by Mel Sherratt
They walked in silence past Sentinel House and on to Marsh Street.
‘Who’s meeting us there?’ Perry asked over the noise of a bus going past.
‘Flynn’s isn’t opening this evening so I asked Burgess to gather as many of the staff as he could for us to chat to. He emailed a list to Sam earlier on and she’s been checking through it. I’ve got a couple of uniform coming now too. If we need any more, we’ll go back to individual people tomorrow.’ Allie had put a call out for officers at Harrison House to bring Craig Elliott in but he hadn’t been at his address. ‘For now, you and I can do a quick sweep around and if Elliott shows up, we can nip over there as quick as.’
At the door to Flynn’s nightclub, they were let in by one of the bar staff. He was late teens at a push, straw-thin as well as tall, with layered black hair, a range of tattoos and what seemed to be eyeliner underneath his eyes.
‘Were you working last night, Mr . . . ?’ asked Allie.
‘Baker. Will Baker.’ He pointed to the stairs in front of them and led them up. ‘I was in from eight until about two,’ he said over his shoulder.
‘Did you see Jordan Johnson?’
‘Yeah, I was on the bar. It was pretty busy for a Wednesday because of the party.’
They were at the top of the stairs now and Will showed them into a large room with burgundy velvet seating and matching draped curtains, a floor for dancing in the middle and a bar the length of the left wall. Dotted around the comfy chairs and sofas were about fifteen people. Allie assumed glass collectors and washer-uppers. Bar staff. As Perry started questioning, she went over to Steve Burgess.
‘Do you know if Ryan Johnson came back to the party again after he’d left at midnight?’ she asked.
‘Not as far as I know.’ Steve shook his head. ‘The CCTV footage I gave you should tell you for certain.’
‘Thanks.’ Although Allie already had her suspicions that this was right, she wanted to hear it from him too. Of course Ryan could have gone back home to The Gables – there had been enough time. And if Ryan and Kirstie were at home, they could give each other an alibi. They’d have to question them both again. Out of the two of them, Kirstie was bound to slip up with that mouth of hers.
The door by her side opened and a slight woman with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail came in. As she hung up her coat, Allie made her way over to her. She was certain she was the girl from the footage that Kirstie Ryder was arguing with.
‘You were at the party last night,’ she said.
‘Yes, I was working the bar.’ The girl burst into tears. ‘I can’t believe Jordan’s dead.’
‘Did you get on well with him – sorry, what’s your name?’
‘Lauren Michaels. He was great fun if he liked you, not so much if he didn’t. I got on well with him, though. Although nothing like what she was accusing me of.’
‘Who?’
‘Kirstie Ryder, his girlfriend. She had a right go at Jordan and then she had a go at me. She’s bloody mental! Jordan is off limits to anyone – we know that. But I’m not sure why she’s so possessive with him, as it’s obvious that they can’t stand the sight of each other.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘On the outside they put up a good appearance, but up here in the VIP club, they’re often arguing. She turns up unannounced all the time and it always ends up in a fight.’
‘Do you think he was seeing anyone else?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘Would anyone else know?’
‘They could but I think they might deny it. They look after their own here.’
Allie’s phone rang. ‘I have to answer this,’ she told Lauren when she saw that it was Nick. ‘Thanks for your help.’
After taking the call, Allie disconnected it with a sigh. When she’d left the station, she’d thought she’d got away with not going to the morgue, but he did want her there now. It was going to take all night to interview the staff at Flynn’s at this rate if they trickled in so she radioed through for the uniform backup. Still, one thing seemed to be coming through loud and clear: Jordan and Kirstie had not been the loving couple that Kirstie would have them believe.
And if that was the case, why had they been keeping up a united front?
Steve would be glad when the police had gone from Flynn’s. Even though they weren’t opening so there was no rush, he still didn’t want them there. Interfering, poking their noses in. It put him on edge that he would slip up, too.
His mobile rang.
‘Burgess,’ he answered when he saw it was an unavailable number.
‘Everything good there?’
Steve sniggered as he recognised the caller. ‘It’s going okay for now. A slight problem but nothing we can’t sort.’
Laughter. ‘How’s my girl hanging on?’
‘She’s okay. Played a blinder by causing a commotion last night.’
‘And she and Ryan got their story straight?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Good. Make it happen then, yes?’
Steve nodded. ‘Oh, yes, we’ll make it happen.’
8.00 P.M.
Allie arrived back at Harrison House with members of the Johnson family. Tired and exhausted with the day’s events, she felt even more drained of emotion after they’d visited and identified Jordan’s body in the morgue. Even though she’d had to push her thoughts of Karen aside, it was too much of a reminder that she would be doing that soon, saying goodbye to a close family member.
Afterwards, Betty Johnson had wanted to see where her son had been murdered. Perry had also come back to the flats after leaving other officers to interview the remaining staff at Flynn’s. Allie wasn’t sure whether they’d find anything useful there. The staff had all seemed pretty honest.
Ryan walked behind his mother as she stumbled up the path. Kirstie held on to one arm, and Ryan’s ex-wife, Nicole, hung onto the other. Even though it was dark, cold and raining, nets were twitching. A group of teenagers over by the entrance were making a nuisance of themselves, one circling on his bike and screaming. It was so unnecessary.
Allie held back her own tears as she witnessed the family’s distress. At the morgue, she’d wanted to ask Ryan and Kirstie about leaving Flynn’s nightclub the night before but when she saw his body behind the glass, all emotions had welled up inside her. It seemed inappropriate right then, just as it seemed inappropriate right at this minute. Ryan seemed deeply upset by his brother’s death now, far more than this morning when she first saw him. Maybe it was sinking in for him, too.
‘I didn’t want Mum to come until tomorrow,’ he spoke to Allie. ‘I wanted to get a proper wreath, not garage forecourt tat. But she wanted to come tonight, as soon as she could.’
‘People often need to,’ Allie responded. ‘Sometimes they won’t believe it’s happened until they see for themselves. It must be very hard to take in when a family member leaves you in such tragic circumstances.’ She swallowed hard and looked away for a moment.
‘Have you got the flowers, Ryan?’ Betty turned back to them, holding out a shaky hand. She was dressed in a long black coat, a black fake-fur scarf tied tightly around her neck. Her eyes were red but she still took pride with her appearance: a little lipstick, grey hair in a bob curling under almost to perfection.
Ryan handed the cellophane bundles to her. ‘I promise to get some better ones in the morning, Mum,’ he said, his voice breaking with emotion.
Betty burst into tears as she laid down a bunch of chrysanthemums. Nicole held on to her arm and they cried together. Kirstie stayed just behind them, hands clasped in front. Allie turned when she heard Ryan sob, but he gathered his composure quickly.
They stood in silence. Even though the screams and chants from the group of teens weren’t anything to do with what was going on, she hoped the n
oise didn’t carry too much. But a few seconds later it went quiet. One of her colleagues must have gone across to them, she surmised, told them to show some compassion.
A few minutes later, Allie watched again as Ryan stiffened when Betty was led away by Nicole and Kirstie, his face creased into annoyance rather than grief.
‘Have you any idea yet who would do this to your brother, Mr Johnson?’ Allie asked him again. ‘You haven’t been able to think of anything else since this morning?’
‘I have no idea – isn’t that your job?’ Ryan bristled. ‘I thought you would have had someone in custody by now. It’s been nearly twenty-four hours.’
‘We’re still making enquiries.’
‘I hope you find whoever was responsible soon, Sergeant.’
Even though his tone was threatening, Allie chose to say nothing. She wouldn’t put it past him to seek revenge given his reputation, but, unless there was evidence to prove that he was somehow involved, even she couldn’t retaliate when he’d just seen his brother lying dead in the morgue and was now visiting the place of his death. She might have to be hard to do her job but it was only on the outside. And there was always room for compassion.
As she left them at their car, she sent a quick message to Simon Cole. She wanted to make sure that if the paper did take any photos of the crappy flowers, they could come back and take fresh ones once the family wreath was laid. It was the little things that made the most difference for the families.
‘Going up to 209 for a moment,’ she shouted to Perry. Before he could follow, she was halfway up the stairs. If Craig Elliott hadn’t come home yet, it might work out in her favour if she could get Stella on her own.
8.15 P.M.
Sophie looked through the spy hole and paled to see a man she instantly recognised. She’d never seen Jordan’s brother before but they were so alike she knew it had to be him. She slid the chain on the lock and opened the door the inch or two allowed.
‘I – I –’ She gasped, her hand covering her mouth.
Ryan frowned.
‘I’m sorry, you look so much like your brother.’
‘You knew him, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, a tear already dripping down her cheek. Her hand went to her mouth to hold in a sob as she watched him check up and down the landing.
‘I know about you and Jordan.’
Sophie closed her eyes momentarily. She didn’t want to see him.
‘Please,’ Ryan said, ‘can I come in for a moment? I won’t keep you long. I have my mum downstairs in the car. I just need to talk to you.’
Sophie nodded. In the living room, she stood in the doorway as Ryan moved to the window.
Unsure what to do, she spoke into the uncomfortable silence. ‘Would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea?’
He turned to her and shook his head. She could tell he was hurting – red rings around his eyes, drooping shoulders. His stance was sharp and his dress was keen, but holding himself together was a front.
‘Were you meeting him last night?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘But he didn’t show up.’
‘When did you find out what had happened?’
‘This morning.’ Sophie came into the doorway and leaned against the frame with her hands behind her back. ‘I never ring him. If he doesn’t come, I know something has come up. He can’t always keep to our arrangements.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
He nodded.
‘How long have you known?’
‘A few months. He told me.’
‘Does she know?’
‘Kirstie?’ He sat down on the settee. ‘I’d hope not, for your sake. She can be a nasty bitch.’
Sophie sat down in the chair.
‘Have the police questioned you yet?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I couldn’t tell them anything as I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if he was coming or not. I went to bed. He –’ She looked down at the carpet, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. ‘I knew he’d wake me up.’
That silence again. Ryan stared straight ahead.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said eventually.
‘Did you love him?’
She nodded, another tear escaping. ‘With all my heart.’
‘So you’re positive he didn’t come here first and then get attacked?’
‘Of course. Why would you say that?’
‘Something’s gone missing.’ Ryan shrugged.
‘Money?’ Sophie guessed.
He looked at her. ‘How do you know?’
‘I had a visit from Craig Elliott earlier.’
‘Did he threaten you?’ Ryan’s features darkened.
‘A little. He left, though, once he realised I didn’t have anything.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No.’ She wiped away another tear that had dripped down her cheek.
‘If you hear anything, will you ring me?’ Ryan stood up and took out his wallet. ‘If anyone threatens you or intimidates you, if you see anything suspicious going on, call this number any time.’ He handed her his business card.
Sophie closed the door behind him and sank down onto the carpet behind the door. She held a hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying so that he would go before she gave herself away.
Jordan was still gone. The police were looking for his killer and she had lost him forever.
She thought she had no more tears left but they came in force again.
Allie knocked on the door to flat 209.
‘Might I have a word?’ She stepped inside before Stella could protest. ‘Is Craig in?’ she asked when they were in the living room.
‘He’s been and gone out.’ Stella was looking through the window, keeping her back to Allie.
‘Do you know what time he left?’
‘No.’
Allie frowned. ‘Stella?’
Stella didn’t turn around.
‘Stella,’ she said, ‘look at me.’
Reluctantly, Stella turned to face her. Her lip was swollen and bruises were already forming on her chin. It was obvious that she had been crying, too.
‘What happened?’
‘I walked into a door.’
Allie sighed. ‘Did Craig do that to you?’
‘No.’
Stella folded her arms so Allie didn’t press her anymore.
‘It’s not just Craig I wanted to see,’ she said, spotting an opportunity. ‘I wanted to talk to you too.’
‘Me?’ Stella took a small step back.
‘I just wondered what you thought of this whole thing. It’s kind of a coincidence, don’t you think, that Jordan Johnson was found here?’
‘Not really.’
‘You don’t think Craig had anything to do with his murder? He worked for him, after all – was there ever any friction?’
‘No! Why would I think that?’ Stella shook her head vehemently.
Allie stared at her. ‘You’re not covering for him, are you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Okay.’ Allie made a show of getting out her notebook. ‘Only there are some discrepancies in what you told me earlier today. Can you confirm again for me what time Craig got in last night?’
‘It was midnight.’
‘But we have him on camera leaving Flynn’s nightclub just after midnight. Which means that even if he came straight home, it would have been more like half past twelve. That’s right, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘I must have got it wrong then.’ Stella shuffled on the spot.
‘So what time did he come in?’
‘It must have been when you said.’
‘So if I said he left Flynn’s at half past two, would you say that he got home about three?’
‘No, it was definitely midnightish.’ Stella shook her head.
‘Another thing I find strange, Stella, is that we have CCTV footage of his car parked in Regina Street last night. Do you know why it would be parked there and not here on the car park?’
‘No.’ Stella’s shoulders drooped.
‘Don’t you find that strange?’
‘He’s – he’s always running out of petrol. Perhaps he did that last night.’
Allie laughed. ‘He could roll down the bank and park it nearer than that. Nice try, Stella. You also know that he’d been drinking last night, so are you telling me he was drink driving?’
‘You can’t blame me if he was.’
‘Is there anyone he knows in Regina Street?’
Stella suddenly found the carpet interesting to study. ‘You might be better coming back when he can answer his own questions.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be asking him the minute I see him.’ Allie put her notebook away. ‘You know, if he’s involved and we find out that you’re covering for him in any way, you’ll be in trouble, too. I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I’d hate to see you locked up in prison because you’re covering for a toe-rag like Craig.’
Eventually Stella glanced at her fleetingly. ‘You don’t think it was a random attack on Jordan Johnson, do you?’
‘Do you?’
‘I – I don’t know what to think but Craig can’t be involved. He wouldn’t do anything like that.’
Allie stayed quiet.
‘He wouldn’t!’
She left the flat satisfied that she’d put doubt in Stella’s mind. As she stepped out onto the walkway, Ryan Johnson was next door, outside Sophie Nicklin’s flat. They glanced at each other surreptitiously. She couldn’t hear anything untoward as she walked away. They seemed to be having a peaceful discussion. She hoped they’d found comfort in each other’s words.
She was walking downstairs to Perry when her phone rang. It was Mark.
‘Hey, you!’ She felt genuinely calmed to hear his voice.
‘You’re definitely going to be there all night then?’