Hail and Farewell (The Lakeland Murders) (6 page)

He smiled. ‘Thanks for the offer, Jane, but we’re not joined at the hip. I get it, you’re the SIO and that’s fine. I’m still up to my ears on Chris Brown’s background. Everyone in this town seems to be related, which doesn’t help.’

‘The joys of coming from a small community, eh?’

‘Don’t knock it. Gives you a sense of belonging.’

‘And a disturbing deficiency in the toe department?’

‘Aye, that too. Sometimes. Me, I’ve got six toes on each foot, like, so I’m laughing.’

She grinned. ‘All right. I’ll let you know how I get on.’

‘You’ve had a look at Crone’s previous I take it?’

‘Yes. That’s what I’ve been doing pretty much all afternoon.’

‘Like that, is it?’

‘How do they manage to get caught so often, and spend so little time inside? It’s not all petty stuff either, because the bloke’s got plenty of nasty, violent offences on the list. But he’s still only done about eighteen months in total. Honestly, they’re barely worth nicking, people like him.’

‘I bet you won’t be saying that after you’ve spent ten minutes with the bastard. That’ll soon get your enthusiasm for feeling collars back, I’ll bet.’

Pete Crone looked at home in the interview room, and he was chatting to Iredale when Jane Francis came in. He barely even bothered to look up. So she just smiled briefly at Iredale, and sat down next to him, opposite Crone.

‘Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Crone?’

‘Some sort of civic award, is it?’

‘It’s about the Uppies and Downies game on Friday.’

‘Oh, aye?’

‘What time did you join the game?’

‘Who says I was there?’

Jane sighed, and Iredale replied.

‘Don’t piss us about, Pete. We’re too busy. A dozen witnesses saw you, you’re on CCTV, and it’s not a crime to play, is it?’

‘Never know with you lot.’

‘So what time did you arrive?’ asked Jane.

‘I don’t remember exactly. About half ten, something like that. Only a few minutes before that young lad died.’

‘And what did you do, when you joined the game?’

‘Got stuck in, like. I touched the ball a couple of times, as a matter of fact. Had a feeling that I might actually hail it this year, like.’

‘And did you have any contact with the deceased, Mr. Brown?’

Crone laughed. ‘How would I know, love? I couldn’t tell who was next to me, most of the time. It’s every man for himself in there.’

‘But you were in the game when you all went back into the beck.’

‘Oh aye, it’s half the fun, is that.’

‘But you weren’t aware of what happened to Mr. Brown?’

‘No, and nor were any of the other lads. If someone goes down, gets hurt, then we all pull back and give them a bit of space. It’s just an unwritten law, is that.’

‘So how about the injuries sustained by the other players?’

‘I wouldn’t know anything about them.’

Jane looked steadily across the table at Crone, and he returned the compliment.

‘During the time you were playing four other players were sufficiently seriously injured to require hospital treatment. Only one has been discharged so far.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s a man’s game, that’s all. No rules. Anything goes, like.’

‘But I thought you said that people help each other out, if someone is crushed, or hurt? So how come several people got hurt, and badly enough to end up in the hospital at that?’

Crone decided that he’d been much too talkative so far. In his extensive experience it never paid to help the police with their enquiries.

‘Aye, well. Like I said, it happens.’

‘Do you want to know what I think?’

‘That you like a bit of rough.’

Jane smiled. ‘Not as rough as you, Mr. Crone, believe me. No, what I’m thinking is this. That you and your mates came to that game with just one thing in mind, and that was to settle your score with members of the Moffett gang. And that’s how those men came to be injured, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.’

‘You do know Jack Moffett?’

‘I’ve heard the name, like, aye.’

‘And how about George Hayton?’

‘Oh, aye, I know Georgie. Good bloke, he is.’

‘And you work for him?’

‘You what? No, I don’t work for him. I’m unemployed, me.’

‘And how about young Chris Brown? Did he work for Jack Moffett?’

Crone looked across the table at Jane for a long time. He seemed to be weighing something up, and he didn’t seem especially used to the weighing up process.

‘I don’t know. Mebbe he did. Mebbe he didn’t.’

‘Did you know Chris Brown?’

‘I know who he was, like.’

‘Then you’ll know that he didn’t have any kind of record. Nothing at all. And you’re really suggesting that he might have worked for Jack Moffett?’

‘Look, can you just take my statement, Keith? I’ve no idea what your mum here is going on about. As far as I know what happened on Friday night was just one of them things; an accident, like. All this stuff about gangs being involved, it’s just fantasy world, is that.’

‘Why do you say that?’ asked Jane quickly.

‘Look, I don’t know where you come from, love, but there are such things as guns and knives you know. It’s not the bloody dark ages, even out here.’

‘So what are you saying? That round here gang members, like you, settle your differences with guns and knives?’

Crone leaned across the table.

‘What I’m saying is that when someone needs to get got, they get got.’

Ian Mann was on the phone when Jane came back into the office.

‘How did it go?’ he asked, when he’d rung off.

‘You were right. I do have an almost overwhelming urge to nick Pete Crone.’

‘But you’ve got no evidence?’

‘No. Other than admitting he was there he didn’t say anything, and as you know there’s not a single witness statement that suggests who, if anyone, might have killed Chris.’

‘So what are we thinking? Are they all scared shitless and keeping quiet, or was it really an accident?’

‘That’s the question. He did hint that Brown might have been involved with Moffett though, although I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. But how does that idea play with you?’

‘He’s just messing with you, Jane. The lad was no more a gang member than Andy Hall is.’

Jane laughed. ‘Can you imagine?’

‘No, and I can’t see Chris Brown being dirty either. He was a good kid, and that’s the end of it.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘I’ve worked with Andy long enough not to be absolutely certain of anything, especially where people are concerned. But other than knowing a few of Moffett’s boys I can’t see a single thing about him that looks dodgy. Like I say, he was good kid.’

‘But he does know some active gang members?’

‘Aye, he want to school with one of Moffett’s younger lads, and Chris’s dad was in a bit of trouble when he was younger. But you’re going back over twenty years, mind. He hasn’t had so much as a parking ticket since.’

Jane sat back, and found herself asking a question that she’d asked herself several times already that day, and rather wished she hadn’t. What would DCI Hall do?

‘Tell you what, Ian, let’s pay the parents a visit.’

‘They’ve given statement, and they’re in a hell of a state apparently. Chris was their only child. The family liaison officer was on the phone earlier, asking for us to give them a bit of space.’

‘We’ll be sensitive. But we need to do it, Ian. We need to know if he had a gang connection. Because if he did this is almost certainly a murder, or at least a manslaughter, and if not it’s almost certainly an accident. I’m already getting emails from the ACC asking for my view on that, because of the resourcing implications.’

‘She means there’ll be no resources whatever if it was an accident?’

‘Pretty much, yes. I’m already getting the feeling that it would suit her if that was our conclusion.’

‘Save us from washing any dirty linen in public?’

‘Something like that.’

‘All right, Jane. It’s your call, anyway. But do me a favour, and take it easy with the parents.’

‘But you’ll be coming too. You’re the one who’s been working on the background. Anything that you’d like us to ask about?’

‘Just those KAs I suppose. But, like I say, let’s not read anything into that. This is a small town, remember.’

The Brown’s house was a terraced Victorian cottage, very like the one Jane owned, but had now let out, back in Kendal. She’d suggested to Andy Hall that it might make sense to sell it, but he’d been as non-committal as ever. When she pressed the point he started going on about the housing market and the effect of quantitative easing on asset prices, although that wasn’t what she was talking about at all. And when Jane got out of the car she felt tired, and she wondered if she’d made the right decision coming to see the kid’s parents. But Ian had called ahead, and said that they’d drop in, so she needed to go through with it.

Mr. Brown came to the door, and Jane could tell he was on auto-pilot, moving through the world on muscle-memory alone. He walked slowly ahead of them, along the hall and in to the living room. The first thing that Jane saw was the large photograph of Chris on the wall. Mrs. Brown was sitting on the sofa. Her face was pale but Jane noticed that her hands were red, as if she’d dipped them in very hot water. Jane introduced herself and Mann, and said how sorry they both were. The couple didn’t say anything. They’d probably stopped hearing all the condolences, no matter how sincerely meant.

‘You’re probably wondering why we’re here,’ said Jane. Neither looked as if they thinking about that at all.

‘It was an accident, that’s all’ said Mr. Brown quietly. ‘You’re wasting your time.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘We’ve heard the rumours. We know what was going on. But that was nothing to do with our Chris. He’d have known nowt about it.’

‘The rumours of a gang fight, taking place under cover of the game? Is that what you’re talking about.’

‘Aye.’

‘Was it common knowledge, before the game started I mean?’

‘No, of course not. If it had been we’d never have let him play, would we? Chris was a lovely boy. He wasn’t mixed up in anything like that. Never.’

‘Had he played before?’

‘Aye, last year he started. Played the Apprentice Ball on Good Friday, and the La’al Football Game on the following Saturday. La’al means little, you see.’

‘Yes, I know. Did Chris like sports?’

‘Oh, aye. Like any lad his age, really. And I don’t know how many generations of my family have played, Mary’s too. I’m an Uppie, but she’s from a Downie family.’

‘So which side did Chris play for?’

‘The Uppies. It’s a man’s game, like. He was proud to be carrying on a family tradition, that’s how he saw it. And he wasn’t wrong, was he?’

Jane smiled. She didn’t know what to say.

‘So you’re convinced that your son’s death was an accident?’

Brown nodded, and sat down next to his wife.

‘No-one would have wanted to hurt our Chris. No-one.’

They both started to cry quietly.

Mann hoped that Jane would leave it there, and he half sensed her beginning to turn, but then Mrs. Brown spoke.

‘I was thirty eight when our Chris was born. We’d been trying for almost as long as we had him, in the end. Never thought we’d have any kids. In the end we just had Chris, but that was enough. A blessing, I don’t know where from, like. But we weren’t there, when he needed us.’ She was looking unwaveringly at Jane. ‘Have you got children?’

‘No. No I haven’t.’

‘Well I’ll tell you this, love. They’re the most precious thing in the world, and I don’t care what anyone says. I’ve never felt love like it. And even though he’s been taken away from us I wouldn’t change a second. Not one second, until he went and played that stupid game.’

It took Mann a second to realise what the sound was, and where it was coming from. Jane was sobbing, and he had to guide her out of the room by the shoulders. By the time they were back at the car she’d just about stopped crying.

‘I’m sorry, Ian. I need to go back in and apologise.’

‘Don’t be daft, Jane. They’ll understand. I understand.’

‘Do you?’

‘Aye’ he said, opening the passenger door. ‘Let’s get you to the hotel.’ He sincerely hoped that she wouldn’t ask what it was that he understood, because he didn’t have a clue. To his certain knowledge Jane had spoken to a number of bereaved parents, without ever once becoming upset. So what was different about this time? He couldn’t work it out at all.

‘You won’t say anything to Andy, will you?’

‘Of course not, lass. Mum’s the word.’

For some reason that just seemed to set her off again, at least for a minute or two, so Mann didn’t say another word until they pulled into the hotel car park. It felt like the safest way.

It was seven o’clock before Jane called Hall. She’d had a quick chat with Mann in the room, but she wanted to talk to Andy alone. He said his knee was more swollen, but a bit less painful. She tried, but soon ran out of different ways of asking how he was feeling.

‘So how are things going?’ he asked.

‘Slowly. I wish you were here, Andy.’

‘Why? Do you think they’d be going faster if I was?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Are the locals slacking?’

‘I don’t think so. But Smith has only given me one DC, and he’s so wet behind the ears his sunglasses would slip off.’

Hall laughed. ‘He looks like the pick of the crop though, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes, that’s what me and Ian thought. The lad isn’t one of Smith’s favourites, I’m sure of it.’

‘And how are you working with Ian?’

‘Fine. Honestly, no problem. I’ve had him running the background on the victim.’

‘Really?’

Jane Francis knew that tone of voice. Mild surprise, mixed with scepticism. She’d last heard it the weekend before, when she’d shown Hall a swatch of the new colour for the bedroom.

‘Why?’ she said. ‘You think I should have done it differently? Had him on the witnesses?’