Cold Sacrifice (24 page)

Ian didn’t believe the boy’s mindless boasting for a second. He wondered if he was covering up for someone else, or if he wanted to be labelled a murderer, someone to be feared. He clearly had no idea what it would actually mean if he was found guilty. Ian tried another tack.

‘We know it wasn’t you stabbed that woman, Ben. Who are you lying to protect? Is it your stepfather?’

At his side he heard Susan give a disapproving sniff but Ben responded to the provocation.

‘I told you he ain’t my fucking stepfather and I’m not lying.’

He no longer sounded sure of himself.

‘Ben, you can see now why it’s so important we know whose knife you had on you,’ Susan said. ‘We really need to know and you’re the only person who can help us. We won’t tell anyone if you don’t want us to.’ Ian kept quiet. He could see the boy was ready to talk.

‘Whose knife was it, Ben? Did someone give it to you?’

Ben appeared to be considering.

‘What about my money?’ he demanded after a pause.

‘Money?’

‘Yes, what you pay me for being an informer. You pay for information, don’t you? You can’t expect me to do this for nothing.’

Susan looked at Ian who nodded.

‘Yes,’ she agreed slowly. ‘As long as you tell us the truth.’

‘Do you want to know who gave me that knife, and told me to keep it hidden?’ the boy asked eagerly. Too eagerly.

Ian wasn’t sure the boy was telling the truth but he went along with it. He had an inkling where this was leading.

‘Yeah well, it was Eddy,’ Ben said, making no attempt to conceal his satisfaction.

‘Eddy? You mean your mother’s boyfriend, Eddy?’ Susan asked.

‘Yeah. He give it me and says look after this for me, lad. So I done it. Until Mr Kelsey took it off me at school. There wasn’t nothing I could do.’

‘Why did Eddy give it to you?’ Ian asked.

Ben shrugged.

‘How should I know? He told me to hide it and not to show it to anyone, not to let anyone know anything about it. He said he’d be for it if anyone found out. And he said I should keep it on me all the time because it would stop the other kids bullying me.’

‘Even though he told you not to show it to anyone.’

‘Yeah, well. He’s thick, innit.’

Ian had no doubt the boy was making up his story as he went along, but Susan was looking triumphant.

‘Well done, Ben,’ she crowed. ‘You’ve been a very brave boy.’

Ian cringed at her patronising tone, but Ben seemed too pleased with himself to care. Ian couldn’t tell if he was smiling with relief at having unburdened himself, or because he thought it was payback time for his mother’s bullying boyfriend.

‘How much do I get?’ he demanded. ‘And can I have my knife back now? And don’t let on I said anything. Eddy’ll kill me if he finds out.’ All at once he looked terrified. ‘Tell him I never said nothing.’

‘H
E COULD HAVE BEEN
lying,’ Ian pointed out to Polly as they drove to Ben’s flat to question Eddy. Polly was so cheerful that Ian felt like a heel undermining her conviction the case was solved. But Ian was sufficiently experienced not to take anything he heard at face value.

‘Why would he lie?’ she countered. ‘He’s only thirteen.’

Ian couldn’t help laughing.

‘Thirteen-year-olds lie. I know I did when I was thirteen, every time I forgot to do my homework.’

‘That’s completely different,’ Polly protested. ‘He must realise he could get his stepfather into a lot of trouble.’

Ian grunted.

‘Either he has no idea how serious this is, or else he’s taking the opportunity to drop Eddy in it, big time. I can’t say I blame him, not really. He’s only a kid, and Eddy sounds like a vicious bastard. He’s been done for GBH before now. As a kid living in the same house as him, I’d probably be inventing lies to get rid of him as well.’

‘OK, he might be making it all up, but it could be true, that’s all I’m saying. You’re always telling me to keep an open mind.’

Ian smiled bleakly.

A skinny woman of indeterminate age came to the door. Ian thought she was probably younger than she looked. Her skin was lined and she had an unhealthy complexion, pale and pimply, with grey pouches under her dull eyes.

‘We’re looking for Eddy.’

‘He ain’t here.’

Ian stepped forward and blocked her attempt to shut the door. He held up his warrant card.

‘What you want with him anyway?’

She squinted suspiciously from Ian to Polly and back again.

‘We just need to ask him a few questions.’

‘Well he ain’t here.’

‘Where does he work?’

‘Work? Him? You’re having a laugh.’

Ian tried a different approach.

‘You must be Ben’s mother.’

‘What’s the little shit gone and done now?’

Ian was slightly shocked that she had no idea her thirteen-year-old son had been caught carrying a knife at school. He wondered why the school hadn’t been in touch with her and whether social services would be alerted. In the meantime, he turned his attention back to the woman’s boyfriend.

‘What time do you expect Eddy back?’

Ben’s mother just shrugged.

‘Whenever.’

It was obvious that as soon as she shut the door she was going to warn Eddy the police had been asking for him. He could decide to disappear for a while. By the time they had conclusive proof of his fingerprints on the knife, and perhaps his bloodstained clothing hidden in the flat, he might be impossible to track down.

Ian nodded at Polly who understood at once what he wanted. She took a few steps away down the path and spoke rapidly into her phone. As soon as Polly finished, Ian called to her.

‘Why don’t you accompany her round the corner to the station for a while?’ he suggested quietly.

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Ben’s mother shrieked in sudden alarm, jumping away from the door.

‘Just to help us with our enquiries,’ Ian went on smoothly. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble. But you could be if you don’t go quietly. We just want to show you a few photos, and see if you recognise anyone.’

He was making up the story as he went along. Ben wasn’t the only one who could be inventive. Suddenly she was transformed into a solicitous mother, flapping about Ben and who was going to look after him.

‘I can’t go nowhere. I need to give my boy his tea.’

‘Don’t worry about Ben,’ he reassured her. ‘We’re taking care of him.’

The woman was genuinely frightened now and began squawking about her son. Polly stepped forward and took her firmly by the arm.

‘Come along, this won’t take long. My colleague is going to be busy for a while, and you’re coming with me to look at a few pictures. There’s a car on its way from the local station which will be here any minute.’

‘What are you on about? What pictures? What car?’

‘Come along, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea.’

‘I don’t want no tea, not from you.’

But she accompanied Polly out of the house, moaning and complaining. Half way down the path, she darted away from the constable with surprising agility, and ran into the arms of a stout uniformed officer who had just arrived at the gate. Swearing foully, she was hustled into the waiting vehicle. Before Polly closed the door on her, Ian was reassured to see that the constable had taken a mobile phone out of the angry woman’s grasp. There was an unmarked police car outside the back entrance to the block of flats and a second one was in position near the front gate. Now all they had to do was wait for Eddy to return home.

To pass the time, Ian conducted a quick survey of the flat. He started by looking in the kitchen. Mould was growing on the wall above a grimy sink which had once been white. Rotting food lay in the bottom of the sink, impossible to identify, and there was a putrid stench which Ian suspected came from a blocked drain. But on the draining board clean plates and cutlery had been neatly stacked, apparently washed in that filthy sink. The oven and hob were encrusted with burned food detritus, and the greasy floor was speckled with crumbs of food. A patch of dried custard or egg yolk made a bright splash of yellow on the one chipped white worktop. Ian hesitated to search the room and went instead into the main bedroom where clothes littered the dirty carpet, soiled underwear and muddy shoes lying together in disarray. He wanted to call the station and ask if Ben’s mother had been persuaded to give them any information about when Eddy would come back but he couldn’t risk making a sound. Eddy might return at any moment, and he didn’t want to alert him to a police presence inside or outside the flat. They couldn’t afford to lose a potential suspect.

Ian decided against rummaging through the bedroom looking for tell-tale evidence. The nature of the wound meant the killer would have been heavily sprayed with Martha’s blood in the course of the attack. Nevertheless, finding bloodstained clothing in itself would be of no help until the blood had been identified as belonging to the victim. By himself, Ian could prove nothing, and the flat would be thoroughly searched once they had Eddy securely in custody. In the meantime, he didn’t want to do anything to arouse Eddy’s suspicion when he entered the flat. He was known to be a violent man. Ian wanted to apprehend him as quickly and simply as possible. He went into the sitting room and perched on the wooden arm of a grubby upholstered armchair to wait, listening for the sound of a key in the lock.

A
S LONG AS HE
had kept busy, Ian had been fine. Now he was nervous of moving in case Eddy came in and heard him. If the flat hadn’t been on the ground floor he wouldn’t have been so bothered. As it was, Eddy could escape through the window in any one of the rooms, if his suspicions were aroused. There was nothing Ian could do but wait in absolute silence and gathering darkness for Eddy to return. He was exhausted. Only the arm of the chair digging into his backside stopped him drifting off. He kept checking his watch, forcing his eyes to stay open. Time crawled by until he must have dozed off. He woke with a start to discover that he needn’t have worried about Eddy entering the flat unnoticed. There was an unnecessary racket from a key rattling in the lock. Eddy yelled out his girlfriend’s name before slamming the front door so forcefully that the walls trembled. Ian held his breath, waiting to hear what he would do next.

‘Natalie!’ Eddy shouted once more. ‘Where the fuck are you? I’m here.’

He sounded impatient, as though he expected to be greeted as soon as he arrived. Still hollering, he went into the kitchen.

Ian tensed when he heard Eddy open and close a cupboard door. There would be sharp knives in the kitchen, and glassware. Eddy was likely to react aggressively towards an intruder. Ian hardly dared breathe in case he was overheard. Too late he regretted his rash decision to wait alone in the flat instead of outside in a patrol car. Silently he rose to his feet and stole across the room to stand behind the open door. Peering round it, he saw Eddy emerge from the kitchen. Ian pulled back without being seen, just before Eddy entered the room. He was clutching a bottle of beer in one hand. Without making a sound, Ian drew in a deep gulp of air and pounced. Seizing Eddy’s arm, he twisted it up behind his back. The bottle fell to the floor as Eddy bellowed in pain and surprise.

‘Fuck off. I’ll bloody kill you,’ he groaned. ‘I’ll have the law on you.’

‘Whose law is that, Eddy?’

‘Fuck off. What do you want? I ain’t got it, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know what you’re after.’

Ian didn’t answer.

‘Well, you can piss off because I ain’t got it any more. Duffy took it, so you can just get lost. Go ask Duffy.’

Ian didn’t know what Eddy was talking about, but was reassured to learn he hadn’t been mistaken for a random intruder.

‘Duffy hasn’t got it,’ he replied in an even tone, giving Eddy’s arm a vicious jerk as he spoke. ‘The police took it.’

‘What?’

Eddy stiffened. He stopped wriggling and stood completely still. Stupid with exhaustion, Ian relaxed his hold for an instant. That was all Eddy needed. With a sudden surge of energy he shoved Ian backwards, knocking his head against the edge of the door. Momentarily stunned, Ian let go of his arm. With a sideways lunge at Ian’s guts, Eddy spun round and darted out of the room while Ian doubled over, gasping. He staggered after Eddy who raced into the bedroom and flung open a window. Ian threw himself forward too late to stop the other man leaping out. Ian scrambled after him, landing awkwardly in a bank of brambles beneath the window. There was no time to stop and examine his injuries. Although the bushes had scratched his face and hands, they had broken his fall. Apart from jarring his elbow, he didn’t think he was hurt.

Frantically he looked around but couldn’t see anything in the moonless night. As he fumbled for his torch there was a low rustling in the bushes nearby. Shining his light in the direction of the sound, he caught a glimpse of Eddy’s squat frame hurrying away. They were at the back of the property, in a strip of garden bordered on three sides by high fences. Eddy was running towards a path that led round to the front of the building. In pursuit, Ian punched the keys on his phone to alert the officers who were waiting in the street.

‘He’s on his way,’ he panted as he ran.

He was too winded to say more. He could only hope his colleagues would spot Eddy in time. In the beam from his torch, Ian followed a narrow grassy path along the side of the flats to the road, cursing himself for being unable to run any faster. But although Eddy was strong his bulk slowed him down, so that despite being winded Ian almost caught up with his target by the time they reached the pavement.

Ian’s guts were aching. Just when he thought he couldn’t run any further, a patrol car screeched to a halt and two officers jumped out. Eddy tried to barge past them but he stood no chance. Only when he stopped running did Ian realise that he was in agony where Eddy had punched him in the stomach. He sank to the ground, groaning, overcome with nausea.

‘Are you all right, sir?’

‘Just cuff him,’ Ian gasped, ‘before he can do any more damage.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Leaning back against the car, Ian heard Eddy shouting abuse at the officer who was restraining him.