All the Empty Places

by Mark Timlin

  ‘Something like that.’ Hawes and Blackford looked puzzled at our dialogue. ‘Gentlemen,’ said Lewis to them, almost rubbing his hands in glee, ‘I think we should have a conference before we continue.’

  The three of them left the room and a young uniform came in and stood at ease by the door. I drank their rotten tea and smoked a cigarette. The young uniform looked like he was going to be sick at the smell of smoke. They don’t make coppers like they used to.

  There was no ashtray so I stubbed the cigarette on the floor as the three detectives returned. The young PC looked hurt at that too. The cigarette that is. Perhaps he was part of the litter squad.

  ‘Well, Sharman,’ said Lewis when he’d dismissed the uniform. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘My solicitor,’ I reminded them.

  ‘And who is your solicitor?’ asked Blackford.

  ‘Jerry Finbarr,’ I replied. They looked at each other. They all knew his name right enough. ‘And Sheila worked for him,’ I added.

  ‘Cosy,’ said Lewis.

  ‘Just circumstance,’ I replied.

  The three looked at me like I was some strange species they’d never encountered before.

  ‘Can you get him for me?’ I asked.

  ‘I think we have a contact number,’ said Lewis. ‘Meanwhile why don’t we have a little chat. I hope you have no objections.’

  ‘I’ll talk,’ I said. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide. But if it gets sticky I’ll wait for Jerry.’

  ‘Seems fair,’ said Blackford. ‘I’ll just set up the tape recorder.’

  17

  All three of them were going to sit in on the interview. Even in that part of south London there’s only so many chances to get involved in a murder investigation. In fact since Brixton had turned into a sort of low-rent Notting Hill full of Bohos drinking cappuccino and eating carrot cake with no smoking in restaurants and skips outside every house, the front line seemed to have moved north of the river, in the direction of Hackney and Dalston and beyond, taking the drugs and guns with it. Not all of them of course, but enough.

  I didn’t mind. I wasn’t under arrest and I wanted to help them catch Sheila’s killer. And besides it was something to do. Something to stop me thinking about what I’d seen in her bedroom. There was plenty of time for that. There was going to be plenty of time for a lot of things. A long, long, lonely time, stretching out in front of me like a blank sheet.

  Before they started, Lewis fucked off and came back with a thick, brown file. I didn’t bother trying to read what it said on the front upside down, but I’d’ve bet it was mine. Blackford checked the tapes on the machine, gave the date, time and those present.

  Hawes took the lead, which surprised me a little, but then I suppose it was meant to. ‘Before we go any further, Mr Sharman,’ he said, ‘I’m going to caution you.’

  ‘Do you think I did it?’ I asked.

  ‘This is just for the record, Mr Sharman,’ he said.

  And just in case they wanted to do me for not calling them sooner, I thought, but I didn’t care. ‘Then I should wait for Finbarr maybe,’ I said.

  ‘That’s your privilege.’

  ‘Isn’t it just.’

  ‘So?’ he said.

  ‘Do what you want,’ I replied. ‘See if I fucking care.’

  So he did, and once that was sorted he said, ‘Now, Mr Sharman, tell me exactly what happened this morning.’

  I told him. I told him about walking round to Sheila’s house and what I’d found there. I told him about calling the police and what had happened since. It didn’t take long. It wasn’t War and Peace. I tried to be as accurate about the times as possible. I should’ve called the coppers when I first found her, I knew that by then. But what’s done is done and there’s no use crying over spilt milk as my old gran would’ve said.

  ‘Right, Mr Sharman,’ said Blackford, taking centre stage. ‘How long have you known the deceased?’

  ‘She’s got a name,’ I said. ‘Use it if you don’t mind. She’s not a piece of meat.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Lewis frowned at Blackford’s apology.

  ‘How long have you known Miss Madden?’ Blackford continued.

  ‘Ages. I told you she worked for Finbarr. I met her in the office years ago. But we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months.’

  ‘Seeing each other?’ He put a question mark at the end.

  ‘As a couple,’ I said. Then looked at Lewis. ‘You know, as lovers. We slept together, things like that.’

  ‘I know what couples do,’ said Lewis.

  ‘You amaze me,’ I said. ‘Been to the zoo have you? Because I’m sure no human would do it with the likes of you.’

  ‘Enjoy yourself, Sharman,’ he said. ‘It’s later than you think.’

  ‘We’ve had a preliminary time of death put at seven this morning,’ Blackford interrupted. ‘Where were you then?’

  ‘At home in bed.’

  ‘And your flat is just a couple of minutes’ walk away from Miss Madden’s.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Were you alone in bed?’

  ‘Yes.’ I almost laughed.

  ‘So no witnesses?’

  ‘Not even a budgie.’

  ‘And you didn’t see Miss Madden yesterday.’

  ‘In the morning. I stayed over at her place Thursday night.’

  ‘You parted friends?’

  ‘Certainly. We were friends.’

  ‘You saw a lot of her?’

  ‘Yes. Almost every day since the spring.’

  ‘But not last night.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So what was she doing?’

  ‘Working late.’

  ‘And yourself?’

  ‘Working too.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘I was serving a summons. I’m a private enquiry agent –’

  Lewis snorted at that, but I ignored him.

  ‘It was on a builder in Brixton who didn’t finish a conservatory for a client of mine.’

  ‘And did you? Serve the summons that is?’

  I nodded.

  ‘For the tape please, Mr Sharman.’

  ‘Yes, I served it,’ I said.

  ‘And what time was that?’

  ‘Seven, seven-fifteen.’

  ‘And the person you served the summons on would confirm that?’

  ‘If you can catch up with him. He’s a bit of a slippery customer. And don’t tell him he’s won a telly. He won’t fall for that one again.’

  Lewis frowned again as I gave the name and address of the recipient of the summons, then he decided to make himself busy. ‘So you didn’t go round to Miss Madden’s flat, sit outside in your car and maybe see her come home with another man. And you didn’t wait until this morning when he left, and pop in and cut her throat.’

  I almost laughed again. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I went home after I’d done the job, had something to eat, a pizza I bought in the Norwood Pizza Express, drank a lager or two, watched something on TV and went to bed.

  ‘I didn’t go round to Sheila’s, or phone, or make any kind of contact. I didn’t think she was seeing anyone else. In fact I know she wasn’t. We had an arrangement based on trust. I trusted her, she trusted me. And besides, if I had gone round I would’ve used this.’ I took her key out of my pocket. ‘I’d’ve been inside, if what you say happened happened. But it didn’t. I’ve been seeing Sheila exclusively since the spring and her me, just like I told you. She hasn’t had time to have another relationship. Nor have I. And even if she had I don’t think she’d’ve been interested. She wasn’t that kind of person.’

  ‘The officers who were first on the scene noticed that you had a little blood on your ri
ght hand. There’s still some there if I’m not mistaken,’ said Blackford.

  I looked down at it. The smears I’d got off her body had almost gone and my fingers were steady. Too steady. I knew I’d pay for that later. ‘I held her hand,’ I said. ‘I sat with her.’

  Lewis smirked. ‘Very touching,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you report the crime as soon as you found her?’

  ‘I needed some time.’

  ‘Time to get your story straight. Get rid of the weapon.’

  ‘Give me a break,’ I said. ‘I’ve already told you I had nothing to do with it. Why aren’t you out there –’ I waved my hand in the general direction of the door ‘– finding whoever did do it?’

  ‘If you’d been more prompt with your call perhaps we’d have some idea who did do it,’ said Lewis.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I replied. ‘But I doubt it.’

  ‘You’re a shit, Sharman,’ said Lewis. ‘You always were and you always will be. You thought you could be a one-man band when you were on the force and obviously things haven’t changed. I could do you on half a dozen charges…’

  ‘And enjoy yourself immensely,’ I said, as a wave of tiredness and misery swept over me. ‘Go ahead, do what you want. Get out the fucking truncheons for all I care, but the answers will still be the same. I went round to her place this morning, found her dead and sat with her for a little while.’

  ‘So what do you think happened?’ Blackford interrupted us again.

  I pulled myself together with an effort. ‘One of two things,’ I said. ‘Either it was a break-in that went wrong, or else someone she knew came knocking and killed her.’

  ‘Any candidates?’

  ‘Only one,’ I said.

  ‘And who is that?’

  ‘Her old boyfriend. Johnny Tufnell.’

  ‘Yes, we know Johnny,’ said Blackford.

  ‘I just bet you do.’

  ‘What makes you think it might be him?’ asked Hawes.

  ‘He used to knock her about. She slung him out at the beginning of the year. I moved in, figuratively speaking. He was the type who’d keep his ear to the ground. Be aware of what she was up to. She was too good to lose permanently.’

  ‘He waited for his chance,’ said Blackford. ‘If it was him.’

  I had to agree but I said nothing. ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ I said instead.

  ‘What?’ Blackford again.

  ‘Someone spun the drum.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘It was a mess. But not her kind of mess. I just know.’

  ‘Did you check to see if anything was missing?’

  ‘For Christ’s sake,’ I said. ‘I’d just found her dead. What do you think? I sat there and counted the spoons?’

  ‘Did she have many valuables?’ asked Hawes.

  I shook my head. ‘A few bits of jewellery she’d collected over the years that she liked to wear…’ I almost lost it then, but gripped the seat until the edges bit into my palms. ‘She was a clerk stroke typist stroke receptionist at Finbarr’s. She didn’t earn a fortune. She had the mortgage, a decent TV and video and stereo. She spent her money on clothes and CDs and going out…’ That was all I could say.

  Lewis interrupted again at that point. ‘You don’t have a lot of luck with women do you, Sharman?’ he asked.

  ‘Mr Sharman will do nicely,’ I replied, looking him straight in the eye. ‘And no, I don’t.’

  ‘They seem to die on you with almost indecent regularity.’

  ‘Is this going somewhere?’ I asked, and took out my cigarettes. I was down to my last one. ‘And could you get me an ashtray?’

  Lewis scowled at Hawes who got up and left the room. Blackford noted his exit for the tape.

  ‘I think you might have killed Miss Madden,’ said Lewis almost triumphantly.

  ‘You’re so full of shit, Lewis, you’ve got brown eyes,’ I said as I lit up. ‘But if this is where it’s going I think I’ll just wait for my brief, which is really what I should’ve done in the first place.’

  ‘Inspector Lewis,’ he hissed.

  ‘You’re so full of shit, Inspector Lewis, you’ve got brown eyes,’ I corrected myself.

  ‘Did you?’ he asked. He was like a dog with a bone. A fucking Lurcher. ‘Did you kill her?’

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘And let’s get one thing straight, you cunt. I’m here because I want to be. Because I want to help. But you come that sort of shit with me and I’ll leave unless you charge me. Now I want another cup of tea. What do you say?’

  Blackford looked at Lewis, and Lewis looked back. He shook his head, told the machine what was happening and turned it off.

  When it had stopped he said, ‘If you call me a cunt again, Sharman, I’ll have you.’ By then his eyes were bulging with anger. The toys were out of the pram good and proper, and with any luck the bastard would have a heart attack and drop dead clean before my eyes.

  ‘Get the fucking teas in, Lewis,’ I said. ‘That’s all you’re good for.’

  18

  The three of them went off for another little chat and left the young copper in with me again. When they came back Jerry Finbarr was with them. ‘I need a conference with my client,’ he said as he came in. ‘In private.’

  The pair of us were allowed to go into another room and left alone. The young copper showed us the way and stood outside on guard. ‘Nick,’ said Finbarr when the door was shut, running his hand though his hair. ‘What the hell happened?’

  I told him. Everything from first to last. The whole nine yards. But it didn’t feel like I was talking about Sheila and me.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘Not Sheila. I mean she’s been with me for years.’

  ‘I can’t believe it either,’ I told him.

  ‘And she was so happy these last few months. I’ve never seen her like that before.’

  ‘Don’t Fin,’ I said. ‘It’s bad enough as it is.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You must feel dreadful.’

  ‘Especially as that bastard Lewis is trying to pin it on me.’

  ‘We’ll soon see about that,’ he said. ‘Now go through it again. Every detail.’

  So I did.

  As I spoke he made neat notes on a foolscap pad with a gold fountain pen.

  He didn’t like the fact that I’d been cautioned, but he told me he could live with it. ‘They’re just trying to make life difficult for you, Nick,’ he said.

  ‘And they are,’ I replied. ‘Every minute they keep me in this dump.’

  ‘We’ll soon have you out.’

  ‘I like your optimism.’

  ‘That’s what you’re paying me for.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘You made a big mistake not calling the law in immediately.’

  ‘I know. I just needed some time with her.’

  ‘Otherwise I think you’re probably in the clear.’

  ‘I don’t kill my friends or lovers, Fin,’ I said. ‘At least not on purpose.’

  He nodded sagely, capped his pen and put it neatly onto the table next to his pad. He was like that was Fin. Very neat. Very correct. Very small and swarthy. Jewish I imagined. Not that it mattered. Or maybe Armenian or something like that. He wore an impeccable three-piece grey pinstriped suit, a white shirt, conservative tie and highly polished black shoes. ‘I was at home with Betty when I heard,’ he said when I’d finished. Betty was Mrs Finbarr. ‘I came as soon as I could. Then I had to make my own statement.’

  ‘When did you last see her?’ I asked.

  ‘Thursday evening. We were working late.’

  I nodded my assent. I knew that.

  ‘She told me you were working too. She said it was a miracle.’

  We both smiled at that, although smiling hurt my face.

>   ‘What time did she leave?’ I asked.

  ‘About nine.’

  I was sipping beer in front of the TV then.

  ‘I asked her if she wanted to eat, have a drink, but she said she’d rather get home,’ he said.

  If only I’d decided to take a stroll round to her place, let myself in if she wasn’t home. Wait for the sound of her feet on the stairs. I put my face in my hands and Fin got to his feet, came round the table and touched me on the shoulder. ‘I could’ve saved her,’ I said, looking up into his face.

  ‘Maybe get yourself killed you mean.’

  ‘At least I’d’ve put up a fight.’

  He just nodded, pulled a face and said nothing.

  ‘Do you think they’re going to keep me here?’ I asked.

  ‘Not if I’ve got anything to do with it. But I wish you’d waited for me to arrive before making a statement.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  ‘Since when did that stop the police railroading you into a trip to the big house.’

  Fin and I share a love of American pulp crime fiction. His house is full of novels old and new and sometimes we slip into the vernacular. Even in times of stress. ‘Sell me down the river you mean.’

  ‘In one.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here, Fin.’

  ‘I’m always here for you, Nick, you know that.’

  ‘So can I go home soon?’

  ‘As soon as humanly possible.’

  ‘It’ll be a long time then, there’s not much humanity in this nick it seems to me.’

  ‘I must say you seem to be taking this well.’

  ‘There’s only two alternatives. Crack wise or burst into tears. I’d rather do my weeping in private. Or of course there’s a third.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I could get a gun and go searching for the bastard who did this and blow his head off.’

  ‘Nick,’ he said, looking round the room as if searching for hidden microphones. ‘Don’t mention guns in here, even as a joke.’

  ‘Who said I was joking?’

  ‘Just calm down.’

  ‘OK. And it’s no conflict of interest? You representing me and Sheila working for you.’