Case One (6 page)

“So it could be hers.”

“Could be.”

He left the bag as it was and straightened up. “Did you see anything else?”

“No, just that and the shoe.”

“Okay, I'll call it in. Come away.”

They came out of the bin shelter and at the entrance Mulvey said, “Stay there,” before moving off a few metres to use his radio. Even so, Sam could still hear what he said.

“Nine-Five from Three-Seven-Six, receiving?”

“
Go ahead,
” Stafford's voice came back.

“Yeah, Sarge, I think I might've found the bag,” Mulvey said.

13

“Bye, Reverend,” Charlie said as he moved down the aisle towards the door of the Baptist church. The other members of the choir – most of them adults – were milling around, putting on coats, chatting. Charlie just wanted to get away.

“Charlie, hold on a second.” Reverend Michaels excused himself from the conversation he'd been having with Mrs Johnson and caught up with Charlie. “If you want to wait a few minutes, I can give you a lift home.”

“No, thanks, I'm okay,” Charlie said. The last thing he needed was to be seen getting out of the Reverend's car in front of the flats. There'd be about a dozen different ways they could use that in school, all of them sick.

“Are you sure? It's not out of my way.”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks.”

Charlie tried to disengage but it was clear that Reverend Michaels still had something on his mind. “It's good that you still come to choir,” he said. “I know a lot of boys your age wouldn't want to. They've got other things to distract them.”

“I suppose,” Charlie said. It was the only neutral thing he could think of to say.

“It's a shame you can't persuade Ryan to come with you. He's got a good voice.”

“He's got a lot of work for exams,” Charlie said, knowing full well that this was just a way of dodging the subject.

“The thing is,” the Reverend went on, “you seemed a little preoccupied tonight. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Yes, it's fine.”

“You do know you can come to me with anything that's worrying you, don't you?”

Charlie nodded. “I know. Thank you. But everything's all right.”

“Okay. Good,” the Reverend said, seeming to accept his word for it at last. “And you're sure you don't want a lift?”

“No, I'm fine,” Charlie said. “See you on Sunday.”

But as he headed away down the aisle towards the exit he remembered Reverend Michaels's theme for his last sermon:
Do not be a hypocrite before others and keep watch over your lips.

The thing was, Charlie knew he was a hypocrite. Why else would he say nothing?

Outside, Charlie glanced round as he trotted down the steps, then turned right, uphill. He was still trying to decide which would be the best route to take home – avoiding the minimart of course – when he saw a movement on the corner ahead of him: two figures.

For a moment his heart jumped, already convinced that it was Tyler Smith and another Kaddy Boy lying in wait for him. But even as his feet hesitated between running and stopping he saw the face of the figure nearest to him and felt swift relief. It was Ryan, his brother, and his mate Dav. Both were holding polystyrene chip trays.

“Come on,” Ryan called, seeing Charlie's momentary hesitation. “We're bloody freezing waiting for you.”

Charlie jogged forward, unable to suppress a grin at the fact that Ryan had decided to come and meet him. He didn't always.

“What you smiling at?” Ryan said when he saw Charlie's face.

“Me? Nothing,” Charlie said. “Give us a chip.”

14.

DRURY HOUSE
CADOGAN ESTATE
21:02 HRS

Mulvey had moved to stand around the corner from the bin shelter, telling Sam to do the same. He'd said it was because this position was more sheltered from the wind while they waited for the others. But from the way Mulvey lurked in the shadows without speaking, Sam was pretty sure he was hoping that someone would return to the scene of the crime – if this was the scene of the crime – so he could pounce on them.

That'd put the cap on it, Sam thought bitterly. That'd really make Mulvey's day. Not just “I've found the bag”, but “I've got a suspect” as well. So Sam said nothing; just stood there and fumed silently.

And then, suddenly, Mulvey tensed and shifted. Sam looked and saw three black kids – two of them older and taller than the other – coming along the rear service road towards them. They didn't seem to be taking much notice of their surroundings, chatting and walking shoulder to shoulder as they ate from chip trays.

“Keep still,” Mulvey hissed.

Sam could feel the PC's anticipation as he watched the boys coming closer. And it
did
look as if they might be heading for the bin shelter, or at least going to pass by.

Mulvey let them cross the road and then, when they were only a couple of metres away, he stepped out.

“Stop there, lads. Keep still.”

The smaller boy jumped visibly and took a half step back as Mulvey strode quickly towards him. The two older ones reacted but stood their ground.

“What's the problem?” one of them said.

“Just stand still,” Mulvey told him, ignoring the question as Sam came and stood to one side. Mulvey's tone was hard and no-nonsense, but more aggressive than it needed to be in Sam's opinion.

“I'm PC Mulvey, this is TPO Marsden. You want to tell us what you're doing here?”

“Going home.”

“Which is where?”

“Cloudsley House.” He gestured to the block on the east side of the estate. “Why've you stopped us?”

Again Mulvey ignored the question and took out a stop form, then a pen.

“Name?”

“Listen—”

“Name,” Mulvey repeated, cutting him off.

Sam knew that Mulvey didn't have the right to be chucking his weight around like this. He also didn't have any right to make them account for themselves if they didn't want to.

The boy took a beat, as if he might argue again, then he said: “Ryan Atkins.”

“You?” Mulvey asked the smaller, more nervous boy.

“Charlie Atkins.”

“And you?”

“Barclay Davis.”

“Right. So where are you coming from?”

“Church,” Ryan Atkins said before the lad called Barclay could answer.

Mulvey gave him a look. “Yeah, right.”

“Ask Reverend Michaels. Holway Road Baptist. Check it out if you don't believe me.”

“Oi! Don't get arsey with me, okay?” Mulvey said sharply. “How long were you there?”

Sam could see the boy's stance stiffening and there was a new note of defiance when he spoke again: “Since seven. We were at choir practice.”

“All of you?”

“Yeah.”

Sam could tell that Ryan Atkins's growing truculence didn't sit well with Mulvey, but then the PC's attention was taken by a patrol car coming round the corner. It was followed a short distance behind by a second, unmarked car.

Mulvey looked at the vehicles, then decided. “You can finish this off, right?” he said to Sam, handing him the stop form. “NFA.”

And before Sam could respond, Mulvey was heading off towards the cars.

Sam watched him go and felt like spitting. Then he looked back to the three lads.

“So can we go now?” Ryan Atkins said.

“Listen,” Sam said, trying to engage them. “We think something might have happened round here earlier. If you saw anything…”

“We didn't,” Ryan said without hesitation. “We weren't here, I told you. So can we go now or what?”

Sam held his gaze for a second, then looked at the stop form. Mulvey hadn't even entered the date or the time, and if Mulvey couldn't be bothered then Sam didn't see why he should be either. NFA: No Further Action.

“Okay,” Sam said. “Sorry to hold you up.”

Without even acknowledging that Ryan Atkins nodded to the others and they moved away.

Sam wadded the stop form into a ball and shoved it into his pocket, then turned and headed towards the police cars and the officers around them. He could see Mulvey leading DS Woods into the bin shelter and knew exactly what he'd be saying as he showed him the shoe and the bag.

By the unmarked car Holly Blades was standing on her own. Because there was no one else to talk to, Sam crossed towards her.

“Get anything from the victim's friend?” he asked.

Holly nodded. “Ashleigh definitely left the house earlier than her mum thought – just after six. That means there was nearly an hour before she was run over.”

“Right,” Sam said. Holly waited for him to say more, but he didn't. Instead he seemed distracted, as if he was thinking about something else.

“So what was that?” Holly asked, gesturing to the place where Sam had been talking to Ryan Atkins.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Mulvey just stopped them cos he's a twat.”

Holly was surprised by the word and Sam's bitter tone. “Mulvey is?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Sam paused, already regretting that he'd revealed his feelings. “Doesn't matter,” he said. Then he saw Sergeant Stafford emerge from the bin shelter and head their way.

“It looks like it
is
Ashleigh's bag and shoe,” Stafford said when he reached them. “We'll cordon it off till Forensics arrive and then see what they can get.”

“What about witnesses?” Sam asked. He gestured up at the block of flats above them. “Someone up there might have seen something.”

“There'll probably be a door-to-door,” Stafford said with a nod. “But not tonight. What shift are you two on tomorrow?”

“Earlies, Sarge,” Holly said.

Stafford nodded. “Okay, in that case you both need to clock off. I'm heading back to the nick to give Inspector Harris an update, so you can come back with me. Fill in your day sheets but leave your individual logs till tomorrow, okay? You need to get home.”

“We could stay if we're needed,” Sam said.

Stafford shook his head. “You'll be more use tomorrow. Come on.”

He gestured them towards his car and as Sam followed he could see Mulvey coming out of the bin shelter like it was his own personal property.

15.

SECTION HOUSE
22:04 HRS

Holly closed the front door of the Section House with her foot and went along the hall to the door of Sam's room.

“I'm back!” she called out, knocking hard on the door so she'd be heard over the music inside. “Mushy peas or beans?”

As soon as they'd changed into their civvies at the station and walked back to the house they'd tossed for who went to the chippy – Holly had lost.

In Sam's room the music dropped in volume, but only a little. “Don't care,” he called back. “Gimme two minutes.”

“Okay, but I'm not waiting,” Holly said, moving on. She was starving.

In the kitchen she shrugged off her coat and looked for plates. Stuck to the cupboard door was a note from Yvonne in thick felt pen:
Who is cleaning bathrooms this week? Do it!!

At one time the unattractive semi-detached house would have been occupied by a regular officer and his family, but since the introduction of the Trainee Police Officer scheme the ground floor had been converted to provide four rooms for TPOs, plus kitchen, lounge and bathrooms.

Upstairs there was a self-contained flat which was occupied by Yvonne Dunlop, who got it at a reduced rent in exchange for being in general charge of the house – hence the message about bathroom cleaning. Yvonne was responsible for making sure the TPOs kept the place decent, didn't break the house rules and behaved responsibly. She never had much trouble doing it, either. None of the four teenagers living there wanted to cross Yvonne, on duty or off.

Holly put plates on the table and started to unwrap the food. Apart from Sam there was no one else in. The other TPOs ­– Tommo, who should have cleaned the bathroom, and Shiny Chris – were both on late turn at Barwick nick, and Yvonne hadn't clocked off yet. She might still be at the hospital, depending on Ashleigh Jarvis's condition. Holly would have liked to know what that was.

As she dished out the chips Sam wandered into the kitchen. His hair was wet from the shower, uncombed.

“You've got beans,” Holly told him.

“Okay,” he said flatly and went to the fridge in search of a drink.

Holly sat down and started on her chips. She was hungrier than she'd realised and she ate quickly before the food could get cold.

After a moment Sam sat down at the opposite side of the table. He pulled the tab on a can of Fanta and slurped it.

“Two seventy,” Holly said. The cost of his pie, chips and beans.

“Okay.”

“Don't forget.”

“I won't.”

They ate for several minutes in silence then, until finally Holly had had enough of it. Sam could be irritating when he held forth on a subject he
thought
he knew all about, but this complete silence wasn't like him.
Plus
he looked like he was brooding over something.

“Okay, so what
is
up with you?” Holly said in the end. “Something is.”

Sam finished chewing his mouthful, then said: “It's just Bob Mulvey. He's a—”

“Yeah, you said that already,” Holly told him. “
Why?
”

Sam shook his head.

“Okay, please yourself,” Holly said. She wasn't going to play cat and mouse.

Sam picked up a chip, then changed his mind and chucked it back on his plate. “You know who found the bag and stuff in that bin shelter?” he said

The fact that he was asking the question gave Holly the answer. “You?”

“Yeah. Only Mulvey calls it in like it was him.” The indignation in Sam's voice made it clear just how bitter he felt. “I wouldn't have minded if he'd said
we
found it. But he was nowhere near – he wasn't even
there
.”