Blood Tracks (5 page)

Gina stood amongst the rows of tanks that housed fish of every imaginable colour. The soft glow of light and the warmth from the tanks made it feel like twilight inside Neptune’s Aquarium even though they’d just opened up for the day.

Gina approached a long-haired man wearing an Iron Maiden T-shirt.

“Hi, can I help you?” he said drowsily.

Gina peered at his name badge. “Yeah. You’re Jamie, aren’t you? You’re the person I want.” She put the receipt on the counter. “You served my dad on this day.” She pointed to the date. “He bought a fish tank here in the afternoon at seventeen fifty-five. You see, it says so on the receipt.”

“Yeah, sure,” the man said.

“Do you remember him?” she asked, showing him a photo. “He was buying the tank for my brother. He was probably wearing his overalls from work. He works…worked at the port.”

Jamie looked at the photo. “Yeah, I do actually. Your dad told me it was a birthday present for your brother.”

“And how did he seem?” She stared at him, her brow furrowed.

Jamie pulled a confused face. “Ahh…fine?”

“I mean, did he seem upset, depressed?” she interrogated.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he answered, surprised. “I’d never met him before, had I? But he just seemed normal to me… Well actually…” Jamie pondered. “Maybe he was a bit stressed. He certainly wanted to get everything just right. I spent so much time going through things with him that I was late closing up. Not that I’m complaining,” he added quickly. “You can’t rush these things. You know, choosing the best tank size, all the equipment, getting tips on maintenance.”

“So he was stressed, not depressed,” she asked earnestly.

Jamie shrugged. “Yeah…well. I’m not sure. All I know is that once he chose the right Starter Kit, he spent ages choosing all the accessories. He looked at the different plants, coral, gravel, bedding stones – I mean, we have
forty
different types of bedding stones, all colours, shapes and sizes and your dad looked at every single packet until he found the ones he liked best. But, by the time he left we’d put together a kit any kid would be chuffed with.”

“So did he say where he was going?” she asked with bated breath.

“No, I’m sorry. He didn’t.” Gina saw his look of concern as he asked, “Has your dad gone missing or something?”

“No.” She couldn’t look at him. “He’s dead…he died.”

Jamie’s mouth sagged open. “Oh God…I’m really sorry. That’s terrible. Listen, don’t take any notice of me. What do I know? Stressed? Depressed? I haven’t got a clue.”

“It’s fine, it’s been useful,” she reassured him.

“Well, it’s nice that he was able to buy your brother the tank; it’s something special to remember him by, isn’t it?”

Yes it is. He’s right. Danny needs to see that fish tank teeming with life, not sitting in a box under his bed.

“Thanks for your help,” Gina said. “I’ll bring my little brother with me next time. We need to choose some fish.”

Gina sat on the top deck of the bus heading home, her face rigid with concentration.

So, if it was nearly six o’clock when he paid for the tank and seven o’clock when he picked me up from the running club, that just leaves an hour where I don’t know what he did or where he went. I suppose he could have just gone to a cafe, sat and had a cup of tea – but which cafe? Dad didn’t have a favourite cafe and I don’t think he went to a pub – there wasn’t any trace of alcohol in the coroner’s report. It’s worth asking though, isn’t it? Maybe he met up with someone?

She got out her notebook and wrote:
Go to local pubs and cafes – ask if they saw Dad – take the photo
. She kept clicking the top of the pen, mumbling to herself, “Come on, Gina, get organized!”

She was getting strange looks from the passengers around her, but she ignored them. She turned to a new page and started to draw a timeline of the day her dad died, from when he had left the house for work, to the minute she’d heard the squeal of the train wheels, braking on the track. She studied it carefully and suddenly she knew where she had to go next. Her dad had spent from seven-thirty a.m. to, at least, one-thirty p.m. at the warehouse. So far she’d only questioned Kylie about that morning, though she’d already heard at the inquest what Tom had to say, but what about her dad’s workmates? They’d been with him that morning. Maybe one of them would remember something important. They were all under one roof, right now.

Gina got off the bus on the dock road and walked to the main entrance to the port. She knew the security guard in his uniform and peaked cap, sitting inside the hut at the barriers.

“Hi, Dave,” she called to him. “Can you let me through?”

“Oh, hi, Gina, love.” He poked his head out of the sliding window, surprised to see her. “I’m so sorry about your dad.”

“Yeah, thanks. Can I go through to Tom’s warehouse?”

Dave looked uncomfortable. “I know it’s ridiculous, Gina – I’ve known you since you were little – but I’m not allowed to let unauthorized people through without checking first. You’ve always been with your dad before and you know how it is with port security. They think everyone is here to steal cargo or to pick up a container full of illegal immigrants.” He rolled his eyes. “You name it, they’re paranoid about it.”

“But you don’t need to check with Tom. He knows I’m coming.” She smiled sweetly.

“Okay, hang on then.” Dave’s head disappeared back into the hut and he produced a sheet and visitor’s badge. “Sign in and put this badge on. Just remember to give it back on your way out.” He smiled.

Gina made her way through the port. CCTV cameras loomed at her from every wall. As she reached the quayside a huge shadow fell over her like there’d been an eclipse. She looked up to see a vast red container hovering high above her. It had been lifted from the deck of a ship by the towering gantry cranes. She watched with a mixture of awe and fear as the crane swung round slowly and lowered the container down, stacking it on top of a row of matching boxes like they were giant Lego blocks. She walked along the dockside, past the immense cargo ships, their gigantic chains tumbling into the waters as they dropped anchor. Everything about the docks was on such an enormous scale. She felt tiny and vulnerable amongst the tons of metal and machinery.

She looked out at the grey murky sea, perpetually churning with the constant traffic of ships sailing in and out of port, their horns blasting, their bodies creaking. Squawking seagulls suddenly skimmed overhead as they swooped in to steal fruit from a damaged crate.

For Gina, the docks were a part of her life. They never slept, producing a cacophony of noise, day and night, as ships from all over the world were loaded and unloaded. The sound of the docks floated on the wind into the surrounding neighbourhood. Visitors to Gina’s house would ask, “How the hell do you live with that constant noise?” But, just like all the other residents, she had become immune to it.

She walked on and made her way through the cluster of giant buildings until she came to the cocoa warehouse. Entering through the Alice-in-Wonderland door, Gina was taken aback by the sight that greeted her. She saw half a dozen dogs, each in a different aisle, methodically making their way over the piles of bulging jute sacks, stored on the miles of shelving. With wagging tails and heads in constant motion, they moved from one pile to the next, sniffing at the sacks of cocoa beans.

Tom strode out of the office, Kylie tottering behind him. “What are you doing here?” His voice was less than welcoming.

Kylie gave Gina a hug. “Hiya, babe. Lovely to see you.”

“What’s going on?” Gina asked.

“It’s just the port police doing a spot check,” Kylie said, waving at one of the police officers who stood at the end of the aisle.

“It’s routine. They do them all the time,” Tom added.

“Well, it’s not that routine, is it?” Kylie disagreed. “We haven’t had one for at least a year.”

“Whatever,” Tom said impatiently. “I just wish they’d hurry up. I’m trying to run a business here.” He gave Gina a half smile. “So what can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to speak to Dad’s workmates.”

“What about?”

“About that morning…before he died.”

Tom looked puzzled. “They’ve already said everything they know.”

“But
I
haven’t spoken to them properly. They might have remembered something new.”

“As you can see, it’s not a good time,” Tom replied gruffly. “I’ll let you know when’s best to come in.”

Gina stuck out her chin defiantly. She wasn’t going to obey the man who’d told everyone that her dad had been depressed. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long,” she said, walking past him and approaching a forklift truck driver who was stacking sacks.

Half an hour later, after Gina had spoken to all seven men, Tom came to find her.

“Are you done now?” he asked, irritated. “Because we need to get on and I’ve only just got rid of the bloody port police.”

“Yes.”

“So what did the fellas have to say? Did you learn anything useful?”

“No.” Gina looked despondent. None of the men had told her anything new. They’d all agreed that her dad had looked as if he was okay, though they hadn’t really had a chance to talk to him that morning because of the big delivery. It seemed her dad had done some random checks on the sacks and the only unusual thing that they could remember happening was that they got to leave work early.

Tom looked concerned. “Can you see now that there’s no point to all this questioning? People’ve already said what they know.”

“I’m just trying to find out the truth about what happened to my dad. Somebody’s got to.” She glared at Tom.

Tom sighed, sadly. “I think you’d better go home now.”

As Gina walked away from the warehouse, Tom called her mother. The sound of a busy supermarket filtered down the phone.

“Hi, Tom,” she said.

“Clare, have you got a minute?”

“Yeah, I’ve just finished on the checkout. I’m on my break. What is it?”

“I think we need to talk about Gina…”

“So what kind of fish do you think we should get?” Danny asked Gina excitedly. They sat on the slashed sofas that their mum had covered with brightly-coloured throws.

“We’ll go to the aquarium and choose,” Gina answered distractedly, as she looked through more old photo albums that she’d found.

“Do you think the coppers will find our TV and my Xbox? It’s dead boring without them.”

“I don’t know. They said that they’d keep us informed.”

They heard the key in the door and their mum’s voice: “I’m home.”

Clare’s pale face appeared around the living-room door. “Hi, Danny. Did you have a good day at school?”

“Yeah, it was okay. Everyone had heard about our house being robbed. Michael Morris reckons they were druggies. He said they always are.”

“Maybe he’s right. Only people off their heads would tear a house apart the way they did, unless…” Gina’s brow creased.

“Unless what?” Danny asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“Anyway,” Danny continued, “everyone’s being dead nice to me. Miss didn’t even give me any homework.”

“Well that’s good,” Clare said. “I just need a word with Gina in the kitchen, if you don’t mind, love?”

Gina sensed the anxiety in her mum’s voice and followed her immediately.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Gina asked.

Her mum looked uncomfortable. “You went to the aquarium today? Did you find out anything?”

“Not much, but it was helpful. The guy there didn’t think Dad seemed depressed and now I know how long he spent in the shop I’ve started a timeline of where he went that day.”

“
And
you went to the warehouse and questioned your dad’s workmates.”

“How do you know?” Gina frowned.

“Uncle Tom phoned me. He’s concerned about you. He thinks that you’re just upsetting yourself, questioning everyone.”

“He just didn’t like me interrupting his business,” Gina snapped.

“That’s not the reason. He can see that you’re struggling with all this and he thinks that you should get back to school; focus on other things.”

“Oh, does he now?” Gina said indignantly. “Who does he think he is, telling me what to do?”

“He cares about you, Gina, and he’s right. You need routine, you need company. We have to try and get back to something like normality.”

“Why are you siding with him? We can’t trust him. Why didn’t he mention that it was him who’d phoned Dad that night? Why have you just believed him about Dad being depressed?”

“Gina, ask yourself, why on earth would Tom lie?”

Gina’s eyes darted around. “I don’t know, but it can’t be true.”

Her mum cupped her hands around Gina’s angry face, saying softly, “When you’re older, you’ll understand things better. You’ll understand about depression. You’ll understand what stress can do to people and you’ll realize that the only person I’m ‘siding’ with is you. Until then, you’ve just got to trust me to do what’s right for you – and that means sending you back to school.”

The family had been surprised when, a week later, Tom stood in their kitchen and announced that he’d decided to go travelling for a few months and that he’d hired a manager to run the warehouse until his return. Gina saw the look of disappointment on her mum’s face but she felt only a mixture of relief and suspicion at the news. Gina wanted him gone; she didn’t want him spreading any more lies about her dad, and she didn’t trust him.

“Why are you running away?” Gina asked.

Tom laughed. “I’m not running away. Please don’t be angry with me. I know it seems selfish to leave now, but Marty’s death has made me realize that I shouldn’t delay things. I’ve worked hard all my life and I’ve always wanted to see the world. I’ve got to seize the day. You do understand, don’t you?” He looked towards Clare.

“Of course I do. I know how hard losing Martin has been for you, too. You’ve been such a help to me, but you
should
go – we’ll still be here when you get back,” her mum replied with a forced smile.

Tom seemed relieved to have her mum’s blessing. He held his arms wide open, saying, “Come on, I need a hug.”

Mum and Danny stood up and embraced him but Gina held back.

“Aren’t you going to give your Uncle Tom a goodbye hug?” Tom asked.

“No. You’re not my real uncle, are you?” Gina replied icily.

“Well, no, but…” Tom stumbled.

“Gina! Don’t be so rude.” Her mother looked mortified. “Say goodbye to your Uncle Tom.”

“Goodbye, TOM,” Gina said, walking out of the room.

Even after Tom had gone and she was back at school, nothing could stop Gina’s constant thoughts about what had happened to her dad. She spent her days in a state of agitation that bordered on mania. She’d only been back in school a few weeks when she approached Becky and some other friends on the playing field and overheard their loud whispers.

“Look, Gina’s coming. It’s time we said something.”

“What are you going to say?” Gina asked them.

There was silence as her friends exchanged embarrassed looks.

“Nothing,” Tanya replied.

“We’re her friends. She needs to be told,” Becky said firmly.

“What is it?” Gina asked in a whisper.

“Listen, Gina,” Becky said gently, “you know that we’ve been trying to get you through this. We understand how terrible it is but we’re finding it really difficult to help. We’ve tried to take your mind off it all, but you won’t go anywhere or do anything. All you talk about is how your dad wasn’t depressed and didn’t kill himself. I’m so sorry, Gina, but we don’t know what to do. We’ve been thinking that maybe you need to talk to someone who knows about these things. Someone who can help sort your head out.”

Gina was stunned. All these weeks they’d been listening to her and then talking behind her back; saying what? That she was crazy? Cracking up? Well, if they weren’t going to believe her then she’d find out the truth without them. Gina turned around and rushed away before her friends saw her crying.

The school was trying to be supportive, keeping a close eye on Gina, and teachers had noticed how isolated she was making herself. The headteacher eventually phoned Clare to share his concerns.

“It’s not her academic work we are worried about – Gina seems to be plodding on with that. To speak frankly, Mrs. Wilson, we’re more concerned about Gina’s mental health. We appreciate that she’s been through a dreadful trauma and it’s only been a few months since her father’s death, but she seems to be having real difficulty coping with it all, and it’s driving her friends away, frightening them even. We’ll do our best to support Gina through this, but perhaps she needs some professional help – bereavement counselling, maybe?”

Clare thanked the head and said she’d think about it, but then she put the phone down and wept.

Gina knew that her mum was desperate for her to focus on other things; to go back to her running club, go out with her friends, spend time with the family, but Gina couldn’t; she had more important things to do. On her way home from school she’d go into pubs and cafes in the area, showing the staff a photo of her dad and asking whether they’d seen him on the day he died. Her enquiries were met with a range of responses, some sympathetic, some disinterested, but all negative.

Once she got home each evening, she’d often head straight up to her bedroom. Her mum would knock on the door, trying to coax her downstairs and Gina would call out that she was busy doing her homework, but when her mum retreated, she’d open her notebook again and pore over her words, trying to recall how her dad had behaved in the weeks before his death. Some days Gina felt like her head was going to explode as she tried to conjure up every word her dad had said, every gesture he’d made.

One evening she was talking to her gallery of photos, asking, “What were you like before you went to work that day? I didn’t actually see you, did I? I was in the bathroom, I hadn’t even made it downstairs before you left. Mum was shouting for Danny to get out of bed. But you shouted up to me, didn’t you? You said, ‘I’ll pick you up from running tonight. If I get a chance I’ll get there early; watch you train, pick up a few pointers.’ I opened the bathroom door and called down to you, ‘Well you need them, old man!’ and you laughed – I heard you laugh and you weren’t faking – you seemed normal…happy. So why were you like a different person when you picked me up from the running club? What were you thinking about at the allotment? What did Tom Cotter say—”

She stopped abruptly as her door flew open and Danny entered.

“Who are you talking to?” he asked, looking around the room.

“To Dad,” she said matter-of-factly, pointing to the photographs.

“Oh, all right.” Danny shrugged. “Anyway, Mum sent me up to get you. There’s that copper downstairs who came about the house getting robbed. Mum phoned them ages ago to find out if they had any news, and he’s here now.”

Gina rushed downstairs and into the living room. She automatically walked over to the display shelf on the opposite side of the room and cupped the grey urn that contained her dad’s ashes. Holding it between her hands made her feel more connected to him. After a few seconds she released it and said to the puzzled police officer, “So what’s the news?”

“Well, nothing positive, I’m afraid. We haven’t been able to retrieve any of your stolen goods but I’m glad to see that you’ve replaced them,” he said, nodding towards the new TV.

“Yes,” her mum said, “the insurance paid out.”

“Good. That’s new, isn’t it?” The officer pointed to the tropical fish tank in the corner of the room in an effort to lighten the atmosphere.

“It’s mine,” Danny said proudly. “It’s off my dad. It’s looking good but it’s going to look even better. I’m going to keep adding more fish and stuff.”

“Haven’t you got anyone for the burglary?” Gina wanted to stick to business.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s been very frustrating. We thought we’d made a breakthrough a few weeks ago but it came to nothing.”

“Why? What happened?” her mum asked.

“Well, we heard on the grapevine that a couple of young men had been boasting down the pub about how they’d been paid to break into a house.”

“What! Our house?” Gina asked.

“We don’t know for sure. We’ve had a few burglaries in the area but the timings would fit with yours.”

“Oh my God! So what happened to them? What else did they say?”

“Well, that was the problem. They wouldn’t say anything. They had previous convictions so we hauled them in, fingerprinted them, interviewed them, but it was just ‘no comment’ all the way. We held them while we searched their flats but we found nothing we could use against them. If they were guilty, they’d covered their tracks well. We couldn’t charge them. Their solicitor argued that it was all hearsay and she was right. We had no evidence, so we had to let them go. I’m sorry.”

“But you’ve got to ask them more questions,” Gina said.

“Look, unless we have very strong suspicions we can’t get them in again. The whole thing
may
have just been hearsay.”

“You can’t leave it like that.”

“We have to. The depressing statistics are that most burglaries are never solved.”

“But why would someone have paid them to break into our house?” Gina asked.

“It happens. Some people don’t want to do the dirty work themselves. They pay some local yobs and split the profits. But we still don’t know that happened in your case.”

Gina started chewing at her nails, speaking rapidly. “What if it had something to do with what happened to Dad? What if it was someone with a grudge? Someone who did it for revenge?”

“Nobody has a grudge against your father,” her mum insisted.

“And if it was a grudge, then they would have done all sorts to the house; written abuse on the walls and much worse,” the officer said.

“Then they were looking for something! Somebody paid them to search our house,” Gina announced.

“But we were robbed, Gina,” her mum said.

“Yeah, but they could have just taken the TV and other stuff to make it look like an ordinary break-in. That would be the clever thing to do, wouldn’t it?” she said to the officer.

“Possibly, but what would they have been after?” he replied.

“Nothing! It’s a ridiculous idea. There’s nothing in this house of real value.” Her mum sounded irate.

“But look what they did,” Gina persisted. “Danny’s mate thought it was druggies, but couldn’t it have been people looking for something? Why else would they turn the place upside down?”

“The fact that the house was turned upside down doesn’t mean that they were after anything specific,” the officer said. “Burglars search for hiding places, in case people have stashed a load of cash or valuables.”

Gina’s eyes suddenly looked wild, her mind was racing. “Listen, when we got back to the house and saw we’d been burgled I was upstairs, in Danny’s room, with Tom. He got this text and he went and looked out of the front window and then he shot back; he looked shaken, so I looked out too and there was this big man standing by his car on the opposite side of the street.”

“And what was he doing?” the officer asked.

“Well, nothing. He was just standing there.”

“And who was he?”

“I don’t know. Tom said he didn’t know him.”

“Well, what was the text about?”

“I don’t know, but—”

“What’s the relevance of all this?” her mum butted in.

“Well, it felt odd at the time but now we know someone paid them to break into our house, maybe it was that man and Tom Cotter knows him,” Gina garbled.

Danny jumped up from the sofa. “So is that big man after us?”

“No he isn’t.” Her mum threw Gina an annoyed glance. “Gina’s being silly. There is no ‘big man’, just some man who happened to be on our street.”

“Young lady, you can’t jump to conclusions,” said the officer. “As I’ve said, we don’t even know if the men we questioned were guilty, we don’t know if they were paid and, if they were, we can’t even be one hundred per cent certain that it was your house. As for this tale about the man in the street, well, it’s hardly likely to be anything connected with the burglary. You wouldn’t be waiting outside the house that you’d just had robbed, would you?”

“But shouldn’t you write this down so that you can look into it?” Gina demanded.

“Well, I’ll make a note,” the officer said half-heartedly, “but I don’t imagine it’ll come to anything.”

“Tom was up to something,” Gina insisted.

“Love, you must stop fixating on Tom Cotter,” her mum said, exasperated. “You’re determined to blame him for everything. Your imagination is out of control.”

“But—” Gina began.

“Be quiet, Gina.” Her mum sighed. “Officer, maybe it would be best if you left now. As you can see, all this has just put unhelpful ideas into my daughter’s head. It’s not good for her.”

Gina scowled as her mum walked him out of the room.

You’re not the only policeman
, she thought.
I’m going to talk to one who might actually listen to me
.

The next day, after school, Gina sat in the office of Constable Jason Rogers of the British Transport Police. He’d been surprised to see her.

“Does your mum know you’re here?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course she does,” she lied.

“How can I help you, Gina?”

“I’ve got new information. It might be connected with what happened to my dad.”

“Okay.” He sounded sceptical. “Let’s hear it.”

She told him about men being paid to break into their house when they were at her dad’s funeral. She told him about Tom Cotter, the text and the man in the street. She told him that they might have been looking for something.

“I don’t see how the burglary connects to his death. It happened weeks after your dad died,” Constable Rogers said.

“Yeah, but it was the best time to get inside the house. Everyone was at the funeral. Please, you need to question those two men to find out who paid them and why. And can’t you find out who that man in the street was and how he knows Tom Cotter?”

“There’s already an officer in charge of investigating the burglary. He will have looked into all this.”

“But he doesn’t understand; you really need to take over.”