by Casey, Jane
‘Do you know if anyone had a reason to threaten you or your family?’ I asked.
‘Threaten them? What are you talking about?’
‘We’re trying to find out if anyone had a motive to set the fire, Mrs Bellew. If anyone had a grudge against your family or wanted to scare you, that would be useful for us to know.’
Her eyes were huge. ‘I – why would you think anyone would be angry with us?’
‘We’re asking everyone,’ Derwent explained. ‘It’s not just you.’
‘Oh.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘What did Carl say?’
‘Why is that important?’ Derwent asked.
A tiny shrug. ‘Whatever he said is what I think.’
‘That’s the rule, is it?’
‘It’s the truth.’ She was still looking down, sullen. We’d lost her. Derwent caught my eye and nodded towards the exit.
‘We’ll leave you in peace, Mrs Bellew,’ I said. ‘Remember, you can call me any time if you have any questions or if you remember anything at all that was strange about yesterday, even if you don’t think it’s relevant or important.’
She nodded. Derwent and I had started to walk away when she spoke again, to ask the same question she’d asked before.
‘What did Carl say?’
Derwent glanced at me. I shrugged.
‘He said no one had any reason to harm you.’
‘Did he?’ She said it softly. ‘Was his mum there?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wonder what he’d have said if she wasn’t there.’
‘Why’s that?’
She shook her head, still not looking at us. ‘Just wondering, that’s all.’
We turned away. Derwent stopped once we were out of range. ‘We need to talk to Carl again.’
‘I’d say so.’
‘On his own this time.’
‘As a priority.’
‘And see if any CCTV cameras got footage of a man in a cap.’
‘He might not have been wearing the cap all the time,’ I pointed out.
‘What does that leave? A man in jeans and a zip-up jacket.’
‘Yeah, because I’m sure there was only one of them hanging around.’
‘It’s a start,’ Derwent said grimly. ‘At this stage, that’s all we need.’
Chapter 11
WE WALKED BACK down the stairs together, avoiding the lifts, because hospital lifts were slow and full of people who needed to use them, unlike us. I was always embarrassed to cram myself in alongside a patient on a trolley, and Derwent was paranoid about catching some sort of virus. That, in a nutshell, was the difference between us.
‘What’s next?’
‘The lady from flat 104,’ I said, checking my notes. ‘She’s the one who was rescued by the fire crews.’
‘A housebound little old lady.’ Derwent rolled his eyes. ‘She’s not going to be much use to us, is she? She won’t have seen anything. Or heard anything, probably. I bet she’s deaf.’
‘I’m sure you’ll manage to communicate with her. You have a loud enough voice.’
‘You can handle it. I’m going back to Carl Bellew.’
‘He’ll still be with his mother. You can’t call him out of the room in front of her – she’ll know exactly what you’re up to.’
‘He’s got to piss some time.’
‘You might have a long wait.’
‘I don’t mind. I’m disciplined, you see.’
‘Una Burt would say you were wasting your time.’
‘She says a lot of things about me, and most of them aren’t true.’
‘I think,’ I said, trying to be diplomatic, ‘she just doesn’t give you much credit. She doesn’t actually lie about what you do or how you do it. But she definitely doesn’t approve of you.’
‘Then I must be doing something right.’
We walked down the corridor, Derwent a little in front of me. That meant he went around the next corner first, and collided with a woman who was walking the other way. ‘Whoops.’
‘A fucking apology wouldn’t go amiss, thank you very much,’ she snapped. She was tanned to a leathery orange that clashed with her pale pink lipstick. Her hair was in the matted rat’s tails I associated with cheap extensions.
‘A fucking apology?’ Derwent repeated slowly. ‘I’m very fucking sorry. Your turn.’
The answer was a raised middle finger. She walked off, giving us the benefit of her backside in very tight, very stonewashed jeans that had a few strategic rips so her neon-orange skin could show through.
‘How many coats of Ronseal do you think that took?’ Derwent’s nose was wrinkled in disgust.
‘I don’t know but I’d say she’s fully protected for winter.’
‘She looks dirty.’
‘I thought that was your type,’ I said.
Derwent looked appalled. ‘There’s dirty and dirty. You’d need a trip to the STD clinic every time you held her hand. Anyway, I prefer the natural look.’
I snorted. ‘I bet you’re one of those men who says they love women who don’t wear make-up when you actually don’t have any idea what we look like without it.’
‘It can be a surprise the morning after,’ he admitted. ‘You never know what you’re going to get in the cold light of day.’
‘Maybe you should try to find someone you’re prepared to see more than once.’
He grinned. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
‘It’s all about the thrill of the chase for you, isn’t it?’
A shrug. ‘I only go after the ones who want to be caught.’
‘Which is every woman, according to you.’
‘Not every woman.’ He turned away. ‘Just most of them.’
The annoying thing was that I knew he didn’t have any trouble getting women to sleep with him. He was attractive enough, but it was the fact that he was a pure predator about it that made him so effective. He was ruthless, and determined, and he liked women – at least, he liked having sex with them. I’d seen it work time and time again.
He headed towards the waiting room where the Bellews had been, and I went in the opposite direction, towards double doors guarded by another uniformed officer. This one was slouching in his chair, looking at the ceiling. He was young and clean-cut.
I stopped beside him. ‘Is this where they took the victims from the tower block fire?’
‘Yep.’
‘Thanks.’ I opened the door and went through. After a second I opened the door again. ‘Did you want to check if I was supposed to be here, or what?’
‘Huh?’
I held up my ID and watched the colour leave his face.
‘Sorry. I should have—’
‘Yes, you should.’ But you looked at me and you didn’t think ‘cop’. You definitely didn’t think CID. ‘Why do you think you’re sitting here?’
‘To stop people bothering the victims.’
‘Bothering – or harming them. We still don’t know why the fire happened, or if it was deliberate. These people are witnesses at the very least, even if they aren’t targets. And there’ll be journalists coming and going, pretending to be hospital staff or counsellors or just visitors.’
‘I know that.’
‘Do you? But it didn’t ring any alarm bells for you when you heard me ask specifically about the fire victims?’
‘There’ve been quite a few people asking,’ he said lamely. ‘They’re curious. Other patients, you know. I haven’t let anyone through the doors who didn’t have proper ID.’
‘Anyone else, I think you mean. That’s something, I suppose.’ I gave him a hard stare. If it had been Derwent who’d encountered this idiot he’d have left him in tatters. I hadn’t the heart – not quite. But I didn’t want him to think it didn’t matter. ‘You’re the last person between these people and harm. Your job is to keep them safe. You have to be alert, and wary of every single person who passes you, even if they look like legitimate hospital employees. You’re not going to get in trouble for b
eing too careful. You’re going to get in trouble if you sit there and let someone through those doors who shouldn’t be there.’
‘But you’re a police officer.’
‘And you had no idea that was the case when I walked through that door.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Be honest. Have you let anyone else go through there without checking their ID?’
He shook his head earnestly. ‘You just moved so fast.’
‘Yeah, I really didn’t give you a chance.’
He looked as if he was about to agree with me before he detected the sarcasm in my voice.
‘Do better,’ I said quietly, and went back through the doors again without waiting for an answer.
Mrs Mary Hearn had a room to herself, a sunny room that was already filling up with cards and balloons. She looked small in the bed, her slight frame propped up on stacks of pillows. Her fluffy white hair was untidy, her face lined and thin. I could smell smoke when I walked into the room, the acrid smell I’d noticed at the crime scene. A stocky man was sitting on a chair beside the bed. He stood up when I introduced myself.
‘Do you want me to leave?’
‘I don’t mind if you stay. Are you Mrs Hearn’s …’
‘Neighbour.’ He corrected himself. ‘Ex-neighbour.’
‘This is Young Kevin.’ She smiled at him. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him.’
‘I’ve lived next door to Mrs Hearn all my life. Until she moved.’ He smiled. ‘Still can’t get used to not having her there.’
‘When did you move, Mrs Hearn?’
‘Eight months ago.’
‘Is it that long?’ Kevin ran a hand over his balding head, embarrassed. ‘Where does the time go?’
‘You’re busy, you see, with the children. You wouldn’t notice.’
‘I meant to come round and see you.’ To me, he said, ‘My parents were Mrs Hearn’s neighbours. They all used to look after each other and the rest of us. My parents are dead, but Mrs Hearn was like another mum to me.’
She smiled. ‘That’s how I thought of it too.’
‘Mrs Hearn knew everyone on our road,’ Kevin said. ‘She never missed anything that happened. If you wanted to know what was going on, Mrs Hearn was the one to ask.’
‘You make me sound like a busybody,’ Mrs Hearn complained.
‘My favourite kind of person,’ I said. ‘I like people who notice things. I imagine it wasn’t so easy for you to get to know everything about everyone when you moved to your flat.’
The reply was instant. ‘Well, it was more difficult. No windows, you see, except the ones looking out over the streets and I was too high up to see much. No, that was no use. But I did get to see people coming and going. And the great thing was that they couldn’t see me.’
‘How was that?’
She nodded at Young Kevin. ‘He set up a camera for me.’
‘Just so she could see people calling to the door.’ He looked worried. ‘It wasn’t wrong, was it? But the peephole was bloody rubbish and I’d heard about old – older people being attacked when they answer the door, so I wanted her to be able to see who was standing outside.’
‘Do you mean a CCTV camera?’
‘All I had to do was look on the television. Channel 773.’ She smiled. ‘Young Kevin is so clever.’
I turned to him, my fingers crossed. ‘Did it record to tape? Or disc?’
‘It was a live feed.’
‘Nothing recorded?’ I said, hope fading.
‘No.’
Which left what Mrs Hearn had seen.
‘What sort of view did you have?’ I asked, trying not to betray too much interest in case it made her nervous. ‘Just in front of your door?’
‘Oh no. I could see the whole corridor. Everyone coming and going.’
‘It was a fisheye lens,’ Young Kevin explained.
She smiled. ‘It was like having my own television programme. Better than EastEnders. I got to know everyone.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘I had to give them nicknames. I didn’t know who they really were. But I felt as if I was getting to know them.’
‘Who did you see? The people who lived there?’
‘And their visitors. And the people who seemed to come now and then but didn’t live there.’
‘Like who?’
‘Well, like the boy and his mother who moved in a little while ago. I called her Judy and I called him Luke because he reminded me of Luke – do you remember, Kevin? Luke who used to live at number eight? Gorgeous little lad but he was killed by a car.’
Melissa Pell and her son. I nodded, encouraging her. ‘What did you notice about them?’
‘She always checked the corridor before she let him out of the flat. She’d come out and look around – check the stairwell and so forth – and then she’d call him if the coast was clear.’
‘If the coast was clear,’ I repeated.
‘I don’t know what was worrying her,’ Mrs Hearn said, ‘but she was afraid of something. Or someone. I was mugged myself so I didn’t blame her for being careful. Luke was so good – such a well-behaved little fellow. Always muffled up with scarves and hats so you could barely see him.’ She chuckled. ‘He liked to press the button for the lift. Just liked pressing it. He knew it was broken.’
‘Who else did you notice?’
‘The gang at the end. The gangsters.’
‘In which flat?’ I checked my floorplan.
‘The one at the end on my side. They weren’t really gangsters – it’s a family. Granny and parents and children.’
‘The Bellews.’
‘I don’t know their name.’
‘Why do you call them the gangsters?’
‘All the coming and going. People calling to the door at all hours. And him and his brother going out late and early, looking for trouble.’ Her eyes were bright. ‘I’m making it up, you know.’
‘You’re not in court,’ I said with a smile. ‘Your impressions are a great help to me – you don’t have to have proof. What else did you notice?’
What hadn’t she noticed? She’d seen the man in 106 feeling up the woman from 109 in the hallway, late one night when they’d been having a party in 107. She’d seen the young mother in 108 with a new boyfriend every week. She’d seen the man in 104 come and go once a week, every week, regular as clockwork.
‘I don’t know what he was doing on the Maudling Estate. He looked too rich for the likes of us. Beautiful suits.’ She ran a hand over the sheet that covered her. ‘You could tell. Quality.’
‘Did you recognise him?’ I asked.
‘No. I’d never met him.’
I showed her a picture of Armstrong. ‘Could this be the man?’
‘That’s him.’ She nodded. ‘Who is he?’
I didn’t answer her. ‘Did you see who he was meeting?’
‘Someone who didn’t want to be noticed. She always had the hood up on her coat or a shawl over her head.’
‘Can you describe her?’
‘Tall. Dark complexion. Elegant – you know. Slim.’
‘When you say a dark complexion, do you mean she was black?’
She nodded. I sat back on my chair. That would explain a lot, including why Armstrong had wanted to keep his visits a secret.
‘What sort of age was she?’ I was expecting her to say the woman was young, but she frowned.
‘Maybe … thirty-five? Forty?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just the way she carried herself. Like she was thinking about how she moved. Young people just … go. She always seemed very aware of how she walked.’ Mrs Hearn shook her head. ‘This is such rubbish, isn’t it? A lonely old woman, inventing stories about people.’
‘It’s very useful indeed,’ I said. ‘Was there anything else you noticed about your neighbours?’
She thought. ‘Nothing that stands out.’
‘Can I ask about yesterday? Did you notice an
ything strange or unusual before the fire?’
‘I wasn’t watching what was going on in the hall. It was a nice day and I read for a while. I dozed.’ She looked apologetic. ‘I didn’t know it was going to be important.’
‘That’s okay. Did you hear anything? Any arguments?’
‘No. I heard people coming and going. The door to the stairwell always banged, you know, and I’d hear them going in and out. If they were talking they made a lot of noise. The voices echoed in the stairwell. It woke me up sometimes.’
Young Kevin shook his head. ‘Thoughtless.’
‘They were living,’ she said, with a forcefulness that surprised both of us. ‘They were falling in love and being families and making friends and fighting. What was I doing that couldn’t be interrupted? Waiting to die?’
‘Mrs Hearn,’ Young Kevin said, and it was a reproach.
‘I’m sorry, Kevin, but it’s the truth. Since George died I’ve been existing. There’s nothing left for me. You don’t need me.’
‘I do.’ He put his hand on hers. ‘We all do.’
I waited for a minute before I interrupted them. ‘When did you become aware of the fire?’
‘I heard running in the corridor. That wasn’t unusual. But there was someone shouting too. And then the alarm went off.’
‘The smoke alarm?’
‘In my flat. And then of course I smelled the smoke.’
‘Did you think about leaving?’
‘I looked on the television and I saw people going to the stairs, but I couldn’t see much. The hall was full of smoke. I can’t even tell you who was there and who wasn’t.’
‘That’s all right. We’re working that out.’ I smiled at her. ‘Did you try to go out?’
‘No. I thought I’d be too slow. I’d get in people’s way. Maybe get knocked over.’ She clutched the sheet. ‘I don’t like big crowds of people. They don’t care about you. They don’t notice if you’re not too steady on your feet.’
‘So you called the fire brigade.’
She nodded. ‘They told me to stay where I was. They said they’d come and get me and they did. So it all worked out perfectly. Except that they wouldn’t let me bring much with me.’
‘They don’t, as a rule.’
‘I just took my handbag. That’s all I have.’ She looked very small in her hospital gown. ‘When do you think I can go back?’