‘Oh, yes.’
‘You left a message for me to call you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you like to tell me what it is a—’
‘Not on the phone,’ the woman interrupted.
‘Well, that makes it rather difficult.’
‘It’s important I speak to you, but I’m not coming into no police station.’ She had a strong Newcastle accent.
‘If you could just tell me why you wished to see me, then I can arrange to meet you.’
There was a pause.
‘Hello, Beryl? Are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why do you want to see me?’
‘I need to talk to someone about something. It’s important: you arrested my son.’
Anna waited; she could hear heavy breathing on the end of the line.
‘I’m talking about Arthur Murphy,’ said Beryl.
Anna hesitated, then agreed to meet her the following day in a café next to the old Peabody estate in Lilly Road. Then she went straight off to knock on Sheldon’s office door, to inform him of this latest development.
‘Whatever she has to say won’t help him — he’s going down for life. Take Brandon with you; give him something to do,’ barked Sheldon.
Anna hesitated. ‘I think he should just be in the background. She seemed very uneasy, and as she’s coming all the way down from Newcastle, I don’t want her to take fright and do a runner.’
‘That’s as may be, but take him with you anyway. It’s a café—let him go in and get a cup of tea. Better to be safe than sorry. If she’s as nuts as her son, you might need back-up.’
Brandon went into the seedy café fifteen minutes before Anna had agreed to meet Beryl Dunn. He was sitting in a corner with an order of eggs, bacon, sausage and chips swimming in grease, with a milky cup of tea and white bread and butter. He glanced up as Anna walked in. She looked around; apart from Brandon, there were only two other customers, who both wore painters’ overalls and were tucking into plates of the same disgusting food.
Anna ordered a cup of coffee from the old man behind the glass counter. He dumped a thick-rimmed cup and saucer onto the flat counter. She handed over seventy pence, looked around and picked a table for two as far from the painting duo as possible, but reasonably close to Brandon.
Moments later, a woman walked in, waved over to the counter and asked for an espresso before looking round and making her way slowly to Anna’s table. She was about five feet two and very overweight, with heavy swollen ankles in strappy sandals. She had a bright red coat and a large plastic handbag. Her hair was bleached yellowish-blonde and hung down to her shoulders, the black and grey roots just showing. She wore heavy make-up: thick black eyeliner and spiky mascara, rouged cheeks and dark red lipstick that ran in small rivulets up the lines around her mouth.
‘You Detective Inspector Travis?’ she said quietly.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m Beryl Dunn.’
She sat down in a waft of heavy, sweet perfume. She inched the coat off to rest on the back of her chair, revealing a white frilly lace blouse with a low neckline, showing off her cleavage and large breasts. Her small plump hands with red nail varnish had numerous rings; she wore a man’s wristwatch. She said nothing else until her espresso was placed down in front of her, then reached over for the box of paper napkins and removed one, slipping it into the neck of her blouse.
‘Don’t want to drop coffee down meself,’ she said, then lifted the thick cup to her lips and slurped. She placed it carefully down on the saucer. ‘I said he was my son, but I disowned him years ago. He was always a nasty little bastard. I even feel sick to admit I give him birth. His father was a nasty bastard too, glad to be rid of him; cancer got him, but I’d have liked to shoot the bugger. Whatever our Arthur gets, he’s got it coming to him. He’s a disgusting pervert.’
She sipped her coffee again. Her lipstick left marks on the rim of her cup. ‘I was in showbusiness.’
‘Really?’ Anna smiled, surprised.
‘Stand-up comic; did the rounds of all the Northern clubs. Now standing is hard enough, never mind making the buggers laugh.’ She gave a hoarse throaty laugh; her lipstick was smeared on her row of false teeth.
‘You wanted to see me,’ Anna prompted her.
‘Yes. It’s about our Gail.’
‘Gail is your daughter?’
‘Yes.’ Beryl Dunn leaned back. ‘She’s been trouble as well, but she’s a good girl, really — just stupid, know what I mean? She got involved with a man, who left her pregnant with her first kid, our Sharon, but she got a nice council flat out of it. Then she had another one, little Keith — he’s a right tearaway, he is — a year or so later, but she got involved with drugs and they kicked her out with two kids, so she came back to live with me.’
Again she paused as she sipped her coffee. ‘I couldn’t keep her there for long. I got my private life, know what I mean? Anyways, that was several years ago, all water under the bridge.’
She licked her lips and sighed. ‘I always forgave her, because of what Arthur done; she had to go to therapy for it. For a while she was safe from him down in London — Hackney, it was—’cos he was banged up in prison, but they no sooner put the bugger away than he’s out again and after her, so she went to the police — you know, to get protection, to keep him away from her.’
Anna nodded her head. She knew all this and was trying to fathom out why Beryl wanted to see her.
‘Next thing, he gets out with this no-good bloke called Vernon something or other, and he bloody gets her pregnant! I mean, you’d have thought she’d have learned, but no. Like I said, she’s a bit on the stupid side.’
‘I saw the little girl,’ Anna said. She wondered if this could possibly be Vernon Kramer’s child.
‘Yeah, Tina’s a cute little thing, but Gail would have nothing more to do with Vernon because he was after her other daughter, sick bastard. So she kicked him out and said if he ever came near her again, or near her kids, she’d get him arrested.’
‘Was his surname Kramer?’
Beryl tapped the teaspoon on the side of her cup. ‘I dunno his surname, but he was a friend of that bugger Arthur. Now look, Detective Inspector, my Gail may be stupid, but she’s always had a good heart and she’s been a good mother to those kids. She calls me and writes, sends me photographs, and we have always kept in touch. I give her money when I can and see her Christmas-times, if I’m able to.’
She took out a handkerchief and wiped her mouth. ‘Few months back, I got a postcard from her saying she was moving to the New Forest with her latest bloke: she was renting some place and said not to let Arthur know where she was, as she’d got this restrainin’ order against him. I wouldn’t have given him the time of day, let alone told him where she was. I bought her a mobile for her birthday so we could keep in touch; she’d had problems with her phone and not paid the bills. Anyways, next thing I hear, this new bloke has run off and she’s living with someone else.’
Anna nodded.
‘When I went to see her, I got a shock,’ the woman continued. ‘I’m no racist, but me, I’ve never gone with a darkie. He was all right, I suppose. He was clearing up the yard and gonna decorate the bungalow, but Gail said the stench from the pigs made her feel sick.’
‘So you went to see her?’
‘Yes — that’s when I met him — called himself Joseph Sickert. Gail started using his surname. Stupid, but she wanted to do it, so…’ Beryl blinked, and dabbed the corner of her eyes. ‘I got a call from her and that’s when she told me about you being there, about puttin’ Vernon in it, and how they arrested Arthur. She says you was very nice.’
‘So you think Vernon Kramer is Tina’s father?’
‘I’m guessing so. Like I said, I never knew his surname, just that he was some friend of Arthur’s. She gets done up ’cos she won’t use contraceptives. I wish to Christ I had, but we’re good Catholics.’