‘Well, it takes two to practise safe sex. And there were a dozen in the bags. Someone’s having fun.’
‘You counted them.’ I blanched at the thought.
‘I take my work seriously.’
It didn’t prove anything really. Just that someone in that house had used condoms in the previous week.
‘What else?’
‘Vegetable matter, chop bones, chicken joints, take-away cartons, eight wine bottles, two whisky, beer cans, lots. I didn’t count those.’
‘Not one for re-cycling, our Fraser.’
‘Dead flowers, film cartons...’
‘Video?’
‘No, those little yellow ones for photographs. And one of them’s a chocolate junkie. Lots of Mars Bar wrappers, those bite-size ones.’
‘That could be Martin. Teenagers are often heavy sweet eaters, aren’t they?’
Nina went on with the list. Like she said, it was rubbish. The bottles and the condoms made sense when I thought back to the night I’d seen all the cars outside Mackinlay’s. Party time. Eddie there, showing his movies, or maybe even making one. Speculation. It could just as easily suggest Fraser had a drink problem and a lively libido. Monday night could have been a business meeting.
‘That it?’
‘You want more?’
I laughed. ‘What did you do with it all?’
‘I bagged it up and took it to the tip, along with the clothes I’d been wearing.’
I thanked her.
‘Yeah. I kinda wish I could’ve found something important,’ she said.
She had. But neither of us knew that then.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
The kids were asleep. Ray was in the cellar. It was twilight when the doorbell rang. It never occurred to me to put the chain on that time.
It was Leanne. As soon as I glimpsed her – egg-coloured hair, black T-shirt, sullen face, I pushed the door. She was quick. Stuck her foot in the way before I could close it. ‘Open the friggin’ door,’ she complained.
‘Get lost, Leanne. You’re not coming in.’
‘Open the door. You’ve got it all wrong, yer daft cow. You’re hurting my foot.’
I relented, sighed and stepped back. She came in huffing her shoulders. Started to roll her eyes to heaven. Then she got a proper look at me.
‘Fuckin’ hell.’ Note of respect in her voice. I blushed.
‘Anything broken?’
‘Ribs.’ What did she care? ‘How did you know where I lived?’
She pulled her mouth to the side. ‘Was on your library ticket.’ Ah, yes. My purse.
‘What do you want? What do you mean, I’ve got it all wrong?’
‘Can we sit down or summat? I hate standing up.’
I led her through to the kitchen and we sat at the table.
‘I didn’t tell him, right,’ she began, ‘about you coming round.’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘You don’t.’
There was a pause.
‘If you didn’t tell him, then how come I get a phone call that same afternoon, why did I get beaten up?’
She shrugged. ‘How do you know it was Smiley?’
I sighed. ‘I don’t Leanne, it’s an educated guess.’
‘Maybe he had someone following you.’
I’d thought of that. He certainly had by the time I was visiting Diane. But before then? I shivered. Maybe Leanne was telling the truth. It was hard to judge. What the hell, I was in no mood to apologise. I pushed back my chair.
‘I didn’t come about that,’ she said. ‘Not just that.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s Derek. They’re going to pin a murder on him, you know, that woman that was found on the motorway...’
‘Well, they’re looking for evidence.’
‘But he didn’t do it. He’d never do stuff like that.’
‘He was using crack, Leanne. You said yourself it was doing his head in. People get violent.’
‘He’d have used his shooter, his gun. He wasn’t a fighter.’
Oh God. Did all these kids have guns?
‘All I know is they’re waiting for forensic reports. If it wasn’t Derek, they won’t find anything.’
‘They’ll find what suits them. Be easy for them to set him up. He can’t prove them wrong now, can he?’ She pulled a crumpled packet of Benson and Hedges from the waistband of her skirt. Lit up.
‘Why would they want to do that?’
‘Tidies things up. They’ve got the killer. He’s black, he’s a user – everyone’s going to believe he done it, aren’t they?’
‘Can you give him an alibi? She was killed the Sunday night, the day before we went to JB’s funeral.’ Three weeks ago. And ten days after that, they’d pulled Derek from the Mersey. How long had he been there?
‘No,’ said Leanne. At least that was honest. ‘He wasn’t around. I was going to tell him about JB’s funeral, so he could come with me. But I didn’t see him. I never saw him after that.’ She pulled hard on the cigarette and I heard the soft rustle of it burning.
‘Did he know JB?’
‘Yeah, they was old mates. They grew up together.’
‘I thought JB was in care?’
‘He was. So was Derek. They were both at Hanley Court. That’s where I was for a bit. That’s where I met Derek.’
I had a sudden prickling at the nape of my neck.
‘Did you ever hear of a man called Sharrocks?’
She paused, the cigarette a few inches from her mouth. Looked me in the eyes. Was it a trick question? ‘Yeah.’ Cautious.
‘Bruce Sharrocks. He’s mixed up in all this, I think. He made a phoney appointment with me, kept me out of the way the day JB was killed.’
‘We called him Mr Bollocks,’ she said. She was gripping the edge of the table, her fingers pinched white. ‘He was the boss at Hanley Court – till he got promoted.’ There was more to come. I could see it in the dull glare of her eyes, as she looked beyond me to the past. ‘We thought it’d be alright then, him in the Town Hall. But he had to come and visit. It was like his brothel, see.’
The silence was shattered by the bleeping of the phone.
‘I’m sorry.’ I slid away and answered it. ‘Hello?’
A young, gruff voice asked to speak to me. I told him he already was.
‘It’s Max here, Max Ainsworth. You came and talked to us at St. Matthew’s, about Martin Hobbs.’ Oh yes, Max. Sitting on his own in the playground. The only one who had any concern for Martin.
‘It’s about Martin,’ he went on quickly. ‘He’s just rung us up. He’s in real bother. He wants me to meet him, take him some money and clothes and stuff. He was in a right state. Kept saying they were after him, that they’d kill him. I thought you’d want to know, want to come.’ Max’s voice was heavy with concern.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said I’d do what he said. He wanted to see us at Heaton Park. We went fishing there once. There’s this old monument, like an arch, near the boating lake. He said to meet there.’
‘Have you got a car?’
‘No, a bike, motor-bike.’
‘You better let me sort this out,’ I said. ‘If someone really is after him then it could get nasty. There’s no point in us all going.’
‘Oh, no,’ he said firmly. ‘I promised. I don’t let me mates down. I’m coming. I’m not chickening out now.’
I could tell he wouldn’t budge. I knew of a petrol station on one of the roads that skirted the park. We arranged to rendezvous there. My heart was fluttering when I put down the receiver.
Leanne was smoking, leaning up against the worktop, when I went back into the kitchen.
I made a clumsy attempt to thank her for telling me what she had. She brushed it away. ‘Forget it.’ ‘Did any of you ever complain?’
The drop-dead look said it all. ‘Who to? The boss?’
‘Well,
social workers or...’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ She launched herself away from the side.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to go out,’ I said. ‘Martin’s in trouble.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘I don’t know, but he’s running away from someone. I’ll drop you in town.’
‘I want to come with you.’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Martin knows me,’ she said. ‘He’s not going to trust you, is he?’
Maybe she’d got a point. But did I trust Leanne? Enough to let her come along?
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ll think about it on the way.’
I told Ray where I was going and why.
‘You’re crazy.’ He flung down his chisel. ‘Your stitches aren’t even out and you’re off in the dark to find some kid who’s on the run. Ring the police, Sal.’ The temper he’d been holding onto finally slipped loose. ‘For Christ’s sake, grow up and think about what you’re doing.’
‘I will ring the bloody police,’ I shouted back, ‘and don’t talk to me like I’m deliberately courting danger. I’m not going to sit here and let some schoolboy play heroics all on his own. I’ll ring them now and, with any luck, they’ll be there before me.’ I stalked across the room and pulled the door to behind me. There were so many wood chippings littering the floor that the damn thing wouldn’t even slam properly.
‘Where’s the toilet?’ Leanne was waiting in the hall. I told her, then dialled the police.
The desk sergeant was less than helpful. I’d no crime to report, so he couldn’t squander police resources. In the end, I asked him to contact DI Miller as a matter of urgency and tell him where I was going and why.
‘Tell him someone is trying to kill Martin, that he’s got information of vital importance to the police.’ Okay, so I was being prodigal with the truth – but it was a pretty good hunch.
CHAPTER FORTY
Leanne was quiet on the drive into town. That suited me. I was trying to grasp what the new information meant. Sharrocks had been abusing children in his care. JB and Derek were dead. Because of that? Leanne was still very much alive. Maybe she was next? Did Sharrocks know Smiley? How did any of that tie in to Janice’s murder?
It was still warm but damp too, a misty drizzle which turned the streetlamps into fuzzy, orange balls. We drove down Oxford Road. I turned right at the BBC studios and cut through UMIST and over to Piccadilly. I still wasn’t sure whether Leanne would be an asset or a liability. On balance, I thought I’d better leave her out of it. I pulled up outside the old warehouse. ‘I’ll drop you here,’ I said. ‘I don’t want too many of us chasing around after Martin.’
‘I want to come.’ Her voice was intense and she sat very still as she spoke. ‘Martin knows me. I won’t get in the way.’ In the pause that followed, I looked in the rear-view mirror, watched people walking towards town for a night in the clubs.
‘Please, it means a lot to me.’ That threw me and I let it affect my judgement. I agreed and made her promise that she’d do what I asked. I’d be calling the tune.
‘I just need to get something from the squat,’ she said.
‘What?’ I became suspicious.
‘I need to change my tampon,’ she retorted. I could hardly argue with that.
‘Get a move on, then.’
She was quick, I’ll give her that. She came back with a thin nylon jacket over the top of her T-shirt, all puce and lime-green. She brushed the beads of damp from her hair. Pulled out her cigarettes and lighter from her high-tops. I wound down my window, heard the snick of the flame and saw the flare of light.
‘Martin won’t be expecting us,’ I explained, as I pulled away, ‘just his mate Max. I don’t want to frighten him off. We’ll get Max to do the talking first and explain that he got in touch with me.’ Leanne nodded. ‘The important thing,’ I said, ‘is to get him somewhere safe.’ I hadn’t thought where, yet. I was hoping that the police would come through on that one.
Max was there, helmet under his arm, astride his bike in the forecourt of the petrol station, when we arrived. He still wore thick glasses but his uniform had been replaced by biking leathers and he’d had his hair cropped close since I last saw him.
I hooted the horn and waved him over. Opened the back door and he climbed in.
‘Hiya. What did your folks say about all this?’
‘Nowt,’ he said, ‘they think I’m off to the late show at the Cornerhouse.’
‘This is Leanne, this is Max.’
She threw her head round and tossed off a greeting. Max mumbled something in response.
‘I’ve explained to Leanne that Martin doesn’t know we’re coming. You’re going to have to reassure him.’
‘What’s Leanne doing here?’ he asked.
Good question.
‘Martin stayed same place as me when he came to Manchester. He’ll talk to me,’ she boasted. ‘He doesn’t know her.’ She nodded in my direction.
‘But Max talks first,’ I reminded her, ‘Martin asked for Max.’
We drove over to the park entrance and parked the car. The gates were locked at dusk. Leanne and I climbed up onto Max’s shoulders and over, jumped down the other side. The jolt to my ribs brought tears to my eyes. Max, helped by his height, was able to climb over unaided.
As we walked into the park, the sound of traffic receded. There was no lighting and the cloudy sky obscured any moonlight there might have been. It was still drizzling. We approached the colonnade. Four columns and a tower either end, supporting the crosspiece. By daylight, I remembered sandy stone, carvings near the top. Now it was a vague silhouette, its outline shifting in obscurity.
‘Martin, it’s Max. Are you there? There’s two other people here; Sal Kilkenny , she’s a private detective, she’ll be able to help; and your friend, Leanne. Martin?’
No response. I strained to hear breathing but couldn’t. But I sensed that someone was there besides the three of us.
‘C’mon Martin,’ Leanne shouted. ‘What the fuck’s going on?’ I grabbed her arm to shut her up. There was a rustle to our left and Martin stepped out from behind the bushes. His face was haggard, as though fear had weighed the flesh down. I was struck again by how slight he was. There were marks on his face, dirt or bruises. He was shivering. He wore a thin white T shirt and dark pants.
‘Who’s after yer?’ asked Leanne.
He shuddered.
‘Come out of the rain,’ I said. There was some cover at the base of the towers, old entrance-ways, like large sentry-boxes open on two sides but offering reasonable shelter. I stepped in. Martin and Max huddled against one wall. Leanne stood in the middle of the space, arms in her jacket pockets.
‘Is it Smiley?’ she said.
‘Yeah, and the others.’
I thought of the two who’d caught up with me. ‘Which others?’
He rubbed his face.
‘Were you staying with Fraser?’ I asked.
Martin laughed, a mirthless sound. ‘He locked me up. I had a collar, like a dog. He wouldn’t let me go. He didn’t touch me, you know. He liked the girls. They wanted me for the pictures and the videos. I said I didn’t want to, I promised not to say anything but he said they couldn’t afford to take the risk. He locked me up.’
‘And you ran away. Is that why they’re after you, Martin?’
He swung his head from side to side as though he couldn’t fathom it out.
‘What happened with Derek?’ Leanne spoke softly. What the hell did she mean? I waited.
‘Tell us about Derek,’ Leanne insisted.
‘No,’ he protested, ‘no, no.’ The shaking became more pronounced. He was remembering something he’d rather forget.
‘They think Derek killed Janice Brookes,’ I said, ‘the woman they found on the motorway.’
‘He didn’t, did he?’ said Leanne. ‘It was someone else, wasn’t it? Someone else at that house. Was it Smiley?’
Why the
hell hadn’t she told me that Derek knew Martin, knew about the house?
‘I can’t tell you.’ He broke down, making squeaky little noises. ‘They’ll kill me, they’ll kill me.’
‘You’ve got to tell us,’ said Leanne, anger sharpening her tone. ‘Derek was my mate, I want to know. He didn’t do, it did he? Martin?’
‘Oh, fuck.’ A spasm shook his body and he pressed himself back against the stone slab. I followed his eyes. Leanne had a gun. She was pointing it at Martin.
My mouth went dry. ‘Leanne.’
‘Shut up, I’m talking to Martin.’
‘Don’t, don’t,’ Martin whimpered.
‘Tell us.’
‘We had to help. Derek, he was running for Smiley. He was round now and again, errands.’ The phrases came out staccato, little bursts of information punctuated by his shivering. ‘It was in the hall. There was an old curtain. We had to roll it up. The body, this woman’s body. Mr Johnson was there, giving orders.’
‘Who’s he?’ I asked.
‘Smiley’s boss,’ said Martin.
‘Go on.’ Leanne waved the gun. I glanced over to Max. He looked wary, tensed like a frightened animal. I knew the sensation.
‘Derek was freaking out, he didn’t want to do it. Smiley was stringing him out, saying he wouldn’t get his stuff and that. Crack. He gives him a bit to keep him going. We put it in the car. It’s her car. Derek has to drive it. Mr Johnson says it’s fine. Leave her, the body, on the motorway. Bring the car to Smiley. Don’t forget the curtain. Mr Mackinlay asks about the curtain but Smiley says he’ll arrange a little fire. Put it in an empty flat in Hulme. Get it torched.’ He stopped abruptly.
‘So, Derek drove off and you didn’t see him again?’ I said. ‘Leanne, put that bloody thing down, will you?’ She ignored me. ‘Derek didn’t kill her, did he?’
‘No.’ A whisper. ‘Who killed her, Martin?’ I kept my voice gentle. He rocked back and forth. ‘Who killed her?’
‘They’ll do me in,’ he said.
‘No,’ I said. ‘We’re going to make sure you’re alright.’
Max put his hand on Martin’s shoulder.
‘It was one of the parties. They were filming. All the little kids were up in the bedrooms. I was in the lounge with Mr Mackinlay and this visitor. He’s telling me what I’ve got to do – with the little girls, when it’s my turn. I never wanted to do it.’ He looked up at me, grief on his face. ‘I was just working the clubs a bit. Mr Mackinlay, he says it’ll be like that but safer. A nice place. He didn’t say about kids – some of them were that small. One guy, he brought his own kids there...’ Into my mind flashed the picture I’d seen from Nina’s window; the white minibus, the clutch of cars, another party.
Looking for Trouble Page 21