by Chris Ould
“So you think Drew might have known what Ashleigh said about him?”
“I don’t think – I know,” Taz said.
“How?”
“Cos I saw him with her yesterday afternoon.”
“With Ashleigh?”
Taz nodded. “On the estate, after school. I was going home. Ash was with another girl – I don’t know her; she’s from school though. It looked like Drew had stopped them. He was pointing his finger at them, saying something. I could tell he was mad.”
“You mean he was threatening them?”
“Yeah, that’s what it looked like.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing. I mean, Drew’s with them, then he lets them walk off.”
Holly thought for a moment. She believed what Taz had told her, but she wasn’t sure Danny Simmons or DS Woods would be convinced. The ups and downs and falling-outs of teenage friendships would be a closed book to them – a different world.
“Taz, listen,” she said. “I think you should tell one of the CID officers what you’ve told me. If you—”
But Taz was already shaking her head. “No way,” she said. “I’m not making a statement or nothing. If Drew finds out— I’m just not.”
“No one else will know,” Holly said, even though she wasn’t sure that was true. “Just talk to them.”
“No, I gotta go,” Taz said, her mind made up now. She pushed her chair back, stood up.
“Okay, listen, just give me your phone number then. I won’t give it to anyone else. I promise.”
Taz hesitated, then started to rattle off a number.
“Hold on.” Holly grabbed a napkin and pen and when Taz repeated the number she scribbled it down.
“I’ll call you later,” Holly said. “Just think about it – talking to CID.”
“I told you everything,” Taz said. “I’ve gotta go.”
And with that she moved round the table and headed quickly away across the cafe.
Holly let out a sigh of resignation and watched until the cafe door closed behind Taz, then she folded the napkin and put it into her pocket. She left the iced bun on her plate, untouched.
11
For a moment Tyler Smith took his attention away from watching the open approach to Cloudsley House and looked at the notes Skank was holding.
“How much?” he asked.
“Forty.”
“Okay.” Tyler held out his hand for the cash.
“No, not each. That’s between you, me an’ Riz. Three ways.”
Tyler frowned. “So how much is that?”
“Thirteen and a bit.”
“That all?” Tyler sounded disbelieving.
“Ask Drew, you don’t believe me.”
Tyler thought about it, then dismissed the idea. He gestured for the cash again.
“I’ll have to get it changed,” Skank said. “This is two twenties.”
“Gimme one then, I’ll change it.”
“Nah, it’s okay, I’ll do it.”
“Give,” Tyler said.
Reluctantly Skank handed over one of the notes, knowing he and Riz had just lost out and had no chance of getting their full whack now.
“So what you gonna do?” Skank asked as Tyler pushed the twenty into his pocket.
“’Bout what?” Tyler gave him a sharp look. “What you talking about?”
“Nothing. I mean what you gonna do now? – We could find Riz, then go round to Madder’s an’ get some puff.”
“Oh,” Tyler said. Then he shook his head. “Nah. You go. I might come later.” He didn’t want to start smoking until he’d found Choirboy and made sure the kid knew what would happen if he said anything about last night.
“Why? Where you going?” Skank asked.
“Nowhere,” Tyler said, making it clear that was all he was going to say on the matter. Then a thought: “Where’s Drew?”
“Gone round to his with Bex – shagging.”
“Right.”
Tyler looked away to check out the people crossing the cracked paving stones and dodging the puddles. That was when he saw Choirboy coming from the direction of the precinct with a carrier bag in his hand.
“You sure you don’t want to come to Madder’s?” Skank asked again. He was still thinking about the twenty and ways he could get Tyler to spend some of it.
“No, I told you. Now fuck off, all right?”
Skank gave it up.
“I’ll see you later then,” he said.
Skank moved off, heading towards Madder’s block, and Tyler watched just long enough to be sure he was gone before switching his attention back to Charlie Atkins. The boy was approaching the stairwell of Cloudsley House now, and before he could disappear from sight, Tyler set off after him at a jog.
12.
INCIDENT ROOM
MORNINGSTAR RD STATION
13:11 HRS
Standing beside the whiteboards in the Incident Room, Holly wondered if she might have been forgotten. At the far end of the room DS Woods and Danny Simmons were talking together, while the other officers – CID and uniform – went about the business of the case; manning phones and computers and collating information.
Holly wasn’t involved in any of that, which left her feeling like a spare part. Rather than just stand there looking useless, she focused on the whiteboards and examined the known facts of the case, studying the various names, times and locations written up in blue marker pen.
New photographs had been added since this morning, most taken inside the bin shelter. They showed crumpled pink knickers on damp concrete, a discarded coat and a partially hidden sequined bag. And it was these Holly found most disturbing – not because of what they showed, but because of what they didn’t.
All these items belonged to Ashleigh Jarvis – they were personal, private or intimate to her. But in the clinical photographs they looked starkly impersonal. Put on display like that they weren’t belongings, just objects to be scrutinised, tested and talked about as potential evidence to what had really happened to Ashleigh last night.
While Holly was still studying the pictures, DS Woods came up beside her. In the background Danny Simmons had moved to a computer terminal.
“Tell me what happened with this girl, Taz,” Woods said. “What was her reason for putting Drew Alford in the frame?”
“She reckoned Ashleigh had said things about Alford to his girlfriend, Bex: she’d disrespected him.”
At the word “disrespect” Woods made a contemptuous noise. “So it’s all teenage girl stuff then – who fancies who, who’s friends and who’s not?”
“Pretty much, yes, Sarge.”
“What about Taz? Do you think she’s reliable or could she have some reason to try and drop Alford in it?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think she feels guilty that she might have stirred it all up.”
“Right,” Woods said without showing whether he was convinced or not. He dug in his pocket for a tissue and blew his nose. As he did so Danny Simmons came over, several sheets of paper in his hand.
“Drew Alford’s on record,” he said to Woods. “Age fifteen, lives in Penrice House. Couple of cautions for antisocial behaviour and a charge of robbery from November. That’s still waiting for a court date. Intel has him down as a member of the Kaddy Boys gang on the estate, probably the leader. Long list of associates, most of them about the same age or a bit younger.”
“What’s the story on the robbery charge?” Woods asked.
Simmons consulted a couple of printouts in his hand. “Looks like a mugging. Three youths took a woman’s mobile and purse on Tansley Road. Alford was stopped half an hour later and he had her credit cards.”
“Any violence?”
“The victim wasn’t hurt but she was pushed into a doorway and threatened. Alford went no comment in interview, wouldn’t say who was with him.”
“Proper little pro – anyone mentioned his name on the door-to-door?”
“Not so
far.” Simmons leafed through some more sheets of paper. “A couple of people say they saw two or three youths in the general area at around the time we’re looking at, but they’re vague. At a push one of the descriptions might match Alford, but it’s nothing I’d want to put in front of the CPS.”
“Right.”
“You think he’s worth a tug?” Simmons asked. “Ashleigh slags him off so he rapes her as a punishment…?”
Woods looked dubious. “I’d want to know for certain that he did threaten Ashleigh first.”
“Lauren Booth could confirm that,” Holly said. “Taz said that Ashleigh was with another girl from school when Alford threatened her. If the other girl was Lauren, it could explain why she didn’t want Ashleigh to walk home alone last night.”
Woods sucked his throat sweet for a moment, then crunched it between his teeth.
“I suppose we’d better go and see if Lauren’s at home then,” he said. “You didn’t have anything better to do with your Saturday afternoon, did you?”
13
In the stairwell Charlie’s footsteps echoed back at him as he tried to take the steps two at a time. It was hard though, with the weight of the groceries throwing him off balance and the rising panic of knowing he wasn’t going to escape.
Behind him Tyler Smith was pulling himself upwards with the aid of the handrail, closing the gap until finally he judged himself close enough and made a lunge.
He caught hold of Charlie’s calf, felt his grip slide for a moment, then tighten round the boy’s ankle. Charlie yelled as he fell, brought down part way onto the landing. The carrier bag slipped from his hand and spilled its contents in a clatter of tins and the flurry of a newspaper falling apart.
For a moment they were tangled together, Tyler still grasping Charlie’s ankle, but when Charlie started to kick against him Tyler reached up and punched him hard in the leg.
Charlie let out a cry of pain and when Tyler finally let go of his ankle he scuttled back into the corner of the landing. Tyler pushed himself to his feet, then moved in quickly to bend over Charlie and hit him again, in the face this time, catching him on the corner of the mouth.
“Don’t fucking run away from me,” he said viciously. “You stop when I tell you.”
14.
CLOUDSLEY HOUSE
CADOGAN ESTATE
13:15 HRS
There was only the ground floor left to do, and as Sam entered the stairs and started downwards his attention was more on his clipboard list than anything else. As a result, when he saw the figure on the stairs below it took him a moment to register that something was going on.
The boy was fourteen, maybe fifteen, stockily built with cropped blond hair. He was standing over a smaller black kid and his fist was cocked back, threatening, as the younger boy cowered in the corner of the landing.
“Oi! Hold it!” Sam shouted. “Stop there.”
Sam didn’t know where either the words or the commanding tone had come from, but as soon as the blond boy heard them he looked up with a defiant glare and a scowl of annoyance.
Sam took two more steps downwards, then paused at the turn of the handrail. He could see the older boy registering his uniform and for a moment neither one of them moved.
“Stand back from him,” Sam said, glad it came out as confidently as before. “What’s going on?”
“Mind your own business.”
The blond boy’s scowl had changed to a sneer and Sam knew he was weighing him up. His balled fist didn’t relax.
“Are you okay?” Sam said to the kid in the corner. The boy didn’t look okay but he said nothing, and Sam didn’t want to take his eye off the bigger lad to assess him more closely.
“He’s all right,” the blond youth said. There was a growing note of defiance in his voice, refusing to give way.
Sam knew he had to take control of the situation or lose it entirely so he stiffened himself.
“I said, stand back from him,” he said. “Then I want your name and address.”
“I ain’t telling you nothing – ’less you think you can make me.” And he brought up his other fist, showing himself ready.
For a second Sam’s right hand moved instinctively towards the baton on his belt, but he knew that a fight wouldn’t help anything, so instead he reached for his radio.
“Three-One-Seven from Six-One-Four, assistance required. Stairwell, south end of the block.”
It was enough. With a sneer the blond youth said, “Fuck off,” then swung himself round and started down the stairs two or three at a time.
“On way,” Oz said over the radio. “What’s your situation?”
“IC1 male teenager heading down the stairs. Blond. Grey jacket. Possible assault.”
Sam moved to look over the handrail and down, but even though he could still hear trainers slapping on the stairs below he couldn’t see anything. He knew there was no chance of catching the suspect now, so he turned back to the kid in the corner.
“You okay?” he asked.
The kid nodded, and after a moment he pushed himself up off the floor.
“What’s your name?”
“Charlie,” the boy said and winced. He raised a hand to examine the cut at the edge of his mouth.
Sam looked at him again, more closely. “Didn’t I talk to you last night, with a couple of other lads? Charlie Atkins?”
Charlie nodded.
“So who was that? Do you know him?”
The boy called Charlie hesitated for a beat, then shook his head.
“So what happened?”
“Nothing,” Charlie said. “It’s okay. I just need to get my stuff.”
He moved to retrieve a tin of baked beans from the step below him as Oz’s voice came through on the radio.
“Six-One-Four from Three-One-Seven. No sign of your suspect. Where are you now?”
“Still on the stairs. Second floor.”
“Okay, stay there. I’ll find you.”
“Received.” Sam turned back to Charlie. “If you know who he was, you can tell me,” he said.
Charlie shook his head, more definite now. “I don’t,” he said.
15.
ATKINS FLAT
CLOUDSLEY HOUSE
13:19 HRS
“You know who it was? Then tell the officers.”
Leyton Atkins was a man in his forties, hair greying at the sides. He wore a collar and tie and had a pair of reading glasses on a string round his neck. He was standing in front of his younger son, Charlie, who sat on the edge of an armchair in the sitting room. The room had a violently patterned carpet and was very tidy.
“Tell them,” Mr Atkins repeated.
Charlie said nothing, just looked at the floor.
“Charles…” his father started again.
“Dad, leave him,” Ryan Atkins said. “He can’t tell them.”
Sam looked towards Ryan. Up till now the older boy hadn’t said anything and Sam hadn’t made reference to their meeting last night, though he was sure Ryan had recognised him.
“Of course he can tell them,” Mr Atkins said. “If he knows who it was he can tell them.”
“Yeah, and then what?” Ryan said, making it clear his father didn’t get it. “Nothing’s gonna happen, except next time they’ll be looking for Charlie when there isn’t a copper around. Then he’ll get worse than a couple of bruises.”
“Bruises? Can’t you see his mouth?”
“I’m all right,” Charlie said then. “I just— I just want to forget it. I don’t know who he was.”
Oz Sitwell shifted beside Sam.
“I’m afraid there’s not a lot more we can do then,” he said. “I’ll make sure it’s logged on our system though.”
“What good will that do?” Mr Atkins said, unimpressed. “You know, this used to be a decent place to live when we first came here. Now there’s gangs and drugs and vandalism, and that attack or whatever it was last night. And the police don’t do anything to stop it.”
“We do take every incident seriously,” Oz said.
“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Mr Atkins said flatly.
As Mr Atkins closed the front door behind them, Oz took a moment to look both ways along the walkway. He checked the time, then made a note in his pocketbook.
“Is that it then?” Sam said.
“Probably.” Oz put the pocketbook away. “Would you recognise him – the youth?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“Okay, well if you spot him again, sing out, okay?”
“But if Charlie won’t make a statement…”
“I know, but if you see him there’s no reason we shouldn’t make his life a bit more unpleasant, is there? Totally unconnected, of course.”
Sam frowned. “How?”
“Oh, you’d be amazed,” Oz said, then he tapped his clipboard. “Come on, we’ve still got the ground floor to do.”
16.
BOOTH RESIDENCE
ESCOTT ROAD
13:21 HRS
“Lauren, do you know anyone who would have a reason to hurt Ashleigh?”
On the sofa next to her mother, Lauren Booth shook her head, but Holly could see that she was too worried, too nervous, for it to be true.
DS Woods obviously thought so, too.
“But she was in an argument with someone yesterday afternoon, wasn’t she?” he asked.
Lauren shook her head again, looked away. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do,” Woods said. “We’ve got a witness who saw you and Ashleigh with a lad called Drew Alford after school. They said Drew was threatening Ashleigh. Is that true?”
“No. No. I don’t know,” Lauren said.
Her father – who seemed to resent the intrusion into his living room on a Saturday afternoon – shifted on his feet. He and DS Woods were both standing.
“Listen,” Mr Booth said. “If she says she doesn’t know… I mean, what’s this about? I know you said you thought Ashleigh’d been mugged but—”
“It’s about a suspected rape,” Woods cut in flatly. “We believe Ashleigh may have been sexually assaulted.”