Ruthless (Cath Staincliffe)

by Cath Staincliffe

  Janet leaned on the wall. ‘I understand, if it’s about Olivia, if you can’t tell me—’

  Gill shook her head, screwed up her mouth, and squeezed her eyes shut. Then she looked across at Janet. ‘It’s Dave,’ she said.

  Janet felt a stab of relief. Not her then. Not Elise. ‘Now what’s he done?’

  Gill tried to speak, faltered. ‘He … erm … stupid bugger’s on the piss, big time. All the time.’

  ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘Found him covered in his own sick last night, out in our summerhouse,’ Gill said.

  ‘Oh, Gill.’

  ‘Idiot.’

  ‘But he’s all right?’ Janet said.

  ‘After a fashion. He’d cut his arm breaking in,’ she shook her head, ‘ten stitches.’

  ‘Was Sammy—’

  ‘No, he was out.’

  ‘What are you doing here? You should be—’

  ‘Pot, kettle?’ Gill tipped her head on one side. ‘Where else would I be? Not sitting at his bedside wiping his sweaty brow. I hate him,’ she said, ‘I bloody hate him.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ Janet said.

  The door swung open and Rachel came in, paused as she saw Janet and Gill. Janet made eyes at her, tipped her head. On your way. Rachel withdrew.

  ‘You mustn’t tell anyone. Not Rachel, no one. Promise?’ Gill said.

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Lee and Kevin have already seen him drunk as a skunk on the office floor.’

  ‘Here? When?’ Janet said.

  ‘Saturday.’

  Janet remembered the smell in the office, how she’d thought someone was drinking on the job.

  ‘He thinks he’s invincible. Captain Thunderpants. Like there’s no problem, no consequences. I tried to tell him – the job, there’s a limit to what people will accept. I went to see him Sunday evening. Told him to sort himself out, to get into rehab, join AA, anything. I thought maybe I’d got through. Obviously not,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘At home. He’s finally agreed to a stint in rehab. Well – it was that or see a photo of him, pissed and covered in his own chunder posted online.’

  Janet looked sceptical.

  ‘OK,’ Gill said, ‘no, I wouldn’t but I did take one and showed him so he couldn’t do that whole denial thing.’ She screwed her hands into fists, groaned. ‘I’m sorry, kid, you’ve enough shit to deal with—’

  Janet cut her off. ‘Doesn’t work like that.’ All the times Gill had held her hand, passed the tissues, watched her back. After Joshua died was the first time but many others since then and she’d done the same for Gill, when Dave walked out forcing Gill to leave the job she loved best to be closer to home, when Sammy moved in with his dad, when Chris finished with Gill.

  ‘How is Elise?’ Gill said.

  ‘She’s devastated. And she’s fifteen so of course she can’t believe it ever gets any better, gets easier. She has to find out for herself, experience it. It hurts – watching.’

  ‘Families,’ Gill said.

  ‘What would we do without them?’ Janet said.

  ‘She’ll be all right, she’s a bright girl and she’s got you and Adrian.’

  ‘Ade blames me,’ Janet said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We had a humdinger last night, except the girls were in bed so it was all whispered.’

  ‘Blames you how?’ Gill said.

  ‘Because I said we should let them go to the party, because I said we should trust them, because Elise told him that she didn’t want to buy anything illegal in case she did get caught and then I might lose my job.’

  Gill raised her eyebrows. ‘If that were true then half of the Manchester Met force would be stood down by now.’

  ‘What else could I have done? I did trust her. And now what? Do we think of her as a liar and a sneak for the rest of her life?’

  ‘No,’ Gill said.

  ‘I know.’

  Gill sighed, turned to the mirror, raked her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. ‘Right, mate, once more into the fray?’

  As one of the investigating officers, Rachel took on the task of attending the magistrates’ court with the Perrys, where the charges against them were noted and the case sent to Crown Court. Rachel requested that the men be remanded in police custody. She then re-arrested and cautioned them on suspicion of murder in the case of Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi. Noel Perry looked outraged when she did so though he offered no comment but Neil grinned and nodded as if he’d been expecting it, as if it was some sort of badge of merit to be accused of further offences.

  Her mother’s voice kept echoing in her head, a nasty little earworm, maggot more like. You’re a selfish little shit, Rachel, you always were. My own daughter dobbing in my own son. Grassing up her little brother. Didn’t the silly cow understand that Rachel would’ve done anything rather than see Dom lose his freedom, his chance at something resembling a decent life. Anything except collude in covering up a murder, anything except lose her job, which was her life more or less.

  While the twins waited for transport back to the police station, Rachel returned and joined the briefing, wondering what the drama had been earlier with Her Maj, trying to catch Janet’s eye and signal her curiosity. But Janet was keeping her head down, so in the end Rachel did too. Focused on the new developments they had to tackle.

  In the viewing room, Gill was able to see both interview rooms on the separate monitors and hear the conversations. The similarity between the twins was overwhelming, she could discern absolutely no difference in facial features, gestures or intonation. The only way she could differentiate between the two men was because the tattoo on Noel Perry’s neck was on the left-hand side while the same design was on Neil Perry’s right side, some sort of monsters.

  Lee had stayed with her to watch. Janet’s interview began first, Rachel just coming into view on the other screen as Janet said, ‘Mr Perry, you have been arrested on suspicion of the murder of persons known as Lydia Oluwaseyi and Victor Tosin, on Friday the eleventh of May. You are formally under caution and anything you do say may be given in evidence. You have the right …’

  Gill sipped at her coffee.

  ‘Tandy,’ Lee said, ‘he was at the English Bulldog Army meeting at the George Inn. The same night the twins were there, Sunday the sixth.’

  ‘They met then?’ Gill said. ‘Exchanged numbers?’

  Janet had finished the caution and preamble. ‘Is there anything you wish to say?’

  Noel Perry looked dull, impassive, then his expression broke. Hard to tell whether it was a grimace or a smile when he said, ‘I did it, I killed them.’

  Gill froze. Lee stared at the monitor, open-mouthed.

  ‘Let me be clear,’ Janet was saying, ‘you’re admitting responsibility for the deaths of the two victims known as Lydia Oluwaseyi and Victor Tosin found in the warehouse on Shuttling Way after the fire which was started on Friday the eleventh of May?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He braced his hands on his knees, legs apart.

  ‘Fuck me,’ murmured Gill, ‘that was easy. Lee, take a message. Tell Janet to carry on, we want a full statement, A to Z. We want to know exactly how the deaths were carried out and how he set the fire. His movements before and after. And motive.’

  ‘I’d hazard a guess,’ Lee said dryly as he left.

  On the other screen, Rachel was going through the charge and Gill notched the volume up. Neil Perry answered the first question, ‘No comment.’ And the second. ‘No comment.’ Gill leaned closer, intrigued now at an emerging difference between the brothers.

  Janet began by letting Noel speak uninterrupted. She would then revisit each point of his story and tease out the detail.

  ‘I went there on Friday, and it was like with the dosser. I shot ’em and then torched the place. That’s it.’ He shrugged.

  Could it have been any balder? ‘What time on Friday was it?’

  ‘Dunno,’ he
said.

  ‘Afternoon, evening?’

  ‘Dunno,’ he said.

  ‘Was it dark?’ Janet said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Janet felt a prick of doubt. One-word answers were never a good sign.

  ‘How did you get into the warehouse?’

  ‘Off of the bridge, by the canal, there’s a broken bit in the panelling there, you can get through then to the building. In one of the doors.’

  ‘The door wasn’t locked?’

  ‘Padlock’s long gone.’ More voluble now.

  ‘Had you been there before?’ Janet said.

  He hesitated. Why? ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why was that?’ Janet said.

  ‘To get some stuff.’

  ‘You mean drugs?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Who did you get the drugs from?’

  ‘The nignogs.’

  ‘Are you referring to the victims, Lydia Oluwaseyi and Victor Tosin?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said.

  ‘On Friday you went in the warehouse door, then what?’ Janet said.

  ‘Shot ’em, like I said.’ He rolled his shoulders back, twisted his head to and fro as though he was tired of the situation.

  ‘Whereabouts were they?’ Janet said.

  ‘Just inside. That was their squat.’

  ‘Whereabouts in the space?’ she persisted.

  ‘Just there,’ he said.

  ‘Standing, walking, sitting?’

  He seemed unsure. ‘Standing.’

  Janet didn’t miss a step. ‘Who did you shoot first?’

  ‘The bloke.’

  ‘Victor. Where was he?’

  ‘In the place, I told you.’

  ‘Was he sitting or standing when you shot him?’

  ‘Standing,’ he said.

  ‘Where did you hit him?’ she said.

  ‘In the chest.’ He banged a fist on his own breastbone.

  ‘How many times?’

  ‘Once.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I did her.’

  ‘Lydia, where was she?’

  He started to shrug then gave another sickly grin. ‘Trying to get away.’

  ‘You shot her how many times?’

  ‘Don’t remember,’ he said.

  ‘Try and remember,’ Janet said.

  ‘Once, in the back.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I poured the petrol on them, lit it up.’

  Janet nodded though her mind was racing, trying to work out how what she was hearing fitted with the facts. Or didn’t. ‘And after that?’

  ‘Went home.’ He shuffled in his seat, rubbed his hand on his forearm where the fancy lettering spelled out the infamous quotes from Hitler’s bible.

  ‘Did anyone see you arrive home?’ Janet said.

  ‘Mum was out.’

  ‘What about Neil?’

  ‘Dunno,’ he said.

  ‘He wasn’t involved?’ Janet said.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Where’s the gun now?’

  He fell silent.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ she said.

  A shrug.

  ‘Was it the same gun that you used to kill Richard Kavanagh?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Where did you get the gun?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘You need to speak,’ Janet said.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘What about the petrol, where did you get that?’

  ‘Same as before,’ he said, ‘the Shell place.’

  ‘So let me be clear, when you shot Victor he was standing how far away from you?’

  ‘Few feet.’

  ‘How many?’ Janet said.

  ‘No idea. Didn’t measure it.’

  ‘Was he facing you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  ‘He was praying,’ he sneered. ‘Lord save me!’ Noel Perry widened his eyes and shook his hands in some ghastly parody.

  ‘Did you go to the warehouse intending to harm the victims?’ Janet said.

  ‘Yeah.’ Amusement in his eyes.

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘Immigrants. Coons. Shouldn’t be here. Parasites spreading AIDS. Taking British jobs, houses.’

  ‘You were happy to buy drugs from them?’ Janet said.

  ‘Business.’

  ‘The drugs in your home, did you buy those from Victor and Lydia?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘You didn’t steal them?’ Janet said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘When did you buy them?’

  He paused. His face hardened. ‘Can’t remember.’

  He scratched his arm, shifted in his seat. It was all off kilter. What he’d said did not mesh with the forensics.

  ‘How could you see?’ Janet said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The windows in the warehouse are boarded up, there are no lights. How could you see, to shoot them?’

  He was silent for several beats then said, almost with relief, ‘There was candles.’

  ‘Did you touch the bodies after you had shot them?’

  ‘No way!’

  ‘Where did you pour the petrol?’ Janet said.

  ‘On them and all around.’

  ‘And they were both lying on the floor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How far apart?’

  ‘Dunno.’ He shifted in his seat again, threw his head back in a show of boredom.

  ‘Approximately?’ Janet said.

  ‘Fifteen, twenty feet.’

  ‘When did you buy the petrol?’ she said.

  ‘Can’t remember.’

  ‘Whereabouts did you shoot Victor, where on the body?’

  ‘I’ve told you. For fuck’s sake—’ He turned to his solicitor. ‘I’m not saying any more. I did it. Game over.’

  ‘He’s lying,’ Godzilla said to Rachel and Janet and Lee.

  ‘The details don’t stack up with what we know.’ She summarized the problems with Noel Perry’s confession, counting them off on her fingers. ‘One, we’ve no accurate time of day given for the shootings. Two, the description of the actual killings is wildly inaccurate. He doesn’t refer to the victims sitting, he can’t even get the number of shots fired right. Three, his claim to have started the blaze with petrol is contradicted by the hard evidence. If we contrast this with the joint accounts of the Richard Kavanagh murder, which were consistent, coherent, detailed and supported by forensics, I think we are looking at a false confession.’

  Janet agreed. ‘Minimal detail, the less you say, the easier to keep on top of the lies. The only bit that seemed coherent was the account of previous visits and how he gained access.’

  ‘So I think we can accept that he was familiar with the warehouse,’ the boss said. ‘And he admits going there to buy drugs but his brother is no comment. From what we’ve seen so far these two don’t even fart without the other joining in, so I don’t buy Noel Perry suddenly going solo and committing a double murder. And I don’t think Neil has any idea that his brother has confessed.’

  ‘With Kavanagh,’ Rachel said, ‘they both suddenly owned up, didn’t they, couldn’t get a cigarette paper between the stories, but this time only Noel does.’ It was a weird one all right.

  ‘With Kavanagh they had time to discuss it before we picked them up,’ Janet said, ‘“if it’s getting close to charge we’ll own up,” that sort of thing. But they were already in custody when the warehouse victims were discovered so they’d not have any chance to talk about it.’

  ‘Even if they were responsible,’ Rachel added sarcastically.

  ‘Why a false confession, Lee?’ Her Maj said.

  ‘There are different types, different categories, but in this context I’m thinking attention-seeking. More stripes on his sleeve,’ he said.

  ‘Or is he protecting someone?’ This from the boss.

  ‘Greg Tandy?’ Rachel said. ‘Or Marcus Williams if i
t is drug-related?’

  ‘So we don’t charge Noel Perry?’ Janet said.

  ‘Wasting police time,’ Rachel joked.

  The boss’s phone went and she rolled her eyes. She pulled it out, then held up a finger, red claw at the tip, signalling she had to take it.

  ‘Harry, what you got?’ she said.

  Her face sharpened as she listened, then she thanked the caller.

  ‘What?’ Rachel said, alert to the shift in tension in the room.

  ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ the boss said, her eyes bright. ‘Tests on items recovered from the Keane house, in a holdall in Greg Tandy’s room, namely a pair of leather gloves, bear significant amounts of gunshot residue and traces of barbecue lighter fuel.’

  ‘So the twins kill Kavanagh but Tandy does the double murder?’ said Rachel, excited that they might have their killer.

  ‘I don’t know if he did but I think we can safely say the Perry twins did not,’ Her Maj said. ‘Unless some startling new evidence crawls out of the woodwork and starts clog-dancing by the end of the day, we ship them off to prison. Janet, arrest Tandy and interview him on suspicion of the murders; Rachel, talk to his family and oversee the search.’

  ‘Boss,’ Rachel said, ‘what about the hospital?’

  ‘What?’ Godzilla barked, a weird look on her face. Something flashed across Janet’s face too.

  ‘Shirelle,’ Rachel said, ‘if she comes round and I’m at the Tandys’ …’

  ‘You’re not the only rat in the alley, Rachel. If you are still tied up we send someone else. Teamwork. Hard to grasp, I know, but keep trying,’ Her Maj said in a snotty tone of voice. God knows what Rachel had done now, parted her hair the wrong way, but she was glad the meeting was almost over. Eager to get out there and get on with it.

  23

  Gloria Tandy was not best pleased that her husband was ‘assisting the police with their inquiries’.

  ‘What? For fuck’s sake!’ she swore. ‘What inquiries?’ She had greeted Rachel and her colleagues who would do the search with the same ill grace as before.

  Rachel evaded the question. ‘You’ve not seen him then, not missed him?’

  Gloria stared at her and finally said, ‘He moved out, Friday.’