‘Nothing at all. I saw you walking along and just wanted to see how you were doing.’
Lizzie looked down at her sleeping daughter and then back at George. ‘It’s been okay. Not great, as you can imagine, but we’re getting through it. To be honest with you, we were looking for a way out. It wasn’t . . . well, it wasn’t a happy relationship, not recently anyway, and we’d had enough.’
‘You and sleeping beauty there?’ George gestured at the buggy.
‘Little monster, more like!’
‘It’s never easy though. Getting news like that is always a shock.’
‘It was a shock, yeah. I won’t be shedding any more tears for him though. He wasn’t good to me or to her. I just feel sorry for his mum.’ Lizzie rubbed her hands together. They were white with cold.
‘Yeah, she didn’t take it well. It’s always harder for the parents, especially the mums, they only ever see their sons as angels.’
‘That’s certainly true of Jackie.’
‘So I assume you will be getting out of this place pretty soon, then? Maybe let your parents help you out now?’
Lizzie swept back her fringe and curled her lip. ‘I won’t be asking them for any help. I can look after myself.’
‘I’m sure you can Lizzie, but we all get a hand every now and then. I just meant that you could probably do with moving out of here.’ George nodded at Peto Court looming behind her.
‘And go where? I don’t really know anyone in the town. At least there are people I know here.’
‘Maybe they aren’t the sort of people that you really want to know. I’ve worked this place for a long time and I’ve seen a lot of good people get sucked in. It’s not a nice place to be, Lizzie, and you’re far too good for it all.’
Lizzie gave the buggy a shove. ‘Thing is, Sergeant Elms, you don’t really know me, or what’s good for me.’
Lizzie walked away and disappeared into Peto Court. George sat in his car, contemplating whether to go up to Flat 22 and apologise. Then he shrugged and pulled away.
* * *
George made his way to an industrial estate where he knew of a particularly good “dog van,” the sort that cooked all the ingredients of a hearty English breakfast, then stuffed them into a bread roll as long as your arm. The woman behind the shiny metal counter had plump, rosy cheeks and a cheerful smile. George had once been a daily visitor to her van, and she remembered him.
‘Sorry, sir, we don’t serve traitors.’ She turned her back and busied herself at the grill.
George pretended to be indignant. ‘Traitors?’
‘Well, you’ve clearly found somewhere else to go for your rolls. Tell me . . .’ She turned back and looked at him. ‘Are you cheating on me with another van?’
George patted his stomach. ‘No, Carol, I wouldn’t do that. It’s . . . it’s the muesli.’
‘Muesli? That stuff’ll kill you, you know!’
‘The wife insisted on it.’
Carol looked George up and down, beaming. ‘Well, I think she’s a lucky woman.’
George straightened his suit jacket. All at once he was very self-conscious. Carol put her head back and laughed.
‘I tell her that every day.’
‘And what can I get for you today? And I must warn you that the muesli is off.’
‘In that case, I shall have three of your filthiest breakfast rolls, please. And I mean filthy in a good way!’
‘We don’t do them any other way.’
The breakfast rolls had bacon sticking out at the sides, sausages at the ends and plenty in the middle. Back in his car, George had just unwrapped the end of one to sneak a bite when his phone rang. It was Graham Huntington. George swore. ‘Hello?’ he mumbled.
‘George, it’s Graham Huntington.’
George gulped down his mouthful of food. ‘Hello, sir.’
‘It’s good to have you back, George.’
Thank you, sir. It’s nice to be back working.’
‘Yes, yes I bet. Terrible business.’
George smiled at the area commander’s best effort at condolences. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Ah, yes. I was hoping to catch up with you today. There’s been a lot of work gone on in Epping Hill over the last few weeks, and we’re looking to push on with it. You’re a key man, George, you and your team, and I wanted to make sure you’re up to speed.’
‘Okay, sounds good.’
‘Excellent. I understand you’re out and about at the moment. Give Jean a call when you’re back on station.’
‘I will do, sir.’
As George drove away, he glanced across at the dog van. Carol flashed him a smile. George managed an awkward wave.
Chapter 28
When George returned with breakfast, Brian Appleby was there, talking to his female detective in full flirt mode. He was telling a long story featuring Brian Appleby in the role of hero. He was facing Sam, his back to everyone else. George shared a knowing smile with Paul.
‘Is this the one that ends up with you saving the world again? And the hero always gets the girl, right?’
Brian spun to face the voice. ‘George, you shouldn’t have.’ Brian pointed at the rolls, his face suddenly flushed.
‘I didn’t. Had I known you were going to be down here flirting with my staff, Brian, I still wouldn’t have.’ Brian flushed a little but maintained his smile. ‘I was just talking to Sam here while I waited for you to get back.’
‘Of course you were,’ George said. He held out one of the wrapped rolls. Sam touched Brian lightly as she moved round him to take her roll. George and she exchanged a smirk. ‘You seem to be the only one here not with your hands full, mate, and you’re the outsider. That puts you on tea duty, right?’
‘Tea duty?’
‘You want a cuppa, right? Because I know I do. Sam?’
Sam held up her Disney cup. ‘Ooh, yes please, Brian. That would be very nice.’
‘I don’t even know where the stuff is.’
‘It’s all there.’ Sam rose to her feet. ‘How about I go fill the kettle?’
Brian watched Sam walk out of the office and sighed. ‘Never, ever will I listen to you complain about working conditions down here, George.’
George nodded at the door. ‘You wouldn’t know what to do with it, mate.’
‘That might well be true, but I’d have a hell of a time working it out.’
‘So, you just down here to admire the scenery, mate?’
‘Not at all, that’s just an added bonus.’
‘You hear that, Paul? You’re an added bonus.’
‘I’m a what?’ Paul said through a mouthful of bread and sausage.
‘I came down to say hello really, welcome you back and all that.’ Brian opened his arms and leaned towards George. ‘And if there’s anything you need, here or outside, mate—’
George cut him off. ‘Thanks. It’s just nice to be back, really. It sounds a little harsh but I’ve hardly had time to think about . . . things, you know, since I got here this morning.’
‘I know what you mean. There’s a lot to be said for keeping yourself busy.’
‘So, two weeks is a long time in intel-land. What juicy information have you got to offer about everyone’s favourite place?’
Brian visibly relaxed. ‘Ah, Effingell. What can I say? It’s the usual ebb and flow I suppose. Your team have been getting results left, right and centre.’
‘So I hear.’
‘Huntington’s got a bee in his bonnet at the moment, and he’s been putting on the pressure over there. You can’t go down there now without seeing two, sometimes three panda cars, even at night. I think some of the players are getting pissed off with the presence. They seem to be applying their own sort of pressure on people to cough the jobs we’re interested in, hoping we’ll fuck off.’
George bit his lip. ‘You think that’s what happened with Sophie and this Tinsow lad?’
Brian shrugged. ‘I’m pretty sure he wouldn’
t have coughed it otherwise. He wasn’t even a suspect for us.’
‘You think he did it?’
‘He said he did.’
‘Anyone can say that.’
‘You don’t think he did it?’
George eyed his roll and licked his lips. ‘I’m gonna have a chat with him this evening. It doesn’t sit right with me — there are quite a few bits that don't add up.’
‘You told Huntington that you’re speaking to him?’
‘No, why would I?’
‘Huntington’s been all over this. Every stage since Tinsow walked into this police station has been micro-managed by him. He’s not keen on people contacting him without first seeking his permission. He’s even been bail checking Tinsow in person.’
George was puzzled. ‘Why would he be so bothered, now Tinsow’s been bagged?’
‘Who knows with that man? He doesn’t exactly give a running commentary on what he’s thinking, either.’
George shook his head. ‘Sam and I spoke to Sophie just after it happened and she gave us a pretty good description of the attacker. She said the offender had a tattoo on his neck. Our Mr Tinsow doesn't. Also the lad who was with Sophie is a bit of a fighter, big for his age and trained too. If he went head to head with Tinsow, I would put my money on the young lad. Not a stick-thin alcoholic who wheezes when he has to get up and answer the door.’
Brian shrugged again. ‘I don’t disagree with you, mate, but what can you do? There’s enough to charge him with in court and if he stands up and goes guilty again, then it’ll be case closed and yet another success for Sam here and your team.’
Sam looked up at the sound of her name. ‘What was that? Did I hear something about making me a tea? That kettle will need boiling again — it goes cold after an hour or so.’
Brian got to his feet. ‘Yes, miss.’
George called out to her. ‘Sam, you going to be able to come out and see Tinsow with me this evening?’
She nodded. ‘I should be able to make it out.’
Brian was frowning. ‘Oh, one thing you need to be aware of is there’s a new bunch of rogues for your people to deal with. They’ve been quiet, at least as far as the police are concerned, but our sources on the estate are having a bit of a hard time with them.’
George looked at him. ‘New rogues?’
‘Two brothers, and at least a couple others. We don’t know much about them yet. Seems they’ve spent most of their time in other areas, but now they’re here and have managed to get the council to house them in Roman Way. I forget their names, I’ve got them written down upstairs.’ Brian stood up.
‘What county are they from?’
‘All of them.’
‘Gypsies?’
‘So it seems.’
George sighed. ‘Just what Effingell needs.’
Brian had moved to the tea-making station, and was stirring the mugs. ‘I agree,’ he called back. ‘We’re putting on all our resources down there, to try and find out as much as we can. Like I said, from our point of view they’ve been quiet—’
‘So far,’ George cut in.
‘So far,’ Brian repeated. He brought three teas and put them on the three desks.
‘You not made yourself one?’ George asked.
‘No, I’ve got to get back up there. I’ve my own team to make tea for.’
George raised his cup. ‘Well, thank you for ours. Let me know if you hear anything interesting.’
Brian gave a thumbs-up and walked out, casting a last look at Sam.
Chapter 29
‘Mr Tinsow?’
Elliot Tinsow opened the door to his flat. It was ten past six in the evening, and he looked as if had just woken up.
‘What do you want?’ Elliot grunted.
George smiled. ‘I’d like to have a word with you, Elliot. I think we might be able to help each other out.’
Elliot hesitated. ‘I think you people have done all you can to help me. Now you know I’m in, you can fuck off.’ Elliot’s gaze darted briefly to Sam before he shut the door.
George bent down with his mouth to the gap that had once housed a letterbox. ‘Elliot, I know you didn’t do what you said you did. You might think you don't have any options, but maybe you do have a choice.’ George looked at Sam as they waited on the doorstep.
Elliot opened the door and looked at George.
‘How about we step inside for a couple of minutes?’
Elliot turned away and walked inside. George and Sam followed him into the living room. Elliot stood and faced them, arms crossed. He was wearing dark blue jeans, made for someone with a much larger waist. His white vest looked as though it had been damp and dried several times since its last wash. A strong, musty smell emanated from somewhere in the room — or possibly Elliot himself.
Elliot’s words were a little slurred and his eyes had the watery look of the alcoholic. ‘I don’t reckon I’ve ever seen so many cops.’
‘Are you getting regular visits?’
‘Three last night, four the night before, always two of you. You people obviously got nothing better to do. Makes me fucking laugh. I can’t remember the last time I went out at night, and here you are checking on me every few hours!’
‘That includes the night you were supposed to be riding the bus?’
‘I’ve already said all I’ve got to say to your pretty assistant here.’
Sam looked at him. ‘I wasn’t sure you were telling me the whole truth, Elliot. You seemed to miss out a lot of the detail.’
‘The whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God!’ Elliot sniggered, and moved backwards. The backs of his legs touched the sofa, and he slumped onto it. He waved vaguely at a mound of dirty clothes on top of a couple of chairs. George and Sam remained standing.
‘You didn’t rob two kids on a bus at knifepoint, did you? I think you’re a better man than that.’
‘So what? I said what I needed to say to Detective Robins here, didn’t I? You got it all on tape, too, no going back now.’
‘That isn’t true, Elliot. If there’s a reason why you said what you did, you can tell me. We’re here off the record. I can give you options. The police can protect you if that’s what you need.’
‘Protect me! Listen, mate, you should be happy. I see the news. The papers are ripping you lot apart for this. That girl is some politician’s daughter or something. So I swan in and take it on the chin, it’s problem solved.’
‘Elliot, I’m not interested in locking up the wrong man for this. Yeah, we want a result, but you’re not it. Whoever did do that to the girl is a threat to all the other girls in this area. You really want to go to prison? You’d be looking at seven years minimum.’
‘We’re all prisoners to something. I might as well be one for real — might just sort out a few things for me.’
George took out his notepad and scribbled on it. ‘That’s my name and my mobile number. I want you to have a think about what I’ve said, and I want you to help me. Anything you say to me is off the record until you tell me any different.’
Elliot stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket. George knew it was the only answer he was going to get right now, so he and Sam left the flat.
Back in the car, Sam said, ‘What do you think then?’
‘Well, it definitely wasn’t him, he basically said as much.’
‘So why would he come in and say it was him? That still doesn’t make any sense to me.’
George stared out through the windscreen into the lamp-lit street. ‘It doesn’t make sense to me, either. Maybe Granny Smith was right. The area gets flooded with panda cars because of this job, and all the extra attention upsets some of the major players. They choose someone sufficiently weak and put pressure on them to cough the job.’
Sam chewed her bottom lip. ‘He’s not who I’d choose.’
‘Really? He’s not exactly going to put up much of a fight.’
‘He’s physically weak, sure, but what’s the man g
ot to lose? Look at him — you could give him a kicking but it probably wouldn’t even register through all the booze. It’s not like you can threaten to take away his cash, his wife or his quality of life, is it?’
‘You’ve got me there. So what does he have?’
Sam shrugged. ‘Does he have any family?’
‘No idea, but give me a second.’ George raised his phone to his ear.
Paul answered it on the second ring. ‘What do you want? I’m trying to go home!’
‘Sorry, man. You’re good to go. I just need a quick favour.’
‘What do you need?’
‘Our man Tinsow. Can you bring him up on your screen, see if there’s any intel about him having family?’
There was the faint sound of someone hitting a keyboard. ‘There’s a sister and a mother. They live together, according to the most recent intel — which is five years old by the way. Looks like the daughter’s some sort of carer for the mother. There’s an address on here, hang on a sec.’
George took down the details and ended the call. ‘It’s been a long day,’ he said.
Sam turned to face him. ‘Certainly has.’
‘You mind making it just a little bit longer?’
‘Supposing I said no?’
George grinned. ‘I know you won’t.’
Chapter 30
George looked out of the car window at the large detached houses that made up Cornwallis Avenue. It was a wide road, the pavements separated from the houses by a strip of neat grass with well-established trees. The rain that had started just a few minutes earlier was now heavy and looked to be set in for the night.
‘Well, this wasn’t what I was expecting,’ George said.
‘Me neither,’ said Sam.
‘Kettle’s on,’ George suddenly announced.
‘You what?’
George was trying to make out the names of the houses. ‘Kettle’s on. It’s the name of the house.’
Sam grinned. ‘Of course it is.’
‘And here it is.’ A slate-grey sign with the word ‘Kettallson’ in white letters was recessed into a low wall. George bought the car to a stop.
‘Nice touch.’
The rain was blown almost horizontally into the faces of the two officers as they stepped from their car. Sam put her A4 notebook over her head. As an umbrella it was pretty useless. The imposing wooden door, beneath an archway with benches running either side, did much to add interest to the plain exterior. A separate building housing a double garage was tucked away to the side, almost hidden by thick shrubbery. George lifted the heavy metal knocker. Sam stood next to him, shaking her hair and cursing the rain.
BODILY HARM a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 13