‘You did,’ said Daz, before his girlfriend could answer. ‘When it was on the news, you said, “fuck, ’e was on the run!” I was the one what said ’is voice was off. ’E wa’n from Doncaster,’ Daz informed Robin. ‘I ’ad a mate from Doncaster.’
‘You think he was putting the accent on?’ asked Robin.
‘Yeah,’ said Daz.
‘Could he have been Scottish?’ she said, thinking of Niall Semple.
‘Dunno,’ said Daz. ‘Maybe.’
‘Could he have been upper class, and trying to sound working class?’ Robin asked, thinking of Rupert Fleetwood.
‘Maybe,’ said Daz again.
‘I seen ’im out there,’ said Mandy, who seemed to want to reclaim the detectives’ attention, and she pointed towards the hall. ‘Seen ’im the day ’e arrived.’
‘Did he have much stuff with him?’ asked Robin.
‘Just a suitcase,’ said Mandy. She bent down, retrieved a lighter from beside a sock on the floor, and lit her cigarette.
‘Which room did he have?’ asked Robin.
‘One above this,’ said Mandy, pointing at the ceiling. ‘S’even worse. ’Alf the size. Mind, there was on’y one of ’im.’
‘Were you the people who identified William from the pictures in the press?’
‘Nah, that was Hussein,’ said Mandy, exhaling smoke. ’’E’s moved out now, ’im an’ ’is wife an’ daughter. They wuz in the rooms on the top.’
‘D’you know their surname?’ asked Robin. ‘Where they went?’
‘Mohamed, their surname was. Syrian. Dunno where they went. Their little girl was in a wheelchair. They got council ’ousing fast, because of being shoved up top, ’ere. Maybe if I shoved Clint in a wheelchair we’d get an ’ouse, ’an all,’ said Mandy bitterly.
Daz got out of bed, bare-chested and -footed, and switched on the kettle standing on top of the fridge. He was somehow both skinny but also soft-looking, a small white paunch hanging over his jeans. A large tattoo on his back showed the Roman numerals for four and twenty.
‘Did you see much of Wright?’ asked Robin.
‘Bit, yeah. Fort ’e was weird, din’t we?’ Mandy said to Daz.
‘Yeah,’ said Daz, with a snigger. ‘Looked like one of them on Guess ’Oo.’
‘Wh—? Oh, the children’s game?’ said Robin, after a few seconds’ confusion.
‘Yeah,’ said Daz, who was now looking for teabags. ‘Wiv ’is beard an’ ’is glasses… if ’e’d ’ad an ’at, hahaha… an’ ’e was fuckin’ orange… fake tan. An’ ’e worked out. Seen ’im getting’ fuckin’ ’eavy boxes delivered, an’ I said, “what’s that then?” An’ ’e said, weights, got ’em off eBay, really pleased wiv ’imself… carryin’ ’em upstairs… we could ’ear ’im fumpin’ around up there.’
Strike was taking rapid notes. Clint, who’d already consumed his first biscuit, helped himself surreptitiously to a second from the packet on the bed behind his mother.
‘We sorta laughed at ’im,’ said Mandy, ‘’cause ’e told me people might come round lookin’ for ’im, an’ if they did, we should say ’e weren’ there. Fort ’e was biggin’ ’imself up – but then look what ’appened,’ she said, with an air of dim surprise.
‘Did he say who might come looking for him?’ asked Robin.
‘Nah.’
‘He said “people”, did he? Plural?’
‘’E said “someone”, an’ then ’e said, “or ’e might send someone”.’
‘Makin’ out the mob was after ’im,’ said Daz, with a chortle. Turning to face them holding his tea, which he’d made in a mug bearing a cartoon picture of a penis captioned ‘Mr Bellend’, he said,
‘Know wha’ I fort ’e was? Stripogram. Fake tan an’ fuckin’ abs… I said to Mand, ’e’s a fuckin’ stripogram an’ ’e don’ wanna admit it.’
‘Clint, don’ do that,’ said Mandy sharply. Her son was trying to pull a plate off the top of the chest of drawers. When he showed signs of grizzling, she distracted him with a third biscuit. Daz, who was idly scratching his belly, said,
‘’E come down ’ere one time, Wright.’
‘Did he? Why?’ asked Robin.
‘Wan’ed to buy a bit of dope. We was ’avin’ a takeaway, an’ ’e ’ad a bit wiv us.’
‘Can you remember anything you talked about?’
‘’E said ’is girlfriend was gonna join ’im. Come an’ live wiv ’im, upstairs.’
‘Did he tell you his girlfriend’s name?’ asked Robin.
‘Nah,’ said Daz.
‘Rita, woz it?’ said Mandy vaguely.
‘Oh yeah, maybe,’ said Daz, although Robin had the impression he couldn’t remember. ‘An’ the gun fing,’ he said to Mandy, ‘remember?’
‘What gun thing was this?’ asked Robin, while Strike’s pen sped up.
‘We woz watchin’ John Wick while we was ’avin’ the Chinese,’ said Daz, ‘an’ he said someone weren’ ’olding their fuckin’ gun properly. Tryna be the ’ard man, see?’
‘No, that Rita fing…’ said Mandy, frowning. ‘Tha’ was when ’e was proper fuckin’ stoned… Rita Linda or somefing. Asked if we knew ’er. Remember?’ she said to Daz.
‘He asked if you knew someone called Rita Linda?’ said Robin.
‘Yeah… woz it Rita Linda? I fink ’e said… didn’ ’e say ’e knew what ’appened to ’er?’ she said, appealing to her boyfriend again. ‘An’ din’ ’e say we’d see it on the news?’
‘Dunno,’ said Daz, still scratching his navel.
‘It woz somefing like Rita Linda.’ Mandy ran the names together: ‘Ritalinda.’
‘Ritalin-da,’ said Daz. ‘Hahaha.’
‘He said he knew what had happened to Rita Linda?’ said Robin. ‘And it would be on the news?’
‘Yeah, somefing like… an’ ’e dropped ’is doob tube, remember, Daz? An’ ’e told you it was a fuckin’ blood sample, like you was gonna nick it off ’im.’
‘I don’t understand, sorry,’ said Robin. ‘He dropped what?’
‘’Is doob tube. You know, where you keep your stash. Fell outta ’is pocket when he stood up. Daz went to pick it up for ’im an’ Wright grabs it away, an’ Daz says, “all right, I wasn’t gonna fuckin’ take it,” an’ Wright says, “wouldn’t be no use to you, it’s my blood sample.”’ Mandy cackled. ‘Blood sample! Was it fuck.’
‘Did he say why he was carrying a blood sample around with him?’ asked Robin.
‘Yeah, said ’e was gonna ’and it in at the doctors, an’ then ’e left.’
‘You saw the tube clearly, did you? It was definitely full of cannabis?’
‘Yeah,’ said Mandy, but then, ‘musta bin. ’E fort Daz was gonna nick ’is blow or why’d ’e be so weird about it?’
‘’E was a bit of a fuckin’ weirdo,’ said Daz. ‘Mind, when it come out, on the news, I says to Mand, “tha’s what the fuckin’ mason fing was.” ’E asked me what I fort of the masons. Sounded like ’e was finking of joining,’ said Daz, now idly examining half a joint left in an ashtray on top of the fridge. ‘Fuckin’ masons,’ he said, with a guffaw.
‘But when you heard he’d been killed in a masonic shop—’
‘Yeah, I knew why ’e’d asked. Fuckin’ masons,’ Daz said again, no longer smiling. ‘S’not funny, really, is it?’ he said, as though everyone else had been laughing.
‘Can you remember anything else he said?’ asked Robin. ‘Like, where he’d come from? Anything about his family?’
‘Nah,’ said Daz.
‘Don’t fink so,’ said Mandy regretfully, ‘I don’ fink… nah.’
‘Did he ever have visitors, that you can remember?’ asked Robin.