Only the Brave (4 page)

7.30 A.M.

‘Allie!’

She turned at the sound of her name and saw Simon Cole, crime reporter for the city’s local newspaper,
The Sentinel
,
jogging
towards her. Dressed in running gear, he paused when he got to her. At least with his hands on his knees while he caught his breath, he was at her eye level for once. He was six foot two to her five foot six, with kind eyes and was one of those people who never seemed to see the negative in anything, despite what he covered in his
profession
. His brown hair was a tad longer than he usually wore it, at a length where Allie wondered if he was trying to take on the look of a young George Best, sideburns to match. But he was too long and gangly for it to be effective. Instead it made him look awkward but cute – like a little boy on his first day at school making too much of an effort to fit in.

All around them people were gearing up for a long day ahead. In the car park, groups of uniformed officers were arriving. Except for emergency service vehicles, no one else was being allowed in to the cul-de-sac. The top of Rose Avenue, and the only way vehicles could access the car park of the flats from the main road, had been cordoned off for now.

‘Never had you down as a jogger,’ Allie smiled as Simon looked up at last.

‘Done it for years. Even ran the Mow Cop Mile once.’ The Mow Cop Mile was an annual local race, known as a fell-runner’s revenge. It was run over a mile, a total climb of 550 feet without a single level step.

‘Ah, the killer mile.’ She screwed up her face in sympathy.

‘It did nearly kill me, too!’ Simon stood up to his full height. ‘You got anything that I can release?’

‘Male, early thirties, took a beating. Stabbed once, too. It’s
possible
the stab wound is the cause of death. Found in the early hours of this morning, etcetera etcetera etcetera.’

‘Statement coming . . .’

‘Probably late afternoon, or evening. We’ll be starting house-to-house – or rather door-to-door in this instance – soon.
Speaking
of which,’ she checked her watch, ‘it’s early. What brings you
here?’

‘I was just passing,’ he grinned.

She threw him a knowing look. ‘If you were just passing, why didn’t you bring some oatcakes for breakfast? I’m starving.’

‘Want me to fetch something for you?’ Simon jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘There’s a shop a few minutes away.’

‘I was joking.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could
stomach
any after what I’ve just seen.’

Simon grimaced.

‘Well, I’ll let you know when I have anything to share.’ Allie nodded as she saw one of her detective constables, Perry Wright, striding towards them. She was pleased he was here already – he was a good police officer and a good friend too.

‘Morning, boss. Simon. Christ, this is an early one.’

‘An early one!’ Allie tutted. ‘I’ve been here for ages. What’s up? Did you need time to do your hair?’

As Simon sniggered, Perry pressed a hand to his gel-held spiked blond cut. ‘It takes time to look this good.’

‘Yes, but do you have to style yourself on a sixteen-year-old gangsta rapper?’

‘Matches the snazzy suit, don’t you think?’

Simon laughed. ‘You might want to pull your pants over the top of your trousers, though, for full effect.’

Perry rolled his eyes. ‘You on the sniff already?’ he mocked.

‘I was just asking if Allie wanted any breakfast.’ Simon’s smile was one of innocence.

‘You make that sound like you woke up with me this morning!’ Allie swiped at Simon’s arm playfully. ‘And you a married man!’

‘Each to their own.’

Perry smirked this time.

‘Bugger off and leave us to it now.’ Allie shooed him away.

‘I’m going.’ Simon raised his hand and made the sign for a phone call. ‘Get in touch as soon as you have anything for me.’

‘Will do.’

Both officers stayed quiet until he was out of hearing distance.

‘How’s –’

‘How’s Lisa doing now?’ Allie interrupted. Even though she knew Perry wouldn’t think anything of it, she didn’t want to talk about Karen and then feel guilty that she had put her job first again.

‘Great.’ Perry grinned. ‘Although morning sickness has taken on a whole new meaning again. Morning, noon and night at the moment.’

‘Ouch. Well, at least it gives you both time to think about how much sick you’ll be cleaning up once little Wrighty comes along.’

It was something Allie had thought about often, her unwillingness to have a child. She’d never had that maternal feeling, not even when holding friends’ newborn babies. Not even when she and Mark had become godparents to Sam’s little girl, Emily, five years ago. At first she’d thought she was strange, unwired somehow, but gradually she had come to accept it. Mark had, too, although he hadn’t been too pleased at first. But it still took some explaining. People wanted them to conform, weren’t happy if they didn’t somehow.

‘It’s going to take a lot of door-to-door.’ Perry glanced back at the flats. ‘But someone must have seen or heard something last night. Want me to get on with that?’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Allie nodded, ‘and can you deal with the
council
officer when she gets here? Someone from the emergency call-out team is on their way to help with the co-ordination of removing the rubbish in the bins. Dave’s indicated that the weapon was most likely a bat of some sort – a rounders or baseball type, round, not
flat like a cricket bat. The area is cordoned off but we need to
ge
t t
he bins sealed off too – ask for an empty bin lorry to collect the rubbish. We might need a secure area to offload it, get it checked to see if anything has been dumped. The entrance and Rose Street at the side are closed too, as you know.’

‘Yeah, I’ve had to park two streets away.’

‘We’ll need to get that open as soon as we can, the amount of people it houses. I’m going to talk to the old dear who found our victim first and then I’ll head off to meet up with Nick.’

‘He’s been and gone?’

‘Yes.’ She looked at him pointedly. ‘He said you need to look after me.’

Perry smirked. ‘I’m down for babysitting duties today, I see.’

‘Well, only until he calls me. He wants me to go with him to The Gables.’

‘Oh, you’re going to the Ryder’s gaff?’ It was Perry’s turn to pull a face.

‘Yes.’ Allie sighed. ‘I drew the short straw.’

‘That’ll be fun.’

‘It’ll be déjà vu.’

‘If anything, you might lay some ghosts to rest.’

Allie said nothing. It wasn’t a ghost that she was worried about. It was more of a demon. Terry Ryder had got under her skin three years ago. She’d been told to use her womanly charms to get to the truth about how involved he’d been in the murder of his wife, however politically incorrect that was. But the man had a certain charm about him, an allure that she hadn’t been able to resist, and she too had fallen under his spell.

She shook her head to rid it of past memories. She hated being reminded of the night she’d almost lost everything.

7.50 A.M.

As Perry instructed the uniformed officers who had congregated near to the entrance, Allie made her way into Harrison House. She knocked on the door of flat 107 on the ground floor. With so many flats to cover over four floors, it was a lot of calls to make and log but it probably wouldn’t take long, as everyone was in close proximity. This kind of door-to-door inquiry could yield nothing or could prove vital, as it had often done in cases gone by. A member of the public mentioning the tiniest of things had often led them to a conviction.

She glanced around while she waited for the door to be opened. The walkway to this floor was spotless: even the tarmac surface seemed as though it had been mopped. Not a crisp packet or a leaf in sight. A morning newspaper was sticking out of the letterbox of number 105 that she had just walked past. And even though the low-level wall in front was enough for a step-over-and-grab, there were tubs of soil ready for flowers outside the doors of two, although they were chained to the walls. It seemed strange to see such order in a block of flats renowned more for its scruffy exterior. Allie sensed a welcoming pride, found she liked it.

She wondered if the residents of Harrison House would close ranks and look after their own. Often she’d come across streets and blocks of flats where, no matter what had happened, the
residents
stood by their neighbours, gave them alibis, as if they were untouchable. Most of the time, the police would let them stumble, push themselves into a corner until they admitted the truth. Allie could never understand why people would want to cover up for
others
who had done wrong.

She turned as the door was opened. An elderly woman stood there, holding a small Yorkshire terrier in the crook of her arm. She had curls in her grey hair, rouge on her cheeks and garish pink lipstick to match her twin-set cardigan and jumper.

‘Mrs Pritchard? I’m Detective Sergeant Allie Shenton.’ She flashed her warrant card.

‘Yes, I’m Rita. I’ve been expecting you. Come in.’

The door was opened enough for Allie to squeeze through.

‘Have you lived here long?’ she asked, following Rita slowly as she limped down a narrow hall.

‘Twenty-seven years, duck, ever since the block was built. I was one of the first tenants.’ Rita puffed out her chest with pride. ‘I’ve seen some changes, mind. It gets worse as the years go by, and now this! Right outside my front door. I don’t know what the world is coming to. Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’

Rita put the dog on the settee and flopped down beside
her as h
er knees took the strain. She beckoned Allie to sit dow
n too.

‘Nice place you have here,’ Allie humoured her, noting the flowered chintz curtains and matching cushion covers, the dusky pink of the fabric three-seater that was barely able to fit in the room and the pile of dolls that stood staring at her from the armchair. She hated those things, knew she would see them in her dreams that night. She always imagined one was going to get off the chair, walk towards her and kick her in the shins.

She took out her notebook after discreetly checking her phone for messages. ‘Would you mind going through what happened last night for me please, Rita?’

‘I couldn’t sleep as usual.’ Rita rolled her eyes. ‘Arthritis in my knees was stopping me from getting comfortable. I got up to make a cup of tea and well, as soon as Maisie saw me, she went to the door to go out. She’s twelve now, bless.’ Rita laughed. ‘Two old ladies with aches and pains together.’

Allie smiled. ‘And what time would this be?’

‘It was quarter past three.’

‘Do you often wander around during the night? I’m not sure that’s a wise thing to do.’

‘Oh, Maisie and I only go to the end of the path and back. I walk one way, sit on the wall to catch my breath and then walk back again.’ She pointed to the corner of the room where her walking stick was propped up. ‘I take my trusted friend with me, but often I don’t see anyone.’

‘Can you remember anything different at all? Anyone hanging around, any car, anybody? Any noises, that kind of thing?’

Rita laughed. ‘There are eighty flats – there’s always someone making a noise. But, no, nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Well, Maisie disappeared into the bushes.’ Rita looked at Allie. ‘She’s on an extendable lead, you see. Not that it
matters
much as she can only walk as fast as me. But she began to bark
. A
nd that was when I saw him, the poor thing, and rang for you and an
ambulance
. My granddaughter gave me a mobile phone for
emergencies
. I was glad I had it with me. We waited until the police arrived, stayed for a few minutes, and then came back inside again, didn’t we, Maisie?’ She stroked the dog’s head as she lay curled up by her side.

‘Did you notice anything else?’ Allie tried to hurry her along as politely as she could.

‘As a matter of fact, I did.’ Rita caught her breath for a moment. ‘Someone went into the flats while we were on the path.’

Allie looked up from taking notes. ‘Go on.’

‘I could see someone walking in the distance towards the entrance. I heard the entry door buzzer going off and then it was quiet again.’

‘Do you have any idea who it might have been?’

‘I couldn’t be one hundred per cent certain – my eyesight isn’t what it used to be – but it was a woman. She had dark hair, I think. Definitely long.’ Rita shook her head. ‘No, I can’t be sure of
anything
else.’

‘Do you know of anyone in the flats who may be out at that time of night? I reckon you must know most of your neighbours after living here for so long.’

‘Well, you must be able to tell by the tidy walkway that we’re all of a certain age on the ground floor,’ she smiled. ‘We like to take care of what we have, as well as each other. The same can’t be said about the other floors though.’

‘Oh?’ Allie cocked her head to the side, in a manner similar to Maisie, she suspected.

‘You’d be surprised about some of the things that go on around here,’ Rita continued. ‘I can’t get out much so I do tend to nosy through the window.’

Allie smiled. ‘Just what we like, Rita,’ she encouraged.

‘Now, let me see. There’s Leah Matthews on floor one. She often goes out on her own. It could have been her. And there’s a new woman on floor one too. Don’t know her name though.’ Rita paused to think. ‘Oh, and there’s Stella Elliott. Her hair is dark, not that she bothers to wash it enough, mind. She’s a nosy one. I bet she’ll be outside here all day today trying to see what’s going on.’

Allie knew of Stella Elliott and her delightful husband, Craig. She’d also had a few run-ins with Leah Matthews, though not so many lately. She’d have to find out what the other woman was called. She made a note of the details. When she’d finished, Rita didn’t seem to have any more names for her.

‘I don’t suppose anyone in the flats was looking down, not at that time of morning?’ Allie asked finally. ‘Did you notice?’

‘I’m sorry, duck, but I couldn’t tell you.’ Rita paused for a nanosecond. ‘Do you know who he is, yet?’

‘There’s been no formal identification.’

Rita made a big show of sighing. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.’

‘No, you’ve been really good, thanks.’ She stood up, took a card from her pocket and handed it to her. ‘If you remember anything, give me a call, please. In the meantime, I’ll send an officer to take a statement from you too. I’ll see myself out.’

‘Do you think he’ll kill anyone else?’ Rita asked just as she was at the living room door.

Allie turned back to her. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, Rita. I’m sure we’ll catch whoever did this soon.’

She saw the older woman shiver.

‘Scares the life out of you, doesn’t it?’ Rita folded her arms across her chest. ‘This sort of thing just doesn’t happen around here. My poor Maisie nearly had a heart attack.’

Allie nodded in reply.

‘I mean, this is Stoke-on-Trent,’ Rita went on. ‘I suppose you’d expect this sort of thing if we lived in a big city. It’s too close for comfort, if you ask me. Do you have any, what do they call them on the telly programs?’ She paused with a finger to her cheek. ‘Leads! That’s it – do you have any leads yet?’

‘We’re still making enquiries.’

‘You will come back to let me know how things are going on?’

‘Yes, of course. You’re an important witness.’

‘Will I have to go to court?’

Rita put a hand on her chest as if it would all be too much but Allie could see she seemed delighted at the prospect.

‘It’s early days,’ she told her. ‘But I will keep you informed.’

Rita smiled and nodded.

‘I’d prefer you not to go out so late, though . . .’ Allie urged. ‘If you do think of anything else, please let me know. Anything could be vital at this stage of the investigation. No matter how small or insignificant you think it might turn out to be. Okay?’

As she made her way back outside, Allie kept her eyes peeled for anyone watching her. She felt desperate for someone to flag her down, keep her talking, show her something, tell her anything. Because she couldn’t put off the inevitable for much longer.

She’d be heading for Royal Avenue before she knew it.

Sophie had taken a shower and made a cup of tea, and was
sitting
in the living room. It wasn’t long before she became aware of noises outside. A car door slamming shut, and another. Then a voice, the beeps of a van reversing. She got up quickly and moved to the
window
, gasped when she saw several police cars, crime scene tape across the pathway near to the green holding back som
e o
f the neighbours. She craned her neck to look to her left. There was a white tent in the background, and police officers in uniform
everywhere
.

She checked her phone, trying to push away the rising panic that was threatening to engulf her. There was still nothing from Jordan. It was unlike him not to send her a message, unlike him not to ring. She cast her mind back to when she had last seen him. It had been Monday night, three nights ago now. She hadn’t sensed an atmosphere, she didn’t think. Oh, yes, she remembered opening the door to him, his hands all over her as soon as she’d closed it behind them. He’d pushed her up against the wall there and then. She pressed her fingers to her lips, still remembering the smell of him as he kissed her and then led her to the bedroom. Words weren’t often spoken between them for some time. One thing she would give him credit for was that no matter how late it was in the night, two a.m., three a.m. sometimes, he was always ready to make her smile. Always ready to make her shout in some instances. No wonder she was addicted to him – her dirty little secret.

He wouldn’t forget her.

She glanced out of the window again, just in time to see one of her neighbours walking past below. She ran to the front door, scrambled to undo the lock and stepped out onto the walkway.

‘Stella, what’s going on?’ she shouted down to her over the wall.

A woman with brown hair severely tied back in a ponytail looked up. The fact that she was squinting and wore no makeup did nothing for her round face.

‘Some poor bastard copped it last night,’ Stella shouted back. ‘Rita Pritchard found him when she took that mutt of hers for a walk. She said there was blood everywhere. Gave her a rig
ht fright.’

Sophie clasped onto the wall as the sense of dread she had felt earlier deepened. She shuddered, feeling goosebumps erupting all over her skin. She had seen Rita last night – she’d been fine then, hadn’t seemed in a panic over anything. What time had that been? Half past three?

‘Can’t believe it, can you?’

Sophie’s next-door neighbour, Jude, was leaning on the wall. She was still in her pyjamas, fluffy pink slippers in the shape of rabbits keeping her feet warm.

‘You don’t expect this kind of thing on your own doorstep. Awful, isn’t it?’

Sophie could only nod. As well as Jude, several neighbours had come out to see what was going on. Up above, she could see people on the two floors higher than hers looking down onto th
e ground.

‘You don’t mean he’s . . . ?’ she shouted back to Stella, unsure she wanted to know but feeling compelled to find out.

‘Yep, he’s a goner.’ Stella ran a finger across her throat.

‘Is it anyone from the flats?’

‘Not sure yet. I suppose we’ll have to wait until the police tell us later.’ Stella pointed to the tent in the distance. ‘He was found on the grass by the path. There’s not too many places around here to visit except here. I reckon someone in these flats knows something. Wonder if they’ll let on.’ She waggled the purse in her hand. ‘I’m off to the shops for some cigs. Obviously I’m going to walk past that nice young policeman over by the front entrance and see if I can find out any gossip. I’ll let you know if he tells me any. Do you want anything while I’m there?’

‘No, thanks.’

Sophie went back into her flat. She glanced at the phone and then at the tent outside the window. The blood drained from her face. Surely it wasn’t Jordan? She was being irrational: it couldn’t be him.