by Peter Helton
‘Sir!’ He turned around to the voice behind him. It was Botts. And behind Botts, blissfully unaware, approached the skateboarder, doing a showy slalom around the promenading people.
McLusky pointed. ‘Botts, stop that skateboarder!’
The officer turned around, walked into the man’s path and opened his arms wide. ‘Stop, police!’ The skateboarder careered past him with an easy manoeuvre and turned the speed up, looking panicked across his shoulder at the officer.
‘Not like that, Botts.’ McLusky picked up the bicycle and threw it at the skateboarder just as he whizzed past him. It hit him at waist height and sent him sprawling on to the tarmac. ‘Like that!’
Botts trotted up. ‘Sir, my bicycle.’
The skateboarder groaned as he disentangled himself. He remained sitting on the ground, massaged a wrist and bellowed at his assailant: ‘You fucking maniac!’
McLusky held out his ID for him. ‘The nice officer asked you nicely. I’m not so nice, of course.’ He wagged a finger. ‘Motorized skateboards – not allowed in the park.’
‘You can’t be serious. I could have cracked my skull open.’
‘Yeah, that’s another thing. No helmet, so I thought I’d have a word.’
‘You’re nuts. I’m going to sue you for assault. I’ll have you investigated and thrown off the force.’
Botts went to help him up. ‘Calm down. What’s your name, sir?’
‘I’m going to sue him for endangering my life –’
‘Up you get.’
‘I don’t need any fucking help. I can’t believe this.’
McLusky briefly wondered how his method of stopping skateboarders might go down with the super. Not so well if he had got the wrong man, perhaps. ‘Actually, you might be an important witness. Tell us your name.’
‘It’s John. Witness to what?’
‘Any other names?’
‘John Kerswill.’
The name rang a distant bell. Ah, yes. ‘You wouldn’t be in any way related to Joel Kerswill?’
‘What if I am?’
‘Well?’
‘He happens to be my son.’
‘Visited him lately?’
An hour later McLusky still kept up the pressure on John Kerswill in interview room 2. ‘You were seen near the Knowle West bomb, shortly before a man died in his car there.’
‘I told you I live near there now. I must have been just testing it out, I don’t often ride in the street, only when I’ve been working on the engine. The new electric board needs no work at all, of course.’
Austin couldn’t contain himself. ‘We’re very happy for you.’
McLusky impatiently flicked at a file of photographs containing pictures of the bomb victims. ‘Come on, Kerswill, the jury is never going to believe that, it’s too much of a coincidence. You just happened to be right there on Brandon Hill moments before the bomb went off, too? And you skated right past your own son.’
‘I didn’t know that, did I? I didn’t see him. It really was coincidence. Stuff like that happens all the time.’
‘Are you telling me you didn’t recognize your own son?’
‘I didn’t really look, did I? I was skating. People just sort of become obstacles, you don’t look at what they look like, really, you’re busy skating.’
Austin nodded knowingly. ‘People become obstacles. Of course with bombs going off in parks you might have fewer obstacles to avoid.’
‘When the bomb went off, where were you? How far away?’
‘Already at the bottom of the hill. Nearly. Close to the exit.’
‘Did you go back?’
‘Yeah. A bit. But not close.’
‘Why not?’
Kerswill took a sip of polystyrene tea. He stared at the grey liquid left in the cup and shrugged. ‘I’ve been sort of avoiding things. I thought people might be after me.’
‘For …?’
‘Child Support. They do go after people.’
‘The story of your son’s injuries was plastered all over the front page. Did you visit him in hospital?’
‘I couldn’t, could I? And it said he’d only been lightly injured.’
‘Well, I myself did visit your son in hospital. And I met your wife. She wanted me to pass on a message in case I ever ran into you.’
Kerswill looked up. ‘Yeah?’
‘You don’t want it, son.’ The ‘son’ had just slipped out. The man was older than McLusky yet he dressed like a teenager and ran around on a skateboard. In broad daylight.
Kerswill looked contrite. After a long silence he spoke slowly, eyes unfocused. ‘I suppose you would call it a mid-life crisis.’ A slow shrug. ‘We were married for what seemed like forever. I just thought I saw my life slipping away, work, home, work, home, the wife at me all the time about money, nothing but work … I mean, they get taken care of when there’s no one there earning, it’s not like they’re starving and I never meant it to be forever. I hadn’t planned it, either. I just flipped one day, took the van and left. I didn’t even take much of my stuff, I was going to go back, only I really needed to get away for a while.’
‘But going back got harder.’
Kerswill brightened up. ‘Yeah, that’s right. The longer I’d been away the more I couldn’t imagine going back. I knew it was selfish but with every day it got even more selfish. I mean, I felt much freer again doing just enough decorating work to keep me going. I could do what I wanted.’
‘Riding a skateboard.’
‘Not just that, but yeah. A powered skateboard is … it’s like magic, it transforms things.’
‘Your own son didn’t recognize you, so I expect you have been transformed, Mr Kerswill.’
‘Well, I had the hair spiked and all that … It said in the papers he’d been to an interview for an apprenticeship when the bomb went off. I wonder if he got it.’
‘I strongly suggest, Mr Kerswill, that you call him and ask.’
Where was the camera? She couldn’t go to Barcelona without a camera. Rebecca toured the flat again, finding yet more of her things to throw into the holdall or stuff into a bin-liner. Five days in Barcelona, what would she need? It was a college trip and they’d be traipsing through museums, Picasso, Miro, Gaudi. Didn’t he fall out of a tram and die? She subjected the clothes she picked up from the floor to a sniff test and dispatched them into holdall or bin-liner respectively. She’d find somewhere else to live when she got back. Liam was all right but he was a bit old, over thirty. There was no way she could introduce him to any of her art school friends, that would really freak them out. A policeman, he would never fit in there. Especially since he was so down on drugs too, any kind of drugs. She couldn’t make him see that there was a difference between hard drugs and, let’s say, a bit of E. He wouldn’t even let her smoke one piddly joint in the house. It got really boring and there was no telly. Why would anyone want to live like that?
Sketchbook, drawing stuff, she’d need that, had packed it, but she wouldn’t go without the camera, the one on her mobile was rubbish. Well, she’d looked everywhere twice, there was only one place where it could be now, and that was Liam’s manky old Polo. She vaguely remembered having it last time he’d given her a lift, perhaps it fell out of her bag. He’d gone to work this morning with DS Austin in his nifty Nissan, why didn’t he get a car like that? They were cute. So she’d go and check, the old wreck was always parked round the corner. The car keys were nowhere to be seen but he never locked the thing, probably hoping it might get nicked but she doubted even a joyrider would go near it.
It was a shame it couldn’t work out because she really liked Liam, he was quite funny and really kind but he totally cramped her style. It made her feel like she was living in two different worlds, living a double life almost, with college friends in one and Liam in the other. She couldn’t really tell him what she got up to with her mates, he wouldn’t approve, and she couldn’t take him with her. He was always busy and on call anyway and liable to be dragg
ed out of bed at unholy hours like this morning. Bed, now that was the one thing she would really miss him for. He was so different from the other guys she had slept with so far, a lot gentler. And a lot rougher, too. Liam always had that puzzled look when he woke up next to her and then he’d break into a smile as though he’d just been given a present. Every time. She’d miss that. She’d probably miss that most.
Halfway up the next street there was the car, with a brick behind the offside rear wheel since the handbrake was as dodgy as the rest of the thing. Some old cars were quite cool but this one was just embarrassing. Rebecca opened the hatchback door. Impatiently she rifled through the empty plastic bags and rubbish – nothing. She opened the passenger door and looked in the footwell then searched the glove box – nothing. There was a letter on the passenger seat. She picked it up. It just said Inspector McLusky on the envelope and no stamp or anything, someone must have dropped it in the car, someone who knew it would be unlocked or they’d have stuck it under the windscreen wipers. Probably someone wanting him to park his eyesore somewhere else. Well, damn, no camera. Where the hell was it, then? She pocketed the letter and slammed the passenger door shut with all the force of her frustration.
Like a biblical column of fire a gas-blue flame rose from the centre of the driver’s seat, reaching up to the roof with a fierce hiss. Seconds later flames and smoke spread out and began to engulf the entire interior. Now all she could see was a dull red glow at the centre of the blackness, filling the car like an evil eye. Incredulous and transfixed by the spectacle, she forced herself to move backwards away from the car, just as the first window blew out.
The further the interview had progressed the clearer it had become that John Kerswill simply didn’t fit the bill. He was far too busy reclaiming his lost boyhood to litter the city with explosives. McLusky hadn’t had much time or inclination to think about the effect the bombs were having on the rest of the city. In sharp contrast Superintendent Denkhaus, in whose office he found himself after releasing Kerswill, had been only too aware, having had to field urgent questions from the press, business leaders and the Assistant Chief Constable.
‘It’s the randomness of the attacks, McLusky, that scares people. I’m told hotel and B&B bookings are down by forty per cent. Businesses are hurting. Even if we apprehended the culprit today the damage is already done, people are going elsewhere. And it’s not just the tourist industry that’s suffering, I mean some people have taken their kids out of school.’ Denkhaus stood and turned his back on McLusky while he took in the panoramic view his large window afforded him. Policing had ramifications well beyond crime prevention and detection: it influenced economics and politics and was in turn influenced by politics and dictated to by economics. It was as well if young DIs understood that. He was under constant pressure, not just from the ACC but from the mayor’s office and representatives of the business community. ‘Our citizens don’t feel safe any more, small retailers report a drop in sales. Pubs and clubs get fewer people through their doors. People shop at the supermarkets and spend more time indoors. More worrying still, two major conferences have been moved to other cities and the organizers of the half-marathon are thinking of postponing until the autumn, and the kite festival was nearly cancelled.’
‘Kite festival nearly cancelled?’
Denkhaus turned to face the young DI. He couldn’t remember, did he have children? Not that it mattered. ‘Yes, so you see how far-reaching and unexpected the consequences of these attacks are. It simply can’t be allowed to continue. A valuable yacht was destroyed in this latest outrage. People will seek mooring for their expensive boats elsewhere. If that happens then the plans for the harbourside development could be jeopardized. The development depends entirely on investors having complete confidence that our city is the right place to be.’ Denkhaus quoted almost verbatim from the tirade he had endured from the ACC earlier that day.
McLusky nodded distractedly. ‘Indeed, sir.’ Kite festival, now why did that ring a bell? The bell it rang had an uncomfortable sound. It conjured up a nagging, like a thing he’d forgotten to do, like an unposted letter. He would look in his notes …
‘I presume DI Fairfield’s success didn’t escape your notice? We finally got the Mobile Muggers off the streets …’
‘Quite literally, too.’
‘Yes, quite.’ Denkhaus allowed himself a smile. ‘It was pure good fortune that DS Sorbie happened to be there on his day off. And he reacted professionally and bravely. Even saved the life of one of them. Jumped after him into the river and dragged him to safety. The other one either drowned or got away. And practically at the same time Fairfield got an anonymous tip-off and was able to catch Mitchell, a notorious fence, red-handed as he was bringing the rest of the gang to his lock-up. We were there ready and waiting. Intelligence-led policing, McLusky. The man was actually running the gang, even supplying them with the scooters. So you can see, persistence and hard work pay off. It certainly didn’t do Fairfield and Sorbie’s clear-up rates any harm. You on the other hand appear to be –’ There was a loud knock. ‘Yes, what is it?’
Lynn Tiery appeared in the door, frowning at a piece of paper in her hand. ‘Sorry to interrupt. There’s an urgent message for DI McLusky, concerning his car.’
Denkhaus insisted on driving them there, despite McLusky’s protests. The superintendent’s lecture continued on the tortuous drive across town but drifted at last into reminiscences, how he himself had risen through the ranks, starting as a beat officer in a small West Country town, grasping every opportunity, applying himself, not bucking the system. And here he was, ambitions fulfilled. He had no desire to rise any higher, not wanting to lose touch with real, frontline policing.
The street was blocked with police, fire engines and a fire investigator’s car. They abandoned the Land Rover in the middle of the road and walked up without speaking. Accident, vandalism or the bomber, all depended on the verdict of the fire investigators.
They showed their IDs and approached what was left of the Polo, a blackened evil-smelling shell. A sulking Rebecca was there, being shadowed by a PC. She pounced on McLusky. ‘You took your time getting here, they’re treating me as though I set fire to the damn thing. It just caught fire, I swear, I just slammed the door and whoosh, up it went. I was just looking for my camera.’
McLusky calmed her down and sent the PC on her way. Almost immediately a fire investigator confirmed their suspicions. ‘A small device wired into the springs of the driver’s seat. Nasty. Had you sat in it you’d have been in trouble. There was no explosion, it was an incendiary device, probably a mixture of accelerant like petrol, some flammable adhesive perhaps, magnesium, some kind of trigger.’
‘Shit, I nearly sat in it! Ouch!’ Rebecca’s hand made an involuntary move to her behind.
Ignoring her, Denkhaus raised an impatient eyebrow at McLusky. ‘Who’s the young lady? How did she come to search your car?’
‘Ehm, she’s staying at my –’
‘I’m his girlfriend.’ Was his girlfriend. Definitely was. He had the same problem she did, obviously, he had practically disowned her there and then. ‘And the coach to the airport goes in less than an hour from college. Can I go now?’
Denkhaus turned away to talk to the leading fire officer about the safe removal of the car.
‘I gotta go, Liam. Oh, here, nearly forgot.’ She pulled the letter from her pocket. ‘Sorry, bit crumpled. Found it on the driver’s seat.’
Same typeface, same envelope. McLusky folded it nonchalantly into a jacket pocket. ‘When are you back?’
‘Seven days.’ It was only five but she gave herself a couple of days in hand, time to think, make a final decision. ‘Can’t remember what time the plane lands, I’ll call your mobile.’ She kissed him hard on the mouth but disengaged herself almost immediately. ‘Don’t want to embarrass you any further. Really gotta go now. Buenos dias.’
‘Ciao bella.’ Or was that Italian? He’d never been much good at languages
. He watched Rebecca walk away. She was a kid, really, and she could have been seriously hurt. He would never have forgiven himself. As she reached the street corner he got ready to wave if she looked back but Rebecca walked on without turning.
He slid the letter open and read. Perhaps This will Shut you Up. I have Warned You. Now I will employ My Armies everywhere. Homes and Churches will be safe but Silence will settle on the Parks and Streets of this City. This one he couldn’t possibly keep to himself. ‘Superintendent? Rebecca found this in the car before it went up.’
Denkhaus read. ‘I wonder if he intended you to read this before or after you were incinerated. I’m sorry this investigation has got a bit close to home for you. The man knows where you live, what car you drive. All, no doubt, a result of you talking to Phil Warren. You weren’t all that hard to find once the bomber knew your name. Is there somewhere else you can stay until he is apprehended?’
‘I’ll have a think.’
‘Think fast, McLusky, this guy wants to hurt you.’ He returned his attention to the letter. ‘Mm … I have warned you, what does that mean, I wonder. We hardly need any more warning.’
‘I think what’s significant about the letter is the mention of parks.’
‘He exploded his first device in Brandon Hill …’
‘I think he’s going to target parks again. This kite festival, where is that held?’
‘That’s at Ashton Court.’