‘I must have dropped it when I saw the body. Maybe one of your lot will give it back to Jim.’
‘All in good time. Did you see anybody about when you found the body?’
‘Only a few kids and the yobs on the corner. They’re always hanging about and making a nuisance of themselves.’ A note of complaint entered Lewis’s voice. ‘We call your lot regular, but nothing’s ever done.’
‘I see,’ Rafferty said, unwilling to get started on that particular losing argument. ‘And these are the same yobs who were there when I arrived?’
‘Yeah. I told you, they’re always hanging about. Got nothing better to do than catcall everyone who passes them. The parents do nothing. Glad to get them out of the house probably and have them torment someone else for a change.’
‘And you said they generally hang about at the end of the street?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So they probably saw anyone who entered the alley?’
‘I suppose.’
‘You don’t seem very sure.’
‘Told you. I’m in shock. Besides, I don’t want it getting back to them that I mentioned them at all. They can be nasty little bastards. Especially that Jake Sterling. He must be known to your lot. He spends his life causing trouble. His brother Jason’s no better.’
‘I see. You can rest assured they won’t hear anything about our conversation from me.’
‘Don’t need to, do they? They’ve all got eyes in their spiky heads. I saw them give me a few throat-slashing gestures when I got in the car. You were talking to that other copper at the time. Don’t suppose you noticed.’
Eric Lewis’s lack of confidence in the police was clearly deeply-entrenched. Still, Rafferty supposed, with yobs like Jake and Jason Sterling to contend with on a daily basis, the man was entitled to feel disgruntled. ‘Why would they threaten you? Do you think one or more of them might have something to do with this man’s death?’
‘Don’t know.’ He paused, then added. ‘I told you I didn’t know the dead bloke. How am I supposed to know if they had reason to bear him a grudge?’
Rafferty, by now tired of skirting around the subject, attacked it head on. ‘We know the identity of the victim, Mr Lewis. I’m surprised you don’t, seeing as he collected money from this street regularly.’ Rafferty could only hope his Ma’s gossip was accurate. But the thought that it was invariably spot on encouraged him. ‘Several of the street residents must have had reason to loathe the man. He wasn’t known as “Jaws” solely because of his appearance. It’s my understanding that his disposition wasn’t of the nicest to those unable to make their loan instalments. Perhaps you were one of them?’
‘No. Certainly not. I—I don’t get things on credit. If I can’t pay for something I do without.’
‘Very commendable.’ Rafferty wished he could say the same. Though it was a novel sentiment in these days that were as loose on financial morality as they were on any other sort. The wedding quotes were still bugging him, of course. They’d end up thousands of pounds in debt if he didn’t take things in hand. But he did his best to forget his large, looming debts as he continued his interview. ‘We’ll have an officer checking with Jaws Harrison’s boss to get a list of those in the street who owed him money and were having difficulty repaying their loans. But you’ve said you won’t be on the list of debtors, so—’
Eric Lewis spluttered incoherently for a few seconds, his spluttering interspersed with the noise of rain lashing the car windows. He rubbed his bald head, then he blurted out, ‘All right. I admit it. I did take a loan out with Forbes. Only a small one, mind. Five hundred quid and I’ve nearly finished paying it off. But then so did other people in the street and most of them were in hock for much more than me, so don’t go pointing the finger in my direction when you look for your killer. It’ll be pointed in the wrong place.’
‘Oh? And what direction should it be pointed?’
But Lewis wasn’t to be drawn. He clammed up at the question. All he said was, ‘I wouldn’t know, would I? All I know is that it wasn’t me who killed him.’
‘OK, Mr Lewis, That’ll be all for now. But stay in the car. We’ll need a formal statement. I’ll get one of my officers to drive you to the police station so you can give it.’
Eric Lewis looked alarmed at this. ‘Why do I have to go to the police station to give a statement? I’ve just told you what happened, haven’t I? All I did was find the body. I can’t say any more than that. I can’t see the point in a lot of rigmarole over that.’
Put like that, it did seem much ado about nothing. But, as he told Mr Lewis, they had procedures that had to be followed and if he
was
lying, it was as well to get it on record with a signature attached. ‘It won’t take long. One of my officers will drive you back home afterwards.’
Lewis seemed to think it was an invitation that was open to refusal because he continued to prevaricate. ‘Well, I don’t know. The wife won’t like it. Wanted me to start the decorating today.’
Seeing as the day had been far advanced by the time Mr Lewis found the body, he hadn’t made a cracking beginning on the painting he was now so keen on. ‘Never mind,’ Rafferty said. ‘You can get an early start in the morning, can’t you?’
‘Suppose so. Though she still won’t like it.’
Rafferty looked out of the rain-lashed windscreen, steeled himself, and got out of the car, leaving Eric Lewis still peddling excuses. He hunched his shoulders against excuses and vile weather, both, called over one of the uniforms and told him to drive Lewis to the station and find someone to take his statement. He trudged back towards the alley, fighting the strengthening wind all the way and trying and failing to avoid the large puddles that had grown larger while he had been speaking to Eric Lewis and which made the ends of his trousers uncomfortably soggy for the second time that day.
He met Llewellyn coming the other way; Llewellyn, of course, had the wind in his face, and his umbrella was still holding its own against the elements that had turned his inside out. His trousers were also, somehow, free of puddle damage. ‘Got anything?’ he asked tersely as he swallowed his irritation at his sergeant’s ability to stay looking smart whatever the weather or other people threw at him.
‘The youths claim they saw nothing. What about you? How have you got on?’
Rafferty pushed a hand through his dripping hair and scowled. ‘I’ve got precious little. Though Mr Lewis, the man who I was just talking to and who admits to finding the body and ringing it in, did tell me those lads were hanging about when he found the body. You got their details?’
Llewellyn bridled slightly at this. ‘Of course.’ He patted his pocket. ‘I also checked their claimed identities with a couple of the neighbours. Three of the youths supplied false names for reasons they preferred not to go into when I challenged them.’
‘Force of habit, probably. So which of them tried to be clever dicks?’
‘Jake Sterling, Des Arnott and Tony Moran.’
‘They the cocky looking trio in the leather jackets?’
‘The very same.’
‘OK. What say we haul them all in for questioning? Maybe their little friend lacking the cool leather will be more chatty without the cocksure threesome within earshot.’
‘On what charge?’
‘Fashion crime?’ Rafferty sighed. This was Llewellyn at his most pedantic. ‘Try a touch of lateral thinking, Dafyd.’ Then, with the recollection that the logical Llewellyn was still having trouble thinking in his own haphazard manner, he said, ‘Obstructing the police sounds favourite to me. Maybe also threatening behaviour seeing as Mr Lewis said they made throat-slitting gestures at him. Should be worth a few hours’ of their time. How’s the house-to-house going?’
‘Most of the street residents have given preliminary statements, though not everyone was at home so they’ll have to be followed up later. They're still searching the alley. We’re also questioning the residents of the houses that form a T-junction with Primrose Avenue. They might have seen something.’
‘Anyone admitted to seeing anything? Anything at all?’
Llewellyn shook his head. ‘Though, as I said, we have yet to question everyone.’ His hair was still dry, its style still immaculate which made Rafferty feel even more irritated. After all, it had been Llewellyn who had tempted the fates.
Rafferty, already in an ill-humour and determined to think the worst, ignored Llewellyn’s last comment. ‘So we’ve got the proverbial see no evil and hear no evil. Great. I suppose its inevitable given the identity of the victim. All the people who owed money to Jaws Harrison’s boss will be glad to see the end of him and his heavy-handed tactics. Maybe Forbes’ next collector will be full of the milk of human kindness. Not.’
‘Most of the residents wouldn’t even admit to knowing Mr Harrison,’ Llewellyn said, raising his soft voice against the howling wind. ‘Stupid really as we shall shortly have records of the debtors in the street from Mr Forbes.’
‘Mmm. Instinctive reaction I suppose. Speak first, in denial, and think about what you’ve said afterwards. No one wants to be connected to murder. Have you sent someone to get the debtor list from Forbes’ office?’
‘I was just about to.’
‘Send Lizzie Green. Maybe her particular feminine touch will ease things along. Got a nice way with her has Lizzie.’ Plump in all the right places, Lizzie Green exuded the great aunt’s perfume of Lily of the Valley talcum power partnered by a Bardotesque pout. It was a killing combination that warmed Rafferty even in the face of the stinging rain.
‘Anything else you’d like me to organise?’
‘Yeah. Get Lizzie to find out the victim’s address and his next of kin while she’s at Forbes’s office. We’ll need to go along once we’re finished here and break the news. Oh and give Dally a bell. See what’s keeping him. I’m keen to learn as quickly as possible if our victim did or didn’t die in that alley. It would be good to reduce the potential suspects early in the game.’
Llewellyn walked off clutching his mobile and his umbrella, still looking as pristine as at his arrival, while Rafferty, by now so wet through that he felt he could get no wetter, grew resigned, planted his feet firmly as anchorage against the wind and did some more studying of the location.
The cul-de-sac was made up of fourteen terraced houses, seven on each side of the road with parking on the street. Each house had a tiny front garden separating it from the road. Two or three were well-kept, with pots of now battered and mostly petal-less spring bulbs brightening them, but the majority housed rusty bikes and weeds. The houses on the left backed on to the alley where the dead man had been found. Had he died there? Rafferty wondered again. Or had he been taken there after being killed elsewhere? And how come no one saw anything? Although it was now well into the evening, it was still light and although the street, owing to its dead end nature, would have lacked through traffic, there were still kids about, it being the Easter holidays and women going to and from the local parade of shops.
And what of the youths who claimed to have seen nothing? True, the dead man had been found between numbers eleven and thirteen – unlucky for some – around the bend in the alley and out of their line of vision, but they must know roughly what time he had arrived in the street.
Was this killing merely an escalation in the violence of the previous muggings or was it something more? A planned and deliberately executed killing? Could it be that a turf war had broken out among the local loan sharks? But if that was the case, Rafferty argued to himself, surely the murder would have been much more showy and designed to serve as a warning. Whoever did it, given the number and ferocity of the blows, had certainly been determined to remove Jaws Harrison from this world.
Chapter Three
Rafferty caught up with two of the uniformed officers on house-to-house duties. ‘I’ll want a list of everyone in the street asap. Especially those in the odd house numbers one to thirteen. They had the best access to the alley. How many people are we talking about on that side of the street?’
‘Adults and mid-teens, it’s thirteen, sir,’ replied Constable Claire Allen, the newest member of the team, after she had done a swift tally up.
There was that number again, thought Rafferty, his superstitious side giving him goose bumps. He hoped it wasn’t going to turn out to be as unlucky for him as it had been for Jaws Harrison.
‘How many of the thirteen look possibles?’
‘Ten, sir. One of the thirteen is a woman in an advanced stage of pregnancy and two are elderly and look rather frail.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive. If you’ve desperate enough you’ll find reserves of strength from somewhere. I reckon some of these people must have been beyond desperate if they owed Malcolm Forbes money they were unable to pay and with the dead man making threats.’
Rafferty sent the pair on their way as he spotted Sam Dally’s car draw up beyond the cordon. He hurried to speak to him. According to Dally, when he’d cursed at the weather, the rain making his sparse hair look even thinner, and had finally wriggled his rotund body into his protective gear and checked out the body, told Rafferty that the hypostasis evidence on the body pointed to the man having died where he was found.
‘Right-handed assailant, as the majority of the blows are to that side of the skull. I’d say it was likely to be a hammer that did it. Certainly something with metal rather than wood at the end as I can’t see any splinters in the wounds, though I will, of course, do a thorough check during the post mortem. I suppose you also want a time of death?’
‘If you can.’
‘Certainly within the last three, three and a half hours, erring more towards two to two and a half I would think. Will that do you?’
‘It’ll do me very nicely, Sam. Much obliged.’
‘That’s what I’m here for.’ His rain-spattered half-moon glasses glinted as the sun came out for a few seconds, saw the weather and went back to its cloudy bed. ‘And don’t order your underlings to chase me up in future. You know how I hate to be rushed.’
Rafferty almost grinned as he thought of Llewellyn’s likely reaction to this description. ‘Sorry and all that, Sam.’ Dally by name and dally by nature, that was Sam. Not that he didn’t do a thorough job, which was why he put up with the Scotsman’s irascibility.