After the Fire (12 page)

‘Why did you leave?’

‘I was buying cake for Nina. My mother-in-law,’ she clarified. ‘She sent me down to the shop. I was only gone twenty minutes. Half an hour at most.’

‘Sent you,’ I repeated.

‘I didn’t mind.’ Debbie pulled her sleeves down over her hands, a gesture that I’d have expected from a teenager more than from a grown woman. ‘I never mind going out to the shops.’

‘Even though the lift was broken,’ Derwent said with a smile.

‘Keeps me fit.’

‘Did you see anyone suspicious on your way to the shops?’ I asked. She shook her head.

‘What about anyone you didn’t know?’

‘There was a man.’ Debbie sounded vague. ‘I can’t remember much about him. He was on the stairs and he walked past me.’

‘Age?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Younger than me? Older than me?’ Derwent was really trying not to sound impatient but it edged his voice and Debbie shrank a little.

‘Maybe the same? I don’t know.’

‘Build?’

‘Normal.’

‘What does that mean?’ Derwent asked.

‘I don’t know. Normal.’ She flapped her hands, agitated. ‘I didn’t know he was important.’

‘He might not be.’ I gave Derwent a warning look. To Debbie, I said, ‘What about his face? Could you describe him?’

‘He was white.’

‘Is that it?’ Derwent demanded.

‘I couldn’t see him very well. He had a hat on.’

‘Hair colour?’

She shook her head.

‘Eye colour? Glasses?’

‘I just saw the hat.’

‘What was it like?’

‘I don’t know.’ Debbie started to sob. ‘I can’t remember.’

‘Was it a baseball cap?’ I asked. ‘With a peak? Or a hat with a brim?’

‘Baseball cap.’ She gave a couple of sniffs. ‘Red.’

‘Any logos on it? Or other colours?’

‘No.’

‘What about his clothes?’

‘Jeans, I think, and a dark jacket.’ She ran her finger down the centre of her torso. ‘It had a zip.’

‘Shoes?’

‘Trainers?’ It was a guess and we all knew it.

‘That’s very helpful,’ Derwent said. ‘If you think of anything else about him, do tell us.’ He handed her a card. ‘Call that number any time. Day or night.’

It was my telephone number on the card he’d given her, I saw.

‘I won’t remember anything else,’ Debbie said. ‘I barely saw him.’

‘If you do, you know where to find us,’ Derwent said easily. ‘How’s your daughter?’

‘Not good.’ She sounded bleak.

‘I’m sorry.’ For once, Derwent was completely sincere. ‘Would you like me to get someone to keep you company here? Your husband—’

‘No!’ It was pure instinct. I saw her try to get herself under control. ‘No. Thank you. He’s got Nathan to look after.’

I thought of the stunned boy curled up on his chair, being roundly ignored by his family.

‘Were you scared of anyone outside the family?’ I asked.

‘Not outside.’ It was an unguarded comment and she caught it just too late, putting a hand over her mouth.

‘Mrs Bellew, if you feel unsafe—’

‘No. No, it was a joke.’ She tried to smile. ‘Just a joke.’

I’d come back to it, I thought. Some time when she was less upset, less wary. I’d help her, if I could.

‘Do they think it was deliberate?’ she asked. ‘The fire?’

‘They don’t know yet,’ Derwent said. ‘That’s why we’re trying to work out if there was a reason for it to be arson.’

Her face was grey, like dirty ice. ‘But it could have been an accident.’

‘It’s possible. Why do you ask?’

‘I just can’t remember.’ She squeezed her hands together in her lap. ‘I keep trying, but I can’t.’

‘Remember what?’ I asked.

‘I was ironing, before I left.’ She put a hand to her head, distraught. ‘And I don’t remember. I don’t remember turning the iron off.’

‘They found an iron,’ Derwent said. ‘The investigator said. They’ll be able to tell if that was where the fire started.’

‘They can work it out?’ She looked even more worried. ‘But if everything’s burned …’

‘They’re used to studying fires. They can find out a lot more than you or I could.’ Derwent smiled. ‘But you really shouldn’t worry about it.’

‘My daughter is lying in that room suffering and it could be because of me. I can’t help worrying.’

I felt very sorry for her. ‘I can ask the investigator, if you like. I’ll let you know what he says.’

‘I’d just like to know.’ Debbie’s eyes were full of tears.

‘I understand.’

‘Do you know if anyone had a reason to threaten you or your family?’ I asked.

‘Threaten them? What are you talking about?’

‘We’re trying to find out if anyone had a motive to set the fire, Mrs Bellew. If anyone had a grudge against your family or wanted to scare you, that would be useful for us to know.’

Her eyes were huge. ‘I – why would you think anyone would be angry with us?’

‘We’re asking everyone,’ Derwent explained. ‘It’s not just you.’

‘Oh.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘What did Carl say?’

‘Why is that important?’ Derwent asked.

A tiny shrug. ‘Whatever he said is what I think.’

‘That’s the rule, is it?’

‘It’s the truth.’ She was still looking down, sullen. We’d lost her. Derwent caught my eye and nodded towards the exit.

‘We’ll leave you in peace, Mrs Bellew,’ I said. ‘Remember, you can call me any time if you have any questions or if you remember anything at all that was strange about yesterday, even if you don’t think it’s relevant or important.’

She nodded. Derwent and I had started to walk away when she spoke again, to ask the same question she’d asked before.

‘What did Carl say?’

Derwent glanced at me. I shrugged.

‘He said no one had any reason to harm you.’

‘Did he?’ She said it softly. ‘Was his mum there?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wonder what he’d have said if she wasn’t there.’

‘Why’s that?’

She shook her head, still not looking at us. ‘Just wondering, that’s all.’

We turned away. Derwent stopped once we were out of range. ‘We need to talk to Carl again.’

‘I’d say so.’

‘On his own this time.’

‘As a priority.’

‘And see if any CCTV cameras got footage of a man in a cap.’

‘He might not have been wearing the cap all the time,’ I pointed out.

‘What does that leave? A man in jeans and a zip-up jacket.’

‘Yeah, because I’m sure there was only one of them hanging around.’

‘It’s a start,’ Derwent said grimly. ‘At this stage, that’s all we need.’

WE WALKED BACK
down the stairs together, avoiding the lifts, because hospital lifts were slow and full of people who needed to use them, unlike us. I was always embarrassed to cram myself in alongside a patient on a trolley, and Derwent was paranoid about catching some sort of virus. That, in a nutshell, was the difference between us.

‘What’s next?’

‘The lady from flat 104,’ I said, checking my notes. ‘She’s the one who was rescued by the fire crews.’

‘A housebound little old lady.’ Derwent rolled his eyes. ‘She’s not going to be much use to us, is she? She won’t have seen anything. Or heard anything, probably. I bet she’s deaf.’

‘I’m sure you’ll manage to communicate with her. You have a loud enough voice.’

‘You can handle it. I’m going back to Carl Bellew.’

‘He’ll still be with his mother. You can’t call him out of the room in front of her – she’ll know exactly what you’re up to.’

‘He’s got to piss some time.’

‘You might have a long wait.’

‘I don’t mind. I’m disciplined, you see.’

‘Una Burt would say you were wasting your time.’

‘She says a lot of things about me, and most of them aren’t true.’

‘I think,’ I said, trying to be diplomatic, ‘she just doesn’t give you much credit. She doesn’t actually lie about what you do or how you do it. But she definitely doesn’t approve of you.’

‘Then I must be doing something right.’

We walked down the corridor, Derwent a little in front of me. That meant he went around the next corner first, and collided with a woman who was walking the other way. ‘Whoops.’

‘A fucking apology wouldn’t go amiss, thank you very much,’ she snapped. She was tanned to a leathery orange that clashed with her pale pink lipstick. Her hair was in the matted rat’s tails I associated with cheap extensions.

‘A fucking apology?’ Derwent repeated slowly. ‘I’m very fucking sorry. Your turn.’

The answer was a raised middle finger. She walked off, giving us the benefit of her backside in very tight, very stonewashed jeans that had a few strategic rips so her neon-orange skin could show through.

‘How many coats of Ronseal do you think that took?’ Derwent’s nose was wrinkled in disgust.

‘I don’t know but I’d say she’s fully protected for winter.’

‘She looks dirty.’

‘I thought that was your type,’ I said.

Derwent looked appalled. ‘There’s dirty and dirty. You’d need a trip to the STD clinic every time you held her hand. Anyway, I prefer the natural look.’

I snorted. ‘I bet you’re one of those men who says they love women who don’t wear make-up when you actually don’t have any idea what we look like without it.’

‘It can be a surprise the morning after,’ he admitted. ‘You never know what you’re going to get in the cold light of day.’

‘Maybe you should try to find someone you’re prepared to see more than once.’

He grinned. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

‘It’s all about the thrill of the chase for you, isn’t it?’

A shrug. ‘I only go after the ones who want to be caught.’

‘Which is every woman, according to you.’

‘Not every woman.’ He turned away. ‘Just most of them.’

The annoying thing was that I knew he didn’t have any trouble getting women to sleep with him. He was attractive enough, but it was the fact that he was a pure predator about it that made him so effective. He was ruthless, and determined, and he liked women – at least, he liked having sex with them. I’d seen it work time and time again.

He headed towards the waiting room where the Bellews had been, and I went in the opposite direction, towards double doors guarded by another uniformed officer. This one was slouching in his chair, looking at the ceiling. He was young and clean-cut.

I stopped beside him. ‘Is this where they took the victims from the tower block fire?’

‘Yep.’

‘Thanks.’ I opened the door and went through. After a second I opened the door again. ‘Did you want to check if I was supposed to be here, or what?’

‘Huh?’

I held up my ID and watched the colour leave his face.

‘Sorry. I should have—’

‘Yes, you should.’
But you looked at me and you didn’t think ‘cop’. You
definitely
didn’t think CID.
‘Why do you think you’re sitting here?’

‘To stop people bothering the victims.’

‘Bothering – or harming them. We still don’t know why the fire happened, or if it was deliberate. These people are witnesses at the very least, even if they aren’t targets. And there’ll be journalists coming and going, pretending to be hospital staff or counsellors or just visitors.’

‘I know that.’

‘Do you? But it didn’t ring any alarm bells for you when you heard me ask specifically about the fire victims?’

‘There’ve been quite a few people asking,’ he said lamely. ‘They’re curious. Other patients, you know. I haven’t let anyone through the doors who didn’t have proper ID.’

‘Anyone else, I think you mean. That’s something, I suppose.’ I gave him a hard stare. If it had been Derwent who’d encountered this idiot he’d have left him in tatters. I hadn’t the heart – not quite. But I didn’t want him to think it didn’t matter. ‘You’re the last person between these people and harm. Your job is to keep them safe. You have to be alert, and wary of every single person who passes you, even if they look like legitimate hospital employees. You’re not going to get in trouble for being too careful. You’re going to get in trouble if you sit there and let someone through those doors who shouldn’t be there.’

‘But you’re a police officer.’

‘And you had no idea that was the case when I walked through that door.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Be honest. Have you let anyone else go through there without checking their ID?’

He shook his head earnestly. ‘You just moved so fast.’

‘Yeah, I really didn’t give you a chance.’

He looked as if he was about to agree with me before he detected the sarcasm in my voice.

‘Do better,’ I said quietly, and went back through the doors again without waiting for an answer.

Mrs Mary Hearn had a room to herself, a sunny room that was already filling up with cards and balloons. She looked small in the bed, her slight frame propped up on stacks of pillows. Her fluffy white hair was untidy, her face lined and thin. I could smell smoke when I walked into the room, the acrid smell I’d noticed at the crime scene. A stocky man was sitting on a chair beside the bed. He stood up when I introduced myself.

‘Do you want me to leave?’

‘I don’t mind if you stay. Are you Mrs Hearn’s …’

‘Neighbour.’ He corrected himself. ‘Ex-neighbour.’

‘This is Young Kevin.’ She smiled at him. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him.’

‘I’ve lived next door to Mrs Hearn all my life. Until she moved.’ He smiled. ‘Still can’t get used to not having her there.’

‘When did you move, Mrs Hearn?’

‘Eight months ago.’

‘Is it that long?’ Kevin ran a hand over his balding head, embarrassed. ‘Where does the time go?’

‘You’re busy, you see, with the children. You wouldn’t notice.’

‘I meant to come round and see you.’ To me, he said, ‘My parents were Mrs Hearn’s neighbours. They all used to look after each other and the rest of us. My parents are dead, but Mrs Hearn was like another mum to me.’

She smiled. ‘That’s how I thought of it too.’

‘Mrs Hearn knew everyone on our road,’ Kevin said. ‘She never missed anything that happened. If you wanted to know what was going on, Mrs Hearn was the one to ask.’

‘You make me sound like a busybody,’ Mrs Hearn complained.