough steroid merchants who looked like they had cushions stuffed up their sleeves but could barely make it up the stairs without getting breathless. Price exuded a rare kind of menace. There was just something about the way the man moved that told you he could snap you in half without breaking into a sweat. Blake really didn’t want to find out, if he could help it. But Price’s face was hardening and his foot was jigging.

  “You spend a lot of time hanging round Port Sunlight, Bobby. What is it you like about the place? The architecture?” Blake said. “You a fan of the Arts and Crafts Movement?”

  “Dunno what you’re talking about,” Bobby said.

  “Please don’t take the piss out of my son, DCI Blake,” Lex said. “He’s not a genius but…”

  “I could’ve joined the Army,” Bobby said, scowling. “I’m not fucking stupid.”

  Lex’s face twisted into a sneer. “You, a fucking toy soldier, lad? Get a grip. Anyway, answer DCI Blake what were you doing down the village?”

  “Dunno. Just like it there. Lots of places to chill out, like in the Dell…”

  “The baseball bat you had with you, Bobby, where did it come from?”

  “What’s with the interest in the baseball bat all of a sudden?” Lex Price said.

  “We know that the bat was used in another assault the night before Bobby attacked Mr Smith,” Blake said. “We need to know what Bobby was doing the night before…”

  “You’re talking about the murder, right? My son is not a fucking murderer!”

  Blake raised his hands. “If that’s the case, we need to know what Bobby was doing that night and where the bat came from. Can you tell us that Bobby?”

  “No comment,” Bobby said.

  “Come on, son, you can tell them,” Lex said. “There’s no shame. You don’t want to go down for something you didn’t do.”

  “You told your mates that it was you who killed Paul Travis after the argument you had last week. Your DNA is all over the bat. Nobody else’s. right now, you’re our prime suspect for murder.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Lex spat. “Just tell them the truth, Bobby. Now.”

  Bobby glanced at his dad. “I found it,” Bobby said.

  “Where did you find it, Bobby?”

  “Go on, son…”

  “I-I’m scared… they’ll cut my head off…”

  “What?” Blake gave Vikki a quizzical look, but she looked as puzzled as he did.

  “Who will, Bobby?” she said.

  Bobby stared at her. “Them… them… I can’t say…”

  “Bobby, you aren’t making much sense. Can you explain where you found the baseball bat, first? If you’re worried about your safety, we can protect you,” Blake said, eyeing Lex Price and thinking that Bobby didn’t really need much protection while his dad was around.

  “I found it in Port Sunlight. I saw the men beating up that Travis guy. When they’d finished with him, they walked off and threw the bat on the ground. I picked it up. Dunno what I was thinking of…”

  “So you saw Paul Travis being attacked?”

  Bobby nodded. “I-I was hanging out in the Hillsborough Gardens thing you know just behind the war memorial when I heard the noise. It was like hammers. Then I looked and saw them…”

  “How many were there, Bobby?”

  “Two men, all dressed in black, with face masks on.”

  Vikki raised her eyebrows. “You said you were scared they’d cut your head off, Bobby. Why say that?”

  “They were terrorists, weren’t they? Them muslamic terrorists!”

  Chapter 21

  Superintendent Martin had a good line in weary expressions, Blake had to admit. The current one needed no words but he gave them anyway. “Why can’t anything be straight-forward, Blake? Why does it always have to get complicated? We’ve got the local community up in arms about the Travis murder and now you’re telling me it’s a possible terrorist attack?”

  “I’m dubious, sir. Lex Price…”

  “Lex? Who the hell calls their kid Lex?”

  “He’s actually Bobby Price’s father. Changed it by deed poll…”

  “Really? Good to know we’re dealing with Wirral’s crème-de-la-crème, Blake. Sorry, carry on,” he said, massaging the bridge of his nose.

  “Lex Price has previous for hate speech. He’s been bound over for harassing some Syrian asylum seekers recently. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bobby hasn’t been put up to it by his father.”

  “Any evidence for that?”

  “Bobby says that the men he saw were dressed in black and wearing face masks. So how could he know if they were white or black or any other ethnicity? There’s nothing in his statement other than his own prejudice to suggest the men were politically motivated. Nobody has claimed responsibility for Paul Travis’ death as far as I know,” Blake said. “Price said they spoke to each other in a ‘foreign language’, but he couldn’t identify what type of language.”

  “Marvellous. We’re duty-bound to investigate this new angle, though. We can’t just dismiss it. God, this’ll crank up tensions, no end. If the press get hold of this, it’ll go national.”

  “I know sir,” Blake said. “I’m wary of making this public. You can imagine how some political groups would use this for their own ends. My only worry is Lex Price. With his record, I can’t be certain he wouldn’t blab to the press and try to make something of it, especially if we come down hard on his son.”

  “You’ve warned him, of course,” Martin said.

  “I was saving that conversation for just before he left, Bobby’s being processed at the moment and his father’s with him. Our only hope is that Lex Price wants to keep out of the spotlight, himself…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not certain, sir, but I suspect that Price isn’t exactly squeaky clean himself and as such, he mightn’t like any unwanted media attention.”

  “You think the man’s a criminal?”

  “It’s just my suspicious mind, sir. He does have a record and for someone who did ten years for armed robbery, he seems very well set up.”

  “Let’s hope he keeps his head down, then.”

  “Yes, sir. As you say, the fallout could be pretty dire.”

  “Can you imagine the headlines? ‘War hero executed by terrorists on a war memorial,’” Martin groaned, scrubbing his face with his palms. “Lord above. So we tread carefully. Contact the Counter-terrorism Unit and see who we have locally who might pose any kind of threat. Take advice from them. We go softly on this. A gentle bit of asking around first. Please don’t let this blow up in our faces, Blake.”

  *****

  Lex Price filled a chair in the reception area with Bobby sat next to him. Blake watched Lex mutter some kind of advice to his son whilst simultaneously picking apart a plastic cup. It made sens
e, Blake supposed, the man had experience of courts and prison after all. What a thing to have to pass on to your kids, though. Bobby kept his eyes down, staring at the floor all the time. Something about the whole relationship made Blake’s gut twist but he wasn’t sure what it was or what he could do about it.

  “Mr Price,” he said, approaching them. “Hopefully, it’s been explained to you that, although Bobby has been charged, we aren’t going to detain him. We’ll submit the DNA evidence and the interview recording to the CPS and we’ll see what comes of it. Can you just ensure that Bobby stays close to home for now? It would be disastrous for him if he were to get into any more trouble…”

  Lex Price nodded and extended his hand. “I understand. Thank you for your help, Inspector. I’m sorry he’s caused all this bother, if you want an apology to the old man, I’m sure Bobby would be keen to make that.”

  Blake thought back to Smith’s bitter comments about the leniency of the penal system these days. “Well, I’ll feed that back to Mr Smith. Obviously, this will have to go further but, hopefully, Bobby has learnt his lesson.”

  “I’ve told him before, Inspector, you guys are just doing your job and lashing out at members of the public isn’t acceptable.”

  “Could I ask one more thing. We need to verify Bobby’s story and obviously, it’s a sensitive area. It would probably do more harm than good if this were to become public knowledge…”

  Lex’s face hardened. “if some flippin’ towel heads have done in a veteran, don’t you think the public need warning?”

  “If there has been some kind of terrorist atrocity, then yes, I agree we need to find and apprehend the people concerned quickly, Mr Price but if Bobby was mistaken, then we’ll have caused a panic and that might hamper our investigation.”

  “Fair enough,” Lex said, slightly mollified.

  “Thanks, I knew you’d understand. We’ll be in touch,” Blake said, shaking Lex’s hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you do for a living, Mr Price?”

  Lex Price levelled his gaze on Blake. “I’m in security, building sites, empty factory units, that kind of thing. Keeping things safe and secure. Not unlike you, Inspector.”