Fireflies (6 page)

She could barely remember being in that last bar and looking at her watch seeing it was after half past two. That last vodka and coke had been a mistake. She could feel something beside her. Something was breathing. This was no good. Thirty-three years old and waking up in someone’s bed with a hangover from hell and having no idea where she was. It had got to stop.

‘Are you going to get that fucking phone?’

The voice was aggressive but female. Oh no, thought Sharon. When was she going to learn that if she couldn’t find a man to get off with she shouldn’t fall for the charms of the nearest lesbian. She’d always had a bit of a lesbian fan club. It came from her being slightly on the butch side but she wasn’t a lesbian or even just a little bit bisexual. She liked men. She just couldn’t find one with a bed with a table beside it.

‘Sorry’ croaked Sharon. She edged further towards the end of the bed and this time managed to grab the phone to her ear.

‘Sharon?’

‘Get your arse down here pronto’.

‘Oh good morning to you, Ken’.

‘You were supposed to be here ninety minutes ago. I can’t keep covering for you, Sharon. I don’t care where you are or what state you’re in. Get yourself here. I’ve got a job for you’.

Sharon pressed the end call button and rubbed her face. Ken was a good sort. Shame he was old enough to be her Dad and had been happily married for thirty years. He was just the kind of man she needed because he took no crap from her and told her in no uncertain terms when she was out of order. This was another morning in a long line of mornings when she felt like shit. She’d get through it. She wondered what kind of job he had for her. Bless him. Even though she gave him so much bother he did tend to give her some juicy stuff to do.

‘I think you should go now, please’ said the woman next to her as she got out of bed and walked round to the door in the corner. Sharon could see she was quite a fit looking bird with shoulder length red hair and big well defined tits that were much better than her own.

‘I’m sorry if I passed out’.

‘I don’t mind you passing out. What I mind is you using me for sex tourism. You were useless in bed. I might’ve known you weren’t gay’.

‘Could you tell me where I am?’

‘You’re in the northern quarter a couple of blocks from Piccadilly gardens’ said the woman before disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her.

‘I suppose a coffee is out of the question?’ Sharon shouted. Her request was greeted with silence. ‘I’ll take that as a no then’.

FIREFLIES FIVE

Jeff got himself showered and dressed before seeing to Toby and preparing breakfast whilst his son was watching the cartoon channel on their TV set in the kitchen diner. They both had toast with cheese spread on and whilst Toby went for coco pops, Jeff made himself the kind of instant porridge that you just add boiling water to. Toby had a cup of Chinese tea which he’d really taken to after his grandparents had introduced him to it and Jeff had a mug of earl grey with a slice of lemon. As they sat around the breakfast table talking and consuming Jeff was acutely aware, as he always is, of who was missing. It was as if there was an empty space in every room of the house since Lillie Mae died.

‘Toby, would you mind if someone came to live here who could look after you when I’m at work?’

Toby looked up at his father quizzically. ‘Have you got a girlfriend, Daddy?’

Jeff smiled. ‘No, mate, I haven’t got a girlfriend but when I do I promise you’ll be the first to know’.

‘So what’s up, Daddy?’

‘Well I think we need someone here all the time’.

‘You mean we’d get a servant like in
Downton Abbey? They couldn’t live downstairs though because there isn’t enough room in that little cupboard and they wouldn’t be able to breathe’.

Jeff ruffled his son’s jet black hair. ‘No, they wouldn’t be like a servant, mate. They’d be more like a friend who was here to take care of both of us’.

‘But we’ve got Uncle Lewis and Uncle Seamus to do that. Don’t they want to do it anymore?’

‘Of course they do, of course they do’ Jeff reassured. ‘We’d still see Uncle Lewis and Seamus as much as we do now. It would just make life easier when I get called out to go to work at short notice. I mean, do you remember that time I had to run you round to Pam’s in your
pyjamas and dressing gown?’

‘Yeah but I didn’t mind’ said Toby who was shaking his legs up and down under the table. ‘I got to have breakfast with Stephen and Jennifer and Pam made pancakes with strawberries. She says I’m cute as Christmas’.

Jeff laughed. ‘And she’s right you are, mate’.

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘Well Pam might not always be there when we need her’ said Jeff. ‘But if someone lived here then neither of us would ever have to worry’.

Toby sat and thought for a moment. ‘Okay’.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah’ said Toby.
‘Why not? It might be fun’.

‘Okay, well
your Uncle Lewis and Uncle Seamus have got a mate called Brendan who wants to make a living out of caring for people like me and you’.

‘You mean people without a Mummy?’

Jeff brought his hand up to his mouth and gulped. ‘That’s it, mate’.

‘Well then okay get him to come round’ said Toby. ‘If he can play
xbox and cook as good as Uncle Lewis can then he’ll be sound. On one condition though?’

‘What’s
that, mate?’

Toby slid off his chair and got on his Daddy’s knee. Jeff put his arms round him. ‘After Mummy died you said we’d always be the A team?’

‘Yeah and we always will?’

‘So if someone else comes to live with us then we’ll still be that A team, Daddy?’

‘Of course we will’ said Jeff. ‘Nobody else gets to be part of our A team’.

‘Daddy?’

‘Yes, mate?’

‘Are you missing Mummy?’

Jeff had to take another deep breath before answering. ‘Yes, mate. I am missing Mummy’.

‘Well you’ve still got me’.

Jeff kissed the top of Toby’s head. ‘I know mate and that makes me the luckiest Daddy in the whole world’. 

Jeff dropped Toby off at school and then drove into work. When he got to the station he sat in his car for a few minutes to try and compose himself. Grief was such a long and drawn out process and recently he thought he’d been doing okay. But it wasn’t as simple as that. Just when he thought he might be starting to come to terms with it he’d woken up that morning and been struck by an emotion that was as crushing as the day he’d been told that Lillie Mae had died.

But he also had a case to think about and he simply didn’t believe that the body of a grown man could be dumped at the back of a large hotel without anybody noticing. Someone had carefully planned the murder of James Clifton. He was certain of that much. But was James Clifton the actual target or did he just happen to fit the profile of whatever the killer was looking for? Was he simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? It’s rarely as simple as that in Jeff’s experience but they needed to delve more deeply into Clifton’s background to see if he’d done anything that might go some way towards explaining the horror of his fate. Then there was the familiarity he felt about the name of Sophie Cooper. He still hadn’t worked out why that meant something to him and it was still driving him mad.

‘Sir?’ said Ollie as Jeff walked through the squad room in the direction of his office. ‘We have the report from June Hawkins’.

Jeff carried on walking and then
realised that Ollie had just spoken to him. ‘Yeah? Sorry Ollie, I’m miles away’.

‘Sir, there was enough
rohypnol in James Clifton’s blood to have completely knocked him out for hours. It’s likely that he wouldn’t have known anything’.

‘Lucky him in that case’ said Jeff.
‘Anything else?’

‘Oh yes’ said Ollie’ I’ve got something to show you’.

‘Good news or bad news?’

‘Oh I think you’ll like it, sir’ said Ollie who was worried about the way the boss looked. ‘Are you okay, sir?’

Jeff smiled. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Ollie, I’m fine’ he said as he stood behind his desk. ‘Go on?’

Ollie then slid a DVD into the computer on Jeff’s desk. ‘Sir, this is the last image of James Clifton we could find on any of the CCTV sources for that area of the city centre. It clearly shows him walking in the direction of Lower Mosley Street and away from the Paradise club where we’d seen him going in an hour earlier with the rest of his party’.

‘Yes’ said Jeff as he eyed the images on the screen and suddenly felt excited. ‘And he’s not alone’. 

‘Exactly, sir’ said Ollie. ‘And that could be the moment when James Clifton first meets his killer’.

Ollie Wright had no time for people who play the race card to mask their incompetence. He’d seen it happen. He had a cousin who was the laziest bitch in the world but when her boss threatened her with disciplinary action if she didn’t pull her socks up and stop letting everyone else in the office where she worked carry her, she was proud of the fact that she’d replied with ‘I’m black and I’m a woman. That means I’ve two ace cards against a white middle-aged man like you. So who do you think an industrial tribunal would believe if you dared to try and sack me?’ Ollie had been disgusted with her behavior. She made it even more difficult for black people who really were the victims of racism to plead their case.

He knew that racism existed in the police force but he also tried not to find it hiding under every bush. That’s why he was struggling with Jonathan Freeman. The squad’s new computer geek who hadn’t shaken hands with him or even looked him in the eye on the day he joined the team, didn’t look anything like a geek at all but had been making remarks that had made Ollie stop and wonder if he was being deliberately wound up. Jonathan only made the remarks within Ollie’s hearing and it was making Ollie feel uncomfortable about being with him.

‘Tell me’ said Jonathan. ‘How do you feel when you have to investigate your own people?’ He was inputting to the computer some of the findings from the door-to-door enquiries that uniform had started around the Mayfair hotel. He was sitting opposite Ollie with whom he was sharing a desk.

Ollie looked away from his own computer screen and paused irritably. He never knew where Freeman’s remarks were going to end up.  ‘Excuse me?’

‘Well with so many crimes committed by your people’ Jonathan went on.
‘Statistically speaking’.

‘What do you expect me to say to that?’

‘No need to be so sensitive’.

‘Who said I was being sensitive?’

‘It’s written all over your face, mate’.

Ollie closed his eyes for a moment. How did we go from zero to a hundred in such little time? ‘Just tell me why you asked me that?’

‘Well I just meant that investigating your people might be personally compromising for you’.

‘My people?’

‘Yeah’.

‘You mean black people?’

‘Hey, listen mate, don’t try and lay the big discrimination ticket on me because I was only taking a friendly interest between colleagues and if you read it as something else then I question your impartiality and professional judgment’.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Well if you don’t realise you’re doing it, mate, then perhaps it does need to be pointed out to you’.

‘Doing what for God’s sake?’

‘Well you’re clearly sensitive about the whole race issue’.

‘Actually I’m not sensitive about it at all’.

‘Well you would say that, mate, wouldn’t you, but the evidence of what you say and how you react suggests to me something quite different’.

‘And you think you have a right to say such crap to me because?’

‘Oh am I not allowed to voice my opinion? Oh well I’m sorry but I thought this was Great Britain but where you come from the situation is probably different’.

‘I come from
Rochdale’ said Ollie through gritted teeth.

Jonathan waved his hand in the air dismissively.
‘Yeah, yeah, whatever’.

Ollie didn’t know how best to react to Freeman’s goading. Bastards like Freeman were very clever and they tended to make sure that their victim ended up looking like an immature and overly sensitive soul at best or the villain of the piece at worst. He sat there seething. Freeman had this evil look on his face, like he was about to join a firing squad and had to focus on ‘the kill’. Ollie stood up and went to get some air. He really didn’t need this.

When Tina got to work she was immediately confronted by the manager Paula Jones. 

‘Do you really think I’m going to let you work here today, Tina?’ demanded Paula.

Tina looked at her guardedly. She knew exactly what Paula meant. She felt sick. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t play the bloody innocent with me! It was you, wasn’t it? It was you in the CCTV footage they showed on the evening news walking away with that man who ended up dead?’