Only the Brave (11 page)

12.45 P.M.

Perry wasn’t sure if he was looking forward more to seeing what lies the Granger twins concocted between them or seeing if he could rattle their cages a little. If truth were known, he didn’t have much time for either of them, the trouble they caused on a regular basis – and that was just fighting between the two of them.

He’d first come across the boys when he’d still been in uniform. There had been a milk lorry doing the rounds back then and they’d been caught taking milk and bread from the back of it. Both had blamed the other so both had received a caution. The milk lorry had then been vandalised three weeks on the trot but with no evidence to link the boys, it had been up to Perry to take the wrath of the milkman for not doing his job properly and nailing the thieving little bastards.

Several times, he’d tried to speak sense to their layabout mother, to no avail. Now, nine years on, the crimes had become increasingly worse, although for the moment it was still petty crime, nothing too major. But for how long? They were trouble, especially that Jacob, and Perry wouldn’t put it past him to be involved here, or at least to know something.

‘All right, boys,’ Perry nodded a greeting as he approached them. ‘You heard what’s gone on downstairs, I take it?’

‘We’d be stupid not to have,’ Jacob lipped him. ‘And you know we’re not stupid.’

‘Pipe down,’ Perry chastised. ‘We need to check where you were last night and then we can get on with things. Catch the big boys at work. So . . .’ he looked from Jacob to Tommy and back. ‘Where were you both in between the hours of one a.m. and four a.m. this morning?’

‘That’s not fair!’ Jacob protested. ‘I bet you haven’t asked all the neighbours where they were. Always the same if you’re a Granger.’

Tommy nudged his brother sharply, glared at him before speaking.

‘If you weren’t doing anything wrong, you have nothing to lose by telling me.’ Perry raised his hands. ‘So what’s it to be? Here or at the station?’

‘You don’t have anything to arrest us on, do you?’

Perry said nothing.

‘We were in Burslem.’ Jacob let out a sigh. ‘We had a few pints in The Leopard. Then we went for a kebab and then we went for a few more drinks at a mate’s house.’

‘Mate’s name?’

No one spoke. Jacob looked down to the ground as if
disinterested
.

‘Mate’s name?’ Perry repeated.

‘Denton Harlow,’ said Tommy eventually.

Perry wrote the details down in his notebook, not knowing of a Denton Harlow off the top of his head.

‘What time were you back?’

‘About half one, I think?’

Jacob nodded. ‘About that, I suppose.’

‘You suppose?’

‘Yeah, well, Tommy did stop on the way home to see his girl. And then we went to his mate’s house,’ Jacob clarified.

Perry watched as their eyes flitted to each other and back to him. ‘And the girlfriend’s name?’

‘Kayleigh Smith.’

‘Address?’

He took down the details as Tommy relayed it reluctantly. ‘Anything else?’ he tried one more time but was met with a stare from Jacob and the shake of his head from Tommy.

Tommy waited for Perry to be out of hearing range. Then he grabbed Jacob’s arm, dragged him into the flat, closed the door behind them.

‘What the fuck did you say that for?’ he turned on his brother.

‘What?’

‘That I stopped off at Kayleigh’s.’

‘I was covering for you.’ Jacob shrugged. ‘They’ll probably find out you weren’t here. So, as I knew you
were
there . . .’

Tommy gritted his teeth as he spoke. ‘But you landed me in it by saying we went to a mate’s house as well!’

‘I wasn’t the one who gave him Denton Harlow’s name’

‘I had to say I was with someone!

‘He knew we were lying anyway.’

Tommy shook his head. Jacob didn’t give a stuff that he might have landed him in trouble again. He’d have to go and see
Kayleigh
, see if she would bend the truth a little.

Tommy went to speak but Jacob walked off. He grabbed his shoulder. ‘What aren’t you telling me about last night, Jay?’ He pointed a finger in his brother’s face. ‘If you’re involved in that lot downstairs, I’m not covering for you, do you hear?’

Jacob pushed him away. ‘Mind your own business.’

‘You make it my business if you’re involved.’ Tommy spat. ‘He’s been fucking murdered!’

‘Chill out, will you?’ Jacob sighed. ‘Look, just keep your mouth shut and your wits about you and it will all blow over soon.’

Tommy kicked at the wall in temper as Jacob left him there.

1.00 P.M.

Flynn’s nightclub was at the bottom of Hanley City Centre and, thanks to the hard work of the Johnson brothers, it had done well over the last two years. It had been completely refurbished before re-opening, now boasting two floors of sophistication with a further private members-only area upstairs. Known as Freddie’s before, it had been cleaned out of riff-raff since then, too, if the reduced number of call-outs were anything to go by.

‘Wonder what we’ll find in here,’ said Perry as he knocked on one of four front doors across the entrance.

‘Oh, I bet there’ll be a murder weapon or two. It has a killer atmosphere apparently.’

Perry groaned at Allie’s lame joke.

The door was opened by someone they both recognised. At forty-seven, Steve Burgess could pass for late thirties easily with his whitened teeth, tall physique and full head of dark brown hair, although it was greying at the roots. Allie would say one thing about the criminal fraternity – the men were mostly lean, exuding power and magnetism by keeping themselves in good shape. To her, it showed hard work, commitment and a healthy ego. Although, she laughed inwardly as she thought of Craig Elliott, there were always exceptions to the rules. He was more of a bulldog than an offspring of the breed itself.

Steve showed them through the entrance and into the nightclub. The vast open area seemed eerie in its silence as they
followed
him across the empty dance floor. Booths fitted with low lighting were set around the edge; there was a stage at the far end where a DJ or live entertainment would be set up. Despite her joking earlier, Allie knew that the club did have a reputation for a good night out.

‘Do you work for Mr Johnson or Ms Ryder?’ Allie asked Steve Burgess.

‘I don’t work for either,’ Steve glared at her. ‘I keep an eye on things. They’re both young and inexperienced. I’m a father figure to look up to – someone in the business who knows the
business
.’ They came to a door and he pressed down the handle. ‘Of cours
e the
y are the glamour couple who run and own the club but it’s me who does all the legwork. I dread to think how long it would have been before their egos ruined the business. And I know Mr Ryder wouldn’t have been at all happy with that.’

Allie struggled to control her reaction to Ryder’s name, aware of Burgess’s intense stare.

‘You were the one who arrested Terry, weren’t you?’ he pushed.

‘I don’t see how that has any relevance to what we’re doing now,’ she replied curtly.

Steve shrugged and opened the door with a wry smile. ‘He still speaks about the one that got away.’

Allie couldn’t look at Perry. She refused to be drawn into Steve’s game.

Down a long corridor at the back of the building, they were shown into a small office.

‘Here it is.’ Steve opened the drawer of a desk, took out several discs and handed them to Allie. ‘Last night’s security footage.’

‘I need a list of all the staff who were working. Their addresses, too.’ Allie switched into investigation mode. ‘Were you here last night, Mr Burgess? I believe there was a party?’

‘Yes, my wife’s. We celebrated in the members-only area.’

‘What time did it finish?’

‘I left around half past two – most people had gone around one a.m. There were a few stragglers around still saying goodbye unti
l then.’

‘How many were in the room?’

‘Over a hundred, I should say.’

‘Were you witness to the fracas between Kirstie Ryder and
Jordan
Johnson?’

‘We all were.’ Steve sat down at the desk. ‘Jordan was sitting at the bar with a few of us when she stormed in, making a fool of herself as usual.’

‘Does this happen on a regular basis?’

‘Afraid so. Kirstie hated Jordan spending too much time here. She was always accusing him of having an affair with some woman or other.’

Allie frowned. ‘Was there ever any truth in her accusations?’

Steve shrugged his shoulders. ‘I think there might have been someone. I wasn’t interested in finding out. It was none of my
business
.’

‘So what happened after she’d started shouting?’

‘She wanted him to go home with her and when he wouldn’t, she started lashing out at him. It took three of the lads to drag her off him. They went downstairs with her to try and calm her down but she stormed off, so I heard.’

‘And how did Jordan react to that? It must have been
embarrassing
?’

‘He laughed it off but I could see he was annoyed. He left shortly afterwards. I think Ryan left at the same time.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe he’s dead. Such a shock.’

‘Can you recall what time they left?’ Perry asked.

‘It was just after midnight, I reckon. The recording will confirm times, I’m sure.’

‘Do you have any idea who would have wanted to kill Jordan?’ said Allie.

‘Half the men in Stoke wanted to have a go at him, no doubt. He made this club very popular by getting rid of some of the
layabouts
and dealers who were running it down in the first place. Before Jordan came along, Freddie’s, as you know, was a dump, full of parasites. I have to give credit to the lad and his brother – they certainly turned it around. Jordan made a fair few enemies because he stopped people’s livelihoods, I suppose, but I’m not sure how many of them would be up to
murdering him.’

‘Do you have any names for us to check out? Anyone who would have been at the party, for instance?’

‘Not off the top of my head, no. I’ll be sure to let you know if I think of anyone.’ He pointed to his computer. ‘I’ll get that list sorted out for you, shall I?’

Afterwards, Allie and Perry called in at a sandwich shop on
Piccadilly
.

‘I don’t like Burgess,’ said Perry as they joined the small queue in front of the counter. ‘Something about him, not sure what.’

‘Your gut reaction is the same as mine.’ Allie grabbed a bottle of water from an open fridge. ‘As well as that, if Kirstie Ryder is strong enough to lash out at Jordan and it takes three men to pull her off him, maybe she could have followed him to Harrison House, taken him by surprise?’

‘With a bat and a knife?’ Perry grimaced.

Allie shrugged. ‘Like father, like daughter?’

‘But her alibi checks out so it can’t be that.’

‘Her alibi is the victim’s brother. They could easily be covering for each other.’ Allie nodded. ‘As far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t trust her any more than I trusted her father.’

As soon as the words ‘Rebecca Adams’ had fallen from her lips, Sophie had been kicking herself. What on earth had possessed her to lie? The police were bound to find out and then they’d want to know why she’d said it. She might even be arrested for obstructing their enquiries! But it had been the only thing she could think of to stop them from linking her to Kirstie Ryder. If she found out, Jordan’s reputation could be in ruins. She seemed the type to wa
nt revenge.

Who would kill him? Had Kirstie found out and attacked him in revenge? Surely not. Maybe someone else had been waiting for him because they knew he was coming to visit her? Even if it were a random attack, she would never forgive herself for causing his death. Not only had she lost the man she loved, but he had been killed – murdered – right outside where she lived. It would be too painful to see that every day.

She pressed a button on her phone. Tears pricked her eyes as the selfie Jordan had taken of them flashed up. She ran a finger over the image. Jordan had taken it when they’d been sitting up in bed. Nothing sultry: they were naked but only their shoulders were showing. She was tucked underneath his arm; he had a look on his face that made her heart burn with love. Her long hair was bed-messy, falling over the chest that she’d loved to run her hand over, feeling coarse hairs prickling against her palm.

Just as quickly, she turned it off. She couldn’t look at his face right now. It was too raw. Instead, she took her place behind the curtain again, looking down across the car park. People were still milling around. A group of photographers had set up in a huddle in the far background. Sophie could make out the logos of the local newspaper and radio stations on the sides of vehicles. There were police everywhere, too. Over the past couple of hours she had seen more and more officers arrive and knew it would only be a matter of time before they questioned her again, put two and two together as to who she really was.

In amongst a group of people, she could still see Stella flitting around. Now if anyone could get the gossip to confirm it was Jordan, it would be her. Stella would be the one to go to, to see what was going on. But she couldn’t bring herself to go down
there
. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the police. And what if Stella said her name and they heard it and realised she wasn’t Rebecca Adams after all?

But then her thoughts turned to Jordan again. She didn’t want to go downstairs because she would see where it had happened, be closer to the gossip about his death. And while she was here, in her flat, she could live in denial.

She cast her mind back to what the police had asked her about. She hadn’t seen anyone coming into the building when she’d been watching earlier that morning. They couldn’t suspect her, though. She wasn’t the only one with dark hair. There was Stella, for instance. She wondered if the police had questioned her yet.

And then there was Stella’s horrible friend, Leah. Sophie doubted it would be Stella getting back in alone at that time of morning because Jordan had said that her husband wasn’t very nice and would probably go mad. She wouldn’t put it past Leah, though. She was always going out and coming home drunk, making lots of noise. Jordan used to bump into her all the time.

Would it be her? Could Leah have something to do with
Jordan’s
death?

Feeling like her heart would break, she hugged herself, trying to stop the shivering panic building up again. Tears poured down her face and neck and she did nothing to wipe them away.

She would have to move. She’d never be able to look out of the window, go out of her front door, walk down that pathway ever again without imagining him lying on the grass, bleeding to death, looking over at her flat where she slept, oblivious.

Once Stella had gone downstairs, she’d been caught up in the goings-on and it had been an hour before she’d managed to nip back upstairs. She went to check on Leah, but she was stopped in her tracks by a phone call from her friend Sophie, saying she needed to see her urgently. She hot-footed back the way she had come and knocked on the door of the flat next to hers.

When Sophie answered, Stella stared at her in surprise. Used
to seeing her made up and always looking smart, she was shocke
d t
o
see that Sophie was still in her pyjamas. Her hair wasn’t a mess but it hadn’t been straightened as usual, and her face was devoid of makeup, a ball of red blotches and swollen eyes.

‘Jeez, Soph, what’s wrong? You look like death warmed up.’

Sophie burst into tears. ‘I . . . I –’