Running Girl (14 page)

DI GARVIE SMITH:
So when did you last see Chloe? Was it on the Friday? Friday afternoon?

ALEX ROBINSON:
No way on Friday.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Thought you kept tabs on her every day. Isn't that what stalkers do?

ALEX ROBINSON:
Thursday I saw her. After school. She was on the track. Didn't speak to her. Didn't even get near her. Usual story. Pretended I wasn't there.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Here. [
Passes spliff
]

ALEX ROBINSON
[
smokes
]
:
You done now?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Nearly. Last thing. Just tell me what you told Singh just now.

ALEX ROBINSON:
I didn't tell him nothing. [
Passes spliff
]

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Yeah you did. Something secret. Something you're not telling me. He told me on his way out.

ALEX ROBINSON:
He
told
you?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
The expression on his face told me. Just before he looked surprised he looked thoughtful. Like someone who's just found something out.

ALEX ROBINSON:
Garvie, man, you're a freak. All right. It's not such a big deal. I was in Chloe's garden on Friday.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
You said you didn't see her on Friday. So it must have been Friday night, later on.

ALEX ROBINSON:
Yeah. Late. No, I didn't see her.

DI GARVIE SMITH
[
smokes
]
:
What were you doing? [
Passes spliff
]

ALEX ROBINSON:
Nothing. Just watching the house. Thought she might show up. [
Smokes
] Wasn't the first time I'd been there at night, to be honest. It used to help, to see her sometimes, you know, up in her bedroom window. Not that night. Not any night now. [
Silence
] Anyway, when Plod turned up I went over the fence.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
And he saw you.

ALEX ROBINSON
[
shaking his head
]
:
No way. Too dark for that. I was just unlucky.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Unlucky how?

ALEX ROBINSON
[
lifts up the sleeve of his jacket
]
:
See where the button's gone? It got ripped off on the fence going over. He found it. [
Passes spliff
]

DI GARVIE SMITH:
What a clever plod that Singh is. [
Smoking
] That's good, Alex. But you're still not telling me the truth, are you?

ALEX ROBINSON:
What's not the truth?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
You weren't in the garden to catch a sight of
her
, were you?

[
Silence
]

DI GARVIE SMITH:
You wanted to see her new boyfriend, didn't you?

ALEX ROBINSON:
Jesus, Garv. Your man told you that too?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
You told me.

ALEX ROBINSON:
What? When?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Don't you remember what you shouted at Pike Pond? ‘What did you do it for, you stupid bitch?' Felix said you must have thought she'd killed herself, but that didn't make any sense. I wondered what she could have done to make you so mad. And I thought maybe seeing someone new.

ALEX ROBINSON:
All right, then. You worked it out right.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
How long had you been looking for him?

ALEX ROBINSON:
Few weeks.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
And who was he?

ALEX ROBINSON:
I don't know. I never found out. She hid him.

DI GARVIE SMITH
[
passes spliff
]
:
But you had some idea of the sort of person he might be.

ALEX ROBINSON:
Yeah. Bastard-sort.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Obviously someone she didn't want people to know about.

ALEX ROBINSON:
Right. She was hiding him away.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Someone older? Maybe someone she met clubbing. Some married guy.

ALEX ROBINSON:
I don't know, Garv.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Someone a little bit dangerous maybe. Someone with a bit of money. And a Porsche.

ALEX ROBINSON:
That's bollocks about the Porsche. I never saw no Porsche. You know what she was like, Garv. Just dreaming. She was definitely seeing someone, though, I could tell. I could tell something else too. She wasn't happy. [
Smokes
] You're right: it was making me mad.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
But you don't have any idea who it might have been?

ALEX ROBINSON:
No.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
But you were looking for him?

ALEX ROBINSON:
That's right. And would've found him, in the end.

DI GARVIE SMITH:
And what would you have done to him when you found him?

ALEX ROBINSON
[
smokes in silence
]

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Right. And what would you have done to Chloe?

[
Silence
]

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Alex? Alex, mate. You didn't do anything stupid, did you?

ALEX ROBINSON
[
smokes
]
:
Listen to me now. I know what you thought of her, you and Smudge and Felix and everybody. You didn't have a clue, none of you. Didn't have the first idea who she was. No one knew her, except me. It's true. I was the only one. Not her mam, not the Scot, not the bastard-sort. Not even you, Garv, and you shared time with her. Only me. So how could I hurt her? Never would have happened. Never, never. No matter what she did to me. People say otherwise, they're going to learn—

DI GARVIE SMITH:
Calm, man. Calm. I understand. Still, we have a small problem.

ALEX ROBINSON:
What small problem now?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
You're right, I've been coming here too often. That button on your sleeve?

ALEX ROBINSON:
What about the button?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
It's been missing over a month. The button Singh showed you is from someone else's jacket.

ALEX ROBINSON:
What?

DI GARVIE SMITH:
That's right.

ALEX ROBINSON
[
silence
]
:
But that means ...

DI GARVIE SMITH:
You weren't the only one hiding in Chloe's garden.

[
Silence
]

Garvie got to his feet, nodded and went over to the door. Alex lay in his sleeping bag, staring in confusion at the remains of the spliff between his fingers.

Garvie stopped in the doorway. ‘Oh. Nearly forgot. Couple of things. Did she ever ask you for money? Probably not, seeing as you weren't speaking. But did she?'

‘Money? No. Even if she was talking to me, why would she ask me for money? I ain't got no money.'

‘Good point. All right, something else. About Thursday after school. After training at the track.'

‘Yeah?'

‘She went home?'

‘I think.'

‘MacAttack give her a lift?'

‘Not that night.' Alex frowned. ‘He was there, though. Pretending like he'd just run into her accidental like, as usual. Looked as if she was going to ride with him but they just talked, then she walked off.'

‘You didn't follow her?'

‘I knew she wasn't happy with me. I wasn't going to make things worse.'

‘I see. Did she have her kit bag with her?'

Alex slowly shook his head. ‘No. Nothing.'

Garvie nodded. ‘Good. Now we know where her running shoes were that night.'

He loitered in the doorway a moment longer, thinking. He said, ‘And what was she wearing?'

Alex looked blank.

‘Come on, Alex. Think. It's funny, but the key to all this always comes back to the same thing. What. Was Chloe. Wearing.'

After a long time Alex said, ‘Now you say it, I remember. She didn't have on her uniform no more. Some sort of dress.'

‘Colour?'

‘Blue. And a white jacket.'

Garvie nodded, fell silent. He stood in the doorway without moving.

‘You all right, Garv?'

He looked up. ‘Alex?'

‘What?'

‘You're not going to do anything stupid now, are you?'

He shook his head. ‘No, man.'

‘We're going to find out who killed Chloe.'

‘OK.'

‘Will you do something for me?'

‘What?'

‘I might need you to come into school for half an hour or so tomorrow.'

‘Why?'

‘Never mind that now. I'll give you a call and let you know. But you'll come?'

‘If you need me, I'll be there.'

Before he left Garvie looked back at his friend in the sleeping bag. ‘Hey. It'll be over soon. And when it's over, you'll be able to leave this place and go home. Think of that. Think of your mum's stew.'

Alex didn't say anything. Turning heavily in his bag, he faced the rotting wall.

ONE OF THE
problems with Marsh Academy was the way it looked. It looked like a cross between a prison and a rehab centre: three securitized blocks of bile-coloured brick and smeary glass set randomly along a sprawl of asphalt yard marked out in coloured paint for infants' games. It was inconvenient too. On the one hand, everywhere was a surprisingly long way from everywhere else. Getting from one lesson to the next frequently involved a lengthy trek along scuffed corridors, up and down dimly lit stairs and in and out of desolate, echoing halls. On the other hand, some places were far too close to each other. The Year Eleven lockers, for instance, were in the corridor right outside Tech 2, where the police interviews were still taking place, with people going in and out all the time. Worse, Tech 1, Garvie's form room, was just round the corner. Worse than both these things, at the end of the lockers was the door to C Block 8, where, in period three, Garvie Smith was meant to be having further maths.

But it couldn't be helped.

Chloe Dow's locker was third in from the end on the top row. Like the others, it was fifty centimetres or so tall and thirty wide, and it opened and shut like the lockers at swimming baths, with a key on an orange plastic fob. Even when it was locked, it wouldn't be hard to break in with a bit of force but – as Garvie had discovered – there was no sign of any force on the door of Chloe's locker: no scraping, no scratches, no buckling. The metal door was straight and clean.

Garvie stood there for a moment considering this. Then he retreated from the lockers – taking care to slip quickly past the door of C Block 8 – and went back down the stairs.

He found the caretaker in his room. He was a young man with strong, stooped shoulders and a watchful, sullen attitude. His name was Naylor and he was known to be mentally defective. Although he was often seen stomping around the school with his toolbox or wheelbarrow, fixing things or sweeping up, he rarely spoke and never made eye-contact. He was considered good-looking, however. Silent and rough round the edges. Girls noticed him.

He didn't seem to understand what Garvie wanted. This was because Garvie was being deliberately obscure. Five minutes later, sullenly grumbling, he accompanied Garvie across the yard to C Block, up the stairs and along the corridor to the lockers outside Tech 2.

‘I don't know what you're after,' he said again. ‘You need to see a teacher. I'm busy. I got no time for this.
Bloody
kids,' he muttered under his breath.

‘Won't take long,' Garvie replied. He went up to Chloe's locker and tried to open it with his key. ‘See? My key's not working. And I really need to get my stuff.'

Naylor said scornfully, ‘That ain't even your—' and stopped, as if astonished at himself.

Garvie looked at him curiously. ‘Not my what? Not my locker?'

Naylor didn't reply. When Garvie met his eyes he immediately looked away and began to chew his lip. ‘I ain't got time for this,' he said again. He gave a nervous twitch.

‘Oh wait,' Garvie said. ‘You're right. It's that girl's. The one who got ... Funny how you knew it was hers.'

Clenching his fists, Naylor began to take deep, scratchy breaths.

‘Why don't you open it anyway?' Garvie said.

Naylor became oddly still. He lifted his head and looked at Garvie, his face rigid, his eyes cold, as if calculating how to deal with him.

Garvie took no notice. ‘I mean, with your pass key,' he went on. He paused. ‘No need to break in and risk leaving telltale scratches, is there?' he added quietly.

A look of fury flashed across Naylor's face. Glancing quickly down the empty corridor, he took a step forward and pushed his face into Garvie's.

Backed up against the lockers, Garvie raised his eyebrows.

‘Why can't you bastards ever leave me alone?' the man hissed.

Then a voice came from behind them, a voice with just the right amount of threat in it.

‘Hey, you.'

Alex Robinson was striding down the corridor. Naylor turned and, after a moment's hesitation and a last, twisted look at Garvie, flung himself away and went off in the other direction with that peculiar stomping walk of his.

‘Sorry I'm late, man,' Alex said. ‘So long since I been here, couldn't remember where the lockers were.'

‘Perfect timing. Just thought I'd like you here in case he kicked off.'

‘Is that what he was doing?'

Garvie considered this. ‘Don't know. Probably he's harmless. But odd. Very odd.'

Together they watched Naylor disappear.