“You look like a man who needs a pint,” Big Joe’s voice came from behind the bar like a foghorn. Hearing this, both Tommy and David turned round to look at Joe. “All right, pints all round then,” Big Joe said, a smile on his face. I sat down between Tommy and David, grinning like a child at Christmas.
“Well?” Tommy said. I paused for a few seconds before replying.
“Boom,” I said before laughing at the pair of them. “Job done.” David reached across and patted me on the shoulder, which was very unusual for him. Apart from the odd handshake, I didn’t think we’d ever actually touched each other.
A few moments later, Big Joe came across to our table carrying a tray with four pints on it. He put one in front of the three of us and, to my surprise, sat down with the fourth in his hand. In all the years I’d known Big Joe, I’d never seen him drink. Tommy and I had even had an argument about it one night. I was sure that Big Joe liked a drink — he was a landlord after all, and had the face and build of a man who liked a pint — but Tommy was sure he was teetotal. Neither of us had got the bottle to just ask Big Joe, but I guess in the end I won that argument.
“So, how did it go then?” Big Joe asked, sliding my phone over the table toward me. “You sort him out?”
“I did,” I replied, taking a large sip from my pint. “He went down like a sack of spuds when I smacked him.”
“Good lad,” Big Joe said. “Nice one.” Tommy and David both nodded in agreement. “You’d better get changed, fella. Your stuff’s out the back, in the cellar. Just go on through, but if you nick anything, I’ll cut your bollocks off.” I got to my feet and walked through the bar, listening to the sound of the three of laughing. The last thing I heard as I opened the cellar door was Big Joe saying “finally, the boy done good”.
I shivered in the cold of the cellar as I got changed. My original clothes — the ones I’d been wearing earlier for the CCTV camera — were freezing. As I shrugged myself into them and stuffed the running kit into a large yellow bag that Big Joe had got from his mate at the hospital, I thought about Robert lying on the ground of the courtyard behind the pub. Although I’d bottled it not long after hitting him, at least I felt as if justice had been done to a degree. Not the justice I had wanted, or that Robert deserved, but justice of sorts.
Despite the cold, I felt a broad smile creep onto my face as I walked back out of the cellar to join the others.
The next morning, I was woken up by the doorbell. Whoever it was then hammered four or five times on the door before ringing the doorbell again. I looked at my watch on the bedside table. It was just after six in the morning, and still dark outside. I sat on the edge of the bed and shook my head, trying to clear the alcohol fog. Last night had turned into a lock-in, and I’d had far more than my allocated three pints for an evening.
From the renewed hammering on the front door, I guessed that it must be the police which was unexpected, to be honest. For all his faults, I’d not got Robert down as a grass. Getting to my feet, I pulled the curtains apart and looked out into the back garden like I did every morning. I couldn’t see anything at first, but then noticed a sudden movement behind the fence at the bottom of the garden. The doorbell rang again as I saw a man’s face pop up over the fence before disappearing when he saw me looking straight at him. If it hadn’t been so serious, it would have been comical.
I made my way to the front door, grabbing my dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door. I tightened the belt around my stomach as I opened the door. Sure enough, it was the police. Malcolm had been the one doing the hammering, and behind him were two uniformed policemen. It wasn’t the two who’d been around the night Jennifer had been run over. The two in uniform still had their hats on, and their serious faces told me they’d not popped round for a cup of tea and a chat.
“Morning Gareth,” Malcolm said, pushing the door open and walking past me into the hall.
“Detective Inspector Griffiths,” I replied. “Please, come on in.”
“Get yourself dressed, Gareth,” he said. “Sergeant Merrick, go with him please.” As he said this, the older of the two policemen stepped forwards.
I walked back into the bedroom, followed by the policeman. He stood by the door watching me, as I threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I picked up my shoes and walked past him and into the lounge where Malcolm was standing, looking at a picture of me and Jennifer on the wall. He turned to face me, pointing at a chair.
“Sit down, Gareth,” he said, no trace of warmth in his voice. I did as instructed and sat in the armchair. Malcolm sat opposite me while the other two policemen just stood by the door. I wondered for a second if this was nothing to do with Robert, but maybe something from back when I was on the nick. The thing was they wouldn’t send round a Detective Inspector and two sidekicks to pick up a petty thief, and I doubted they would hide another copper in the back garden.
“What’s this about, Malcolm?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Is this about Jennifer?” He stared at me, lips set in a tight line.
“Where were you last night?” he asked after a few seconds’ pause.
“I was in The Heartsease, having a few beers with some friends.”
“Between what times?”
“All evening. I got there about seven, and left a bit after closing time before coming home,” I replied. I knew they wouldn’t be able to prove that I was anywhere else, and I’d got enough evidence to prove that as far as they were concerned, I’d been there all night.
“Really?” Malcolm said, his disbelief obvious.
“Yes, Malcolm, really,” I let a note of irritation creep into my voice, preparing to go on the offensive. “Why? What’s this about? It’s first thing in the morning, and you’ve turned up mob-handed for a chat?” Malcolm looked at the two uniformed policemen as if he was about to say that three of them weren’t a mob. I carried on. “Don’t forget the muppet out the back,” I said. Malcolm frowned, obviously annoyed that his colleague minding the back of the property had let himself be seen.
“So you were in The Heartsease? All night?” he said.
“Yep, that’s what I said,” I replied.
“You can prove that, can you?” He looked at me, deadpan.
“I thought that was your job?” I said, allowing a half smile to form. “Yes, I can. If I have to.” I wiped the smile off my face. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“It’s about Robert,” he paused. “Robert Wainwright.” I frowned at the mention of his name. Malcolm just stared at me, almost daring me to react.
“What about him?” I asked.
“He was attacked last night,” Malcolm said.
“And you thought it might have been me?”
“I wouldn’t be a very good copper if I didn’t at least consider the possibility, would I Gareth?”
“Well sorry to disappoint you, Malcolm. But it wasn’t me.” I folded my arms in front of me before uncrossing them and leaning forward. “Look, I get it,” I continued. “You have to go through the motions and I must be close to the top of your list in terms of suspects. So, what do you need from me? What can I do to help you?”
Malcolm tried to hide the brief look of relief on his face, but I still caught it. He got to his feet.
“Just give me a minute, would you?” Malcolm walked out of the lounge and into the hall, followed by the older of the two policemen. The other one stayed standing in the lounge, staring at a spot on the wall until he realised I was looking at him. He returned my gaze, lifting his eyebrows a couple of millimetres as he stared at me. I could hear Malcolm and the other copper talking in hushed tones in the hall, but their voices were too low for me to hear what they were talking about. After a minute or two, Malcolm came back into the lounge. He looked at the young policeman.
“I’ve sent Sergeant Merrick back to the nick,” Malcolm said to him before turning to look at me. “And he’s taking Kermit the frog from the alleyway with him.” A sly smile appear
ed on his face. “Was he really that easy to see?” he asked me.
“Well, he stuck his head above the fence and then disappeared when he saw me looking back at him,” I replied, grinning. Malcolm’s smile broadened. This was looking up.
“Constable Barnes, could you do us a favour please?” Malcolm said. I knew what was coming and looked at the young policeman with a grin still stuck on my face.
“Can I have two sugars in mine please, mate?” I said. “The kitchen’s just through there.” I nodded at the door, ignoring the look of annoyance on the young policeman’s face. He looked at Malcolm.
“And in mine as well please, Constable Barnes,” Malcolm said. The policeman left the lounge with muttered “Yes, sir” in Malcolm’s direction as he did so. I called after him.
“There are chocolate hob-nobs in there somewhere, mate. Bring them through, would you?”
A few minutes later, Constable Barnes had delivered two cups of tea and been sent back to the kitchen by Malcolm to make himself one. I sipped my tea as Malcolm sat back in his chair, wriggling to free a notebook from his pocket. He scribbled a few notes at the top of a blank page with a small pencil that looked as if it was from a golf course or bookies’ shop. I guessed that even Detective Inspectors nicked things every once in a while.
“So, you were in The Heartsease, all night?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s correct. From around seven until just after closing time. Well, quite a long time after closing, in fact.”
“Who with?”
“Tommy Hayworth and David French.” Malcolm frowned at the mention of their names. I figured that he must have crossed paths with Tommy or David in the past.
“I know Mr Hayworth, but I’ve not heard of the other chap,” he said. “David French. Is he local?”
“Yep, he lives somewhere in Dussindale I think. I don’t know his address though, sorry.” I was kind of lying. I knew where David’s flat was, but had got no idea of the street name or his flat number.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure I can find him,” Malcolm muttered. I was sure he could as well and noticed that he didn’t ask for Tommy’s address. “Was there anyone else in the pub?” I hesitated, suddenly realising that there was one small hole in my plan. I knew there was no one else in The Heartsease when I’d arrived at the start of the evening, and when I’d left with the others, but I had no idea whether there’d been any other customers. There must have been a few though. It was a Thursday night.
“Er, yeah, one or two.” I managed to say. “No-one I knew, though. Big Joe was behind the bar, he’ll be able to tell you who else was in, I would imagine.” I closed my mouth, reminding myself that I was on thin ice here, so the less said the better.
Malcolm remained silent as he wrote this information down in tiny handwriting.
“What were you wearing?”
“Hoodie, tracksuit trousers, usual stuff,” I replied.
“Shoes?”
“Trainers. These ones.” I lifted my foot in the air to show him the trainers I was wearing. The ones I’d been wearing last night were almost identical, and with any luck had already been incinerated along with the rest of my clothes. Malcolm looked at them briefly before returning to his notebook.
“How about your phone? Did you have it with you last night?” Malcolm asked.
“Of course,” I replied.
“Do you mind if I look at it?”
“Sure, I’ll get it for you.” I got to my feet and walked into the bedroom where my phone was sitting on the bedside cabinet. After a couple of deep breaths, I returned to the lounge pretty sure that this would turn out okay. I’d been a bit worried at one point earlier on, but the fact I was being interviewed here as opposed to down at the station had to be in my favour. I walked back into the lounge and handed the phone to Malcolm. He looked at it before stabbing a finger at the home button. “The PIN’s 0109,” I said. The first of September. Our wedding anniversary, but Malcolm didn’t need to know that. He turned the phone over in his hands.
“Do you mind if we look at the phone down at the station?” I paused before replying. I’d not been expecting that. “It won’t take long.”
“It’s my work phone, though,” I replied. “I’m kind of stuck without it.” Although I didn’t want them taking my phone away and analysing it, I thought back to when I’d got the thing and remembered that it was after I’d gone straight. There wouldn’t be anything incriminating on it, anyway.
“I’ll have it back as soon as I can, Gareth. I promise,” Malcolm said. “There are a couple of simple tests we can do on it to back up your movements, that’s all.” I knew there were, which is exactly why I’d left it in the pub with Big Joe for the evening. I also knew handing it over without putting up a bit of a fight would look odd.
“Well, can I get it back as soon as they’re done then?” I asked Malcolm.
“Sure, I’ll bring it back myself. How about that?” I nodded in reply. “Constable Barnes, could you do a receipt for the phone please?”
I signed the paperwork for the phone, including ticking a box to say I was content for the police to look at the data on the phone, and watched as Constable Barnes put it into an evidence bag.
“I’ll try to get it back to you by lunchtime if I can. At least you’ll have it back for the weekend.” Malcolm said. This reassured me as if they didn’t have it for too long then they wouldn’t be able to do much to it. Or could they copy everything onto a computer somewhere? I didn’t know and wished I’d looked into this more beforehand. David would know, but it was too late now, anyway. I answered a few more questions for Malcolm. What route I’d taken back from the pub to my flat, that sort of thing. About ten minutes later, he wound up the interview.
“Gareth, thanks for cooperating on this.” He glanced down at his notebook. “I’ll speak to Mr Hayworth and Mr French, and get your phone back to you.” Malcolm got to his feet and headed for the door to the lounge, putting my phone into his pocket. Constable Barnes followed him out of the lounge and the two men stood at the front door. Malcolm turned and extended his hand. I shook it out of habit and tried to read his face. It was back to being impassive. “I’ll be in touch.”
“How is the little shit, anyway?” I asked, realising that I’d not asked or been told about Robert’s condition. Malcolm stared at me, blinking once or twice before he replied.
What he said next made my heart race. I didn’t have to fake the surprise on my face as it was real. Malcolm didn’t say anything else, but just turned and walked down the steps to the pavement. I closed the front door behind them and took a huge breath in before blowing it out of my cheeks. That explained why the Old Bill had turned up so quickly. I walked back into the lounge, feeling faint as my heart pounded at God knows what speed. Sitting down, I took another deep breath. I swallowed, wondering for a second if I was going to throw up.
Robert Wainwright was dead.
Malcolm came back to the flat just after lunch with a policewoman and another male copper. At first, I assumed that they were returning my phone, letting me know they’d checked out my alibi and that I was off the hook. But that wasn’t why they were there at all.
There was a piece of paper in Malcolm’s hand when I opened the door. He waved it at me, explaining that it was a warrant to search my flat. A Section 8 warrant, apparently. He then turned and introduced the policewoman who was standing next to him. What she said would be burned into my memory forever.
“Gareth Dawson, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Robert Wainwright. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?” She stumbled a few times over the order of the words, and I wondered if she’d ever arrested someone before.
“You’re joking?” I looked from the policewoman to Malcolm and back again. “You are joking, aren’t you?” The next thing she said surprised me.
> “Are you okay? Can I get you a glass of water or anything?” This couldn’t be happening. She’d just arrested me on suspicion of murder, and now she was offering me a glass of bloody water?
“I don’t believe this,” I said, realising that my hands were shaking.
“We can talk down at the station, Gareth,” Malcolm said. I held my hands out in front of me to see how badly they were trembling. Malcolm misunderstood the gesture. “I’m not going to cuff you, Gareth.” As he walked me to the police car that was waiting outside my flat, he leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Don’t say a word until you get a solicitor. Understand?” I nodded in response and looked at my next door neighbour who’d chosen that exact moment to put his recycling bin out. Nosy bastard.
As I was driven from my flat to the police station, I looked out of the window at the lush green trees and wondered how long it would be before I saw things like that again. We drove over a bridge that spanned the Norfolk Broads, and past a park called Whitlingham Broad where Jennifer and I had spent many happy hours. I racked my brains for what could have gone wrong. I was sure I’d covered everything. The only thing I could think of was that someone had blabbed. I was sure it wouldn’t have been Tommy — he was my oldest friend — and it wouldn’t be Big Joe. He had a reputation to protect, and being known as a grass would mean that the bulk of his customers would go nowhere near The Heartsease again. The only one left was David, but I couldn’t see him rolling over either. Why would he?
When we arrived at the police station, I’d been "processed". Fingerprinted, swabbed, photographed, the whole works. I’d said nothing during the whole thing, doing exactly what Malcolm had advised. The only words I’d spoken were my name, address, date of birth, and the words "I’d like a lawyer, please". I couldn’t see any point winding up the Old Bill. I was deep enough in the shit as it was. I’d been expecting to be put in a cell while I was waiting for the duty solicitor, but Malcolm had shown me into an interview room instead. It was still a locked room, but it had to be more comfortable than a cell. I wouldn’t know for sure as I’d never been in one before.
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