Damaged Goods

by Helen Black

  Max, as Jack anticipated, couldn’t bear the lack of attention and exploded.

  ‘I don’t care who or what she is. I didn’t try to kill no one.’

  Jack remained calm, his voice low in stark contrast to his suspect. ‘You cut her throat and left her to bleed to death, what was that, a birthday present?’

  Max smiled and wagged his finger at Jack. ‘You’re good, McNally, you always were.’

  ‘So let’s stop pissing about and tell me what happened last night,’ Jack said.

  ‘I was round Gracie’s flat,’ Max replied.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m keeping an eye on it.’

  ‘Very public-spirited of you,’ said Jack.

  ‘Yeah, well. There’s a lot of junkies on that estate and I don’t want them nicking her stuff.’

  ‘She’s dead, so I can’t see it matters.’

  ‘The girls might want something. It’s their right.’

  It always irked Jack when people like Max talked about their rights, but he refused to bite and folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’re the guardian of Gracie’s children now? Quite the hero.’

  Max jabbed his thumb in his chest. ‘Those kids are like family to me, I just want to see they get what’s theirs.’

  Jack motioned for Max to continue.

  ‘Like I said, I was keeping an eye on the flat when I sees someone breaking in.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call the police?’ asked Jack.

  ‘It would have taken them half an hour to get there. The estate’s very low on their priority list, according to Hermione Barrows.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought you were into politics, Max.’

  ‘The woman chats sense,’ he said. ‘You must have heard what she’s been saying about you lot.’

  The two men stared at each other across the table in an uncomfortable silence. It was Max who broke first.

  ‘I went up there myself to take a look. I went into the hall and shouted that whoever was in there had better get out.’

  ‘Did anyone answer?’

  ‘Not a word, which gave me a bad vibe. I’m thinking a junkie would have just legged it. So I opened the bedroom door and I saw a shape.’

  ‘A shape?’

  ‘The electricity were cut off and the curtains were shut so it’s like pitch black in there, and all I could see was this shape coming at me.’ Max slapped the side of his head. ‘Then it hit me.’

  ‘The shape?’

  ‘Nah, the idea of who it was. Just like a light bulb going on, I think to myself it’s Gracie’s killer.’

  Jack could see where the story was going but tried to sound incredulous. ‘And why would you think that?’

  ‘You’re a copper, man, you’re supposed to know what murderers do.’

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  Max spoke slowly as if explaining a difficult concept to a child. ‘They go back to the scene of the crime. It gives ’em a buzz to, you know, relive it. Some of ’em, serial killers and that, take whatsits, hair or fingers.’

  ‘Souvenirs.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s it, souvenirs. So they can remind themselves whenever they like.’ Max dropped his voice to a stage whisper. ‘So they can relive the moment again and again and again.’

  Max paused to emphasise his point then burst into laughter. ‘It’s sick but I don’t make the rules.’

  Jack shook his head at the theatrics. ‘But it wasn’t a serial killer, was it, Max? It was a perfectly innocent woman.’

  ‘I didn’t know that. I mean, what’s a perfectly innocent woman doing breaking into a flat? And not just any flat, but one where someone’s just been topped. If you had been there you’d have thought exactly the same as me.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  Max ignored the remark. ‘I’m not ashamed to say I were shitting it, man.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Serious. I’m thinking: Maxi, you gotta do something or this crazy motherfucker is gonna carve you up.’

  ‘And what “something” did you decide upon?’

  ‘I pulled out my knife, which I know I shouldn’t have, but a lot of shit happens on that estate, and a man’s got to protect himself. I shouts, “Stay away from me, I’ve got a knife” – well, maybe not those exact words but you get my meaning.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He’s still coming at me, man, as if he ain’t heard me or he don’t care. I’m thinking it’s my time and sure as shit I ain’t ready, so I waves the blade in front of me.’

  Max stood and swiped an imaginary knife in front of him from left to right. Dunwoody looked ready to faint.

  ‘I wasn’t even sure if I’d caught him until he falls backwards onto the bed, but that’s enough for me, man, I’m gone.’

  ‘Why didn’t you check whether Miss Valentine was alive?’ asked Jack.

  ‘I didn’t know it was her, I’m still thinking it’s the one that carved up Gracie. I ain’t getting close enough to check his pulse, you fool.’

  ‘So you left?’

  ‘Too right. I ran all the way to my wheels. Then I starts to get vexed, I’m thinking this serial nutter needs to be banged up. I mean, I don’t like to involve the police in my business, the Feds bring nothing but trouble for my kind, but I figure I ain’t got no choice so I picks up my mobile and I’m about to dial 999 when you arrive. I see you going into the flat like a gift from God.’

  ‘Why didn’t you stick around?’

  ‘I don’t trust the police. I’m thinking you ain’t never gonna believe I did what I did in self-defence, thought you’d try to pin it on me and – surprise, surprise – I was right.’

  ‘It’s an interesting story, Max.’

  ‘It’s the truth.’

  ‘Tell me, then, why does Miss Valentine say in her statement that you followed her, forced her into the flat and attacked her?’

  Max paused, his eyes glittering. Both he and Jack knew this was the crux of it. ‘She’s probably in shock, maybe she’s confused.’

  ‘Her statement’s very clear. She says you tried to kill her. Why would she lie?’

  ‘You should ask her that, McNally, and while you’re at it ask her why she’s been snooping round my business. It seems to me that this wifey has got it in for me.’

  Lilly needed some fresh air and asked WPC Spicer to let her out of the station. She agreed to stay within a ten-minute radius and keep her mobile on.

  ‘Just in case Jack needs to check something,’ said the policewoman.

  Lilly was surprised to find the sky had darkened. Since the station canteen was in the basement she hadn’t seen the banks of cloud roll in. For the first time in days the sun’s glare was diluted to a comfortable beige. The relief was like being spoon-fed apple crumble. Lilly felt her shoulders relax until her mobile let out its high-pitched yelp to tell her she had a text. It was from Spicer.

  GET BACK 2 STATION. NOW.

  Jack sat with his arms crossed. He wore an expression that he hoped conveyed a mixture of contempt and boredom. Max’s story had hung well, too well, but Jack’s body language conceded nothing.

  ‘You want to know what I think?’ asked Max.

  ‘I’m all ears,’ said Jack.

  ‘You ain’t been using the grey matter, McNally.’ Max pointed to his crotch. ‘You been listening to the little man downstairs.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  Max laughed lasciviously. ‘I expect you’re having a little t’ing with the redhead.’

  He paused and cocked his head to one side. ‘Nah, not even that. You just want her, man, and she knows it, so when she comes to you saying I tried to kill her, you accept it, no questions asked. She’s played you good.’

  Jack kept his expression intact but he could feel a tiny muscle near his eye beginning to pulsate. ‘Nobody plays me.’

  ‘Don’t feel bad about it, man, it happens to the best of us,’ said Max.

  ‘Who played you, Max? Grace Brand?’

  Max snorted in derision. ‘
That junkie whore!’

  Jack flicked a glance at Dunwoody. A seasoned brief would smell what was coming and deflect the blow, but he wasn’t Lilly and the young man concentrated on his notes, too nervous to look up let alone join the fray.

  ‘She wanted to get away from you, didn’t she? She got clean and was planning a new life. The junkie whore was going to leave you behind and you couldn’t stand it.’

  Max kissed his teeth but Jack continued.

  ‘You beat her up real bad but that didn’t stop her. So, come on, what did you do next? A big man like you had to do something.’

  Max shook his head, his breath quickening.

  ‘Come on, Max, you needed to teach her a lesson, had to make sure no one else got out of line, so what did you do?’

  Max began to bang his head on the table. Dunwoody looked frightened, but Jack pressed on.

  ‘I think you went round there to make sure she stopped her nonsense for good.’

  Max jumped up, kicking the chair behind him. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Jack stood up and placed his face a few inches from Max. ‘So tell me how it was? Did you plan to kill her or did you just lose your temper?’

  The two men remained motionless, glaring into each other’s eyes, mouths close enough to touch.

  ‘What I don’t understand is why you cut her up,’ said Jack. ‘Was it just for the hell of it?’

  Max balled his fist and drew back his arm.

  ‘Sit down, Mr Hardy,’ Dunwoody squealed.

  ‘Shut up,’ Max screamed at the solicitor, spit flying in his face.

  Jack had him now. Out of control and unable to measure his words or actions. ‘And if he doesn’t shut up, Max, what will you do? Take out your knife and carve your name on his back?’

  Max roared and leaped over the table towards Jack, who fell back.

  ‘I didn’t kill Gracie. I didn’t kill her.’

  Jack backed away. He was probably the stronger of the two, but he knew that when men lost their minds they could tear another man apart. He looked at Dunwoody; the poor kid looked terrified.

  ‘Hit the button,’ Jack shouted.

  Dunwoody didn’t move. He looked from Jack to the panic strip and back to Jack again.

  Jack felt Max’s strong hands around his throat. ‘Hit the fucking button.’

  Dunwoody began to cry and Jack knew he was in trouble. The solicitor was paralysed with fear.

  Jack prised the fingers from around his throat sufficiently to take a rasping breath.

  ‘You’re going down,’ he said to Max.

  Max smiled and shook his head, his fingers still wrapped around Jack’s windpipe. ‘Riddell, 46329,’ he whispered.

  ‘What?’ said Jack.

  ‘PC John Riddell, shoulder number 46329, arrested me at 2.25 p.m. on the seventh of September and brought me in for questioning.’ Max roared with laughter. ‘When Grace was meeting her maker I was banged up in here.’

  Jack knocked on the Chief Superintendent’s door with trepidation. He had been ordered to keep expenditure on the Brand case to a minimum but had somehow managed to use 103 extra man hours, not to mention a whole morning in the video suite. He’d been assaulted for his trouble but suspected the dressing down he was about to receive would be more painful. His heart sank further when he saw DI Bradbury sitting in one of the easy chairs, casually sipping coffee. The prospect of a bollocking in front of a younger, albeit more senior, officer was buttock-clenchingly humiliating.

  ‘Come in, Jack, take a seat.’

  The Chief’s tone was breezy and Jack felt backfooted.

  ‘We need to make a move on Brand. The Times are planning a retrospective of the Brixton riots including a three-page piece on sink estates in Britain twenty-five years later.’

  Jack wondered how the Chief Super could possibly know that, or why a newspaper article aimed at the chattering classes should impact upon the investigation, but he took his lead from Bradbury and simply nodded.

  ‘The Clayhill Estate is bound to feature heavily,’ the Chief continued, ‘and I do not want the words “no go area” to appear. We must make it absolutely clear that this force will deal with violent crime firmly.’

  ‘Zero tolerance,’ said Bradbury.

  ‘Then let’s reassess.’ The Chief Super turned to Jack. ‘Is the second suspect a runner?’

  Jack rubbed his neck. ‘No, Sir, he has an alibi.’

  ‘Is it kosher?’ asked Bradbury.

  ‘As Passover,’ said Jack.

  The Chief Super rubbed his hands as if they were discussing Christmas and not the murder of a prostitute. ‘Excellent. And this second statement from the neighbour?’

  ‘It tightens things up,’ said Bradbury.

  Jack was momentarily tempted to point out Lilly’s assertion that Mrs Mitchell could not have seen into Grace’s kitchen from her window but thought better of it. Why remind the Chief that he had been spending good money, unauthorised money, trying to help the suspect’s solicitor?

  ‘Then we’re agreed that Kelsey Brand should be charged.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bradbury.

  Jack just coughed.

  ‘You let him go?’ yelled Lilly.

  ‘On police bail,’ answered Jack. ‘I needed some time to decide what I’m charging him with.’

  ‘The bastard nearly killed me! Try attempted murder.’

  She was astounded by this turn of events and wondered why Jack wouldn’t look her in the eye. ‘Talk to me, Jack, tell me what on earth’s going on.’

  Jack looked around to check no one could overhear. ‘He came up with a bloody good story.’

  He passed a videotape to Lilly. ‘I want you to see what he’s saying before you commit yourself to a trial.’

  Lilly took the tape and pushed it into her bag. ‘Are you allowed to do that?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Lilly ran her hands through her hair and sighed. She knew Jack was taking a massive risk to do her a favour, that he was thinking of her, but she had never felt so drained. ‘I need to go home and get my head straight.’

  ‘Sorry, but you have to stay,’ said Jack.

  Couldn’t he see her mind was about to explode? ‘Jesus, surely the paperwork can wait,’ she shouted.

  At last he looked at her properly. ‘You need to be here to represent Kelsey, she’s on her way over.’

  Lilly didn’t understand. ‘Why?’

  ‘She’s being charged with murder.’

  The next hour passed in a blur. Lilly caught herself viewing it all from a position of dispassionate objectivity. Kelsey arrived with Miriam and was led to the custody suite. She stood at the high desk with her face buried deep into her chest and listened as the sergeant charged her with the brutal murder of her own mother. Kelsey made no reply.

  Lilly watched as they searched the girl, patting her pockets and unravelling her turn-ups. She felt nothing. It was as if she were a spectator in her own life. Unattached. Apart. The events of the last twenty-four hours had been too much and her emotions had shut down. Frankly it felt better that way.

  When WPC Spicer led Kelsey into a side room and scraped the inside of her cheek with a white plastic swab Lilly didn’t experience her usual horror at another child being swallowed into the DNA database. Instead she was numb, and it felt good.

  Whether through pity for the young accused or fear that her solicitor had suffered some sort of breakdown, the sergeant led Kelsey not to a cell but to an empty interview room.

  ‘Don’t leave her,’ he said to Miriam. ‘Not for a second.’

  It wasn’t clear whether he was referring to Kelsey or Lilly.

  They sat in silence, Kelsey staring at the floor, Lilly staring at the wall, and Miriam staring at them both.

  At last, Miriam clicked her fingers. ‘Snap out of it, you two.’

  Neither Kelsey nor Lilly moved.

  Miriam’s voice rose. ‘Look at me, Lilly.’

  Lilly tried to foc
us on her friend’s face. It seemed so distant. Out of focus.

  ‘I know you’ve had an ordeal.’ Miriam’s voice was firm but not harsh. ‘But this girl needs you firing on all cylinders.’

  It was Kelsey that moved first to pick up paper and pen.

  I’m sorry he hurt you.

  Lilly reread the words three times and felt herself being sucked from her place of safety back to the interview room. She tumbled into reality, gagging at the sickly smell of the bin at her feet, deafened by the noise of everyone breathing and shielding her eyes from the onslaught of light and colour all around her. She gasped in pain and held on to the side of her chair to steady herself.

  Miriam smiled. ‘Welcome back, girlfriend.’

  Lilly grabbed Kelsey’s hand and held it against her chest. ‘I think I know why your mum was killed. I think she was trying to get away from Max and either he or someone working for him wouldn’t let her do that.’

  Kelsey nodded. Was it in agreement? Or was she simply acknowledging Lilly’s opinion?

  Lilly kept a tight grip on Kelsey’s hand. ‘I won’t let you down. I’m going to find all the answers so don’t be frightened.’

  The look on Kelsey’s face confirmed she wasn’t frightened. She was terrified.

  There was a tap on the door and Jack poked his head into the room. ‘We’ll take Kelsey to court now.’

  Lilly nodded but Miriam was incredulous. ‘This minute?’

  Lilly’s tone was resigned. ‘They can’t release her, Miriam.’

  ‘Why the hell not? They can bail her till next week and I’ll take her to court myself,’ said Miriam.

  ‘This is a murder rap, not a speeding ticket. I expect Jack has arranged for a late sitting over at the court so the poor kid doesn’t have to stay here in a cell overnight,’ said Lilly.

  Jack shrugged a confirmation and Lilly took Miriam’s hand as well, so they all three sat as if at a séance waiting for a sign.

  ‘Like I said, there’s no reason to be frightened.’

  Nancy Donaldson checked her watch and was surprised to note she had forgotten to eat lunch. Many of her peers often missed their breaks and worked well into the evenings, but being Hermione Barrows’ assistant brought little in the way of stress or constraints upon her time. Until now. The last few days had seen Hermione catapulted into the public eye, and Nancy had been fielding a nonstop stream of requests for comments, interviews and meetings.