Ruthless (23 page)

She saw then that there was blood on his other arm, the left one, lots of blood.

‘Dave, wake up!’

His eyelids fluttered, opened, he struggled to focus.

‘Sit up, get up,’ she said.

He moaned as if complaining.

‘Sit up, now.’

With effort he hoisted himself up on his right elbow. Gill grabbed his feet and swung them round.

He closed his eyes again. His jacket was slashed, the left sleeve, he must have cut it reaching through the shattered pane to release the latch.

Gill pulled at the sleeve, raised it a few inches, did the same with his shirt sleeve. She saw the cut, a gash on the lower edge of his arm, three inches long. Deep, gaping and glistening with blood.

‘You need stitches,’ she said. She might have been able to clean it up and dress it but what if it became infected, if he got blood poisoning? Besides, it might not heal properly without professional medical care.

‘Dave?’

He murmured, she had no idea if he could understand her.

‘Take this off.’ She tugged at his jacket, she wasn’t going to take him anywhere covered in vomit. ‘Come on.’ It was like trying to undress a sleeping fifteen-stone toddler but eventually she wrested the jacket from him and left it on the floor.

Dave swayed gently on the lounger, opening his eyes sporadically.

‘You stupid dickhead,’ she said, ‘what do you think you’re playing at?’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Stay there.’

In the house she collected a damp flannel and towel, a clean cloth and some water.

She wiped his face and neck then made him drink some water. She wrapped the cloth around the cut and pinned it in place. Then she brought her car as close to the lawn as she could and chivvied Dave until he got to his feet. She made him walk to the car.

He was unsteady and she knew if he keeled over she had no chance of shifting him, but thankfully he got to the car and she steered him into the passenger seat.

At the hospital she could feel the fury and frustration scalding inside her as they waited for him to be seen and stitched up.

The staff were practical, distant, unsmiling as they asked their questions and cleaned and sewed the wound and gave him the tetanus jab and Gill knew there was a subtext: here was a man who couldn’t hold his drink, who was only in A&E because of his drinking, who had brought injury on himself. A pisshead. It was clear from the smell of him and the sight of him with his bleary, bloodshot eyes and from his behaviour, the clumsy gait, the long pause before he replied to any questions, marshalling the words in the right order, the vacant smile he switched on at seemingly random moments to show what a good guy he was. Like the police, a great many of the people they dealt with in A&E were off their heads.

Back home in the depth of the night, she showed him to the sofa. He’d stopped nodding off but was quiet, avoiding eye contact. She imagined the tide of shame was rising, washing over him in ever larger waves. She made him tea, brought him paracetamols.

He thanked her, his voice whispery.

‘You could have drowned in your own vomit,’ she said, ‘or bled to death, another inch and it would have been an artery. Look.’ She swiped at her phone, pulling up the picture. ‘Look. Proud of that?’

His mouth tightened and he looked away.

‘It stops now,’ she said. ‘You’re obviously incapable of dealing with it yourself so in the—’

‘I’ll ring round tomorrow,’ he said, ‘find a clinic.’

‘You do that.’

He gave a nod and she went upstairs.

She ached everywhere, the shock and upset had lodged in her spine and her limbs making it impossible to relax, to rest. She lay awake, her mind circling around Dave and the grief he’d brought to her door, around the case and the muddle of it all, and in the end she gave up on sleep. She showered and dressed and watched the sun rise over the hills and heard the birds greet the new day, hoping it would be a damn sight better than the one that had gone before.

Day 6

Tuesday 15 May

22

‘Did you sleep here?’ Janet found Gill already at her desk when she got into work early.

‘No, I didn’t,’ Gill said, her tone clipped, brusque. Janet looked at her; she had dark circles under her eyes. Janet knew Gill could manage on five hours a night but it didn’t look like she’d even had that.

‘Did you want something?’ Gill said without looking up.

Janet felt awkward. ‘No,’ she said.
Pardon me for breathing.
She retreated to the outer room, hung up her coat and logged on to the system but she found it hard to concentrate, wondering why Gill had been so short with her.

Gill could be sharp, critical, but only when someone had done something wrong or not done something important and needed a kick up the arse. She was fair, she didn’t lose her temper without good reason and she wasn’t ever manipulative or sulky. If something got up her nose she tackled it head on. Janet shuffled in her seat, tried to focus on the statements she was reviewing and shut out the voice in her head, quibbling about Gill cold-shouldering her.

Lee came in and waved hello, then Kevin.

Had she misheard? Had Gill just been so preoccupied with work that she’d made the remarks without being aware how curt she sounded? Or was it to do with Olivia’s death? Had something happened that Gill couldn’t tell her about?

This is bloody ridiculous.
She got up and went to Gill’s door. Knocked and went in without waiting for permission. ‘What’s going on?’ she said.

‘What?’ Gill scowled, took her specs off.

‘Something’s up. I’d rather know what it was than sit out there trying to guess.’

Gill stared at her, looking annoyed, a glint in her gaze. Janet held her ground.

‘It’s nothing,’ Gill said, ‘just—’ Then her mouth twitched and Janet was stunned to see her eyes fill with tears.

‘Come on,’ Janet said. The ladies’ toilet was the place of sanctuary, somewhere away from prying eyes and the demands of phones and e-mails. Gill followed her there, perched against the sinks, arms folded.

Janet leaned on the wall. ‘I understand, if it’s about Olivia, if you can’t tell me—’

Gill shook her head, screwed up her mouth, and squeezed her eyes shut. Then she looked across at Janet. ‘It’s Dave,’ she said.

Janet felt a stab of relief. Not her then. Not Elise. ‘Now what’s he done?’

Gill tried to speak, faltered. ‘He … erm … stupid bugger’s on the piss, big time. All the time.’

‘Oh, no.’

‘Found him covered in his own sick last night, out in our summerhouse,’ Gill said.

‘Oh, Gill.’

‘Idiot.’

‘But he’s all right?’ Janet said.

‘After a fashion. He’d cut his arm breaking in,’ she shook her head, ‘ten stitches.’

‘Was Sammy—’

‘No, he was out.’

‘What are you doing here? You should be—’

‘Pot, kettle?’ Gill tipped her head on one side. ‘Where else would I be? Not sitting at his bedside wiping his sweaty brow. I hate him,’ she said, ‘I bloody hate him.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Janet said.

The door swung open and Rachel came in, paused as she saw Janet and Gill. Janet made eyes at her, tipped her head.
On your way
. Rachel withdrew.

‘You mustn’t tell anyone. Not Rachel, no one. Promise?’ Gill said.

‘I won’t.’

‘Lee and Kevin have already seen him drunk as a skunk on the office floor.’

‘Here? When?’ Janet said.

‘Saturday.’

Janet remembered the smell in the office, how she’d thought someone was drinking on the job.

‘He thinks he’s invincible. Captain Thunderpants. Like there’s no problem, no consequences. I tried to tell him – the job, there’s a limit to what people will accept. I went to see him Sunday evening. Told him to sort himself out, to get into rehab, join AA, anything. I thought maybe I’d got through. Obviously not,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Where is he now?’

‘At home. He’s finally agreed to a stint in rehab. Well – it was that or see a photo of him, pissed and covered in his own chunder posted online.’

Janet looked sceptical.

‘OK,’ Gill said, ‘no, I wouldn’t but I did take one and showed him so he couldn’t do that whole denial thing.’ She screwed her hands into fists, groaned. ‘I’m sorry, kid, you’ve enough shit to deal with—’

Janet cut her off. ‘Doesn’t work like that.’ All the times Gill had held her hand, passed the tissues, watched her back. After Joshua died was the first time but many others since then and she’d done the same for Gill, when Dave walked out forcing Gill to leave the job she loved best to be closer to home, when Sammy moved in with his dad, when Chris finished with Gill.

‘How is Elise?’ Gill said.

‘She’s devastated. And she’s fifteen so of course she can’t believe it ever gets any better, gets easier. She has to find out for herself, experience it. It hurts – watching.’

‘Families,’ Gill said.

‘What would we do without them?’ Janet said.

‘She’ll be all right, she’s a bright girl and she’s got you and Adrian.’

‘Ade blames me,’ Janet said.

‘What?’

‘We had a humdinger last night, except the girls were in bed so it was all whispered.’

‘Blames you how?’ Gill said.

‘Because I said we should let them go to the party, because I said we should trust them, because Elise told him that she didn’t want to buy anything illegal in case she did get caught and then I might lose my job.’

Gill raised her eyebrows. ‘If that were true then half of the Manchester Met force would be stood down by now.’

‘What else could I have done? I did trust her. And now what? Do we think of her as a liar and a sneak for the rest of her life?’

‘No,’ Gill said.

‘I know.’

Gill sighed, turned to the mirror, raked her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. ‘Right, mate, once more into the fray?’

As one of the investigating officers, Rachel took on the task of attending the magistrates’ court with the Perrys, where the charges against them were noted and the case sent to Crown Court. Rachel requested that the men be remanded in police custody. She then re-arrested and cautioned them on suspicion of murder in the case of Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi. Noel Perry looked outraged when she did so though he offered no comment but Neil grinned and nodded as if he’d been expecting it, as if it was some sort of badge of merit to be accused of further offences.

Her mother’s voice kept echoing in her head, a nasty little earworm, maggot more like.
You’re a selfish little shit, Rachel, you always were. My own daughter dobbing in my own son. Grassing up her little brother.
Didn’t the silly cow understand that Rachel would’ve done anything rather than see Dom lose his freedom, his chance at something resembling a decent life. Anything except collude in covering up a murder, anything except lose her job, which was her life more or less.

While the twins waited for transport back to the police station, Rachel returned and joined the briefing, wondering what the drama had been earlier with Her Maj, trying to catch Janet’s eye and signal her curiosity. But Janet was keeping her head down, so in the end Rachel did too. Focused on the new developments they had to tackle.

In the viewing room, Gill was able to see both interview rooms on the separate monitors and hear the conversations. The similarity between the twins was overwhelming, she could discern absolutely no difference in facial features, gestures or intonation. The only way she could differentiate between the two men was because the tattoo on Noel Perry’s neck was on the left-hand side while the same design was on Neil Perry’s right side, some sort of monsters.

Lee had stayed with her to watch. Janet’s interview began first, Rachel just coming into view on the other screen as Janet said, ‘Mr Perry, you have been arrested on suspicion of the murder of persons known as Lydia Oluwaseyi and Victor Tosin, on Friday the eleventh of May. You are formally under caution and anything you do say may be given in evidence. You have the right …’

Gill sipped at her coffee.

‘Tandy,’ Lee said, ‘he was at the English Bulldog Army meeting at the George Inn. The same night the twins were there, Sunday the sixth.’

‘They met then?’ Gill said. ‘Exchanged numbers?’

Janet had finished the caution and preamble. ‘Is there anything you wish to say?’

Noel Perry looked dull, impassive, then his expression broke. Hard to tell whether it was a grimace or a smile when he said, ‘I did it, I killed them.’

Gill froze. Lee stared at the monitor, open-mouthed.

‘Let me be clear,’ Janet was saying, ‘you’re admitting responsibility for the deaths of the two victims known as Lydia Oluwaseyi and Victor Tosin found in the warehouse on Shuttling Way after the fire which was started on Friday the eleventh of May?’

‘Yeah.’ He braced his hands on his knees, legs apart.

‘Fuck me,’ murmured Gill, ‘that was easy. Lee, take a message. Tell Janet to carry on, we want a full statement, A to Z. We want to know exactly how the deaths were carried out and how he set the fire. His movements before and after. And motive.’

‘I’d hazard a guess,’ Lee said dryly as he left.

On the other screen, Rachel was going through the charge and Gill notched the volume up. Neil Perry answered the first question, ‘No comment.’ And the second. ‘No comment.’ Gill leaned closer, intrigued now at an emerging difference between the brothers.

Janet began by letting Noel speak uninterrupted. She would then revisit each point of his story and tease out the detail.

‘I went there on Friday, and it was like with the dosser. I shot ’em and then torched the place. That’s it.’ He shrugged.

Could it have been any balder? ‘What time on Friday was it?’

‘Dunno,’ he said.

‘Afternoon, evening?’

‘Dunno,’ he said.

‘Was it dark?’ Janet said.

‘Yeah.’

Janet felt a prick of doubt. One-word answers were never a good sign.

‘How did you get into the warehouse?’

‘Off of the bridge, by the canal, there’s a broken bit in the panelling there, you can get through then to the building. In one of the doors.’