Janine stood up brushing crumbs from her clothes. ‘Ferdie might be the break we’re looking for but we don’t know that yet. As ever we have to look closely at next of kin.’
‘Mrs Tulley a suspect, boss?’ Shap asked.
‘Let’s just say we haven’t been able to rule her out yet. We’ll be seeing her today and trying to establish an alibi. Matthew Tulley’s diaries.’ Janine held up the books. She had spent an hour the previous evening scanning through them. ‘Practically all the entries relate to Tulley’s job. Meetings about Year 7 intake and Year 9 GCSE options, Governors and staff meetings. A few unexplained entries, star and time, but no indication what the appointment was. No leads there at present. So, the rest of you, you know what you’re working on. Back here at five,’ she instructed them, ‘and let’s fill this wall.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘We’d like a word with your son, Mrs Gibson, is he in?’ They put away their badges.
‘What’s it about?’ Her brow furrowed and she glared at Janine and Richard from the doorway. One arm was wrapped about her waist, the other, elbow propped on it, held the fag close to her mouth.
‘It’s in connection with one of our enquiries,’ Richard explained.
‘What enquiry?’ she said derisively.
‘The murder of Matthew Tulley,’ Janine spoke sharply. ‘Is Ferdinand in?’
‘He’s got nowt to do with that. That’s bloody harassment, that is. That man assaulted Ferdie,’ she shook her cigarette at them, ‘and he was given an official warning by the school. Bleeding disgrace, deputy head and he’s lamming into kids.’
‘And then Ferdie knifed him,’ Janine pointed out.
‘You can’t prove that. That never went to court,’ her mouth worked furiously, spittle gathering in the corners of her lips. ‘Ferdie’s never been near him. Just leave him alone.’
‘We need to talk to him,’ said Richard. ‘Now either we can have a few words with him now, clear things up and hopefully eliminate him from our enquiries or we can come back with a warrant to hold him for questioning at the station.’
‘Go get yer warrant, then,’ she began to shut the door.
Richard stopped it with his hand. ‘Don’t you think you’d better see how Ferdie wants to play this? He might not be best pleased if you have him dragged down to the station, kept for 24 hours.’
She shot him a look of contempt and closed the door.
Janine glanced at Richard, raised her eyes to heaven and back. ‘I still don’t know all the ins and outs,’ Janine resumed their previous conversation, ‘but Michael was pretty shaken up. Got a right shiner.’
They heard Mrs Gibson coming back and bowed to each other: the tactic of sending her to check with Ferdie had worked. The door opened and Ferdie Gibson appeared behind his mother. The close haircut gave him a weasely appearance, his scalp was a greasy white colour beneath the fuzz of hair. Janine noticed the botched tattoo on his neck. He was barefoot with a Nike top, a fancy Rolex-type watch and Adidas pants on, white stripes and rows of buttons all up the legs. Janine wondered about the buttons; did people undo them when they got hot, leave the fabric flapping like chaps?
‘Hello, Ferdie,’ said Richard, ‘I’m Detective Inspector Mayne and this is Detective Chief Inspector Lewis.’
‘What d’ya want?’
‘We’d like a word. Inside if you don’t mind, more private.’
He shrugged and wheeled to face the nearest room; they filed in after him followed by Mrs Gibson. The small room boasted three sofas and a TV and video. The system looked state of the art, the sofas were an ill-matched trio, all had seen better days.
Ferdie flung himself onto the faded pink, over stuffed couch, his mother took the olive green sofa bed and Richard and Janine shared the low slung settee which had sludgy orange and brown cloth and wooden arms.
Janine could feel the supporting elastic ropes through the thin cushions. In a previous era it would have been up-to-the-minute modern design along with fondue sets, convex mirrors and pedestal ashtrays. Like thirty years ago.
Where were Ferdie’s trainers? She glanced at Richard and down at the lad’s feet. Richard acknowledged the query. Janine gave Richard the nod – he should ask the questions.
‘We’re investigating the murder of Matthew Tulley,’ he said.
‘I want a brief then.’
‘Just an informal chat, Ferdie. If you could tell us where you were between nine and eleven yesterday morning.’
Janine detected a change in the boy’s demeanour, subtle and fleeting but there all the same. Did he know something?
‘I was here, in bed,’ he swivelled his head to face his mother, ‘that’s right, innit, Mam?’
‘He never gets up in the morning,’ she said emphatically.
‘You were here all that time?’
‘Had my shopping to do but he was in bed.’
‘Till when?’ Richard asked Ferdie.
‘Dunno. ‘Bout one. Called for my mate, went to the pub.’
‘Your watch not work?’ Richard nodded at the bulky model on the boy’s skinny wrist.
‘Didn’t know it mattered, did I?’
‘When did you last see Mr Tulley, Ferdie?’
‘Months back. Punched me in the head, you know. ‘S affected my concentration, know what I mean. I get these panic attacks.’
Give him an Oscar, Janine thought as she watched him elaborate on his symptoms.
‘Still carry a knife, Ferdie?’
‘S illegal, innit?’
‘But you used one on Mr Tulley.’
‘They never charged us.’
Janine wondered why there’d been no crime report. Why hadn’t Matthew Tulley pressed charges?
‘This mate you called for, what’s his name?’
‘Colin.’
‘And where does Colin live?’
He gave them the address. Janine stood. ‘I’ll leave you to finish off, Inspector.’ Ferdie glanced at her, suspecting something but unsure of what. ‘I’ll let myself out.’
Mam was crying. Jade hated it when she cried, it was worse than her shouting and being all stressed out. Jade was on the top step. Mam was in the lounge, on the settee making a horrible moany noise and Jade knew her face’d be all red and lumpy from crying. Jade didn’t want to see her but she wanted some breakfast. What she’d really like was Coco-Pops but Mam said they cost a bleeding fortune and she had to have corn flakes or Weetabix.
Her Nana got her Coco-Pops when she stayed there but she only let Jade eat them in the morning not whenever she got hungry. The best bit was how the milk turned to chocolate milk, all swirly and sweet. Jade reckoned she could eat a whole packet and not get sick of them.
Jade hated Sunday. Everything was horrible. She couldn’t even watch the cartoons till Mam stopped crying. It wasn’t fair. When Mam was going with Alan they went to Wacky Warehouse on a Sunday and Alan’d buy her sweets and she could play while Mam and Alan had a drink and then they’d get a bar meal. Chicken nugget and chips, she always had, and a Coke with ice cubes and two straws. But Alan was going with someone else now.
‘Jade,’ her mam called ‘Jade, come here.’
She ran downstairs and into the lounge. Mam was still in her nightie and there was a pile of squashed up bits of toilet paper on the settee from her blowing her nose. Her face was all shiny and big and red. She looked ugly.
Jade saw the police car drive past the window and slow down. Her belly started to hurt.
‘Jade, come here,’ Mam sounded like a little girl as she patted the seat beside her. Jade went over and slid onto the settee. Her mother put an arm round her and pulled her close. Mam’s breath stank horrible. Jade tried not to breathe.
‘You know I love you, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Mam.’
‘Even when I’m not happy, I still care about you. I do my best. You’re all I’ve got Jade. If anything ever happened to you…’ her voice squeaked.