‘That he was a liar.’
‘Why pretend they’re dead? Why deny the existence of family?’
‘Couldn’t stand them?’
‘But not a dickey bird in… what… nearly twenty
years, eighteen years?’
‘They cramp his style?’ Richard suggested.
‘Hardly Steptoe and Son though, were they?’
‘Perhaps he was being economical with the truth in other ways; didn’t want them blowing the gaff?’
‘Like the first marriage? That was news. See if we can find her, see what she has to say about Tulley.’
‘Yep.’ Richard cracked open a can of Lilt. ‘We’re moving,’ he gestured at the cars in front. His mobile sounded and he took the call. Relayed the details to Janine. ‘Next lot of forensics in.’
‘The bonfire?’ she said eagerly.
‘As if! The trainer: Hi-Tec, Walklite, tens.’
‘Get Shap to check out Ferdie Gibson’s shoes. We know how unreliable IL parades are – doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. Anything from Lesley?’
‘Hair and skin traces on his body and clothing,’ Richard shrugged. ‘Gets us nowhere: they shared a bed. Also the lab reckons the killer would have been awash with blood, and so would the knife – if they were carrying it.’
Janine tried to imagine the scene. The killer leaving the body, blood everywhere. ‘Send Butchers back to Mr Vincent, take him through it, bit by bit. In minute detail. Oh, damn.’
They came to another standstill because of road works. Janine groaned. She was dying to pee, another symptom of her pregnancy. She put on the handbrake and shifted in her seat to ease the pressure on her bladder. She helped herself to a chocolate bar.
‘One thing came up when I talked to the school,’ Richard had visited St Columbus after seeing Bobby Mac, ‘according to an old classmate, Gibson had been making personal comments about Tulley’s wife. That’s when Tulley went ballistic.’
‘Jealous?’
‘There’s a chance.’
‘We need to dig around some more. Did Ferdie Gibson know Mrs Tulley? I want to press her on the car park business, the times don’t tally and cutting herself up – perhaps everything in the garden wasn’t quite so rosy?’
Janine’s phone went then. Her mum again. She was expecting more about the VCR but her mum’s voice was full of panic.
‘Janine, it’s Tom, he’s had an asthma attack. They’ve taken him to hospital.’
Tom! Her guts twisted in fear and she felt the blood jump in her veins. ‘Oh, my god. Which hospital?’
‘Wythenshawe.’
‘Oh, Jesus, I’m on my way.’ She turned to Richard, her face white with panic. ‘It’s Tom. He’s had an asthma attack at school. They had to get an ambulance.’
Richard leant forward and opened the compartment, retrieved the magnetic blue light and siren from the glove compartment and wound down his window.
Janine looked at him, shocked. It was against all the rules to do that. Only ever police business, only ever a genuine emergency.
She frowned. Richard placed it on the car roof. Nodded at her. ‘Go for it, Janine.’
She hesitated. He nodded again. She thought of Tom, her Tom, struggling to breathe. Took a gulp of air herself and shifted into gear as the siren began its wail. Prayers already tumbling through her head fast as her heartbeat.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She was breathless herself when she arrived in the ward. Tom in the bed, so small and fragile against the solid metal-framed bed, a mask over his nose and mouth. Pete was there, he stood and immediately reassured her. ‘He’s all right. He responded well.’
Janine sat down, unsteady, giddy with relief. She closed her eyes, put her hands over her mouth and took a minute. Then she reached out a hand to stroke Tom’s hair.
Pete cleared his throat. ‘It was-’ he faltered. She could read in his eyes how scared he had been. ‘They want to keep him in overnight.’
She nodded.
‘You thought he was okay for school?’ he asked.
She paused. Not knowing what to say. Yes, she had doubts but he’d seemed fit enough. Was it her fault?
Pete shot her a look of disgust. Stood up and moved away.
She tried to explain. ‘Pete – it’s not. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.’
‘And the job comes first?’
‘That’s not fair,’ she said quietly.
‘Really?’ He was angry, the edge of his nostrils were flared and white, his jaw set. ‘Michael’s going off the rails, he’ll be pulling some stupid stunt that lands him in court before long, Tom’s left to fend for himself-’
Janine stood then, a flash of anger dislodging the guilt. ‘Oh, come on. You can’t say that. They’re your kids as well. I can’t do it all on my own though I’m having a bloody good try. You walked out on them, that has a lot more to do with it-’
‘Oh, yeah. Back to that,’ he spat the words out.
‘Pete, you left them. It hurts.’
They stood, a few yards apart, the wreckage of their marriage all too apparent. Janine sighed and went back to Tom, cradled his hand in her own. She sat for a while and watched his chest rise and fall with the apparatus. He’d need pyjamas, some of his favourite toys.
‘Can you stay till teatime?’ Already thinking about the practicalities, who could cover when. Pete looked at her in horror. What did he expect? ‘Or would you rather do overnight?’ she continued.
He had the sense to look abashed and shook his head.
‘Okay. I’ll get Sarah to bring Eleanor home, stay at ours. I’ll bring Tom’s things.’ She kissed Tom and told him she’d be back later. He slept on.
‘If anything happens. Anything. Ring me.’
Pete nodded. He looked desolate. For a moment she wanted to hug him, to be back to before when they weren’t on different sides, when everything wasn’t a battle for the moral high ground.
Colin wasn’t sure if he could go through with it. Ferdie should be here. If Ferdie didn’t come soon he didn’t know what he’d do. What if it was a trap? A set-up?
He wished he’d never got into it, any of it. Ferdie – all the drama, he got a buzz off of it, but Colin just felt like the stress was going to kill him. Must have a weak heart or something. If the police had still got Ferdie at the station… if they charged him with the murder… if he got sent down.
Colin had a glimpse of life after Ferdie Gibson and it was sweet. He’d better try Ferdie’s mobile. If there was no answer then maybe he was still at the nick, ‘cos they wouldn’t let him take calls there, would they?
‘Ferdie?’
‘Colin.’
‘Where are you? It’s after two.’
There was knocking at Colin ’s door. His knees went weak. ‘Shit! There’s someone at the door, Ferdie.’
‘It’s me, Colin.’
‘What?’
‘Open the effin’ door.’
He did. Ferdie stood there scowling with impatience.
‘They let you out?’ Colin said.
‘They been here?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Same as before. They didn’t believe me though. Kept going on, threatening me with being an accessory and obstruction and that. Perverting the course of justice.’
‘They always do that. You didn’t tell them anything?’
‘No, honest.’
‘They reckon someone seen me near Tulley’s allotment. They wanted me in a line-up. Voluntary. So I went and they sent me home. Couldn’t identify me, could they. Obvious innit?’
Colin nodded, no longer trying to figure it all out. Just wanting it to be over.
‘Where’s the money?’
‘Bog,’ said Colin.
Ferdie followed him to the minute bathroom compartment. Colin removed the floor panel from the peach-coloured shower which hadn’t ever worked since he’d had the place and fished out a canvas shoe bag.
He handed it to Ferdie who grinned like a demon and swore softly with pleasure.
They counted twenties and tens into piles.
‘There,’ Ferdie set the piles aside. ‘Two grand. And a bit left over for me pension.’