Modern Crimes
Page 7
She didn’t reply immediately, not sure what to say. Part of her wanted to jump in the motor car and hear if he’d found the men. The rest wanted nothing to do with him.
For a second or two she wavered, then settled on the seat and he put the car in gear.
‘I’m sorry, really,’ he told her. ‘The inspector’s wrong. I told him again today.’
‘You told him?’ She could hardly believe that. You didn’t disagree with a senior officer.
‘Yes.’ He made it seem completely normal. ‘I was up at the infirmary.’
‘How’s Jos?’
‘Physically she’s starting to mend. But her mind… I saw too much of that during the war.’
She understood what he meant. All those men with the empty eyes of shellshock.
‘What can you expect?’ Lottie said. ‘After what happened to her…’
‘I know,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘I was hoping she might be able to tell me more.’
‘You haven’t found them?’
‘Between you and me, we don’t even have a clue where to start. I thought she might have remembered some little thing. Anything.’
‘She hadn’t?’
‘She wouldn’t even talk to me.’
‘Maybe she really doesn’t remember anything else,’ Lottie said.
‘That’s the problem. I don’t know and she won’t say.’
‘Why won’t she talk to you?’
He blew out smoke. ‘Because she wants you. Said you were kind to her.’
For a moment she felt a thrill of pride. Then she remembered what had happened afterwards. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I had another word with the inspector. He’s finally given in and said you can go and talk to her in the morning.’
‘What?’ It was the last thing she’d expected. ‘I’m working with you again?’
‘Just to question Miss Hill,’ he said. ‘That’s all. He’s going to have a word with your guv’nor first thing, then you can go over to the hospital.’
‘Do you mean it?’ Daft question, she knew. He wouldn’t say it otherwise.
The car headed up Chapeltown Road, caught behind a slow tram.
‘Of course.’ He smiled at her. ‘Bright and early tomorrow. I just wish it could be for longer.’
For now she wasn’t even going to think about that. She was back on the case for a little while. That was something. Suddenly she remembered.
‘Can you park here? I need to get something for tea.’
It was so mundane she just had to laugh.
CHAPTER SIX
SHE’D gone over her uniform with a sponge and a stiff brush before quickly dressing and eyeing herself in the mirror. Geoff had already left for work. Parting the bedroom curtains she watched him stride down the street, briefcase in hand, and Lottie’s heart filled again.
He’d been so happy for her when she told him the news, twirling her around the hall until she was giggling like an idiot.
‘Well done!’
‘Stop it,’ she told him as she laughed. ‘I didn’t do anything.’
But she would.
‘You look like a cat who’s been given a gallon of cream.’
‘I’m back on the Hill case.’ She saw the astonishment on Cathy’s face, eyes widening in disbelief. ‘It’s only for a couple of hours, to talk to her again.’
‘You lucky dog. I don’t know how you wangled that.’
‘That makes two of us.’ She stood straight, one hand on the matron’s door handle. ‘Ready?’
Sergeant McMillan was waiting outside the CID office, already wearing his raincoat and twisting the trilby in his hands.
‘Ready when you are,’ Lottie said.
He smiled and led the way to the Peugeot. ‘Quicker than walking.’
At least he looked refreshed, the deep circles gone from under his eyes, some colour to his face, a faint aroma of bay rum on his skin.
‘Has there been anything more overnight?’
He shook his head, gearing down and overtaking a lorry on the Headrow. ‘If anybody knows, they’re keeping quiet.’ He grimaced. ‘We’ll just have to hope Miss Hill can give you something more.’
‘What about Ronnie Walker?’ Lottie asked. ‘He liked to spend time with criminals.’
‘To hear them talk, none of them liked him. Kept him at arm’s length.’
‘Do you believe that?’
‘Oddly enough, I do,’ McMillan answered after some thought. ‘Walker was an outsider. He had money. They didn’t trust him. The way I heard it, he was like an eager little boy, wanting some of their glamour.’
‘Glamour?’ she asked sharply. There was nothing glamorous about the crime she’d seen. Shoplifters, prostitutes: nothing but sadness.
The sergeant shrugged as he parked next to the infirmary and switched off the engine. ‘Who knows? But I’m relying on you now.’
‘I’ll do what I can,’ she promised.
‘You’re good. Don’t forget that.’ He pulled a copy of the Daily Mail from his mackintosh. ‘I’ll be out here.’
‘Hello, Jocelyn.’
The girl was sitting up in bed, her back heavily propped with pillows. Her hair had been washed and brushed, but her eyes were dull.
‘You. You were here on Saturday.’ Recognition. A faint smile. That was good.
‘That’s right, I was.’ Lottie sat on the empty chair and smoothed down her skirt. ‘I’m WPC Armstrong. In uniform today, though. You look a little better.’
‘Do I?’ A dull expression. ‘I wish I felt it.’
‘The sergeant said you wouldn’t talk to him, Jos.’ She took a breath. ‘We need to find who did this to you. And to Ronnie.’
‘I’d never seen them before. I said that.’
‘What about Ronnie? Did he seem to know them?’
Long seconds passed before she answered.
‘I… I don’t know. It was all so fast.’
Lottie tried to frame her words. The evening before she’d gone through it all in her mind. There were things she didn’t understand at all.
‘Tell me something. Why did you wait so long to run away from the home? And what made you go to Ronnie?’
A small spark fired in Jocelyn’s gaze. ‘It was the first chance I had. The old bag watched us like a hawk.’ There was anger under her words, a dry bitterness that seemed to bring her alive. ‘I hated it there. Me mam knew, but she made me go. Said I’d be out of the house if I didn’t. That Mrs Allen, she went out for a few minutes so I left.’
‘I know you went back to Cross Green. Why did you go looking for Ronnie?’
‘I didn’t know where else to go. I mean, the kid was his.’ She raised her chin, expecting a challenge. ‘I couldn’t go home. I knew he’d be in that pub. He didn’t want me, either. He’d made that clear months ago. But I wasn’t going to let him off.’ She stared. ‘It was only right.’
‘Yes.’ Just a word to encourage the girl, to keep her going.
‘I talked to him. Let him know what was what, that he had to do his bit. He got me out of there and drove me to his flat.’
‘What were you going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’ Jos’s shoulders slumped a little. ‘He said he’d get some money for me, like that would make it all right. He told me I could stay there for a few days.’
‘How much time did he spend with you?’
‘Not a lot. He had to go home to his family.’ The disgust made her thoughts clear. ‘But he thought I should still, you know… told me that at least I wouldn’t get pregnant from it.’ Her mouth hardened.
‘And then the men came…?’
‘Yes. Ronnie had just arrived. Said he’d got some money for me. Told me he was going to take me to Manchester. No one would know me there, I could start over, say I was a widow or something.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I refused.’ For a second she blazed. ‘Said I wasn’t leaving Leeds. Then five minutes later…’ She didn’t need to finish.
> ‘The men who came, Jocelyn. Is there anything else you’ve remembered about them?’ Lottie asked. ‘Anything at all.’
‘The thin one had a moustache.’ She traced a line over her top lip with her fingertip. ‘Just a tiny one, a bit like Douglas Fairbanks.’ She paused a second and stared. ‘And he had very sad eyes.’
‘Who used the knife?’
‘The fat one.’
‘He seemed to enjoy it?’
A small nod, and the first tear trickled. More would follow. But she had to try for every last piece of information.
‘How were they dressed?’ she asked urgently.
‘Suits. Cheap ones. Caps.’ She was blinking hard; in a moment the flood would come.
Lottie reached across and hugged her. ‘We’ll find them,’ she whispered, keeping hold until the girl nodded. ‘I have to go and pass this on.’
‘Can you come back sometime?’ She sounded hopeful, like a little girl.
‘Of course I can,’ Lottie assured her. ‘Of course I can.’
‘It’s not much more,’ McMillan said doubtfully when she gave him the descriptions. ‘We already had most of that.’
‘Not the moustache,’ she pointed out. ‘And we didn’t know how Jos ended up at the flat.’
‘The bit about him having some money and wanting to take her to Manchester interests me.’
‘Did you find any money?’
The sergeant shook his head. ‘Not on him, in the flat or in the car. The killers might have taken it, of course.’
‘Or he could have been lying.’
‘Yes.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘No one said they’d lent him any. He’ll probably have a bank account; I’ll need to check that.’
‘So he could have been planning to take her to Manchester and dump her there.’
‘It’s possible.’ He shrugged. ‘But it still doesn’t help us find the killers.’
‘How many people knew about the flat?’ Lottie wondered.
‘Some of the criminals in Leeds, obviously,’ McMillan answered and made a sour face. ‘Still, it would hardly do to say he was living with Mummy and Daddy, would it?’
‘I suppose not,’ she agreed.
‘I don’t know.’ He flicked the cigarette out of the car window and put the car in gear with a sigh. ‘It was worth a try.’
‘What now?’
‘I keep on looking. And I take you back.’ She could see him watching her from the corner of his eye. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s the arrangement.’
‘It’s fine,’ she told him. But she’d hoped that someone in the brass might have changed their minds.
‘You’ve helped, believe me. I’d keep you working on this if I could. I’ve told you that.’
‘I know. Can you drop me off at City Square, please? On Tuesdays Cathy and I cover the railway stations and the Dark Arches.’
McMillan raised an eyebrow and turned on to Park Row.
‘Those places must keep you busy.’
‘Sometimes.’
The truth was their patrols had become too effective. The prostitutes and pickpockets made sure they were out of the way whenever the policewomen came around. They’d tried varying the times and days they patrolled the area, but as soon as they were spotted the word passed and people vanished. It was a game they couldn’t win. They still had to play it, though.
He pulled over behind a lorry and Lottie opened the door.
‘Thank you again,’ McMillan said. She gave him a weak smile then marched away, back straight.
‘That was quick.’ Cathy still had her notebook in her hand, watching a girl amble away through the Arches towards Holbeck. She’d turned at the sound of footsteps.
‘A new one?’ Lottie nodded at the figure in the distance.
‘She says she has a room at the Crown and a job at Dodgson’s in Hunslet Mill. Not sure I believe her. She didn’t look like she had two farthings to rub together. I daresay we’ll see her again. Anyway, what happened?’
She stared at the girl Cathy had talked to until she disappeared round a corner. ‘I talked to Jocelyn, found out a little bit more. That’s it, really. A thank-you and it was all over. Back to the real world.’
‘You haven’t missed much. That’s been the most excitement I’ve had today.’
‘I think I’ve seen her before,’ Lottie said slowly. ‘There’s something in the walk. I can’t think where, though.’
‘Are you sure? She didn’t look familiar to me,’ Cathy said.
‘Maybe I’m wrong.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I suppose we’d better get on.’
‘There’s a shoplifter to keep an eye out for, too. She’s been seen at the Pygmalion and Matthias Robinson.’ She flicked through the notebook until she found the page. ‘Early thirties, brunette, long wavy hair, quite big.’
‘Oh, with a description like that we’ll have her by this afternoon.’ Lottie snorted.
They started to walk, pace for pace, down Swinegate towards the bridge across the river. It was a grey day, a small chill on the breeze, the sense of autumn bearing down and another year passing.
The time passed quietly and quickly. She slipped a couple of Thorne’s toffees from a paper bag in her pocket and gave Cathy one. It would last them until dinner at the station café. They were finishing the circuit, coming back down Whitehall Road, trying to decide between eating at Lyons or Craven Dairies. New Station was in sight, Cathy chattering away.
‘I meant to tell you, I found a lovely dress pattern yesterday after work. A Butterick’s one, only a tanner. It’ll look—’
Lottie jerked her heard round, following Cathy’s gaze to see a boy dart across the street in front of a van.
The driver didn’t stand a chance. His brakes shrieked and the back of the van swung round, but it was too late. The lad was flung in the air, landing hard on his back.
Before Lottie could even react, Cathy was already sprinting. Traffic had stopped, the world seemed to have gone silent.
As soon as she began to blow her whistle, things came alive again. Drivers climbed out of their cars.
Cathy was on her knees, cradling the boy’s head in her lap. He was still breathing, crying out in pain, one leg bent out at an unnatural angle, blood pooling around his left hand where the fingers were crushed.
Lottie heard a scream and saw a woman dashing across the pavement, clutching a brown paper parcel across her chest. She moved quickly, putting her arms around the woman and holding her back from the child. His mother; from the terror on her face she couldn’t be anyone else.
‘It looks worse than it is,’ Lottie said quietly, her voice even and soothing, hoping she was right. ‘There’ll be an ambulance here in a minute. You can go to the hospital with him. What’s his name?’
‘Billy. Billy Kennedy.’
‘WPC Taylor’s looking after your Billy, Mrs Kennedy. She knows what to do.’ She kept her grip until the woman stopped struggling. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened.’
‘I was only in the shop.’ The woman looked over her shoulder as if she could turn back the clock and change everything. ‘Billy was outside. I was just paying when I heard the brakes…’ She pushed herself forward again, squirming away from Lottie, and falling to her knees beside her son, stroking his face and hair.
The driver of the van was standing by his vehicle. His face was white with shock and he was twisting a cap through his hands.
‘I couldn’t do anything,’ he insisted as Lottie came close. ‘He just ran out.’ The man raised his eyes to her. ‘I tried to stop. He was too close.’
‘I know,’ she told him. ‘We saw it happen.’
‘Is he..?’ The man couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
‘Some broken bones, but I don’t think he’ll die, if that’s what you mean.’ She glanced over. Billy’s face was contorted in pain, but he was talking to his mother. A good sign.
‘Thank God for that. I couldn’t live with myself.’
‘I do need to ask you a fe
w questions.’ She took out her notebook.
‘Yes,’ he agreed quickly. ‘Right.’
Everything was in in order. His driver registration had been renewed by the council just two months earlier, his vehicle looked safe enough.
‘I’ve been driving since before the war,’ he said. ‘I’ve never had an accident.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she assured him. ‘We saw it.’
A constable had arrived to direct traffic carefully around the scene and make room as the ambulance pulled up. Two minutes and Billy Kennedy had gone, his mother with him, off to the infirmary.
Cathy dusted down her uniform skirt. ‘Poor lad’s more scared of what his dad will do than the hospital.’
‘We can’t help with that.’
‘I know,’ Cathy agreed with a sigh. ‘Come on, let’s get something to eat and I’ll go and see how he is.’
It was a dull afternoon on patrol by herself. Not even a tiny incident to spice it up, just plodding the circuit. Plenty of time for her mind to wander, thinking about Jocelyn Hill and the murder.
Not that it gave her any answers. By the time she trudged her way through the market and back to Millgarth she was none the wiser. But how could she be when she didn’t have all the information?
Never mind. She’d done what she could. And she would go back to see Jos, exactly as she’d promised. She owed the girl that.
Cathy was waiting outside the station, looking around and trying to seem busy, her notebook in her hand.
‘Where have you been all afternoon?’ Lottie asked.
‘At the hospital with Billy and his mum.’ Lottie raised her eyebrows in disbelief. ‘Most of the time.’ She glanced away.
‘And the rest?’
‘I started talking to one of the doctors.’
Lottie began to laugh. ‘Do you have any idea how terrible you are? You’ll flirt with anything in trousers.’
‘Not anything… He was lovely. And time just ran away.’ Cathy blushed a little. ‘Will you cover and say I was with you if she asks?’
‘Go on, then. I don’t know how you do it.’
‘Do what?’
‘Get all the men around you.’