by Mel Sherratt
‘If the police find you with it, you could be charged with his murder!’
‘I didn’t kill him!’
‘But you know how they stitch people up if they’re short on evidence. You were probably the last person to see him until Rita Pritchard took Maisie for a walk this morning. It only takes one sneaky bastard in Harrison House to get wind of that and someone will start talking. And even if the police don’t know anything, the Johnson family will want to know where it is. They’ll be looking for whoever killed Jordan too. You need to get rid of it.’
‘I can’t.’
‘I think you should take it to your mum’s.’
Leah took a deep breath. ‘It seems a little dodgy to move it while the police are around.’
‘A little . . .’ Stella stared at her, wide-eyed. ‘The whole frigging thing is dodgy!’
‘I can’t undo what I’ve done!’ Leah stood up. ‘Should I just throw it out of the window? Let the search party find it?’
‘Don’t be stupid. Someone will see it fall. There’re neighbours everywhere, never mind the police.’ Stella thought for a second. ‘Shall I have a word with Craig? He might know what to –’
‘No!’ Leah shook her head vehemently. ‘You can’t tell anyone!’
‘But the police are practically metres away from you!’ Stella jerked her thumb in the direction of the door.
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ She looked down at Stella with pleading eyes. ‘I need to think things through. Just give me a bit of time.’
‘Okay.’
‘You have to promise that you won’t tell anyone I have it.’
‘I promise,’ Stella replied.
‘I mean it, Stel. Especially not Craig.’
‘I won’t tell a soul.’ Stella stood up and drew Leah into her arms. ‘I’m scared for you, hun, but we’ll sort this out.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Look, I’d better go and see what he wants me for. You never know, he might have some useful information.’
‘You promise not to tell him?’
‘I promise. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
10.45 A.M.
Stella left Leah’s flat in a state of nervous excitement. As she made her way back to her own flat, her mind was in turmoil with gossip overload. She could see the police had moved along to her side of the first floor. Officers were knocking on doors three away from hers. Once she had seen what Craig wanted her for, she was going back downstairs. The stakes had been raised dramatically. She needed to find out as much as she could now.
She steeled herself for Craig’s onslaught. Even she knew she’d have a tough time keeping everything that he and Leah had told her to herself. Jordan Johnson had been murdered and her best friend had stolen a load of money from him. It just didn’t get any better than that.
Was she right to feel so excited? The money wasn’t Leah’s. She had broken the law. But still, she couldn’t help the wave of euphoria that kept ripping through her.
Outside their door, Craig stood on the walkway looking down on the commotion. Deciding to keep her promise and not tell him about the money, she rested a hand on his back.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ he snarled.
‘What’s the big rush? I’ve only been along to see Leah.’
‘The pigs are going to be at the door soon. We need to get straight on our story.’
‘What do you mean?’
Craig looked behind and grabbed her arm. ‘They’ll want to know what time I came home last night.’
‘You told me to say twelve. I don’t understand why I need to lie for you, though.’
He pushed her inside the flat and closed the door. ‘You know what the police are like. They only need a reason to lock me up. I’m always the main target for anything going on, just because I have a record.’
‘That’s usually because you’ve done something wrong.’ She paused. ‘You haven’t touched Jordan so I don’t see why I should –’
‘Just do as you’re fucking told!’
‘Okay, okay,’ she cried, flouncing into the living room. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘That I got in just after midnight.’ He followed her.
‘Yes, you told me that already.’
‘Just say I bought a takeaway in or something.’
‘What takeaway?’
‘What does it matter?’
‘It matters a lot. They could catch you out if they want to know which one you visited, what you had. What if you say somewhere that is closed now? Or somewhere that has CCTV? You need to think things through.’
‘For fuck’s sake, this isn’t Law & Order UK.’
‘I’m just saying, that’s all.’ Stella shrugged her shoulders. ‘Anyway, weren’t you at Flynn’s last night?’
‘Yeah, I told you I was at the party.’
‘So there’ll be CCTV of you leaving, right? You’ll be in the clear so you don’t need to lie.’
‘No, there was no CCTV working.’ Craig planted an unexpected kiss on her lips. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Why? What’s going on? Either you were at Flynn’s until you got home at half past three or you weren’t.’
‘Mind your own business, Stella.’
There was a knock at the door.
Craig pushed her towards it. ‘Remember what I said and keep your fucking trap shut.’
Allie flashed her warrant card at Stella. ‘Mind if we come in and have a word?’
Stella held the door open and Allie and Perry walked in.
Allie could walk the layout of the flats in her sleep now. Every one in Harrison House was the same. Long hallway. On the left, two small bedrooms. To her right, a kitchen and bathroom, in between them an airing cupboard. To the far end, the living room.
Craig Elliott was sitting on the settee. He glanced at them warily.
‘I can’t believe someone has been murdered outside here,’ he said. ‘Do you know who it is yet?’
‘Yes,’ said Allie, ‘but we’re not releasing a name until formal identification has taken place.’
‘Right.’
Allie was already on alert. There was none of the usual cocksure attitude that they normally got from Elliott. And something wasn’t right with Stella, who had quickly turned the colour of an overripe tomato. Blushing before she had started to ask questions wasn’t a good sign.
‘We’re just checking on a few details,’ she told them as Perry got out his notepad. ‘Can you both tell me your whereabouts this morning between the hours of one a.m. and four a.m., please?’
‘That’s easy,’ said Craig. ‘We were both in bed, weren’t we, Stella?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Stella wouldn’t look at either of them. She sat down, seeming more interested in a spot on the wall behind Perry’s head. ‘We went to bed at midnight, just after Craig came in.’
‘Where had you been?’ Allie addressed Craig.
‘To a party at Flynn’s nightclub. I work there but it was my night off.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Bouncer on the doors.’
‘So I suppose people can vouch for you being there?’
‘Of course.’
‘So they must be able to vouch for what time you left, too?’
‘I guess.’
‘They have cameras at Flynn’s, Mr Elliott?’
‘Yes, but they don’t always work, though. I think they were down last night. Some problem with the machine, I was told.’
‘Ah, that’s a pity. How about you?’ Allie turned her attention to Stella next. ‘Is there anyone who can vouch for you?’
‘You’ve already asked me that.’ Stella’s face reddened even further. She stood up and then sat down again next to Craig and folded her arms. ‘Craig’s just said he was at home with me from midnight,
so I was with him.’
‘You didn’t go out at all last night?’
‘I was at work until half past ten, The Golden Plaice chippie in Goldenhill.’
‘And you got home at . . . ?’
‘Eleven. My friend gave me a lift.’
‘Name and address of your friend?’
‘Sylvia Minor. She lives on Highgate Road, number one four seven.’
Allied nodded. She paused to see if anything more would be forthcoming but she was met with silence. ‘A woman fitting your description was seen coming into the building shortly after the body was found in the early hours,’ she said after a few moments. ‘You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?’
Stella gulped. ‘I told you, I was in bed.’
‘Just need to hear it from you. It’s a process of elimination.’
‘Wait a minute! You’re not suspecting I had anything to do with the incident outside, are you?’
Allie stayed stoic. ‘We’ve been told she had long dark hair so I’m checking on lots of women in the flats. I’m just establishing the facts.’
‘Do you think –’
‘Stel, let the good people do their job and be on their way,’ Craig tried to pacify her. ‘We’re not involved so there’s nothing to worry about, is there, Sergeant?’
Allie held his gaze. ‘Not at the moment, no.’ She nodded at Perry and he closed his notebook. As they both turned to the door, she smiled. ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’
Once outside on the walkway, Allie looked at Perry and shook her head. They moved away for a moment. Then Allie grabbed his arm and they stepped back and listened. Sure enough, she couldn’t make out what was being said but there were definitely loud voices.
‘Something heated being discussed, boss?’ Perry raised his eyebrows and smirked.
Allie nodded. ‘It’s just like Stella to land herself in it because she says too much. She was so defensive when I asked where she was.’
‘Sounds like she knows more than she’s letting on.’
‘And it seems that Elliott is none too pleased about it as well.’
They walked away, Allie looking back over her shoulder, half expecting Craig to come storming out of the flat.
‘One of them, or both, are keeping something from us,’ she said. ‘We’ll wheedle it out of them soon.’
‘So do you want to tell me where you were for the three hours you’re wanting me to lie about?’ Stella stood in the living room with her arms folded.
‘Just doing some business.’
‘I hope that wasn’t the female type of business that you were doing last year. Because you told me that was all over.’
‘It’s business,’ he reiterated. ‘I need to go to Flynn’s later.’
‘Is that to do with Jordan?’
She heard him sigh. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Maybe because your boss has died and I thought that you’d be consoling Ryan and the others.’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm but then she relented. ‘I know Jordan was a big part of everything.’
‘Jordan was a piece of shit who didn’t mind who he trod on to get his own way.’
Shocked by his hostility, Stella said nothing.
Craig glared at her, enough to make her skin redden again. ‘You haven’t told anyone who it is, have you?’ he asked, his tone accusatory.
‘Of course not.’ She dropped her eyes for a moment. ‘Craig, what’s wrong? You’re so tetchy today.’
‘Nothing.’ His phone rang. He glanced at it and groaned. ‘I have to go.’ He checked his jacket pocket for his keys before answering the call.
‘When will you be . . . ?’ Stella sighed as he walked off. She stood for a while watching everything below but she couldn’t stop thinking about Leah.
Inside the flat, she grabbed her purse again. She’d go downstairs, see if she could find anything else out. Then she’d go to the shops, grab some sandwiches and head on back to see Leah. No doubt she’d be too scared to show her face yet. Then they could work out what to do about the money. If she played her cards right, some of it could be hers by the end of the day.
And if not, there might be a finder’s fee in it somewhere along the line.
11.30 A.M.
It had been over three years since Allie had been to Royal Avenue, yet just pulling up outside The Gables had her covered from head to toe in goosebumps. A flood of memories rushed to her mind, things she thought she’d buried long ago. Even now she couldn’t believe her own stupidity – the danger she’d put herself in. And still she felt mortified at having been attracted to Terry. Him, of all people – a criminal and a murderer. She knew she’d gone too far to get at the truth, and it still haunted her.
The Gables was a five-bedroomed property with a three-car garage attached to it and a specially commissioned stained-glass window above the entrance depicting the emblem of the local premier football team.
Allie wondered if there were more secrets behind the oak-panelled double doors now than the first time she had called. Back then, she’d been visiting and interviewing local businessman Terry Ryder after his wife had been murdered. Their daughter Kirstie had been almost eighteen. After her father had been sent down, Kirstie had stayed in the house, taking over things. But as much as she liked lording it up while he was in prison, and thought she had the freedom of the city because no one dared touch the daughter of Terry Ryder, she had kept her nose fairly clean.
She wondered, too, if having a Johnson brother nearby had worked out well for Kirstie. It must have given her confidence, and Allie wondered whether that would be knocked with his death, or whether she’d still be as bolshie as she had been at seventeen.
When Nick arrived a couple of minutes later, he briefed her on his findings. Jordan’s mother, Betty Johnson, hadn’t seen Jordan for three days but had spoken to him on the phone a few times.
‘She doesn’t have an alibi as she was in the house alone last night,’ he told Allie as they walked up the driveway of The Gables. ‘But at this stage in the enquiry, there’s no reason to think that she was in any way involved.’
‘Thanks, sir. Did you hear that we found his mobile phone? It went off while we were on scene. It was in the grass: it might have been slung there so we’re looking for prints, too. Someone sent a text message. Dave heard the alert and then rang the number back. A woman answered but she hung up when he asked who he was speaking to.’
‘Interesting.’
‘I tasked Sam with getting on to Single Point of Contact and they’re working on the call log now.’
‘Thanks. Right, let’s get this over with.’
Allie could easily see why Kirstie Ryder would fall for the bad-boy looks of either Johnson brother when Ryan opened the door. At thirty-seven, he was very much a version of his younger brother – tall, dark hair and skin, slim and healthy. His clothes looked expensive, as was, she assumed, the cologne she could smell wafting her way. She breathed it in, enjoying its fresh, clean aroma compared to the vile odours she’d smelt coming from some of the flats that morning.
‘Mr Johnson, Detective Inspector Carter. This is Detective Sergeant Shenton,’ Nick introduced them both.
‘Yes,’ Ryan looked at Allie in particular, ‘we’ve met before.’
Nick raised his eyebrows.
‘I was talking to Joe Tranter not long before he died. Terrible news about him.’ Ryan held the door open and met Allie’s stare. It made her feel uncomfortable but she didn’t let it show.
Inside, the hall was exactly the same as Allie remembered it from three years ago too. Cream textured wall, a light oak parquet floor and a ridiculously over-the-top chandelier. To her left, a large oak cabinet claimed most of one wall, glass doors protecting a collection of Wedgwood pieces and Royal Doulton figurines. Up above, a lofty ceiling and a galleried landing. Downstairs, double doors
to their right.
‘We’re sorry for your loss,’ said Nick.
Allie noticed Ryan’s eyes welling up as he showed them through to the living room.
‘So you’ve been staying here too?’ Nick asked.
Ryan cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I separated from my wife a few months back.’
It took all of Allie’s will to stop from giggling at the sight of the huge portrait of Kirstie and Jordan on the back wall. They were sitting on a red sofa, wearing jeans and white shirts. Both had bare feet and cheesy grins, artfully posed but dreadfully tasteless, in her opinion. The image must have been at least six foot by four. She laughed inwardly, thinking how Terry Ryder would have responded if he’d known it was there. Such trash in his oh-so-orderly house.
She looked around, anywhere but at that awful picture, and felt a blush rising sharply across her cheeks as she tried not to picture herself sitting on the settee with Terry. The decor in this room was as it had been before, too, which surprised her a little. Kirstie obviously hadn’t felt the need to make her mark in her father’s absence. There were two large black leather settees, a coffee table in the middle of the vast floor area, and violent slashes of red added here and there in stark contrast to the pale cream walls. The room led onto a large dining area and state-of-the-art kitchen, glazed doors framing a lawn large enough to hold a marquee.
A young woman with long dark hair walked into the room. She was small and slim. Her eyes were red from crying but they still had the steely, determined look in them that reminded Allie of her father. Allie swallowed.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, anyone but you,’ Kirstie muttered. She pointed to the door. ‘I do not want you in my house!’
‘We won’t keep you long, Kirstie,’ Nick spoke matter-of-factly. ‘We’re sorry for your loss but, as you can imagine, we need to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible.’
‘Like you did when you stitched my dad up?’
Allie straightened up with a frown. Nick ignored Kirstie’s jibe altogether.
‘Can you tell me when you last saw Jordan?’ he asked her.