Searching For Hope

by Michael Joseph

  Richie.

  He decided to take the call outside. Downstairs, he pushed open the huge pub doors and embraced the cold night air after the closeness of the function room.

  'Rich, that was quick, even for you.'

  He heard his friend sigh. That usually meant Richie had hit a brick wall.

  'Well, there's not much to tell you, to be honest. The police down there don't seem to be getting any further than you. If anything, they're already winding the investigation down.'

  Sam wasn't surprised. DI Robins had shown little enthusiasm for hunting down Danny's killer.

  'No clues at all?'

  'Not a jot. It appears the deceased...surname still unknown...had been a model citizen. No police record. No I.D. from his prints. It's like this Danny turned up out of thin air. However, the same can't be said for your friend, Jake...'

  Sam cringed. Jake Dawkins was the last person he would wish for as a friend.

  'Oh, yes?'

  'The man's got a rap sheet as long as my arm. GBH, affray, drunk and disorderly. You name it...he's been pulled in for it. He's been sent down a few times as well. Having said that, he seems to have kept his nose clean recently. No fixed abode for some time, either.'

  'How old was he when he first got into trouble?'

  'That's the thing, Sam. He doesn't seem to have been your typical teenage tearaway. He was in his early thirties when he first got himself arrested. Mind you, he's been making up for it ever since.'

  It appeared to Sam the rumours were true about Jake only going off the rails later in life, after his wife had run off with their kids. And he had never got back on track.

  'Any known associates?'

  'Not on record. Our man doesn't seem interested in organized crime. He's been done for the odd burglary, but most of his offences are to do with fighting and drinking. Reading the reports on him, he comes across as a bit of a loner.'

  Sam had already surmised as much. Jake was a loose cannon, a violent drunk liable to turn on anybody when the mood suited him.

  Capable of committing murder?

  Richie appeared to be reading his mind.

  'Do you think he killed Danny?'

  Sam didn't need much convincing. He only had to recall the blurred figure ready to finish him off with an iron bar.

  'Well, he's looking a likely suspect right now.'

  'But you haven't got any hard evidence?'

  'Exactly. Just because he smashed my window in and walloped me over the head-'

  'He probably nicked Diego's bag as well.'

  Sam hadn't forgotten. He couldn't, not when Danny's belongings were also missing.

  'The fact is, Rich, none of this proves Jake murdered Danny. There's no motive...no evidence he was at the scene...'

  Sam had a sudden thought.

  'You didn't come across anything tying him in with Morehampton, did you?'

  Richie told him he hadn't found a connection.

  'Okay,' said Sam. 'It was a bit of a long shot.'

  Then he recalled what Denny had told him.

  'Before I go, Rich, do you remember a bloke called Kenny Swain?'

  Richie whistled gently down the phone.

  'Kenny Swain? I haven't heard that name in years. Didn't he have a string of bookies here in the Midlands?'

  'That's right,' said Sam, explaining how a man with the same name had taken over Jaspers.

  'It's got to be him,' said Richie. 'What with the accent as well. Small world, if it is.'

  'Can you ever remember him getting fingered for anything?'

  Richie considered it.

  'I can't recall anything. You could always pop round and ask him.'

  Richie's joke gave Sam an idea. He had already decided to re-visit the scene of the crime. Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone.

  'Sam?'

  Sam turned to see Alice outside the pub, shivering in her thin dress.

  'Rich, I'm going to get off. Talk to you soon, mate.'

  Sam ended the call and gave Alice his full attention.

  'Alice, what are you doing out here? It's freezing.'

  Alice smiled. A sweet, inebriated smile.

  'I was worried you'd left early,' she said, slurring her words ever so slightly.

  Sam put an arm around her.

  'Come on, let's get you back inside.'

  Alice took no notice. Instead, she moved into him, snuggling against his chest.

  'Hey, birthday girl,' laughed Sam, feeling Alice tremble against him. 'Do you want to catch pneumonia?'

  Alice gazed up at him, her brown eyes widening.

  'Sam,' she said, taking his hand. 'I've been thinking about us-'

  'Here you both are!'

  Sam didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed to hear Moira's voice. Alice's behaviour had caught him off-guard.

  Moira was in the doorway, an inquisitive look on her face.

  'I think this young lady's been celebrating too hard,' said Sam, suddenly very self-conscious.

  Moira moved towards Alice.

  'Alice? Are you feeling okay, love?'

  Alice returned her question with a small nod.

  'I'm fine,' she said, letting go of Sam. 'I just came out to see where Sam was...the fresh air suddenly hit me. I'm alright now.'

  Moira glanced at Sam. Right now, concern was out-weighing her curiosity.

  'I think we should all go back inside,' she said, placing a reassuring arm around Alice. 'You need to sit down for a bit, love.'

  Alice reluctantly allowed her aunt to guide her back towards the pub.

  'Are you coming, Sam?' asked Moira.

  Sam shook his head. He wanted a few moments.

  'I'll be in shortly.'

  ***

  Sam stayed at the party another couple of hours, during which time he kept his distance from Alice. When their paths did cross, there was an awkwardness between them that had never existed before. Sam slipped away about eleven, feeling slightly guilty at leaving early. He wasn't able to find Alice on departing, so sent her a text message. He hoped she wouldn't take it badly. After all, she was used to him dashing off at the drop of a hat. Alice often joked that any woman who settled down with Sam would have to get used to his sudden exits. Those words resonated with Sam as he left the pub.

  Outside, he spotted a man leaning against a lamp-post, his narrow face bathed in the harsh glow of the overhead light. The familiar figure was dressed in a fleece jacket, thick scarf and flannel trousers. He fidgeted restlessly with a large brown envelope.

  'Hugo? What are you doing here?'

  The mortuary worker didn't look surprised to see Sam.

  'Sam!' he exclaimed excitedly. 'I've got something to show you!'

  Sam watched, puzzled, as Hugo approached him across the icy pavement.

  'Hold on, Hugo. How did you know I was here?'

  Hugo stopped short of Sam and shifted uncomfortably on the spot. Sam doubted it was due to the cold.

  'Er, I remember you mentioning this pub. I thought I'd hang around and see if you were here.'

  Sam shook his head in bemusement.

  'How long have you been waiting out here?'

  'Oh, not long,' murmured Hugo, looking decidedly sheepish.

  Sam could imagine Hugo standing outside for some time, hoping Sam would appear, reluctant to step inside the pub himself. It just wasn't his scene.

  'Well, it must be something important for you to come here on the off-chance.'

  Hugo's eyes lit up.

  'After your visit, I decided to do some investigating...'

  Sam remained silent, listening in amusement.

  'That man...Danny...he died in an alleyway down by the docks, didn't he?'

  Sam simply nodded.

  'Well, I've been looking on the internet,' enthused Hugo, 'and Danny wasn't the only person killed in that alleyway recently.'

  Sam could see an empty taxi heading towards the pub. He took a couple of steps nearer the road.

  'Ano
ther man was found dead there...attacked and left to die in the same way as Danny.'

  Sam extended an arm, flagging the taxi down.

  'When did this happen?'

  'About two years ago,' replied Hugo. 'And the killer was never caught. Don't you think that's a co-incidence?'

  The taxi pulled up alongside Sam. He placed one hand on the cab door.

  'What have you got in the envelope?'

  Hugo thrust the envelope under Sam's nose.

  'I printed off some articles from the time. Here, you can take them.'

  Sam opened the taxi door, told the driver where he wanted to go and turned back to Hugo.

  'Thanks, Hugo. I'll have a look at them, but right now I need to go.'

  He took the envelope and climbed into the taxi.

  Watching the vehicle pull away, Hugo dug his hands deep into his pockets. He was freezing.

  Then he was struck by a sense of deja vu.

  He groaned.

  He still didn't know why Sam was investigating Danny's death.

  Chapter 10

  In the back of the taxi, Sam took out the contents of the envelope and studied them. Phillip Foster had been found dead in the alleyway alongside Jaspers, or The Blue Bottle, as it was called then, early one morning by a local resident walking his dog. The last time Foster had been seen alive was late the previous night, leaving a Chinese takeaway only two hundred yards down the road. Witnesses statements confirmed he had visited at least six pubs during the evening prior to collecting his takeaway. Nobody recalled seeing Foster involved in an argument. The irony was he died only ten minutes walk from home.

  Sam carried on reading.

  Within seconds, he was rolling his eyes.

  Phillip Foster had been strangled, not knifed to death, and the incident had occurred almost three years ago. The only similarity with Danny's death was the location of the murder scene. Yet this was the most notorious district in Newgate, an area known for its high unemployment, drug-dealing and gang violence. Two deaths, years apart, in such a place could hardly qualify as extraordinary. It was one of the reasons the police weren't investigating Danny's death with as much vigour as they might.

  Hugo was trying to find a connection that just wasn't there. Sam had been through this before with him. Hugo was so desperate to play the amateur detective he sometimes got carried away, trying to impress Sam with some far-fetched theory regarding a case he was working on. It was why Sam was reluctant to divulge too much information to him. Sam wondered if it was time he stopped stringing Hugo along.

  Sam continued to leaf through the documents, increasingly interested in what he was reading. Hugo's idea that the two deaths were related may have been fanciful, but the paperwork he had provided was certainly making Sam think.

  Closed circuit cameras had captured Phillip Foster turning off the main road into the alleyway, never to be seen alive again. Sam looked back through the sheets of paper. The man who had found Foster had been walking his dog down the alleyway.

  Sam was confused. Why had these people been walking down a dead end? From memory, the alleyway was blocked off by a fifteen foot high wall, topped off with barbed wire for good measure. It was virtually impassable.

  Reading about the CCTV raised another question for Sam. A more pertinent one, considering he hadn't even thought about cameras out on the main road. He hadn't seen any in the alleyway, but what about at the front of Jaspers? Sam couldn't believe his oversight. He cursed out loudly, causing the taxi driver to look back over his shoulder in concern.

  'We're here now, mate,' said the driver minutes later, sounding relieved to be dropping Sam off. 'Jaspers.'

  Sam had decided to return at this late hour because he wanted to experience the scene at night again. He wasn't here to look for evidence. He had done that already, scouring the alleyway after Danny had died, searching for clues before the emergency services arrived while Archie, Denny and the doorman looked on in bewilderment. He had found nothing then, and neither had the police in the following hours.

  Sam watched the taxi disappear, consoled by the realisation Richie had mentioned nothing about CCTV footage. Now, stood at the entrance to the alleyway, Sam saw why. The camera attached to the nearest wall, covering the spot he was standing on, was out of order. Its screen had been removed and the mechanism inside smashed to pieces.

  Sam grimaced. He had been hard on himself for no reason.

  He strolled down the alleyway, allowing himself to be taken back to that night. The further he went, the more the darkness intruded, the only sense of light generated by the thick layer of frozen snow on the ground. Eventually, he reached the fire exit of Jaspers. He took a deep breath, turned around and looked up and down the alleyway as he had done several nights ago. He even extracted his phone from his pocket, replicating events down to a tee.

  It all came back to him. Leaving the club and stepping out into the still night. Relishing the fresh air. Listening to his phone ring out. Hearing a low groan from behind the bins.

  Sam moved towards those same bins now, slowly and steadily, inspecting the ground around him. Rounding the nearest bin, he stopped and stared down at the spot where Danny had been lying, bleeding to death. Sam remained there some time, contemplating, recalling Danny's last words.

  His plea for help.

  'I'm trying, Danny,' whispered Sam, eyes locked on the icy ground. 'I just wish I knew what it was you were trying to find.'

  Sam sighed and headed down to the wall at the end of the cul-de-sac. It loomed up large against the cloudless sky, the barbed wire strung across the top daring anyone to try and vault the obstacle. Sam shone his light at the wall. He noticed the brickwork looked fresher than that on the adjoining wall of Jaspers. Sam took a step nearer and trod on something lumpy.

  'Owww!!'

  Sam jumped back in surprise and peered down. A bulky figure rose from the floor.

  'What did you do that for?'

  A grey-haired man wrapped in a tatty duvet stared back at Sam accusingly. His hands and face were filthy, his clothes threadbare. Then there was the smell radiating off him.

  Sam winced. He had just stood on a sleeping tramp. It was the second time today he had put his foot in it. Literally.

  'Sorry, mate. I didn't see you down there.'

  The tramp scowled at him and started folding up his duvet.

  'A person can't get peace and quiet anywhere in this town,' he grumbled. 'Here, hold this for me.'

  Sam found the duvet thrust into his arms. He held it as far from his nose as possible. The odour resonating from it was overwhelming.

  'What are you doing down here anyway?' moaned the tramp, collecting pieces of cardboard up off the ground. 'At least I've got a reason for being here. I've got nowhere else to go.'

  'I thought this was a short cut,' said Sam innocently, playing dumb. 'I didn't realise it was a dead end.'

  The tramp snatched the duvet back off him and tucked it under his arm along with the cardboard. He looked at Sam as though he was crazy.

  'They blocked it off about a year ago. Too many people were getting mugged walking through here.'

  Or murdered, thought Sam, picturing Phillip Foster cutting through here and meeting his end. It would have taken some nerve to walk down here alone late at night. Or too much alcohol. Turning the alleyway into a cul-de-sac may have spared others from suffering the same fate, but it hadn't prevented Danny from losing his life.

  'I'm off to find a place where nobody will bother me,' huffed the tramp, trudging off. Sam watched him go, struggling with his meagre possessions. The man was almost at the end of the alleyway when the fire exit door of Jaspers opened, sending a dull shaft of light out onto the icy ground. The club's doorman appeared, concentrating on the cigarette he was placing in his mouth.

  Instinctively, Sam ducked down behind the bins, aware of the irony of the scene. The two men had been in identical postures last time he was here, the bouncer standing in the doorway, Sam down on his haunches.
Only then, the doorman was turfing Archie and Denny out of the club while Sam was crouching over a dead body.

  Sam peered over the top of the bins safe in the knowledge his position at the end of the alleyway was shrouded in darkness. He watched the doorman light his cigarette and glance casually in the opposite direction.

  'Hey!' the doorman shouted, catching sight of the tramp. He was too late. The tramp turned the corner and disappeared. The doorman stared after him for a few seconds. Then he looked Sam's way with a frown. To Sam's horror, he began walking his way, presumably to check if the tramp had left anything behind.

  There was little Sam could do but make himself as small as possible behind the bins. He heard the doorman stroll towards him, inhaling his cigarette. Sam cursed his bad luck. His next intention had been to go into Jaspers and have a snoop around. That was going to be awkward if the doorman caught him hiding out here.

  With the man only feet away, Sam resigned himself to the inevitable. He had two options. Charge past him or try and bluff it out. He decided on the former. Sam just hoped the man didn't recognise him as he ran past.

  Suddenly, a phone rang out. Initially, Sam thought it was his own. He went to stand as a sudden burst was his only option now his hiding-place had been compromised. Then he heard the doorman talk.

  'Yes, boss?'

  Sam looked over the bins. The doorman was walking back to the fire exit, phone pressed to his ear. 'You're on your way in?'

  Sam's ears pricked up. Was Kenny Swain on the way?

  'Okay, boss. I'll get the kettle on. See you in a few minutes.'

  Sam watched the doorman remove the phone from his ear and take one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it on the ground. Then he went back through the fire exit.

  Sam allowed himself a sigh of relief and got to his feet. The thought of calling it a night and going home was alluring after his close shave.

  Sam shook his head.

  Going home early wouldn't solve anything.

  Chapter 11

  Minutes later, Sam was in the doorway of the shop next door to Jaspers, phone to his ear, pretending to be deep in conversation. The snow was falling again, large flakes hurrying down on a light breeze.