Running Girl (13 page)

‘Before you go,' Singh said. ‘The calls record. Lawrence?'

Shan winced. ‘There's still some sort of technical problem, according to the supplier. We've sent down some guys to speed them up.'

‘I don't think that's effective. You'll need to go down yourself.'

Shan nodded.

‘Final thing. I notice that Alex Robinson hasn't been interviewed at the Academy.'

‘He's stopped attending.'

‘Where is he?'

‘Some squat out in Limekilns.'

‘Get me the address. Right. That's all.'

It was eleven o'clock. When the others were gone, Singh got up and went into the corner of his office and stood facing the wall. For a moment he was irresolute. His face was pale, the skin around the eyes dark. He began to recite his prayers but, glancing at his watch, broke off and left the office without looking back.

RAIN CAME ON
again as the cab emerged from the underpass. It was a little after half past one; double chemistry was just beginning back at school.

On the other side of the ring road traffic was light, no more than a few security vans and council trucks driving between jobs. The pavements were quiet too. The only kids Garvie saw were some lads from Sandhills smoking in silence outside a newsagent's. While the cab waited at lights, one of them caught sight of Garvie and gave a brief salute, and Garvie wound down the window and put out a hand as they pulled away. Though it wasn't his neighbourhood he had friends all over the city.

Abdul gave him another nervous look in the rear-view mirror, and Garvie said, ‘What is it, man? You've been twitching ever since we set off.'

Abdul attempted one of his famous smiles and his face got stuck halfway. ‘Miss Dow,' he began, and bit his lip.

‘What about Miss Dow?'

‘Police come visit yesterday.'

‘Again? That's the third time, Abdul.'

‘Ask this, ask that. Ask everything, Garvie man.
Très
hard people.'

‘
Très
dim people. What did they ask you about?'

‘Ask all about Thursday.' He shot Garvie another anxious glance. ‘I say, is Friday when Miss Dow decease.
Friday
. I don't work Friday. They say no no, Thursday. Always Thursday. Ask me – who you drive, who you see.' He licked his lips. ‘Where you papers.'

‘You've got your papers, Abdul.'

Abdul looked petrified.

‘Do you want my mum to come over and give you a hand? She'll talk to the police for you. They won't know what hit them.'

Abdul reached back between the seats and squeezed Garvie's hand.

Garvie said, ‘It's OK, man. It's safe. You don't need to worry.'

Abdul's smile worked properly again.

In the drizzle they drove down Strawberry Way, past the community centre, through the Strawberry Hill estate with its garages and tower block, out towards Limekilns.

‘Anyway,' Garvie said. ‘Tell me what you told the police about Thursday.'

Abdul told him, with his hand against his heart most of the time. He hadn't picked up Chloe on Thursday evening. He hadn't seen Chloe. He hadn't been near Fox Walk. He hadn't seen or picked up Chloe's mother or stepfather. He hadn't even thought about Chloe. He swore it.

‘Let's forget Chloe a minute.' Garvie thought. ‘Did you pick up
any
female passengers that night?'

Only one. Abdul picked her up about six from the shops near the Academy and took her down to Market Square in the city centre, where most of the bars and clubs are.

‘What was she like?'

She wasn't like Chloe.

‘It's all right, man. You can forget about Chloe. I'm just interested.'

The woman was much older than Chloe for a start, maybe twenty, maybe twenty-five – it was hard to tell with some women. She had a lot of very black hair. And a lot of make-up. Abdul tutted to himself. She was a strange woman.

‘How strange?'

She wasn't sure where she wanted to be dropped in Market Square. She made Abdul drive round the one-way system three times while she peered out of the window. Then there was the funny business with the tip.

‘What business?'

The woman seemed to have no idea how much to give. As if she'd never been in a cab before. She took money out of her purse, put it back, got angry with herself, and in the end gave Abdul a twenty, more than the cost of the ride itself. He'd given it back to her, and she'd got flustered and bolted and left him with nothing.

‘
Très perturbée
, Garvie man.' Abdul laughed and waggled his finger at his head. ‘Eh? Crazy like cat.'

Garvie said nothing for a while.

‘Abdul?'

‘
Oui?
'

‘What was she wearing, this crazy woman?'

Abdul considered this. A blue dress, he thought. And a white jacket. She was dressed up to go out, even though she didn't seem to know where she was going.

‘And where did you pick her up?'

‘By shop.'

‘Which shop?'

‘Aphrodite shop. You know?'

‘Aphrodite's beauty salon?'

Abdul nodded.

‘Is that where she'd been?'

Abdul hadn't considered this before but now he saw that Garvie was right. She had so much hair and so much make-up, she must have been in Aphrodite's, getting ready to go out.

They drove on a little way in silence after that. They were in Limekilns now. Here the houses were all prefabs, with wood-panelled fronts and lean-to porches with corrugated plastic roofs. The roads were patched with iron plates. There were no shops. It was a poor area. Garvie wound down the window and leaned out, and even the air tasted poor.

Abdul let him out at a deserted street corner. He was looking anxious again. ‘This bad bad place, Garvie man.'

‘It's OK, Abdul. I have a friend lives here. Listen, Abdul.'

‘Yes?'

‘About that woman. Did you tell the police about her?'

He shook his head.

‘Maybe you should. Just to be helpful. They might even be grateful.'

Abdul looked doubtful, but Garvie didn't say anything else, and in the end he drove off.

Garvie turned off the street and walked down a dirt path across waste ground heaped with rubbish and brambles, under an old railway bridge and along a ditch until he came at last to an abandoned-looking maisonette with boarded-up windows.

Parked outside was a squad car.

At that moment the front door of the maisonette opened and a policeman came out, looking thoughtful. A policeman in a turban. For a second he stood on the doorstep, musing. Then he looked up and his expression changed at once.

‘Detective Inspector,' Garvie said politely. ‘Our paths cross again.'

Singh removed all traces of surprise from his face and came down the path. ‘I warned you about interfering with police business,' he said.

‘I'm not interfering with anything,' Garvie said.

‘Then why are you here?'

‘I just stopped by to score some drugs.'

Singh stared at him.

‘But,' Garvie added considerately, ‘I promise not to make the transaction until you're far away.'

For a moment Garvie thought Singh was going to lose his cool; but the man just blinked and, stepping backwards, took a notebook out of his pocket.

At that moment his phone rang. Frowning, he turned away to answer it. Garvie heard him say, ‘Yes. What do you mean, another technical hitch? Never mind, it doesn't matter. I'm coming now. Yes, now.'

He gave Garvie a long bitter look as he went past him and got into his car.

Garvie waved goodbye as he drove off, but the inspector did not return the gesture.

Inside, the squat was semi-derelict: bare boards and crumbling plaster covered in graffiti. There was a smell of old smoke. Downstairs in the front room a couple of kids stopped playing cards when they saw him.

‘Got anything for us, Smith?' one said in a whining voice.

‘Not today.'

The kid spat on the floor and they went back to their game, and Garvie went past them up the splintered stairs to where Alex was camping. Once a back bedroom, it was now a wreck. The sagging ceiling had split open and someone had tried to rip out the washbasin. Alex was lying in a sleeping bag on a mattress in the corner rolling a joint. He was wearing his varsity jacket, and Garvie looked at it a moment before going over. He crouched down next to him and they touched knuckles.

‘Back again?'

‘Can't keep away, man. Such a lovely place.' Propped up on one elbow, Alex went on rolling. He was big and powerful for his age: six five at least, and broad. Good-looking too, in a screwed-up-eyed, hip hop sort of way. Until recently he'd been the Marsh Academy's premier athlete, star of the soccer team and all-round action man. But though he looked tough, he was usually gentle, soft even. When Chloe dumped him he'd fallen apart. Since her death he seemed to have lost the will to live. Like the squat itself he was in a state of terminal disrepair, his former laid-back manner a distressing sham.

‘Don't think it's much good for your health, to be honest,' Garvie said.

Alex shrugged.

‘Or your nerves. Those kids downstairs get nastier and younger every time I come here.'

Alex said, ‘I got protection.'

‘Protection! You sound like a TV gangster. Don't you miss your mum and sister? Or your home comforts? I still remember your mum's stews.'

Alex scowled. ‘I'm no pussy.'

Garvie looked around. ‘What would your mum say about this place, big man?'

‘I can look after myself.'

‘What would Chloe say?'

Alex shut his mouth and gave Garvie a fierce look, which Garvie ignored.

‘What would she say, Alex?'

There was a long silence in the squalid room.

‘Leave it, Garv,' Alex said in a low thick voice of gravel and chalk. ‘She ain't around to criticize no more.'

Reaching into his sleeping bag, he took out a small packet and tossed it towards Garvie.

Garvie shook his head.

‘What you doing here, then?'

‘Interfering with police business.'

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘I done my bit. OK? Got punched on, spent a night in the cells. Your man in the turban's just been here again.'

‘I know, I just met him. Looking surprised.'

‘Surprised?'

‘Surprised he didn't find a Porsche parked outside, I think.'

Alex sneered. ‘All that about a Porsche. Is nonsense, Garv. You know that. She didn't ride in no Porsche.'

‘Still. Everybody knows dealers drive those things. Singh probably thought you had three or four.'

‘Not even funny, Garv.'

‘Blinkie drives one.'

Alex's glance flicked at Garvie and swerved away again. ‘Who?'

‘That gangster you run with. Dude with the eye-patch.'

‘I don't run with Blinkie.'

‘But he has a Porsche, right?'

‘Maybe. How would I know?'

‘And it's black. Right?'

‘I don't run with Blinkie. I never been in his Porsche.'

‘All right, Alex. Stay calm, mate. I'm just trying to get inside Plod's head.'

Alex grimaced and rubbed his hand across the top of his head. ‘I can't take much more, Garv.'

Garvie nodded. ‘I know. What did you tell him, by the way? The plod.'

‘Nothing.'

‘Good. Just a few questions, then. Won't take long.'

Alex finished rolling his spliff, lit up and lay back down, scowling up at the ceiling.

‘I'll be gentle with you,' Garvie said.

LOCATION: SLUM DWELLING;
upstairs room; décor distressed; smell of wet chalk and piss.

Aspect of interviewer: casual; cute; dressed in black, rumpled Marsh Academy school uniform.

Aspect of interviewee: tense; shiny-faced; dressed in white vest and trackies.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
So. You were harassing her.

ALEX ROBINSON
[
obscene phrase
]

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Calling her, texting her, following her.

ALEX ROBINSON:
You know it. [
Smokes, passes spliff
] Everybody knows it. So what?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
So what happened?

ALEX ROBINSON:
Nothing happened. She didn't want nothing to do with me. No calls. No texts. She'd walk away from me in the street even.

DI GARVIE SMITH
[
smokes
]
:
You used to watch her at the track, right? After school.

ALEX ROBINSON:
After school, lunch time. She used to get the Scot to come shoo me. Like some little dog. You seen it, Garv.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
I remember. [
Passes spliff
] So was it you stole her running shoes?

ALEX ROBINSON
[
snorts
]
:
That's weird.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Weird?

ALEX ROBINSON:
Your man in the turban asked that too.

DI GARVIE SMITH
[
laughs
]
:
Singh's learning.
Did
you steal them, Alex?

ALEX ROBINSON:
Never took nothing of hers. Wish I had, almost. Something to keep. [
Smokes
] If you want to know about Chloe's stuff being stole, ask Jess. [
Passes spliff
]

DI GARVIE SMITH:
I already did. This is good, by the way. [
Lengthy silence
]

ALEX ROBINSON:
That it, then? Detective Smith.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Not quite. Done any deals up at Pike Pond recently?

ALEX ROBINSON:
No, man.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Sure?

ALEX ROBINSON:
I ain't used that place for ... I don't know. Weeks. I told all this already to the copper.