Blue Murder (23 page)

When they had asked him if there was anyone they should notify about him being nicked he said no. Pretty tight that. The world fit to bursting with overpopulation and there’s not one frigging person in the known universe who needs to know that Dean Hendrix is in trouble. He realised he was feeling sorry for himself but he reckoned he was entitled. He doesn’t – who will? Not exactly the best day of his life.

*****

‘And the Gibson angle, the drugs?’ The Lemon’s eyes scrutinised her.

‘No link to Tulley, sir. Ferdie Gibson and friend Colin were behind the off-licence robberies. They used the cash to buy cocaine from a firm operating out of Oldham. There was a connection, though; Dean Hendrix chose the house in Oldham to hole up in.’

‘Two crimes for the price of one, eh? You’d never have got him without Oldham, would you?’

‘Hard to say, sir.’

‘Sheer fluke,’ he said dismissively. ‘Can’t claim any credit for that. And one of the suspects was killed in the course of the raid?’

‘Car drove over him, his accomplice.’ Poor kid.

‘Bloody mess, but that part’s Oldham’s problem. As for ours, I want a written report by the end of the day. Everything ready for O’Halloran. He’ll be taking over from you first thing tomorrow.’

He couldn’t take the case from her! Not after all this. A sign to one and all that he had no faith in her. ‘Please, sir.’ She’d beg if she had to.

He didn’t give her the chance. ‘You’ve run out of time, Lewis.’

She turned away, fists clenched, mouth set. Not trusting herself to say anything.

*****

Butchers had traced Laura Belling, the first Mrs Matthew Tulley, to an address in Birkenhead and had used the directory to get a phone number. A child answered at the other end, burbling ‘hello, hello’ over and over down the line.

‘Is your mummy there?’

‘Who.’

‘Is your mummy there?’

‘Who is it?’

‘Get your mummy.’

‘Mummy. Hello.’

Shap, beside him, scrolling through records on the computer, sniggered.

‘I want to talk to your mummy.’

‘Who dat?’

‘Mr Butchers. Tell Mummy to come to the phone.’

‘No.’ The child slammed the phone down.

‘Hell,’ Butchers pressed re-dial. Laura Belling answered. ‘Ms Belling, I’m DS Butchers from Greater Manchester Police. You were previously married to Matthew Tulley?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are probably aware that Mr Tulley is the victim in a murder enquiry?’

‘I saw it on the television.’

He could hear the child beginning to kick up a fuss in the background. ‘I’ll try and be brief; we’re trying to establish what sort of man Mr Tulley was, build up a picture, talk to …’

‘He was a bastard.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You heard. They say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but he deserves everything he got.’

For one crazed moment Butchers wondered if she was going to confess to having done it. ‘He was an out and out bastard.’

Butchers hesitated, uncertain as to how to frame the next question. The child was bawling now. ‘When you say that, in what respect …’

‘He was a pervert and a bully.’

‘Was he violent towards you?’

‘Oh, yes. That was the grounds for the divorce. Physical and mental cruelty.’

*****

Dean Hendrix was on his way from Oldham and Janine was preparing to interview him later that morning.

‘Bag his clothes when he gets here,’ she told Chen, ‘and if the trainers look likely, put them through as a priority request.’

Richard raised his eyes – more spending?

‘I’m not going to see him walk for the sake of a few hundred pounds,’ she said. ‘Anything on Mrs Tulley’s bonfire?’

Chen shook her head.

Butchers came in, his face alert; well, as alert as it ever got. ‘The first wife, she cited cruelty in the divorce. Claimed he was physically violent.’

‘Was he now?’ Janine frowned.

‘Nothing from Tulley’s email addresses,’ Shap said, ‘but we did pick up something dodgy with one of the phone numbers in his diary. The guy, a Ronald Prosser, is no longer there, woman was very suspicious at first – turns out he’s doing time. Found in possession of a class A drug, sentenced in May last year.’

‘Connection with Tulley?’ she asked.

Shap shrugged.

‘Get some more on that Shap. I wouldn’t have figured Tulley for drugs, but there’s still the possibility that drugs could be the link between him and Dean Hendrix.’

‘Hendrix was associating with known dealers,’ Richard said. ‘Maybe a deal gone bad?’

She left them to carry on the painstaking work of sifting details and checking facts and set off for Ashgrove.

*****

‘Come in,’ Lesley looked pale, weary. Janine followed her to the kitchen.

‘Would you like some tea? No milk I’m afraid. Emma’s gone shopping. Or toast?’

‘I’m fine. You go ahead. There’s been a new development, I wanted you to know.’

Lesley turned, pausing in the activity of getting the bread out.

‘We’ve arrested someone.’

Lesley’s mouth opened in surprise, her brow creased. ‘Who?’

‘Dean Hendrix. You know him?’ Janine stared at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

‘No, erm … no, I don’t.’ Lesley turned back to the worktop.

‘He lives locally, you may know him by sight. Matthew never mentioned a Dean to you?’

‘No,’ over her shoulder.

‘What about a Ronald Prosser?’

A tensing of the shoulders. ‘No.’ She began to cut the loaf.

Janine didn’t believe her. ‘We’ll be interviewing Dean Hendrix this morning. Is there anything you want to tell me, Lesley?’

Lesley stopped, turned, met her gaze. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I think you know.’

Lesley’s lip curled with disgust. ‘No.’ Her tone became more aggressive. ‘Do you enjoy this? Does it make you feel clever? Insulting me, trying to dirty my name?’ She faced Janine, the knife in her hand. ‘How would you like it? If someone kept on and on at you?’ Her eyes glittered with emotion. ‘On and on – nasty little minds.’

Janine’s phone broke the tension. She watched as Lesley steadied herself against the counter then returned to her preparations while Janine listened.

‘Janine? It’s Richard. Dean Hendrix, we made a mistake. We know he was there but he can’t have used the knife. He’s left-handed. It can’t possibly be him.’

She stared transfixed as Lesley Tulley sawed through the loaf. Richard went on, ‘Ferdie Gibson’s out of the picture, Dean Hendrix can’t have done it. Leaves us with one suspect.’

She heard the faint tick of the clock, felt the hairs on her neck prickle.

‘Janine?’ He sounded worried. ‘Where are you? Are you already at the Tulleys’?’

‘Yes.’ She tried to keep her voice level.

‘Can you talk?’

‘No,’ she spoke softly hoping that Richard would too, trying to prevent Lesley from hearing the call.’

‘Get out of there!’ He said urgently. ‘Janine? Janine?’

‘No,’ she said simply. She would not run away from this. There was a chance here, a chance to get a confession and then she’d show them all. The Lemon and all of them.

She pressed end call.

Lesley swung back her way, still holding the knife, an edge of instability in her manner. ‘Are you sure you don’t want some?’

Ambiguous. Janine felt a surge of vertigo but hid it. Shook her head.

‘Bad news?’ Lesley asked her.

Janine forced herself to ignore the knife. Resisted the urge to cover her stomach with her hands. ‘You and Matthew, you had problems?’

‘We were very happy,’ Lesley said.

‘But you had depression? And you cut yourself, Lesley, don’t you?’

‘No.’

‘I’ve seen the scars.’

A flash of something crossed Lesley’s face, a tightening round the mouth.

‘You’re not happy. Was Matthew?’

‘We were fine.’

‘Perhaps Matthew began looking for something outside the marriage.’

Lesley glared at her. ‘That’s not true.’

‘You never had children.’

‘I can’t, I’ve already told you.’ Her voice wavered. ‘I had to have a hysterectomy.’

‘Was that a cause of strain between you? Matthew may have wanted children.’

‘No, he loved me, it didn’t matter.’

‘But it was all lies wasn’t it?’ She could see Lesley Tulley’s breath come faster. ‘He’d lied to you right from the start. About his parents. They didn’t know you existed.’

‘Stop it.’

‘He lied to you about being the first. He’d already been married to Laura.’

‘Shut up!’ Her voice rose.

‘He fooled you, didn’t he? He kept it all from you.’

‘Don’t!’

Janine took a step closer. Knew Lesley was near breaking point. ‘It was all a sham – your marriage. A pack of lies.’

‘Shut it!’ Lesley shouted frantically, her hand trembling, the knife glinting.

Janine felt her throat constrict. She’d gone too far. Misjudged it. Janine kept staring at her, saw the rage burning in Lesley’s eyes.

The doorbell shrilled, startling them both.

‘I’ll be on my way.’ Janine managed. She turned her back to Lesley, walked, her heart hammering, knees rubbery, to the door. Expecting Emma but it was Mr Deaking, the head-teacher.

‘Come to pay my condolences.’

‘That’s good of you,’ Janine said, trying to sound normal. ‘She’s still very shaken up.’

*****

She managed to rouse Richard who was already doing a cavalry stunt and breaking the speed limit. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ Though that was actually a bit of an exaggeration.

At the station, she told the team the same thing after giving a detailed account of the stand-off. ‘Alive and kicking,’ she winced as the baby butted, ‘being kicked.’ She appreciated their concern but she needed to stay strong, in command. ‘Now, we’ve all got work to do, let’s get on with it.’ The team dispersed.

She turned to Richard. ‘You heard from the lab?’

‘There’s no trace of fibres in the ashes. All they’ve found is residue from the videotapes.’

She swore. She’d been sure that that was where the missing clothes had gone. ‘I’m applying for warrants then. Search and arrest. The Lemon’s given me till the end of the day. Let’s hope Dean Hendrix will give us something we can use.’

‘He’s in room one,’ Richard told her, ‘and the trainer’s a match.’

A moment of relief. At least they were making some progress.

‘Plus they recovered a knife.’

She frowned. How did that fit? Two knives. His print at the scene but he couldn’t have done the stabbing. She closed her eyes for a moment.

‘You want a coffee?’

‘Yeah, no – tea.’ She was wired enough. ‘What have we got? We know Dean didn’t use the weapon but we know he was at the allotment.’

‘Egging her on? Restraining Matthew for her?’ Richard suggested.

‘Could have just gone pear-shaped. Dean doesn’t get chance in the commotion so Lesley stepped in? And Dean could have got rid of the knife.’

‘And the one he had with him?’

‘Maybe they had one each? Lesley got to strike first. Dean obviously likes to be tooled up. Probably feels naked without one.’

DS Shap came over. ‘The guy you wanted the background on, boss. Ronald Prosser. They were also looking at him for distributing obscene materials. Charges were dropped. He was released last week.’

‘Drugs and porn, you see a link to Mr Tulley with either of those?’ Janine a Richard.

He shook his head.

‘Can’t tell by looking, can you?’ She was hit by a wave of fatigue. ‘Get us that tea, will you? And a fudge brownie.’

*****

A noise startled old Eddie, still sitting in his chair; woke him up. His head jerked back. The swill of fear coursed through him. He gasped. Listened. But there was no sound of intruders. His senses reassured him that he was alone in the house. Silly bugger, he chided himself. All this talk of murder getting to him.

He had woken earlier, near to daybreak, stiff and chilled. Dreams of the war, of killing, clogged his head. He’d done his duty, fought and killed and it had left him a lesser man, a damaged man. He wondered what the lad who killed Matthew Tulley felt? Remorse? Terror? Shame at what he had done or just fear of being caught?

He had made the trip upstairs to relieve himself. He contemplated going to bed but an early dawn was breaking so he had sat by his bedroom window instead and watched the light spreading over the allotments, saw the soft grey haze lift and give way to colours, heard the cacophony of birdsong fill the air. His favourite time of day.

Came from years back when his dad had taken him fishing. Leaving in the dark and walking all the way to the River Mersey. Never caught much, not many fish could survive the muck and waste that the factories and mills discharged into the river. It was his clearest memory of his dad, that was. Never said much, just the odd comment; teaching him the way the current worked, the names of the birds, even the stars when the night was clear. Cygnus the swan, the Plough, Orion with the row of stars for his belt, Cassiopeia the giant W.

Coming home Eddie would get tired, struggling to keep up and his dad would put the tackle down and swing him up onto his shoulders. Carry him back, big as a giant.

There was a pain in Eddie’s head now. An awful pain. He tried to rise from the chair but he couldn’t. He looked up and the sky was filled with stars, more of them than he had ever seen. Glittering and shining and rushing towards him. He could feel his dad swinging him up, up high and Maisie laughing, her breath hot on his face and the pain falling away as he span round and round and soared among the stars.

*****

There was an art to running an interview, building up the pressure, asking the right questions at the right moment, wrong-footing or confusing the person so they would make a mistake and give you a glimpse of the truth. It was a duel; she was good at it, quick to spot the body language, the tiny clues pointing to lies and half-truths. She was assertive, forceful but not aggressive; she used the power of her intelligence rather than the threat of violence to catch her quarry. And when the chase was on it was both exhilarating and exhausting.