‘No. He’s hoping to be moving out. He might not be here much longer. I’ll tell him you came.’
I tore a piece out of Maddie’s scrapbook and printed the message in huge letters: PETE CAME ROUND – HE WANTS HIS MONEY. I pinned it to Clive’s door. I didn’t think Pete could hold out much hope, but at least I’d done my duty.
Nina was in when I tried her.
‘Garbage report,’ she said. ‘Hang on, I wrote it all out.’
‘Was it disgusting? Where did you do it?’
‘In the garage.’ She stretched the word out with her American drawl. ‘With a scarf tied round my face, rubber gloves and a can of air freshener.’
‘And?’
‘Disappointing.’
‘Oh no.’ My heart sank. I’d really hoped this inventive line of enquiry would give me the proof I wanted.
‘Nothing in the way of letters to Martin,’ she said. ‘Forms, nothing like that. Just garbage really. Except the condoms.’
‘What?’
‘Well, it takes two to practise safe sex. And there were a dozen in the bags. Someone’s having fun.’
‘You counted them.’ I blanched at the thought.
‘I take my work seriously.’
It didn’t prove anything really. Just that someone in that house had used condoms in the previous week.
‘What else?’
‘Vegetable matter, chop bones, chicken joints, take-away cartons, eight wine bottles, two whisky, beer cans, lots. I didn’t count those.’
‘Not one for re-cycling, our Fraser.’
‘Dead flowers, film cartons…’
‘Video?’
‘No, those little yellow ones for photographs. And one of them’s a chocolate junkie. Lots of Mars Bar wrappers, those bite-size ones.’
‘That could be Martin. Teenagers are often heavy sweet eaters, aren’t they?’
Nina went on with the list. Like she said, it was rubbish. The bottles and the condoms made sense when I thought back to the night I’d seen all the cars outside Mackinlay’s. Party time. Eddie there, showing his movies, or maybe even making one. Speculation. It could just as easily suggest Fraser had a drink problem and a lively libido. Monday night could have been a business meeting.
‘That it?’
‘You want more?’
I laughed. ‘What did you do with it all?’
‘I bagged it up and took it to the tip, along with the clothes I’d been wearing.’
I thanked her.
‘Yeah. I kinda wish I could’ve found something important,’ she said.
She had. But neither of us knew that then.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
The kids were asleep. Ray was in the cellar. It was twilight when the doorbell rang. It never occurred to me to put the chain on that time.
It was Leanne. As soon as I glimpsed her – egg-coloured hair, black T-shirt, sullen face, I pushed the door. She was quick. Stuck her foot in the way before I could close it. ‘Open the friggin’ door,’ she complained.
‘Get lost, Leanne. You’re not coming in.’
‘Open the door. You’ve got it all wrong, yer daft cow. You’re hurting my foot.’
I relented, sighed and stepped back. She came in huffing her shoulders. Started to roll her eyes to heaven. Then she got a proper look at me.
‘Fuckin’ hell.’ Note of respect in her voice. I blushed.
‘Anything broken?’
‘Ribs.’ What did she care? ‘How did you know where I lived?’
She pulled her mouth to the side. ‘Was on your library ticket.’ Ah, yes. My purse.
‘What do you want? What do you mean, I’ve got it all wrong?’
‘Can we sit down or summat? I hate standing up.’
I led her through to the kitchen and we sat at the table.
‘I didn’t tell him, right,’ she began, ‘about you coming round.’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘You don’t.’
There was a pause.
‘If you didn’t tell him, then how come I get a phone call that same afternoon, why did I get beaten up?’
She shrugged. ‘How do you know it was Smiley?’
I sighed. ‘I don’t Leanne, it’s an educated guess.’
‘Maybe he had someone following you.’
I’d thought of that. He certainly had by the time I was visiting Diane. But before then? I shivered. Maybe Leanne was telling the truth. It was hard to judge. What the hell, I was in no mood to apologise. I pushed back my chair.
‘I didn’t come about that,’ she said. ‘Not just that.’
‘Oh?’
‘It’s Derek. They’re going to pin a murder on him, you know, that woman that was found on the motorway…’
‘Well, they’re looking for evidence.’
‘But he didn’t do it. He’d never do stuff like that.’
‘He was using crack, Leanne. You said yourself it was doing his head in. People get violent.’
‘He’d have used his shooter, his gun. He wasn’t a fighter.’
Oh God. Did all these kids have guns?
‘All I know is they’re waiting for forensic reports. If it wasn’t Derek, they won’t find anything.’
‘They’ll find what suits them. Be easy for them to set him up. He can’t prove them wrong now, can he?’ She pulled a crumpled packet of Benson and Hedges from the waistband of her skirt. Lit up.
‘Why would they want to do that?’
‘Tidies things up. They’ve got the killer. He’s black, he’s a user – everyone’s going to believe he done it, aren’t they?’
‘Can you give him an alibi? She was killed the Sunday night, the day before we went to JB’s funeral.’ Three weeks ago. And ten days after that, they’d pulled Derek from the Mersey. How long had he been there?
‘No,’ said Leanne. At least that was honest. ‘He wasn’t around. I was going to tell him about JB’s funeral, so he could come with me. But I didn’t see him. I never saw him after that.’ She pulled hard on the cigarette and I heard the soft rustle of it burning.
‘Did he know JB?’
‘Yeah, they was old mates. They grew up together.’
‘I thought JB was in care?’
‘He was. So was Derek. They were both at Hanley Court. That’s where I was for a bit. That’s where I met Derek.’
I had a sudden prickling at the nape of my neck.
‘Did you ever hear of a man called Sharrocks?’
She paused, the cigarette a few inches from her mouth. Looked me in the eyes. Was it a trick question? ‘Yeah.’ Cautious.
‘Bruce Sharrocks. He’s mixed up in all this, I think. He made a phoney appointment with me, kept me out of the way the day JB was killed.’
‘We called him Mr Bollocks,’ she said. She was gripping the edge of the table, her fingers pinched white. ‘He was the boss at Hanley Court – till he got promoted.’ There was more to come. I could see it in the dull glare of her eyes, as she looked beyond me to the past. ‘We thought it’d be alright then, him in the Town Hall. But he had to come and visit. It was like his brothel, see.’
The silence was shattered by the bleeping of the phone.
‘I’m sorry.’ I slid away and answered it. ‘Hello?’
A young, gruff voice asked to speak to me. I told him he already was.
‘It’s Max here, Max Ainsworth. You came and talked to us at St. Matthew’s, about Martin Hobbs.’ Oh yes, Max. Sitting on his own in the playground. The only one who had any concern for Martin.
‘It’s about Martin,’ he went on quickly. ‘He’s just rung us up. He’s in real bother. He wants me to meet him, take him some money and clothes and stuff. He was in a right state. Kept saying they were after him, that they’d kill him. I thought you’d want to know, want to come.’ Max’s voice was heavy with concern.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said I’d do what he said. He wanted to see us at Heaton Park. We went fishing there once. There’s this old monument, like an arch, near the boating lake. He said to meet there.’
‘Have you got a car?’