'Detective Robins,' he said, pulling a face. 'Not a particularly pleasant man, but he owes me a favour. I promised him I'd be discreet visiting you.'
The detective's name resonated straight away with Gloria.
'Isn't he just the most obnoxious man you've ever met?' she said, screwing her nose up. 'I went there to assist the police...to help them find the person who killed-'
Gloria paused again, composing herself.
'Yet that detective didn't appear to want to know about Danny. He listened to me and made some notes, but he didn't seem interested in what I had to say. In fact, he was downright rude. I felt like putting a complaint in about him. Does he treat everyone with such little respect?'
'Well,' said Sam, spreading his palms out. 'Let's just say he's stuck in his ways.'
Sam left it there. Gloria had clearly made her mind up about Robins. A determined look spread across her face.
'Well, at least you're interested in finding out what happened to Danny...'
Sam nodded. Gloria appeared to relax again, finally at ease with him, the pair of them united in their mutual dislike of Robins.
'I first met Danny about six months ago. He walked in here one day looking lost. I sat him down, made him a cup of tea and we had a chat. Turned out he was starving as well. He was quiet...a little shy...but easy to get on with. He used to drop by every so often after that.'
'What did you talk about?'
'Oh, nothing in particular. I think he just wanted some company. He told me his name was Danny, and that he wasn't originally from Newgate. I guessed as much from his accent. It had a northern twang to it...as though he came from further up the coast. He did say he'd been living here for some time, though.'
Gloria sighed in frustration.
'That was Danny all over...always so vague about himself.'
'How do you mean?'
Gloria smiled wistfully.
'It was as though he was afraid to give too much away. For instance, he told me he lived with someone when he first arrived in Newgate but had since moved out. He wouldn't say why.'
'Did he say where he was living?'
'No, although it was pretty obvious he was sleeping rough. Nor did he ever mention his reason for being in Newgate. I didn't like to pry. He was such a nice young man, and he seemed to enjoy coming here to pass the time. I didn't want to push him away by asking too much. Perhaps I should have done...'
Sam watched Gloria stall. She was having regrets.
'You can't blame yourself for anything,' he said, keen to reassure her. 'You offered him friendship. I'm sure he valued that.'
Gloria nodded. Her eyes were glistening again.
'I asked him on several occasions if he had any family, but he always changed the subject. He also had this funny habit of drifting off at times...mumbling away to himself...as though he had other things on his mind.'
The music ceased in the main room. Sam could hear people bidding farewell to each other.
'When was the last time you saw him?' he asked, aware he should be off before he overstayed his own welcome.
Gloria's face darkened.
'About three weeks ago. He was in a right state when he turned up. His face was cut and bruised...and he was walking with a limp.'
'Did he tell you what had happened?'
'No,' replied Gloria sternly. 'I asked him over and over again, but he kept saying it was nothing.'
Gloria fell silent, head bowed, staring down at her clasped hands.
'Gloria, what is it?'
She didn't answer for some time. When she did, her words were quiet, crackling with tension.
'He seemed so frightened while he was here that day...looking out the window the whole time...jumping every time the door opened. He was a complete bag of nerves. And when he left...'
Sam waited. Gloria raised her head and looked at him. Sam saw something in her eyes. Something more than sadness.
Fear.
'I watched him leave the centre. I remember it was a horrible day...wet and windy. There was hardly a soul about. Danny had his head down, trying to walk quickly despite his bad leg. I noticed a man leaning against a wall, watching him.'
Another pause, concentration etched on Gloria's face.
'The man waited for Danny to pass...then he started following him...keeping a certain distance back. I watched them until they disappeared from view...and that was it...I never saw Danny again.'
The last few words were simple and heartfelt.
'One last question,' said Sam. 'You say Danny was being followed. How sure are you of that?'
Gloria gave him an unerring stare.
It told Sam everything.
Chapter 7
'...the freezing temperatures will stay with us for several more days...'
Sam turned his nose up at the weather report, flicked off the radio and guided his Capri into an underground car park, choosing the location as it was some distance from the Concrete Jungle. On leaving Gloria, he had decided to look the place over again, in daylight this time, and that meant parking somewhere more discreet than last night. It had cost him a small fortune to get his window repaired at such short notice, and he didn't want to risk it getting caved in again.
He set off towards the Jungle, eyes peeled while he considered what Gloria had told him. It appeared Danny hadn't been living rough on his arrival in Newgate, so something had triggered his descent into homelessness. Then there was the attack on Danny only weeks before his death, and Gloria's insistence someone had followed him on leaving the Salvation Army centre. The description she gave of the stranger tracking Danny, a tall, slim man with slicked back hair and dark stubble, meant nothing to Sam.
He approached the derelict buildings from the opposite direction to the previous night, keeping to the narrow streets this time, unwilling to expose himself over the empty wasteland again. He hurried past rows of terraced houses, the majority boarded up, abandoned long ago just like the buildings he was heading towards. These streets would have once housed the multitudes of workers serving the nearby docks and factories. With the decline of both, families had moved on, leaving the area little more than a ghost town.
Sam reached the Jungle and cautiously entered the first building. Past experience from his undercover days told him any occupants would most likely be sleeping off the excesses of the previous night, but he trod carefully all the same, moving stealthily from one disused factory to the next. Twice he came across men huddled inside sleeping bags, neither of whom were Clarence or Jake. Sam wanted another chat with Clarence. There were more questions he wanted to ask the big man.
And he definitely wanted words with Jake.
Sam had encountered nobody else by the time he walked into the last derelict building. It was as run down and nondescript as the rest. After a search of the ground floor, he made his way up a metal staircase. The upper level was equally deserted.
A sudden noise made Sam look up. A bleak shaft of light shone down through a hole in the roof. Sam could hear birds landing up there, squawking noisily to each other as they strutted around on the tiles. The harsh sounds only accentuated the desperation of the place. Sam shook his head in resignation. There was nothing of interest to be found here. He turned to leave.
Something caught his attention in a corner. A bulky object on the floor, tucked away amongst the shadows. Sam ambled over to it cautiously. It was a holdall, black and in surprisingly good condition. Sam bent down to take a closer look. The holdall was zipped up and packed full. Sam took hold of the zip and began to pull it back.
Suddenly, an arm was around his neck.
Sam felt pressure being exerted on his windpipe. He struggled for breath, desperately clawing at the arm tight across his throat. He began to lose his balance, arms flailing, desperate to get any leverage on his attacker. As his air supply began to dwindle, a fleeting image of Danny suffering the same fate came to him.
The plunge of a knife.
The thought spurred him into
action. He managed to get a grip on the arm locked around him and dug his nails in with as much force as possible. He heard a sharp yelp, and the arm loosened. Furious, Sam grabbed hold of the limb and swung his elbow.
It was a tactic picked up a long time ago, one that had served him well down the years. By the sound of the connection he had just made, and the scream that followed, it had proved effective once more. Breathing hard, Sam turned around, expecting to see Jake or one of the other men from last night.
Instead, he faced a tanned young man he didn't recognise.
'You have broken my eye socket!' the man bleated, holding a hand to his eye.
'Good,' replied Sam grimly, taking a menacing step towards his would-be assailant. 'I'm going to break something else unless you tell me why you jumped me.'
The man lowered his hand and stared back at Sam defiantly. His stricken eye was already beginning to swell up.
'You were trying to steal my things!' the stranger implored. 'What do you expect me to do?'
Sam conceded he had a point. However, the way this man had attacked him was uncannily similar to the way Danny appeared to have been ambushed. Was this stranger the person who had murdered Danny?
There was only one way to find out.
Sam lunged at him at speed. The man had no time to react. In an instant, he found himself being shoved backwards with force.
'Who are you?' roared Sam, slamming him into the wall.
The man threw a punch that Sam ducked under easily. He brought a swift knee up between the stranger's legs. The man howled in pain and slumped to the floor. Sam watched him writhe around in agony.
'I asked you...who are you?'
The man rolled slowly onto his knees, clutching his groin. He put his hands on his hips, took a deep breath and got to his feet.
'My name is Diego Albiol,' he said, wincing.
Sam had already picked up on the foreign accent.
'Okay, Diego. That's a start.'
'What do you want?' asked the young man testily. His injured eye had almost closed, yet the other burned with indignation. He was slim and wiry, barely in his twenties, with black hair and a tiny scar on his cheek. 'I come back from work to find you messing with my stuff...and you talk to me like I am the criminal.'
Sam took in the dirty blue overalls Diego was wearing. A faint whiff of oil wafted from him.
'Someone I knew was murdered recently. I've been told he used to stay around here. His name was Danny.'
Diego took an unsteady step backwards, stunned, as though the air had been knocked right out of him.
'Danny...' he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Danny's dead?'
Sam watched Diego carefully, gauging his reaction.
'You knew him?' asked Sam.
Diego nodded and gave Sam a description of Danny as confirmation. It was spot on.
Suddenly, Diego turned and walked away. Sam thought he was leaving, too shaken to hang around. However, he was only retrieving the holdall that had caused their altercation. Diego returned, dropped the bag to the floor and sat down on it, a look of dejection on his face.
'What happened?' he asked.
'He was grabbed from behind,' Sam replied, emphasising each word clearly. 'Stabbed in the chest and left to die.'
Diego's jaw dropped open. Sam studied him even closer. He didn't look guilty, just shocked. Then Diego's expression changed. He looked up at Sam uncomfortably.
'And you thought I was doing the same to you?'
'It crossed my mind,' nodded Sam. 'I came here looking for clues to Danny's death. I was checking your bag when you grabbed me around the neck in exactly the same way-'
'I didn't know why you were here!' protested Diego, touching his eye tentatively. 'I thought you were a thief stealing my things! Anyway, you have paid me back for my mistake.'
'Did you kill Danny?'
Sam's question was blunt, intended to shock.
Diego looked mortified.
'How can you ask me that? Danny was my friend!'
'Tell me how you knew him.'
Diego emitted a lengthy sigh.
'I have not been in England long. I came here from Spain after my mother died a few weeks ago...she was from Newgate. I wanted to spend some time in her town of birth. This is my first visit to England. I could not find work straight away, so I stayed here. But now I have a job and I would like my own flat. I am saving for a...'
Diego stalled, lost for the right word.
'Deposit?' said Sam, helping him out.
'That is right,' said Diego, giving Sam a weak smile. 'Deposit. I am sorry. I still have trouble with certain English words.'
Sam pulled a face.
'Your English is a whole sight better than my Spanish.'
Diego gave him a puzzled look and shrugged.
'My job does not pay much. It will take some time to save. For now, I continue to stay here.'
Sam tried to gauge the plausibility of Diego's story. The man certainly possessed the character to make his own way in a foreign country. Sam gazed around the cold, empty building.
'And this is where you met Danny?'
Diego nodded sombrely.
'We both preferred to stay in this building...away from the other men. They are only interested in getting drunk and fighting. I work the night-shift in a factory. Danny only used this place for somewhere to sleep. We did not see each other very often. Yet I still thought of him as my friend.' Sam mulled it over. Neither Danny or Diego were suited to this bleak lifestyle. They hadn't landed here as a result of their lives falling apart. Nor had they given up hope like Clarence, Jake and the other men eking out a sorry existence. Quite the opposite. The two men had been using the place solely as a means to an end. Diego saw it as a stop-gap until he moved onto better things.
And Danny's reason?
Sam could only deduce Danny was using it as a base. Somewhere to rest while he searched.
Help. Me. Find.
Sam cursed himself for allowing the words back in.
'Did Danny ever tell you his reason for being here in Newgate?'
Diego shrugged and shook his head. It was a response Sam was growing accustomed to. The words that followed were also familiar.
'He would never talk about why he was here. He just used to say he had something to do in Newgate, and he would not leave until he had done it. I had no idea what he did with his time...where he went or who he saw.'
Diego told Sam he didn't even know Danny's surname. Sam supposed such personal things were irrelevant to people living rough. He sighed in frustration. All these people he had talked to and no clues. All he had was Danny's first name, his description, and some heart-warming but useless platitudes about what a nice guy he was.
And the recurring theme he was searching for something.
Searching for what?
'What about his belongings?'
Diego was thrown by Sam's question.
'Uh?'
'His stuff, Diego. He must have had things of his own...you know, personal stuff.'
To emphasise his point, Sam pointed to the holdall Diego was sitting on.
'Oh, yes,' nodded Diego. 'He had a big blue bag. He used to keep his clothes and things in it.'
'Is it still here?'
Diego shook his head.
'No. I have not seen it.'
Sam recalled how no possessions were found near Danny in the alleyway. So, where was his bag? Sam wondered if it had been taken following the attack.
'Where did Danny sleep?'
Diego pointed to the same corner Sam had found the holdall.
'We both slept there. I still leave my bag there when I don't want to carry it around. The other men never come in this building. Our things have always been safe here.'
Sam walked over to the corner and scanned the floor. Nothing but bare concrete.
Diego got to his feet, threw his bag over his shoulder and joined Sam. His injured eye was fully shut now, yet the young man's face was a pict
ure of animation.
'Who would kill Danny? Why would-'
Sam stepped forward and placed a hand on Diego's shoulder. Diego froze, fearing Sam was about to attack him again.
'Quiet,' whispered Sam, concentration on his face. 'Listen.'
Diego raised his eyebrows but did as he was told, watching Sam in silence. A noise sounded on the stairway fifty yards away. A soft, shuffling sound.
Sam turned back to Diego.
'Start talking,' he whispered urgently.
Diego gave him a blank look.
'What?'
Sam tilted his head towards the stairway.
'Just talk.'
'About what?'
Sam rolled his eyes impatiently.
'Danny...his death...it doesn't matter...'
Sam started towards the stairway, leaving Diego mystified. There was no time to explain. Sam only hoped Diego caught on.
'You must have some idea what happened to Danny?'
Sam smiled as Diego struck up a pretend conversation. The young Spaniard had got it. Sam needed the eavesdropper to think he was still next to Diego, conversing with him, not creeping towards the stairs.
'Diego, I have no idea.'
Sam fought to suppress a smile. Diego was impersonating him in reply, putting on a Midlands accent he had to concede was quite good.
'He never talked about being in any danger.'
Sam was only feet from the stairs now. Diego's one-man act had bought him time to get there. Now he just had to-
Sam's foot struck something. He watched in horror as a stone went scuttling across the concrete floor, echoing loudly around the empty building. Sam cursed his clumsiness as he heard someone flee down the steps. Sam ran to the top of the stairway and launched himself down it. Halfway down, he got a fleeting glimpse of a blue hooded jacket disappearing from view. The figure looked familiar to Sam.
Very familiar.
Sam took a huge leap to miss out the remaining steps. He landed heavily at the bottom and felt his ankle jar on impact. He tried to continue the pursuit, but his ankle gave way immediately. Sam swore in frustration and looked down accusingly at his foot.
A screwed up piece of card on the ground caught his eye. Sam bent down and picked it up.
Searching For Hope Page 4