At the station, Hobbs hustled me into a meeting room, ordering coffee from a passing uniform on the way. Before I’d even warmed my seat he held out imploring hands.
‘You saw something, didn’t you?’
I nodded.
Hobbs looked at me in exasperation. ‘Well, don’t faff about. Just tell me.’ He loosened his tie knot and undid the top button of his white shirt. ‘Don’t go forgetting our deal, Eddie. I need payback, and it starts now.’
‘All right. Hold your seahorses.’
I took out the location sketch I’d done earlier and flattened it on the table. With a pen I inked in the back garden at house number four and then marked an opening in the far right corner. After catching Hobbs’ eye, I jabbed the pen tip at where I’d drawn the opening.
‘It’s a rusty old gate, hidden by a pergola.’
‘A rusty gate?’
‘Yeah. I opened and closed it a few times tonight. Didn’t you hear it?’
He shook his head. ‘I was inside. Bugg and his bloody stone kicking – couldn’t hear a thing on the radio.’
‘Well, for the record, the gate screeches like a squashed banshee.’
Hobbs looked at me, frowning. ‘That’s it?’
‘Not quite.’
I turned the map side-on and drew two lines that ran parallel with Priory Road and curved behind the houses. Between the lines and the houses I shaded in the other back gardens. I pointed again.
‘A bridle path. It links the houses to Priory Park.’ I drew a circle to show the proximity of the local park. ‘You can’t see the path from the main road. And it has a spur that cuts through to the top of Priory Road.’ With a flourish I whizzed a line on the map to show the cut-through. ‘That’s how I got to her house the first time I went.’
Hobbs looked at me, baffled.
‘On my Santa Cruz Superlight,’ I explained. ‘Finest cross-country mountain bike west of the Pecos.’ For an uneasy moment I wondered if I’d ever see my pride and unadulterated joy again.
Hobbs blinked at me uncertainly. ‘I see.’
‘You do?’
‘No, not really.’
‘It’s the missing link. It explains away the inconsistencies.’
‘Your mountain bike?’
‘No, the path at the back of the houses.’ Coffee couldn’t come soon enough, and I didn’t even like the stuff. ‘All the houses have back gates, including number ten. I walked along the path tonight and checked.’
‘But what does that explain?’
‘The noise that spooked the Nkongos – it was the gate.’ I tried to do a creaky gate sound to help. It wasn’t one of my best. ‘Helen used it when she returned to the house from her errand. She went the back way. That’s how she got from number ten to number four unseen.’ I poked at the two points on the drawing. ‘And that’s how she spliced ‘twixt the Nkongos leaving and Jimmy arriving.’
Hobbs half-closed an eye. ‘Maybe, but according to her statement, she got back as Jimmy was leaving?’
‘Not according to Jimmy.’
As Hobbs started to say something, a uniform flunky came in with two cups of coffee. He set them down clumsily, looked sheepishly at the DCI, and scuttled out.
After the beverage bobby left, Hobbs drank the coffee slowly, switching his gaze between me and the map. Then he cleared his throat.
‘You’ve read their statements,’ he said. ‘Jimmy says he came and left because no one was home. It ties in with the other statements. The Nkongos say they saw him arrive as they were going, and Porson says she saw him leaving as she got back from number ten. The timing fits. Why would Jimmy blab anything different to you?’
‘Allow me to explain.’
Over coffee – which tasted as plastic as the cups it came in – I talked Hobbs through my dance of death on Weighton Pier and what Jimmy had said about his visit to number four that day. The DCI listened carefully, but all the while his lip curled with doubt.
‘That would mean they’re both lying,’ said Hobbs. ‘In Jimmy’s case it’s par for the course. But why would Porson lie?’
‘In her shoes, who wouldn’t want Jimmy locked up? Especially for something he didn’t do. The whole charade she went through, pretending to be Elaine, it was all aimed at getting Jimmy put away and dodging her debt. The way I see it, she still thinks she can pull it off.’
Hobbs rubbed the side of his nose. ‘I’m not convinced.’
‘Yeah, I know. It’s all evidence, evidence, evidence with you guys.’
‘I shan’t be apologising for that.’
‘Okay, let’s do it your way. Why don’t you ask one of your WPCs to examine Helen’s neck. If Jimmy choked her enough to pass out, there’ll be a mark.’ I thought back to when I’d seen her at the nursing home, and at the Square. ‘It’s summer time, and she’s been wearing a shawl all day? What lies beneath, hey?’
Hobbs stood up and snapped his fingers at the PC by the door. ‘Ask WPC Coombes to examine Mrs Porson’s neck and report back to me.’
The PC looked startled.
‘Now!’ bellowed Hobbs.
With mouth still open, the constable sped off on his mission. A few minutes later the WPC who’d kept me company earlier in the evening came to the door. Hobbs went over to her and they exchanged quiet words and definite nods.
Hobbs sat back down. ‘You’re right. There is a mark. Not that it proves anything.’
‘Ask her how she got it? Ask her how she made her way to number ten that day?’
‘We will. Anything else?’
‘Yeah, as it goes.’
Something else had been bodderin’ me about Porson’s statement: the exact role of one Porson Junior that day. I thought about my meeting with him the day before. He couldn’t have been any more unreliable.
Hobbs prompted me with a nod.
‘The great escape,’ I said.
‘Go on.’
‘No neighbours saw Tony Porson collect her that day.’
‘So?’
‘She’s not stupid, and she had a few hours to plan. She knew she couldn’t risk any neighbours placing her and Tony together at the scene after she was supposed to be dead.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
I pushed the map at him. ‘I reckon she took a small bag and went the back way. The house isn’t overlooked, so she wouldn’t have been seen. She probably put a scarf over her head and met Tony the other side of the park.’
‘Another theory,’ said Hobbs, nodding. ‘We’re bringing him in anyway, so we’ll add that to our list of questions.’ He squished his empty coffee cup and tossed it into the bin. ‘It’s still all “ifs”, “buts”, and “maybes”.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But if what I’m suggesting is correct …’
Hobbs held up his hand like he was back in “traffic division”. ‘Are you saying Jimmy’s in the clear?’
‘I’m saying that Jimmy’s version probably holds good, more or less. Think about it.’ I tapped the map where I’d drawn a large “4” on a house-shaped box next to Priory Road. ‘Helen Porson and Elaine Taylor are at the house waiting for the Nkongos to arrive. Ten minutes before they’re due, Helen remembers she’s supposed to have fed her neighbour’s cat. She doesn’t want to leave her sister for too long on her own in the house, and she wants to be back in time for her visitors. She figures she has just enough time if she goes the back way. And …’ I held up the “and” finger. ‘She knows it’s less likely to worry Elaine if she leaves by the back door. So off she goes, leaving sis on her lonesome. The Nkongo boys, impatient as ever, arrive early. There’s no answer at the door, so they look around. They see Elaine through the lounge window and assume it’s Helen. They head back and try the front door, and as it’s open, they go on in. Kip confronts the sister in the lounge. Elaine can’t hear or speak, she has no idea who they are – she’s terrified. Kip tries to make her talk. Nothin’ doing. He gets agitated. Frustrated. All kinds of “ated”. Trust me, the guy’s a few sparks short
of a short fuse at the best of times.’
I paused for a sip of god-awful coffee and Hobbs did the same. After setting down the cup, his shoulders hunched with impatience.
‘Anyway,’ I continued, ‘back at the ranch, he gets more physical and starts to choke her. She faints. Robert, bless his boy-scout heart, tries to revive her. She’s still breathing, according to him, but she ain’t comin’ round. With his would-be family go-between lifeless, he’s furious about being duped, so he starts looking around for any information about his mother. He finds and takes the apartment key, but that’s when they hear a loud creaking sound. They have no idea it’s Helen Porson hurrying back through the rear gate. They’re spooked, so they head in the opposite direction of the noise, to the front door. They check no one is coming and leave via the main drive, which is where they cross Priory Road and see Jimmy arriving.’
Wielding my pen, I reinforced the mark on the map where their paths had crossed. ‘Meanwhile, Helen Porson enters her house by the back door. Before she can check on her sister, she hears a knock at the front door. She assumes it’s Robert Nkongo, but it’s not. It’s Jimmy. He and Tommy barge in. Helen Porson is in a panic. She doesn’t want them to see her sister, so she draws them to the kitchen. Jimmy demands his money or her house deeds. She gets rattled. He taunts her, and she finally gets mad. In a rage, she latches onto a kitchen knife and tries to slash him. But he grabs her wrist with one hand and her throat with the other, forcing her to faint and drop the knife. Jimmy and Tommy rapidly exit stage left. Porson eventually comes around, and the first thing she does is check on her sister. She finds her dead in the lounge. At first she thinks Jimmy has done it. She thinks it’s a warning. But …’
I switched to my “but” finger. ‘But then she regains composure and thinks it through more clearly. Somehow she realises Jimmy couldn’t have done it. She works out that the Nkongos must’ve arrived while she was out, gained entry, and in some way caused her sister’s death. That’s when she sits back, cogitates, ruminates, deliberates – more “ates”, what can I tell you? – and comes up with a foolproof plan to disappear. Even better, she can cue the blame on Jimmy. The perfect non-crime.’
I held my hands against my cheeks and leaned closer. ‘Fast forward a few hours. She works her plan, calls Tony, arranges an exit, and then – the last thing she does – she calls me, Weighton’s first and foremost. I was already in on the blackmail scam, so she gambled I’d eventually point the finger at Jimmy.’ I clicked both fingers. ‘And that, Chief, is how you and I came to meet.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sunday – 22:44
Hobbs let out a sigh as long as a trans-American freight train.
I waited until the sigh had edged over the state line. ‘You like it that much, hey?’
‘It explains her phone records, and some of it matches to forensics, but I still don’t buy it.’
‘Because?’
He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t tie into the statements, and it’s full of holes.’
‘Little holes or black holes?’
‘Both,’ he said. ‘For a start, how did she work out that Elaine hadn’t been killed by Jimmy, that the Nkongos had done it?’
‘Is that your black hole?’
‘No, I’m saving that.’
I smiled, wondering what else he had up his sleeve. But first holes first. ‘Look, I don’t know for sure, but maybe she played dead when Jimmy was choking her. Or maybe she came around pretty quick and saw them leave without any detours. Jimmy was adamant she was still breathing when he left. Maybe she could tell someone else had been in the house. Maybe the Nkongos tried to call her when no one came to the door.’
Hobbs shook his head. ‘They don’t have a phone.’
‘Okay, so maybe I don’t know anything.’
My long streak of “maybes” was met by silence, filled only by the whirring of a fan in the far corner. I eyed him. ‘So what’s the big, bad, black hole?’
The silence persisted as he rocked back and forth in his chair, concentrating hard. Finally, he said, ‘We haven’t found the murder weapon yet, but we know what it was. Elaine was strangled with a ligature, a cord of some sort. Not bare hands.’
It was my turn for a long sigh – not that it got anywhere close to Hobbs’ long-runner. At the same time I shook my head until it ached. Hobbs had told me about the cord when he brought me in for questioning, but it’d got lost in my haste to make everything fit.
‘So,’ he said, ‘where does that leave your blockbuster?’
‘Trashed,’ I said gloomily.
Hobbs got up and jiggled his way through an array of stretching exercises, clacking his knuckles in the process. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ He moved around the room, his eyes darting, as if inspecting imaginary ramparts. ‘For what it’s worth, I tend to believe your “rusty gate” theory. It doesn’t fit with Porson’s statement, but it explains a lot.’ He stopped and turned to face me. ‘And let’s assume, for the moment, that Porson is lying to fit Jimmy up. It follows that Jimmy’s account has to be true. Or near enough.’ He paused to hoist up his suit pants. ‘But it still doesn’t answer the key question. Who strangled Elaine with a ligature?’ He looked straight at me. ‘Either the Nkongos are lying and Kip didn’t just remonstrate with her. Or Jimmy found her after his run-in with Porson and had her finished off as a warning.’
‘Neither makes sense,’ I said. ‘Call me old-fashioned, but when Robert Nkongo told me what happened I looked him in the eye and I believed him. As for Jimmy, granted, he’s a ruthless twat, but it looks way too sloppy for him. Anyway, speaking of black holes, your Jimmy theory has one, too.’
‘Which is?’
‘If Jimmy or Tommy had done it, Helen would either have known for certain it was them, or at least she wouldn’t have been able to rule them out. That being the case, she’d know when only one body turned up she wouldn’t get her ruse past Jimmy. Her whole plan only works if she knows for sure that Jimmy hasn’t seen Elaine in the lounge. What’s more, if you’re buying into my rusty gate saga, she’d have no need to lie in her statement about coming back from number ten and seeing Jimmy leaving.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Hobbs. ‘But I take your point.’ He took a couple of long breaths. ‘So what do I have?’
‘It depends.’
‘On?’
‘If you don’t go with the rusty gate, it’s likely down to Jimmy.’
‘And if I do?’
‘It points to Kip Nkongo losing it big time, picking up a cord from somewhere and strangling Elaine. Everything else is just a sideshow.’
Hobbs resumed his battle inspections, clasping his hands together as he went. The expression on his craggy face shifted between the benign and the begone. ‘Thanks anyway,’ he said.
‘For what? We still don’t know who did it.’
Hobbs made a series of knowing nods. ‘I know more than I did. A lot more. And I know what questions to ask next. We’ve got Tony Porson to question yet. Sooner or later, one of them will crack.’
Hobbs made his way to the door. ‘By the way,’ he said, turning around. ‘I’m working on your one and a half requests. A deal’s a deal.’
I didn’t answer; I just stared at him. His words – the mention of Tony Porson and that phrase – suddenly took on a different meaning and smashed around my head. The neon sign was blinking. In fact, it was blinking furiously.
When I didn’t reply, he said, ‘Is there something else? Don’t tell me it’s gone up to two requests now?’
‘No. One and half it is.’ I stood up quickly. ‘One and a half is the answer!’
Hobbs let his head tilt to one side. ‘It’s been a long day, Eddie, why don’t you sit down and relax. You can probably go soon.’
I motioned at the chair he’d been sitting on. ‘I think you need to sit down.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sunday – 22:53
I strolled into the waiting room, blinking at the bright strip lights li
ning the long, narrow space. As I viewed the gathering of usual suspects, a movement in the far corner made me turn. Two familiar figures stood up together in a kind of slo-mo harmony, as if they were auditioning for synchronised swimming.
I smiled and tipped my head for them to sit down. Kate raised her eyebrows, folded her arms, and sat down. Mum continued to stand, clasping her hands to her chest as if I’d just been reprieved from death row. As I neared her hugging range, she reached out to embrace me. I saw tear droplets forming in her eyes, contemplating escape down her cheeks.
‘It’s been non-stop worry all day, Edward.’
I gave her a gentle squeeze. ‘I know.’
‘Tell me it’s all okay?’
‘I’m getting there, Ma. Honest.’
‘Have they let you go?’
‘I keep telling you, I’m just helping with enquiries.’
Behind Mum’s back I saw Kate mouthing, “Well?” in an exaggerated lip synch movement. I gave her the “so-so” hand tilt.
‘Come on, Mum, sit down.’ I guided her back into the hard plastic seat.
‘What is going on, Edward?’ She looked at me anxiously, her fingers twisting a paper tissue. ‘Even your Uncle Bob doesn’t seem to know.’
Nausea lurched in my throat. ‘That fink.’
‘Edward, please. Don’t speak about him like that. He works here.’
I pulled a face. ‘Not for much longer, I hope.’ Before Mum could move to challenge, I switched to my best puppy look. ‘Nothing’s going on. It’s working itself out. Anyway, glad to see my favourite girls getting along so well. Hope you’ve not been yakkin’ about me.’ I winked.
‘What else would we possibly talk about?’ said Kate.
‘The search for “Higgs’ Boson”?’
‘Who’s he?’ said Mum.
‘The missing snooker player.’ I looked from Kate to Mum. ‘Our Kate’s still big into her darts and snooker. It’s how she stays in touch with her Weighton roots.’
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