One Bad Turn (31 page)

‘Make sure the back of his property is secured as well,’ he added.

‘You reckon he slipped out the back way while I was parked out front the other night?’ Ashcroft was on the same wavelength.

‘I wouldn’t put anything past him,’ Coupland said gravely.

Ashcroft reached for his phone, ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Go speak to Vince’s adoptive parents, see if they know where he might have gone to ground.’ His hand reached out for the patrol car’s keys. Ashcroft looked up at him in surprise.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m going to deliver the death message to Vanessa Millar’s parents, find out how the hell they fit into this.’ Ashcroft regarded him warily, ‘Fine,’ he said, reaching into his pocket, ‘but when I’ve finished up I’ll come find you.’

*

Vince Underwood’s adoptive parents lived in a detached house on a cul-de-sac in Boothstown. A double fronted property with a covered porch and a painted white bench beneath one of the large downstairs windows. Ashcroft wondered what they made of Vinny’s current digs. ‘Mrs Underwood?’ The woman who answered the door called out for her husband when Ashcroft showed her his warrant card. ‘It’s OK,’ he attempted, ‘I just need to ask you a few questions.’ He wanted to reassure her but didn’t want to lie, let her believe there was nothing to worry about when their world was about to be turned upside down, only not in the way they were imagining, given the stricken look on the woman’s face. She was joined in the hallway by a slim built man, a V-neck jumper over a checked shirt. ‘What is it?’ he addressed the question to his wife as though it wasn’t his job to deal with strangers who came calling. The woman’s hand’s flew to her throat. ‘Police.’

*

Coupland pulled into the parking bay opposite Swinton shopping precinct and checked the address control had texted over to him. ‘If I’m right it’s the one above the estate agents,’ he said to the female police constable Mallender had insisted accompany him when he informed Vanessa Millar’s parents of the reason she didn’t come home last night. They lived in a two bedroomed flat above a row of shops. She’d been reported missing in the last hour, it wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at a mate’s but she’d normally text and let her mum know, only this time she hadn’t heard a word from her. ‘Probably hoped she’d turn up in her own sweet time,’ Coupland muttered as he rang the doorbell, ‘not like they’d be in any hurry to engage our services.’ The WPC considered this, ‘Because he’s been inside?’ Coupland only had time to nod as the door was flung open by a woman who looked as though she hadn’t slept. The woman was small with bird like features and a nose just a smidgeon out of proportion to her face. She wore a thigh length tunic over skinny jeans and a long chain around her neck which she began to fiddle with. One look at Coupland’s face had her yelling for her husband.

*

Ashcroft stood his ground on the doorstep, resisting the urge to put his foot over the threshold before they invited him in. ‘I think it’s better if I speak to you inside,’ he repeated. A look passed between the couple before stepping back to grant him entry.

‘I wanted to speak to you about your son,’ he began.

‘Adopted son.’ The man corrected. His tone was clipped, his eyes narrowing at the reference to Vince. ‘What’s he done now?’ he sighed. Ashcroft turned his back to him, addressing the woman instead: ‘When did you see him last, Mrs Underwood?’

A pause. ‘We haven’t seen him since he was released,’ she said meekly, her fingers running back and forth over the links of a small pendant around her neck.

‘He’s not welcome,’ came the sour voice behind him.

‘How so?’

The man regarded Ashcroft as though he were simple, ‘The shame he’s brought on us, going to prison.’

The woman’s hands flew to her mouth as though holding back her response, claims and accusations better left unsaid. ‘Come through, please,’ she led the way into a large kitchen, modern units with gadgets on top that Ashcroft had seen in department stores though he’d never quite fathomed their use. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ She moved towards a coffee machine already on, placed a mug beneath its nozzle. ‘For God’s sake, Karen, can’t you see he needs to get on?’

‘I’m fine, honestly,’ Ashcroft waved away her offer, ‘We just need to find your son.’ Karen stopped fussing and turned to face the DC, all trace of hospitality gone, ‘What’s he done?’

Her husband slapped his hand down hard on the counter top. ‘Jesus wept! Can’t you see it’s serious, woman? You don’t get plain clothed officers turning up for joy riding!’

‘He’s not done that for years!’ she snapped, fixing him with a look, ‘He managed to stay out of trouble-’

‘-Yeah, go and ask the bloke eating his meals through a straw, I’m sure he’ll vouch for his good behaviour!’

Ashcroft’s head moved from one side to the other as the pair parried words. ‘Is it any wonder he reacted the way he did!’ Karen cried, rounding on her husband, ‘We should have told him about his father years ago but no, we had to do it your way, had to keep his past a secret. Was it any wonder he got himself arrested?’

Ashcroft raised his hand to silence them, before turning to the husband, ‘Did something happen at home the night he attacked his victim?’

Karen’s husband harrumphed into his chest, ‘Nothing of any consequence,’ he said, avoiding his wife’s eye. Karen’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. ‘OK, finding out about his dad out of the blue like that was probably a shock but to react the way he did -’

‘-What, going out and getting bladdered as a way of solving problems? I wonder where he gets that from…’

‘There you go again, any excuse to have a dig at me.’

The woman put her hands to her face and sighed, ‘It isn’t all about you, Jerry,’ she blinked then, as though remembering Ashcroft was still there, ‘What do you want to know?’ she asked eventually.

‘I’d like it if you could show me his old room.’

‘Manage that on your own, can you?’ Jerry shot at his wife, while reaching for an anorak from a peg by the front door, then turning to the DC, ‘unless you think I can help you with anything?’ Ashcroft shoved his hands deep into his pockets lest they found themselves around the pompous prick’s neck. ‘I’d very much doubt it, sir,’ he muttered.

Vince’s old bedroom was on the first floor at the back of the house, looking onto the play area of a family restaurant over the road. The single bed had been stripped, an off white duvet folded on top of it. Karen stared out of the window, indicating the driveway below where a car door slammed shut, ‘He wanted to redecorate this room while Vinny was in prison, as though he could paint him out of our lives but I put my foot down on that.’ There was a backbone there, hidden beneath the downtrodden doormat. This got him thinking, ‘When did you really last see Vinny?’

Karen dropped her gaze for a couple of beats but when she looked up there was a challenge in her eye. ‘He’s got himself a place close to where he works, up at the college, I go round once a week to give the place a tidy, take him a bit of shopping, that’s all. No harm is there? Though better my husband doesn’t know.’

Ashcroft nodded, ‘You mentioned an argument before he went into town that night and got arrested, what was it about?’

‘He and his dad hadn’t been getting on for a while; it was though Vinny couldn’t put a foot right. Truth was his dad had never been as keen on the idea of adoption as I’d been, he never said it out loud, but over the years he’s made his position clear. Put downs, snide comments, like he was jealous of any attention I gave him. Vinny going off the rails gave him an excuse to stay on his back. Then one night they were going at it again when out of the blue Jerry drops the bombshell, ‘Glad you’re not mine,’ he shouts, ‘the way you’re going you’ll end up inside like your old man.’

‘Vinny thought he was joking at first, he looked at me to see if there was any truth in it,’ her voice began to wobble, ‘and I suppose my face gave it away, next thing he slammed out.’ Off on a bender and a run in with a stranger as angry as he was, next thing he’s up on a charge of GBH.

‘When he came out of jail he wanted to come back here but his dad wouldn’t entertain it. I helped him find the place that he’s in now,’ she looked at Ashcroft steadily, ‘I’m helping out with the rent too.’

‘Did he ask you about his father’s past?’

Karen nodded, ‘I told him what little I remembered. He asked me if I knew where his real mum was and I didn’t want to lie anymore; there’d been enough secrets to last a lifetime, so I told him where she’d moved to.’

‘When was this?’

‘About a month ago.’

‘He isn’t at work today, any idea where he might be?’

A shrug. ‘He’s seeing some girl, I got that much out of him last time we spoke, maybe he’s with her…’ That was what Ashcroft feared. Karen hesitated, ‘You might want these…’ she sighed, opening the built-in wardrobe she lifted a manila file from the top shelf which she handed to him. ‘He asked me to look after them the last time I was round at his place.’ Ashcroft peered inside before moving to the stripped bed and upending the contents of the file onto the mattress. Newspaper cuttings and printouts of online articles about his father’s trial fanned out before them. ‘He said his birth mother had given him the original cuttings and it got him thinking about a conversation he’d had with a fellow prisoner while he’d been in jail.’

‘Did he say what?’

Karen shook her head, ‘Said he didn’t want to worry me. He was adamant his dad was telling the truth though, about his innocence, “Without a shadow of doubt,” he said it just like that, as though he was party to something the rest of us were in the dark about.’

Ashcroft pulled out his phone. ‘I need to make a call,’ he told her.

Chapter 21

While Jonny Millar paced the living room floor like a caged animal, his wife’s screams could be heard through the paper thin walls. There was no ebb and flow to the sound, just a constant wail, like an animal in distress. She’d cried out for her sister when Coupland had broken the news, the WPC making the call that ten minutes later had a bottle blonde banging on the front door to be let in. The women were together in the main bedroom, the sister working her way through the couple’s address book while the WPC made tea no one wanted. Coupland watched Millar fight emotions he had wrestled with himself less than an hour before. Whereas he’d had a reprieve, Millar’s worst fear had just come true. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Jonny,’ he began, ‘but I do need to ask you some questions-’ Millar’s head jerked back as he glared at Coupland, ‘-NO WAY!’ he stormed, ‘You’re never going to ask me what I was doing when she was killed are you?’ Foamed spit gathered in the corners of his mouth like a rabid dog, ‘You can’t go accusing me of this! Surely to God…’

‘No, Jonny,’ Coupland cut in quickly, ‘but I do need to find out how you know Vince Underwood.’

Jonny’s brows knotted together as he stared at Coupland in confusion, ‘Vinny? He was in the nick the same time as me. What’s this got to do wi-?’

‘-What can you tell me about him?’ Coupland cut in once more.

A shrug. ‘He’s no more than a kid, reminded me of myself twenty odd years ago. He didn’t get on with his old man but then neither did I. I felt sorry for him I suppose, took him under my wing a bit. Why? Do you think he had something to do with this?’ Millar’s confusion gave way to something else entirely. Without warning he punched the wall beside Coupland’s head, his face a vicious mask, ‘Because if he did…’ Coupland grabbed Millar’s arm, holding it at bay until the tension eased out of it, ‘I don’t have time for this Jonny,’ he warned, just as his phone rang. He yanked it out of his pocket with his free hand. It was Ashcroft. ‘What?’ he spat. ‘
Vince’s adopted mother says he met someone in prison who proved his dad was inno-
’ Coupland terminated the call, grinding his teeth together as he tightened his grip on Millar’s arm.

‘Now shut up and listen, I need to know exactly what you said to Vince Underwood to make him want to get back at you this way.’ Millar stared at Coupland as he thought through the implication of his words. Coupland released his grip but stayed within grabbing distance in case he made a run for it, the last thing he needed was a vigilante on his hands.

‘I didn’t say anything to upset him…’ Millar shook his head slowly as he spoke, ‘I told you, we got on well together. I took him under my wing! You know what old lags are like, boasting about our past to the next generation, well he was wet behind the ears, and more than willing to listen. I was an armed robber getting to the end of my first sentence behind bars after a lifetime as a career criminal. I’d not done so badly, all told. I used to laugh with him about the crimes I’d got away with.’ His face drained of colour as something occurred to him.

‘Sweet Jesus,’ he whispered, before collapsing into a chair.

The Millars’ GP arrived to find Coupland leaning over Jonny, one hand resting on the man’s shoulder as though offering reassurance. ‘Does he need a sedative too?’ the GP asked, looking around the room for Millar’s wife. ‘She’s through here,’ the bottle blonde called out as she stepped into the hallway, black streaks down her face where her mascara had run. ‘Don’t worry about him, Doc,’ Coupland said, nodding at his charge, ‘the duty doc’ll give him something to take the edge off once we take him down to the station, now if you don’t mind…’ he said pointedly, ‘ I’m about to take down a confession, or have I got the wrong end of the stick here, Jonny?’ Millar bowed his head, rubbing his hands over the stubble on his chin. ‘Fine,’ he puffed out a breath, waited for his sister-in-law to escort the doctor through to his wife.

‘I was a football casual,’ he began once he was sure they were alone, ‘you know, back in the day like. I went around with a local gang, we all dressed a certain way, followed the same team, basically beat the shit out of anyone who wasn’t just like us. It was all about showing how far we were prepared to go to prove our loyalty, and it was always about the violence. I’d been a lucky little so ‘n so, never got caught shoplifting, got away with breaking and entering in my teens, always came away better off during our weekly match day punch ups. I wanted to move up the ranks, though, but to do that you had to prove yourself. I was too impatient for that, I wanted the top spot.’