Speak No Evil (38 page)

‘It's OK now,' said Donovan, holding her as tight as he could, ‘I've got you. You're safe now. You're safe now …'

PART FIVE

THROUGH A LONG AND SLEEPLESS NIGHT

In the room is a table. At either side of the table are two chairs. On the table is a tape recorder. Two on one side, two on the other. She leans forward, introduces herself into the microphone.

‘The time is 10.39 a.m. Detective Inspector Diane Nattrass. At my right is Detective Sergeant David Jobson. Opposite me is Christopher Renwick. And because Christopher Renwick is a minor he is accompanied by Jane Foreman, child liaison officer.'

She turns to the boy. ‘So, Christopher. You've been read your rights.'

He nods.

‘For the tape please, can you say yes or no.'

‘Yes.' His voice is small, mumbled.

She looks at him as he speaks. Sitting in his paper suit, he looks like he has been crying. She understands. A night alone in the cells will do that to an adult never mind a child.

‘And you understand them?'

He starts to nod, then speaks. ‘Yes.'

‘Good. Well, you know why you're here. You're charged with the murder of Theresa Preston-Hatt. You were found at the scene of the crime standing over the victim holding a knife in your hand and covered with blood. Your clothing has been sent to the lab for analysis.' She stops talking, looks at him. ‘It looks conclusive. Did you do it, Christopher?'

He shrugs.

‘For the tape is that a yes or a no?'

He sits for a moment, thinking. He seems to be weighing up more than just the answer he will give. Eventually he nods. ‘Yes,' he says.

Nattrass sits back. ‘Good. So you're pleading guilty, you did it.'

He nods.

‘For the tape
—'

‘Yes … I did it, yes …' And then the tears start. He sits there, hands in his lap, shoulders hunched, seemingly getting smaller with each tear that falls.

‘Right. Why did you do it, Christopher?'

‘She … she said she would tell everyone what I'd done …'

‘Why? What had you done?'

Renny, realizing he was about to incriminate himself further, closes his mouth. Nattrass leans forward.

‘What had you done, Christopher?'

His only response is a shrug.

Nattrass sits back, opens the folder before her on the desk. ‘Calvin Bell. He was a friend of yours, wasn't he?'

Another shrug.

‘Yes or no. For the tape, please.'

‘Yes.'

‘Thank you. And he was killed this week. Stabbed. With a knife identical to the one that killed Theresa Preston-Hatt. Did you do it?'

‘No.'

‘Did you, Christopher? Because we're waiting for lab results that should be with us any moment and they will be able to tell us better than you.'

Another shrug.

‘Do you watch CSI, Christopher?'

‘Yeah.'

‘So do I. Good, isn't it? Well that's where all of Calvin's clothes have gone. To our CSI lab. And the knife you killed Theresa Preston-Hatt with. And all your clothes. And you know how they always catch the criminals in CSI? Through lab results? Well, that's what'll happen here. So I'll ask you again. Did you kill Calvin Bell?'

He thinks for a moment. Then sighs. ‘Yes …' He starts to cry again.

‘Right. Good. Thank you for being honest. But why, Christopher? Why did you kill him? He was a friend of yours, wasn't he?'

Renny nods.

‘For the tape.'

‘Yes.'

‘So why did you kill him?'

‘Because … because he dissed me.'

‘He … dissed you?'

‘Yeah. He dissed me. Made me look small in front of my friends, you know?'

‘How?'

‘Well, I like told him somethin' that I'd done an' I hadn't really done it. But I wanted him to think I had an' he didn't.'

‘What was it? What did you tell him?'

‘That I'd been for a ride with one of the kids in their cars. The racers. In Tesco's car park. And I hadn't.'

‘Why did you tell him that?'

‘'Cos … ‘cos he's always … he's a good kid. Popular. Everyone likes him. He's, like, really brainy but not a boff an'… an' I just wanted to show him that I could do somethin' too. An' then he made me look small' He shakes his head. ‘An' I couldn't have that, man. I couldn't have that.'

‘So you killed him.'

He nods. ‘Yes.'

‘Right.' Nattrass turns over a page in the report in front of her, looks up again. ‘John Pearson. Pez. Did you kill him as well?'

Renny shakes his head. ‘No.'

‘Are you sure? You killed Calvin and Theresa Preston
—'

‘I didn't kill Pez.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because Pez was my friend.'

‘So was Calvin.'

‘Yeah, but I wouldn't do that to Pez.'

‘You wouldn't?'

He shakes his head. ‘Nah.' Then thinks. Well, not unless he realty pissed me off.'

Nattrass sighs. ‘Do you know the difference between right and wrong, Christopher?'

He shrugs.

Nattrass is about to pursue the matter when the child liaison officer reminds her that the boy needs a rest. Nattrass doesn't ask him to clarify his shrug for the tape. She looks down at the report once more, turns over another page. There is a report from social services, investigating allegations of physical and perhaps sexual abuse by Christopher Renwick's father on Christopher himself at the behest of a teacher at his school. Renwick senior was found to be very unhelpful and incommunicative and the investigation went no further. The situation, the report said, was being monitored but at present no further action was being taken. Nattrass looked up, back at Renny.

‘Your dad's not here.'

Renny shakes his head.

‘I believe he was asked but didn't want to come down.'

Renny looks scared as soon as the conversation turns to his father. He shrugs.

‘Would you like us to call him again? See if we can get him here?'

He shakes his head. ‘No … no, don't get him in here.'

‘You sure?'

He nods. ‘Don't …'

And then he starts to cry again. And the tears he has shed so far are nothing compared to the ones he is now shedding.

Nattrass closes the report, sits back. She thinks of Mae Blacklock. How the abuse she experienced was ignored until it was too late and manifested itself as murderous rage. Looks at Christopher Renwick crying before her. Thinks how little has changed in the intervening years.

She leans forward to speak into the microphone. She concludes the interview.

There is nothing more to be said for the time being.

30

Anne Marie looked at the figure before her, lying in the hospital bed. She had cried rivers – oceans – of tears over him in the time they had been together. And now she wiped her eyes with a tissue, letting the latest watery emissions dry up.

She had come to the General Hospital as soon as Donovan had called her, Amar driving. Once there, a nurse had directed her to the waiting room and told her to wait. Mister Hutchinson was in surgery and she would let her know how he was as soon as she could. Anne Marie had pestered her until she had brought a doctor who then told her the extent of Rob's injuries. Neither his neck nor his back were broken, nor was there any sign of brain damage which were all encouraging signs, but his legs were broken, his ribs were shattered, one of them puncturing a lung which meant for the time being he couldn't breathe unassisted. Seeing Anne Marie's face the doctor added that he was in a good state and that, although it might be slow and painful, given the right kind of care there was no reason why he couldn't make a good or perhaps even full recovery.

There were police everywhere in the hospital, almost as many of them as medical staff. They had questioned her and questioned her until she couldn't think straight and then left her alone.

Hours Anne Marie had sat there, worrying about Rob. And Jack. He was in another part of the hospital. Donovan had contacted her, told her what had happened with him and that he was dealing with the police in Scotswood but he would be at the hospital as soon as possible. Jack and Abigail had already been taken there and their injuries were being treated. Abigail's were mostly superficial, but Jack had four broken ribs and they wanted to keep him in for observation in case of internal bleeding. He was sleeping now, comfortable, as the nurse had said. Expected to make a full recovery. Anne Marie tried to take what positives she could from it. She knew it could have been a lot worse. Haig and Flemyng weren't so lucky.

So as she sat in the waiting room, a plastic cup of something claiming to be coffee in her hand, certainly nowhere near as good as Donovan's coffee, she allowed herself to feel relief. With me police leaving her alone for the time being, she felt that, for the first time in more years than she could remember, she could relax. A little. If she could get beyond this then she could allow herself to experience something a little like hope. There was still stuff to get sorted, and she would have to move again, but if they could just get through the rest of the night, then the next day might not be so bad after all.

The door to the waiting room opened and a nurse walked in.

‘Ms Smeaton? Your son's awake if you would like to see him.'

She didn't need to be told twice. She stood up, overturning the plastic cup of toxic liquid into the carpet, expecting it to sizzle.

‘Sorry,' she said to the nurse.

‘Doesn't matter. Come with me.'

The nurse led her to a ward. And there, lying down and heavily bandaged, was her son. She wanted to run forward, hold him, but she knew that would only make things worse. So she stood there, trying to contain her emotions, hoping he understood.

There were tears in his sleepy eyes. ‘Mum … I'm sorry …'

She frowned. ‘What for?'

‘Running off like that.'

‘Don't be stupid.'

‘I've been thinking. About what you did …'

Anne Marie tensed, not wanting to hear the rest but knowing, despite everything else that had happened, she wouldn't be able to move on until she had. ‘It's all right,' she started to say but Jack stopped her.

‘No, Mum. I've got to say this now. Because I've been thinking about it and we've got to get it said. Now.' He paused, took a deep breath, exhaled. It seemed to hurt him. She sat on the edge of the bed, held his hand. ‘I just wanted to say … you were just a kid. What you did, you were just a kid. You didn't know what you were doing … you can't punish yourself all your life for something you did when you were a kid …'

And the tears started again.

Time passed. Anne Marie didn't know how long they stayed like that, but she noticed after a while that a figure was standing over her.

‘I hope I'm not interrupting anything,' said Joe Donovan. ‘I was just passing, you know …'

Anne Marie smiled. ‘You OK?'

Donovan managed a smile. ‘I'm fine. I'm just going to get Abigail and I thought I would see how you were doing. How's Rob?'

She told him. ‘But they're hopeful. So that's somethin'.'

‘Good.' Donovan looked round, clearly embarrassed. ‘So. I think you might want to take a day off tomorrow.' He looked at his watch. ‘Well, today, really.'

She nodded. ‘Look, erm … this book. I've been thinkin'. I don't want to do it any more.'

‘You sure? I would have thought now would be a great time to do it. Publicity, money … the chance to tell your story'

‘Well, I don't know. Maybe. But not right this moment. I don't think I can handle the past. I've had enough of that recently what with one thing and another. I think I'll just concentrate on the future from now on.'

‘Whatever. Decision's yours.'

‘And I think we might have to move on again.'

‘You never know. It'll all blow over in a few days. Things'll be back to normal. People will forget.'

‘Maybe they will, maybe they won't. We can't take that chance.'

‘Right.' He thought for a moment, then smiled. ‘But if you do decide to stay and you need a job …'

‘Yes?'

‘Well, people keep telling me I need a receptionist.'

She smiled. ‘Thanks. I'll bear that in mind.'

She said her goodbyes to him, thanked him once again. As he was leaving, Jack spoke.

‘Will you see Abigail?'

‘Yeah, I'm going to pick her up now.'

‘Right.' Jack became suddenly tongue-tied. ‘Tell her … tell her …'

Donovan smiled. ‘I will,' he said, and left.

Anne Marie turned back to Jack, smiled at him. And, fragile and shaken though he was, he returned it.

Perhaps things weren't going to be so bad after all, she thought.

Donovan walked down the corridor of the hospital on his way to pick up Abigail. He checked his watch. Nearly seven o'clock. The next day was starting.

He had spent the night giving a statement to the police. They hadn't looked on what they described as his vigilante actions very favourably at first but once he mentioned that he had attempted to call DI Nattrass and been rebuffed, perhaps sensing a possible lawsuit, they backed off. And that was just fine with him.

‘Joe … Joe …'