Ash & Bone

The radio, already indistinct, was lost to the sound of a vacuum cleaner, as it banged against the skirting board in the hall.

'This was all seven years ago,' Karen said.

Patrick nodded.

'And there was no contact between you after that?'

A shake of the head.

'Nothing. You'd not spoken, set eyes on her?'

'No, I said.'

'How about October?'

'Sorry?'

'October of this year.'

Patrick leaned forward, leaned back, looked towards the door. The vacuuming stopped, then started up again. Karen watched as, fingers spread, his hands pushed hard along the tops of his thighs. His voice when he spoke was choked, deliberately low.

'It was an accident, right? No. Coincidence. That's it, coincidence. I'd been down there on a job, London. Well, the money's good, better than you can expect up here and you can always doss down a couple of nights in the van. Anyway, this night, after working, right, we go out for a few beers, just the three of us, me and these two other blokes, one pub and then another and all of a sudden there she is, her and this other bird, up on stage singing some bloody song.' Patrick wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before carrying on. 'Couldn't believe it. Just stood and fucking stared. "What's up?" one of these blokes said. "Fancy it, do you?" I wanted to thump him, didn't I? Bury my fist in his fucking face. Just turned round and left instead. Couldn't wait to get out of there. Walked for fucking miles, must have done. Fucking miles. Don't ask me why.' Another glance towards the door. 'I don't want her to know.'

Karen waited, watching his face, the spots of anger slow to fade from his cheeks.

'Why didn't you wait, go and talk to her, say hello?'

'I don't know.'

'All the effort you'd made before…'

'I know, I know. It was just – I don't know – the surprise, I suppose. The shock. Pathetic, isn't it? And now…' He looked into Karen's face. 'You don't know who it was? Who killed her?'

'Not yet,' Karen said. 'Not for definite.'

His eyes were a pale greeny-grey and they scarcely wavered under her gaze.

'The bastard,' Patrick said. 'Hanging's not good enough for him, whoever he is.'

'Where were you two nights ago?' Karen asked, much as she might have asked for a refill for her coffee.

Patrick blinked. 'Here, why?' And then, 'Oh, yes, of course. I suppose you have to ask.'

'Here at home with your wife?' Karen said.

'More or less. Knocked off work around four thirty, five. New development the other side of town, been there a couple of weeks now, plastering, helping out. Anyway, left there, stopped off at the bookie's, quick pint across the street from there, back here no later than seven. Bit of supper, watched the box. Don't ask me what. Early night. Tina, she likes to read a bit in bed but not me. Spark out before eleven, I shouldn't wonder.'

'Apart from your wife,' Ramsden said, speaking for the first time, 'there are people who'd back this up?'

'I dare say, yes. Bookmaker's for certain, one or two in the pub.'

'You can give us the details?'

'Yes, of course.'

Ten minutes later, they were back out in the street, standing alongside Mike Ramsden's car, Ramsden smoking a rare cigarette and Karen standing close enough to inhale the smoke.

'What do you think?' he asked.

'When he started talking about her, the way she ignored him when he tried to get in touch, you could see the veins standing out in his wrists.'

Ramsden nodded. 'You think he's telling the truth?'

'Here and there.'

'You want me to check out some of these names?'

'Do that. I think I'll wait around till he's gone off to work, go back and have a word with the wife.'

'None too crazy about the idea of him and Maddy, is she?'

'Maybe she's got good reason.'

'My missus thought I had the hots for somebody else, she'd help pack my bag, give me her blessing.'

Karen laughed. 'Mike, there's exceptions to everything.'

***

'He hit me once,' Tina said. 'Few years ago now. I can't even remember what over, most likely nothing, nothing important, but I can remember it happening. Crack, hard round the side of the face. Somewhere between a punch and a slap. This come up all black, didn't it? Black, purple, yellow.'

'What did you do?' Karen said.

They were sitting at a small table in the kitchen, more Nescafe, the radio turned low. Karen knew there was some reason, other than taste, she shouldn't be drinking anything made by Nestle, something to do with children in Africa, babies, but she couldn't remember exactly what.

Tina shook a cigarette out from the pack and picked up a disposable lighter.

'I waited, didn't I? Waited till I was doing the ironing. Oh, not when it was hot. Just, you know, handy. Caught him one on the back of his hand while he was sitting where you are now, reading the paper. Hollerin' and screamin' something dreadful, wasn't he? Swelled up like half-pound of sausage; couldn't work for a week. Lay that hand on me again, I told him, and I'll take the bread knife to it when you're asleep.'

'He didn't try and get you back?'

Tina laughed. 'Too busy sitting there feeling sorry for himself, wasn't he? "What the hell you have to do that for?" over and over.'

'He has got a temper, though.'

'Two of us, that is.'

'He said you went through a bad patch some years ago, came close to breaking up.'

'God! Confession time in there, was it? Some kind of therapy session.'

Karen smiled. 'Maybe.'

'He'd been seeing this woman, hadn't he? Some slag he'd met, God knows where. Pathetic. I told him if that was what he wanted he could piss off and get on with it. Soon come back with his tail between his legs, didn't he? Begging me to take him back.'

'And you did.'

Lifting a hand, Tina pushed her hair back off her face. 'Look at me, not exactly going to be mistaken for Miss Prestatyn, am I? Just some dumpy little tart with a fat arse and half a brain. Learn to take what you can get. And besides, he's not so bad, earns good money most of the time and not mean with it, like some.' She drew hard on her cigarette. 'You could do worse, believe me. A lot worse. I know.'

Karen sipped at the lukewarm coffee to the faint strains of 'Rocket Man'.

'Ooh, I love this,' Tina said, reaching towards the radio. 'You mind if I turn it up?'

Karen always thought listening to Elton John was like a quick fuck in the dark, okay till you turned on the light.

'Were you here,' Karen asked, 'when he heard about his ex-wife, what had happened?'

'Both watching the news, weren't we? Half-watching, anyway. All of a sudden Terry's shouting out 'cause he's heard her name and then there's this picture of her on the screen. Someone saying how she'd been murdered. Terry, he sort of froze. Stunned, like. As if he couldn't believe it. Ages before I could get him to say a word. Really got to him, you know.' She stubbed out her cigarette. 'Made me think twice about going out at night, even round here, on your own. Always some bastard man, out there, waiting for you.'

She turned the radio back down.

'He wrote to her, you know. Maddy. More than a few times. I'm not supposed to know. Found one of the letters in his coat pocket. Steamed it open. All this bollocks about how she was the love of his life and that. Burned it, didn't I? Tore it into little pieces and set fucking light to it. Never said anything, soft sod must've thought he'd posted it.'