Next to Die

by Neil White

  The young man was in chinos and a hooded top, the hood down, his dark hair glossy and clean, his skin healthy from a good upbringing. There was none of that pinched hardness worn by the people who came to see Joe with charge sheets in their pocket.

  ‘Mr Parker?’ he said as he sat down.

  ‘Hello, Daniel,’ Joe said. ‘Can I call you Daniel?’

  The young man nodded and smiled nervously. Well-mannered but scared.

  ‘Good,’ Joe said. ‘I want you to remember that you asked to speak to me.’

  ‘But not here.’

  ‘No, it had to be here. I wasn’t seen coming in or out, and so I might deny ever having this conversation.’

  ‘That sounds threatening.’

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be,’ Joe said, aware of the situation. The young man had been the victim of an assault by one of his better clients, a local thug who thought that selling pills to clubbers made him the big man. He hadn’t realised that the really big men let him carry on because he attracted the police attention and kept it away from them. ‘So, Daniel, what is it you want to say to me?’

  Daniel looked down at the table, his arms folded, rocking forward slightly. ‘I want out of it,’ he said eventually.

  ‘What, out of the case?’

  Daniel nodded.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Do I have to give a reason?’

  ‘It makes me curious, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to court.’

  ‘Have you spoken to the police?’

  ‘I tried to, but they weren’t interested. They said I had to go to court, and that they could force me if they wanted, and I’ve got my parents telling me to do the right thing, that justice is important.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘If you don’t go, he’ll get away with it,’ Joe said. ‘You know that, don’t you? You’re the only witness to what happened.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  Joe reached into his jacket pocket and took out an envelope. He placed it on the table.

  ‘If you keep pushing at the police, telling them that you won’t go, they can make you with a witness summons,’ Joe said. ‘If you ignore that, a warrant, and you’ll sit in a prison cell until the trial, even though you’re the victim.’

  Daniel paled. ‘So what do I do?’

  ‘Play along, tell them that you’ll be there at the trial, and then just don’t turn up. The prosecutor will try to get it adjourned, to find out where you are, but they won’t succeed, because the court has targets to meet, and a case delayed looks bad for their figures. So without you, the surprise no-show, the case comes to an end.’ He slid over the envelope. ‘My client feels bad about your nose. You’re a good-looking young boy and he didn’t mean to break it like he did, but you know the truth about what was going on, don’t you, Daniel.’

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You were bitching about the deal you’d just bought, because you were bulk buying and had hoped to make a bit on top for yourself, but because you were already too tanked, you got your sums wrong. You lashed out and so you got thumped, except you didn’t tell the police that. They think it was unprovoked, but we know different. Is that why you’re reluctant, because of what might come out?’

  Daniel’s cheeks flushed and Joe knew he had hit home. He had sanitised his version and didn’t want his parents to know what was going on.

  ‘Like I said, no witness and the prosecution have no case, and we all get to move on,’ Joe said. ‘If you decide not to go, my client wants you to be compensated for what he did. So take the money, two thousand pounds, and take a holiday.’

  Daniel swallowed. ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Nothing. No one is going to hurt you. To my client, you’re just a kid who got carried away, but he’s on a bender and so wants to avoid that being activated.’

  ‘Bender?’

  ‘Suspended sentence. For violence. So you can see his worry. No one is threatening you. He is just trying to do the right thing.’

  ‘Won’t the police try and persuade me into going?’

  ‘Go away, somewhere beyond their reach. Have you got a friend you can stay with? Don’t answer your phone unless you know the caller.’

  Daniel’s hand went to the money, nodding, taking a deep breath. When he slid it across the table, he said, ‘Thank you. I appreciate your advice.’ He stood to go, putting the money in his pocket.

  Before he left the table, Joe said, ‘You’ve taken the money and it’s yours. But my client will need it back if you turn up at court, you know that.’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’

  Daniel turned to go, and once the door closed, there was movement behind him. Joe felt strong hands on his shoulders. It was his client, short and wiry in a black suit, his head shaved bald to help with the image.

  ‘Thank you, Joe. I appreciate it. You’re taking a risk though.’

  ‘No, I’m not, because I was giving him what he wanted. There is always a way that keeps everyone happy. I found it in this case.’

  ‘I like it. So what now?’

  ‘You turn up at court next week, suited and smart,’ Joe said. ‘You look surprised at the no-show, and then you go home.’ As his client nodded, Joe added, ‘Now it’s your turn for a favour.’

  ‘Shoot. What is it? Coke? Pills?’

  ‘No, none of that. I don’t touch it. It’s about a case. It’s a murder case, except I’m not sure the victim is dead.’

  ‘That makes it unlucky for someone.’

  ‘Yeah, that was my logic. She’s a drinker and spends money she hasn’t got. There are rumours that she was topping up her income by selling herself from her flat. If she has just run away, she’s going to have to find ways to earn her money, and she’s already built a client base.’

  ‘You want me to ask around?’

  ‘I know you use some of the street girls to deliver for you.’ When his client raised his hands in innocence, Joe said, ‘I’m your lawyer. I don’t judge when I’m in my work clothes. So ask them if someone new has turned up. Tall blonde. Carrie. She’ll have a young child with her. Here’s a picture.’ Joe passed over the clipping from the newspaper from the day before, where Ronnie’s case had found its way to one of the middle pages. ‘If someone knows her, the name of her pimp would be good too.’

  His client smiled and put it in his pocket. ‘I’ll get back to you.’ Then he walked out of the café, his strut telling Joe that the day had ended well for everyone.

  Thirty-Five

  Sam paced the corridor in the prison. He had left Grant on his own in the room as he called Evans, except that he had been trying for more than thirty minutes, her phone constantly engaged. When she eventually answered, Sam said, ‘Grant is saying nothing. He’s just boasting, like he’s pleased to have an audience.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Killing his sister.’

  ‘Really?’ Evans said. ‘I’ve not heard of that before.’ A pause, and then, ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘That he’s making it up. He’s just spinning some fantasy, to deflect us. It doesn’t even have any point to it.’

  ‘Stick with it,’ Evans said. ‘Let’s see where it leads us.’ And then she hung up.

  As the corridor fell into silence again, Sam braced himself to go back into the room. He wasn’t enjoying spending time in there, but he had to keep going, just so that he would have something to take back with him.

  When he went back into the room, Sam said, ‘So you killed your sister?’

  ‘You haven’t read about that, have you?’ Grant said, and he winked. ‘You should pay attention to detail, because that’s where the answers always are, in the detail.’

  ‘So tell me about her.’

  ‘Sally knew I watched her when she was in bed.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By my breaths.’

  ‘And she didn’t tell you to stop?’

  Grant shook his head.<
br />
  ‘And so you killed her for that?’

  ‘No, no, no. Do you think it’s so simple? It taught me patience, that’s all, because I had taken a risk in touching her and it had ended up as a mistake. So watching became the important thing, it’s better to take your time, because taking risks leads to mistakes. It wasn’t easy for Sally though. I was always there, watching as she came out of the bathroom, or getting changed, or just doing her homework. So she did the cruellest thing.’

  ‘What was that?’

  Grant sat back, his arms behind his head. ‘I had been lying in bed. Sally was in the bath, and it was like a taunt, because with every splash of the water I felt the shame of her breast, how I had responded, how she had rejected me, that it was all something dirty. Except that as I thought of her, I felt the stir of excitement stronger than I had ever felt before, because I was at that age when manhood starts to burst through. When Sally came out of the bath, she was wearing just a towel, and she must have seen something in my eyes, maybe something she had seen in other men, because Sally knew her power by then. So she let the towel slip, and my eyes tracked downwards in line with the towel, to the flatness of her stomach, and then as it dropped to the floor she watched me. She let me look.’

  ‘So is that when you killed her?’

  He looked at Sam and tutted. ‘There you go, rushing again. No, it isn’t. I did something much simpler. I touched myself. I couldn’t stop it and Sally saw me. I don’t know what I did, gasped or jolted or something, but she shouted out. She had been grinning in the bedroom, although it was nasty, victorious, spiteful, but as she ran out, covering herself up with her towel, she sounded angry. She shouted down the stairs that I was touching myself, because of her, and that I was a dirty little pervert.’

  Grant shook his head as if lost in memory.

  ‘My mother sprinted upstairs. She dragged me to the bathroom and held my head under the tap, making my hair wet, the water cold. How do you think I felt?’

  ‘Humiliated,’ Sam said. ‘Most of all, angry.’

  ‘You’re getting it, because it was always there, in the background, everyone’s dirty family secret. My father tried to make it right, said that it was normal, because everyone is confused at that age, but it wasn’t forgotten, from the sideways glances I got sometimes, or from the little sneers I got from Sally. And she told people at my school. I was the quiet boy in the class, but I tried to fit in. I noticed things. How some of the boys showed off when the girls were around, and how some of them responded, as if they liked that stupidity. So I tried a joke sometimes, to try to join in, but the girls just looked at each other, embarrassed, and then the boys would tease me, and it always came back to the same thing, that I thought of my sister when I played with myself.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘Like I said, I had learned to be patient. Sally left home and had her baby, but still I was prepared to wait. When her little boy was six months old, her boyfriend left her. So she was always alone, and I kept watch. There was a park opposite her flat, and when it went dark, I sat there and watched. She didn’t know I was there.’ Grant’s eyes narrowed, his breaths were getting shorter, his arousal growing. ‘Isn’t that just the best bit? The build up. The watching. I knew what I was going to do before I did it, and I didn’t try to fight it, because you shouldn’t fight your desires. That’s what separates me from the flock.’

  ‘We call it society,’ Sam said, ‘where people don’t do cruel things because it would be just that – cruel.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Grant said, slamming his hand on the table, making Sam jump. ‘You’re scared of the consequences, that’s all. Men rape and murder all the time when it’s allowed, like in war zones, so don’t give me the high and mighty bullshit.’

  ‘Go on then, tell me how you killed her. I will check this out, and so if you’re lying to me it’s a waste of time. If you just want to tell the world, there are enough true crime writers out there who could do it for you.’

  ‘Like I said, I’m giving you the answers for the missing girl. My story is about Sally.’ Grant lowered his voice. ‘It was the onset of autumn that had done it. It’s the best season, all that long hair swirling around woollen scarves, caught by the wind, damp and wild. Summer is too manufactured, because sunlight wrecks the colours, makes them dry and light. When the heat fades, so does the fake bleach, and so all you see are beautiful young women, just how they are supposed to be. Except that back then, Sally was always there, making me feel ashamed. I had to do something about it.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I was in the park opposite. It was dark and so she couldn’t see me, but I could see her, just a blurred outline through the glass, but it was enough. I could see her fingers dancing through the strands as she showered, teasing out the shampoo, stretching it.’ Grant’s fingers started to tap on the table again. ‘The door was unlocked, and so I crept upstairs, my footsteps light. She couldn’t hear me. I pushed at the bathroom door. Her baby was asleep in the room next door, face down in a light blue sleepsuit.’ He laughed. ‘I almost lost my nerve at that point. Even I have weaknesses.’

  ‘Or humanity. That boy was your nephew.’

  ‘He meant nothing to me, because all I could hear was the water running over her. It’s all about focus.’ He tapped the side of his head, his teeth gritted. ‘I pushed at the door and I saw her. She was facing away from me, standing in the bath, her hands running down her hair from the overhead shower. Her skin was pink and wet, her bottom wider than it had been when she had lived at home, but still it set off that churn in my stomach.’

  Grant clapped his hands together, making Sam jump.

  ‘I ran at her. I grabbed her hair and yanked it. Sally screamed, but I was pulling hard, and then she was falling backwards. Her head cracked when it hit the bath. It was louder than her scream. I heard it above the slip of her feet in the water. It was like a dropped melon and a gasp, and then she was quiet. All there was left was the smack of the water as it drummed against her stomach.’

  ‘Is that how you had planned it?’

  Grant laughed. ‘No. I was going to strangle her, because that had been the image that had excited me as I had imagined it, but as I watched the water turn pink as it ran towards the plug, as I felt for her pulse, for a heartbeat, and felt just damp skin, I knew that it was perfect. She had slipped in the bath. No one would know.’

  ‘How old were you then?’

  Grant paused and closed his eyes, the small nods of his head giving away his mental arithmetic. ‘Sixteen. I was sixteen.’

  Sam was silent for a few seconds, and then said, ‘Why have you told me this, after all these years?’

  ‘Investigate it and discover the truth.’

  ‘We could charge you with it if we can prove it.’

  ‘It will just make me more popular.’

  ‘Popular?’

  ‘Oh yes, you should see my fan mail. Young women, old women. They like a bad boy. Nude photographs, requests to meet. Deluded young men, or even people who think like I do, so they want to meet me, like I’m their idol.’

  Sam shook his head. ‘I’m bored of your ego. Now can we get on to the missing girl?’

  Grant looked smug, as if he had just won a game that Sam didn’t know was being played. ‘I’ve told you all I’ve got to tell you,’ he said. ‘The answers are all there. It’s up to you to work it out.’

  Sam gathered his notebook and pen. The chair flew back as he got to his feet. He pointed at the window. ‘Take a look out there, Grant. I’m parked along the road you were looking at. I’ll be walking to my car, smelling the scent of freedom. You think about that back in your cell.’

  ‘Or maybe I’ll think about your sister instead.’

  Sam closed his eyes for a moment, just to steel himself. He should have been ready for the taunt. ‘Leave my sister out of this.’

  ‘Why? Because she went the same way?’ Grant leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, grinni
ng. ‘Someone just like me enjoyed her. Did you enjoy her too? Just little peeks when she got ready?’

  Sam went to the door and banged on it. He had to get out.

  Grant laughed. ‘Or what about your other little sister?’

  That made Sam whirl round. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Little Ruby, although she isn’t that small now, is she? All long legs and hair. Sweet.’

  Sam felt the blood rush through his head, had to fight against the clench of his fists, the need to attack Grant, to see some fear in his eyes, some pain. His heart was hammering, sweat on his forehead.

  The door opened and Sam rushed through. As the door started to close slowly on its hinges, Grant shouted, ‘Don’t forget to mention me to your wife. She’ll give you the time of your life.’

  As the door finally closed, Sam set off at a jog, just to get away as quickly as he could, but all he could hear was the sound of Grant laughing, loud and manic.

  Thirty-Six

  Joe checked his watch as he got back to the office. Five o’clock. It was time to meet Kim.

  He had gone to his office to drop off his dictation machine. It had recorded the café meeting, just in case. He checked his reflection in the glass of a picture frame. There were dark rings under his eyes and some sag to his cheeks, but it was the end of a long day. It was the best he could do.

  He headed for the door when Gina burst through, Monica just behind her.

  Gina checked her watch. ‘It’s early for you, Joe.’

  ‘It’s been a long couple of days,’ he said. ‘Sometimes you can only read the same words so many times.’

  ‘I’ve found a blood expert,’ Gina said. ‘He does blood spatter normally, but he can age it to some extent. Bloodstains get a black border round them after a couple of months, and this border will increase in size all the time, until it gets to about nine months old.’

  ‘And we can prove Carrie and Grace were alive more than two months ago,’ Joe said. ‘So if we can show a black border, we can eliminate it from the morning of the argument?’