Only the Brave (15 page)

6.00 P.M.

Craig had just parked up his car in Fegg Hayes Road when his phone rang. He picked it up. Shit. Steve Burgess.

‘You got anything for me, yet?’

‘Still working on it.’

‘You’re taking your fucking time!’

‘I’ll get it to you! I’m nearly there.’

‘You’d better. If I don’t have the money by the end of the day, you’re a fucking goner, do you understand?’

Before he could say yes, Steve had hung up. Craig cursed. Did Steve think a reminder like that was going to help him? The thick prick. He was scared enough anyway without him breathing down his neck. And it was a sorry state of affairs when he had to give his wife a slap to get the truth out of her. He couldn’t get it into her thick scull that she should be sticking by
him
, not any of her stupid friends.

He looked across at the block of four flats to his right, psyched himself up for what was to come. Owned by the city council, from the outside they all had tidy, pristine gardens as opposed to the flats opposite them that looked like they were being squatted in. They were also home to Mary Matthews, Leah’s old dear of a mum. She’d had their cast-off table and chairs last year. He remembered cramming them into the back of his car to deliv
er them.

He jogged over, pushed open the gate and strode down the path. Number 27 was the first door, a downstairs flat. There was a light on in one room. He knocked and waited. No reply. He knocked again and when no one came to the door, he lifted the letterbox. There could definitely be someone in as the television was blaring away.

He went around the back. The garden was surrounded by a six-foot hedge on all sides, hard to see through for privacy but hard to escape through if he had to make a fast getaway. Although it was dark, it was early so he would have to be quick.

There were three windows in a row downstairs. The small one nearest to him was covered in opaque glass so he assumed it was the bathroom. The next one had a large window and two smaller panels. One of them was on the catch. He stretched up to open it and pushed his arm in. After a few seconds, he opened the larger window underneath and scrambled in.

Craig had always done a bit of thieving but since he’d starte
d t
o work at Flynn’s, his days of breaking and entering were over: there were more lucrative ways of getting money. He crept over to the door and opened it quietly. The sound of the television rose. H
e mo
ved along a dark hallway, made his way to a door that was ajar. He peered through the gap between it and the frame, where a tiny sliver of light shone through, and found himself looking into the living room. Mary Matthews was fast asleep, curled up on the sofa. The fire was on full; she had a coat draped over her. He moved forward into the room, looking around quickly. Inside an old
sideboard
and behind the settee were the only two places anything could be concealed. He opened the door to the sideboard but it was full of magazines, knitting wool and a few old photos. Moving swiftly on all fours, he looked behind the settee but found noth
ing there.

Mary was still asleep. She hadn’t moved at all. Craig stood over her for a few seconds. He ought to do her some damage, to teach Leah a lesson, but even though he was wearing gloves, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Turning away, he went through to her kitchen, opening drawers and doors as quietly as he could. After a few minutes, he could find nothing in there. He went through to the bathroom. There was no bath panel to hide anything behind, just a walk-in shower cubicle. He checked out the airing cupboard, pulling down towels and sheets onto the floor.

Nothing.

That bitch Stella must have been lying to him all the time. Wait until he got his hands on her.

He was just leaving the house through the bedroom window when he noticed something tucked in at the side of the wardrobe. He chanced putting a light on. Could it be? It was. A black bag.

He heard a rap on the window and looked up into the face of an elderly man.

‘Oy, what are you doing in there?’ he shouted.

Craig picked the bag up, hoisted it over his shoulder and jumped up onto the windowsill again.

‘I’m the electric man. Don’t worry yourself, pops,’ he smiled, climbing through the window.

‘You’re not the bloody electric man.’

Craig jumped to the ground and the man prodded a walking stick at him.

‘Mary! Mary! I’m going to call the police.’

‘Keep the noise down or I’ll –’

‘But you can’t just take that bag. I –’

Craig pushed the man on the shoulder, sending him hurtling into the garden. He lost his footing and fell backwards, his head banging on the lawn.

‘Fuck!’ Without a second thought, Craig shrugged the bag onto his shoulder again and ran back to his car. He was gone before a light went on anywhere.

Allie’s head went up from her computer as she spotted DCI Trevor Barrow walking into the office. It was a few minutes before the
evening’s
team brief was due to start. He stopped at her desk and she felt his presence, looked up.

‘I’ve barely had a chance to ask you today, it’s been that busy. How’re you bearing up, Allie?’ he asked.

‘I’m okay, sir.’

‘Let me know if things are too much for you, or if you need a break. We’d understand.’

She nodded. She felt unable to meet his eye as the tears welled up again but, fearing it would be disrespectful if she didn’t, gave him a quick smile. She breathed a sigh of relief once he had gone.

‘Big sigh, that,’ said Sam, sitting down across from her.

Allie gave her a faint smile too. ‘Honestly, it’s so nice of everyone to show concern and I suppose I’d be pissed off if they didn’t. But constantly being asked, being reminded of what’s to come all the time wears me down. I feel like I’m going to burst into tears if someone mentions Karen’s name.’ She bit her lip.

Sam moved her chair closer and gave Allie a sympathetic smile.

‘But I also feel guilty for being here, doing my job, getting on with my life when she . . . when she’s about to end hers.’

‘Don’t give yourself a hard time. You’re doing what you do best. You’ve spent so much time with her, supporting her. She’d want you to get on with your life.’

‘I know – but it’s only to keep my mind off the inevitable. It doesn’t seem right.’

They both turned to listen when Trevor addressed the room.

‘Okay, everyone.’ He turned to the whiteboard behind him. ‘Nick, can you run through the events of the day and then everyone can update us with what they know before we crack on.’

Nick moved to stand next to Trevor. He pointed to a photo in the middle of the board and tapped a finger on it.

‘Our victim, Jordan Johnson, thirty-one. Blunt force trauma to the head and face with what looks like a baseball bat, plus one incision to the chest. Neither weapon has been located on site. Cause of death is looking likely to be the knife in the chest. He was killed in the early hours of this morning on the pathway next to Harrison House in the dip of Ford Green Road. Found shortly after by a woman walking her dog. Time of death was estimated between one and three thirty a.m., but new evidence shows that Johnson was at the The Genting Club until two thirty, so that narrows the time down. Allie?’

‘Our witness, Rita Pritchard, was ringing for an ambulance when she says she saw a woman with long dark hair going into the flats. She heard the electronic door buzzer and caught the back of a female but can’t be sure who she was. There are three women in the block who match that description. One name she mentioned was Leah Matthews in flat number,’ she checked back over her notebook and nodded, ‘203 and another woman she thought lived on the same floor as Leah, but she didn’t know her name or flat number. The third woman was Stella Elliott at flat 209. She’s known to us thanks to her delightful husband Craig, whom I think we’ve all met at one point or another.’

‘They should put a bomb on that place,’ joked Perry.

‘We’d all be out of a job then,’ said Sam.

‘Perry and I spoke to all three women,’ Allie continued. ‘First up, Rebecca Adams in flat 210. She was in all evening, went to bed around eleven and didn’t know anything had happened until she saw the police the next morning and asked a neighbour what was going on. But when Jordan Johnson’s phone records came back from SPOC, it turned out that the last person to send him a message was a woman called Sophie Nicklin, living at flat 210,
Harrison
House.’

Nick ran a hand over his chin. ‘A false name? Why do you think she did that?’

‘Turns out she’d been seeing Jordan on the quiet for a few months, and panicked because she didn’t want the wrath of
girlfriend
, Kirstie Ryder.’

Another murmur spread round the room.

‘Well, there’s the reason why Johnson was at Harrison House last night,’ said Nick.

‘Maybe Johnson told Sophie Nicklin that he was leaving Kirstie and then didn’t follow through?’ suggested Sam. ‘She could be attacking him in revenge, then.’

‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ said Allie. ‘Although I have a feeling that she isn’t involved, it’s worth thinking about.’

‘Or,’ Nick continued, ‘did someone know he was going to be there, arrange to meet him? Did someone follow him there? Or was it just a random attack?’ He addressed Allie again. ‘Leah
Matthews
– did you get any sense out of her?’

‘There was something nervy about her, she wasn’t her usual bolshie self. She didn’t make much eye contact and was trying to put on a couldn’t-care-less attitude. She too said she was home alone, fell asleep on the sofa and also heard about it the next
morning
.’

‘And Stella Elliott?’

‘We spoke to her and her husband, Craig. She was in from work at eleven – that checks out with her finishing time, as well as her friend saying she dropped her off afterwards. Craig said he came in about midnight. Sam, do you want to pick up from here?’

‘CCTV footage from Flynn’s shows him leaving around that time,’ said Sam, ‘but it would take another twenty minutes for him to get to Harrison House if he went straight home in a taxi or car. Walking, I’d say about an hour. I can try and follow him if necessary to see where he goes, but either way it puts him at home much later than midnight.’

‘I’m going to talk to him once the brief is over,’ Allie added.

‘There’s going to be a formal identification taking place straight after this briefing,’ said Nick. ‘I might need you there.’

Allie looked at the floor. So much for thinking of her feelings. That was the last place she wanted to be. When she looked up, Sam was looking at her. She mouthed ‘Are you okay?’ and Allie nodded quickly.

Nick turned back to the board and pointed to another
photograph
of a woman. ‘This is Kirstie Ryder. She’s twenty-one now and though we don’t have any proof of illegal activity, we’ve been keeping an eye on her for a while and we believe she is helping her father to keep on top of the family business. Even though they now technically belong to Kirstie, Terry Ryder still runs the six branches of Car Wash City, located here and there around the area. We believe he controls his business through making her do some of the running around, and Ryan and Jordan have been doing the rest. I doubt it’s a
coincidence
that Kirstie and Jordan were an item.’

‘She also has long dark hair,’ Perry pointed out.

‘Indeed, so she too could be our mystery woman. Allie and I saw her at home this morning. Ryan was there, too. She says she and Jordan were arguing last night. She’d gone round to Flynn’s and they ended up fighting. Kirstie says she went home afterwards, claims to have not seen Jordan alive after that.’

‘We saw all that on screen,’ said Sam. ‘She packs a mean punch.’

‘Allie,’ said Nick, ‘can you have a word with the bouncers when you visit Flynn’s to talk to the staff? See if they can add anything. More importantly, see if they close ranks and remember nothing. Take Perry with you.’

‘But, sir, I thought I’d go and see Craig Elliott. Perry was going to go to Flynn’s.’

Nick gave her a meaningful look. ‘I’d rather you didn’t go alone.’

‘I’ll be fine at the flats and I think –’

‘If you and Perry are quick at Flynn’s, you can be over at Elliott’s in no time.’

‘There’re lots of officers at Harrison House. I’ll keep in their sight and –’

‘For God’s sake, Allie, this isn’t open to discussion. This is a basic command. You will stay with Perry.’

Allie stared at the whiteboard behind him, quietly fuming, realising it would do no good to complain any further. Instead, she tried not to show her annoyance that she wasn’t being listened to. Even when it concerned her own health and safety, she woul
d neve
r get used to it. Damn that bastard for stirring things up again. Now she wasn’t even in control of her job.

Nick looked around the room; if he noticed Allie’s
belligerence
,
she couldn’t tell. ‘Follow up any leads that have or will come in from the press conference too. Sam, have all tenants been
spoken
to door-to-door now?’