Weekend in Weighton Final Amazon version 12-12-12 (32 page)

Jimmy went to say something but stopped, his head twitching and his eyes darting over my shoulder.

I continued to back away. ‘See you around, Jimmy. Bring a bigger gang next time.’

As I turned to walk away, I pushed up against a hard hand, adjoined, in this case, to the strong arm of the law. In person and arresting my progress was DCI Hobbs. Behind him stood a cheerful DS Bugg. Better late than never I suppose.

In a strange way I was surprised to see them. It wasn’t like I didn’t have it all under control. Well, almost. Surprised or not, I was relieved that Kate had given up on our plan. She’d made the right call. As much as anything else, I was just glad to stand still.

‘Well, well, well,’ said Bugg. ‘Weighton’s first and foremost. Fancy meeting you here?’

Unmarked cars arrived all around the square, dispensing police uniforms. It was like an invasion of blue meanies.

‘What took you so long?’

‘Awaiting your command,’ replied Hobbs.

‘I was preoccupied.’

‘So I see.’

I flicked a thumb at the cast of characters populating the postcard scene in front of the Town Hall. ‘Bad guys are that way, in case you’re interested.’

Hobbs glanced over and nodded.

‘Book ‘em Danno.’ I raised an eyebrow at Bugg. ‘You do remember how that stuff goes?’

‘Fuck you,’ he said.

‘No,
Fuk Q
is a Chinese martial art. One of my many black belts.’ I noticed that Bugg’s own black belt had given up restraining his overhanging belly. ‘Layin’ off the doughnuts, I see.’

‘Alright, Eddie, leave it. It’s been a long day.’ Hobbs folded his arms and did a wide pan of the scene. ‘Looks like a lot of forms.’

‘Yeah. Good luck.’

I stepped past him, but he stuck his arm through mine.

‘Off to evensong, Eddie?’

‘The nearest bar, if you want the actuality. But should you need me for anything – I’m easily found.’

Hobbs put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Sorry, son, you’re coming with us.’

‘Thought you might say that. It’s been one of those weekends.’

‘Yeah, but guess who’s got the day off tomorrow? I need this cleared tonight.’

‘It’s all about you with you.’

He shook his head. ‘Forms and procedures don’t complete themselves.’

A squad car eased to a stop alongside us. I peered through the window and saw Kate and Helen Porson sitting on the back seat. Helen didn’t look at me, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Jimmy. How do you explain that? Crazy little thing called love.

Kate caught my eye and gave me a look; it wasn’t a good look, either. She jabbed a finger at her phone and though I shrugged and smiled, I could tell she wasn’t buying my “turned out nice again” routine. She glared back at me, trying to draw a response as Hobbs started to tug me away. I drew a phone shape in the air and mimed a toilet flush. She nodded, but didn’t smile.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Sunday – 20:45

The interior décor of the police interview room finally got to me. For my next bedroom makeover I decided I would go with shabby cell chic. Not easy to say, let alone do. But with two hours of incarceration at the wrong speed, what else was there to do but check out the paint job?

An assortment of police-wallahs had been and gone during that time. After appearing at the door they’d conferred with the duty WPC, nodded half-heartedly at me, then disappeared. I kept hoping one of them might make it through the door and fire up a conversation. Finally someone did. Not my most favourite someone, but it was someone.

DS Bugg strode in, chucked a ream of papers on the table and sat down. He pulled his chair to the edge of the table, making a loud scraping noise as he went.

‘Mr Greene, how are you?’

‘Doodle-dandy, thanks. Can I go?’

‘No, we have to charge someone first.’

‘Not my concern. Take your pick.’ I made the most of a yawn. ‘You know it won’t be me.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Bugg. ‘DCI Hobbs is still treating you as a suspect.’

‘Tell him he’s dreaming.’

Bugg pressed his fingers together. ‘You tell him – when he’s ready to see you.’

‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather wait in the Red Lion. This time of night your boys will be three-deep at the bar. Better than house arrest if you ask me.’

‘Save it, Eddie. You’re going nowhere. Not until we say so.’

‘You’ve got a beautiful soul there, Sergeant. Bet you get that all the time.’

Bugg pretended not to listen. He rearranged the stack of papers in front of him, flicked the cap off his pen and made a series of squiggles on the top sheet – doodles to make a spider proud. He looked at me and squashed his tongue into his cheek. ‘Right. Questions.’

‘Point of order first,’ I said. ‘Since you and Hobbs are such sticklers for procedure, shouldn’t my solicitor be present? I take it she’s still in the building?’

He shook his head. ‘She left hours ago. Who can blame her.’ I could tell from the smirk he was lying. ‘Anyway,’ said Bugg, ‘this isn’t an official interview.’

‘So what is it?’

‘Whatever you want it to be.’

‘How about over?’

Bugg expelled air from the side of his mouth. ‘Look, it’s just background stuff. Be good to yourself. The quicker you co-operate, the quicker this is done.’ He stared at me for four or five seconds and then carried on. ‘How do you know Jimmy Cartwright?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Why make this harder than it has to be?’

I tipped my head from side to side, stretching my neck muscles and still feeling in awe of the buttermilk coloured walls. ‘Well, what did he say?’

‘The same.’

‘There you go. Corroboration Town, population two.’

‘But it’s bollocks.’

‘Technically correct bollocks.’

Bugg shifted his upper body forward, stretching over the table, pushing at the boundaries of my personal space. ‘You were both at the Town Hall at roughly the time you said you’d be there. We can tell from the CCTV you spoke to each other. How do you explain that?’

‘Nothing to explain. When Kate told you about the rendezvous, did she say Cartwright would be there?’

‘No.’

‘And you believe her, I take it?’

‘No reason not to.’

‘So there you have it. Just an unhappy coincidence.’

Bugg pushed his chair back, got up and parallel-parked his considerable rump on the table, trying to face me down. I eased my chair further back and crossed my arms.

He pointed to the bruise on my face. ‘The beating you took. We know it was him.’

‘Guess again.’

‘You scared of him?’ He tossed it up as a taunt.

‘Did I look scared at the Town Hall?’

Bugg slid off the desk and pottered around the room, hands behind his back. I saw sweat stains pooling under his armpits when he leaned against the wall. A cluster fly was buzzing him, making its interest known. If word got back, they’d be amassing like Zulus in the car park.

‘If you don’t explain your connection with Cartwright, we’ll have to assume you’re working for him.’

I pushed my finger on an imaginary buzzer. ‘If this is the “odd one out” round, I’m the only one not working for him.’

Bugg back-heeled the wall with an impatient kick. ‘I’m serious. We’ll have no choice but to proceed on the basis you were working for him. Maybe you fell out along the way, I don’t know, but to the extent
he’s
involved, it makes
you
an accomplice.’

‘You’re serious, right?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Because you’re reaching levels of stupidity that have so far eluded mankind.’

He pushed off the wall and smashed his boot into the spare chair, tipping it over. I rolled my eyes at the door-minding WPC. Her blank expression was complete except for the nervy blink.

‘The Nkongos,’ said Bugg, switching suspects, ‘I take it you set them up?’

‘Did I?’

‘It points that way.’

‘What, both killings?’

‘Sure. One leads to the other.’

‘Only in Buggsville.’

‘We’ll see.’ He looked at his watch, pulled a face, and then swung his attention back to me. ‘Your legal bit tells us–’

‘Objection. Relies on sexist stereotyping.’ I looked over at the WPC. ‘Am I right?’

Bugg glanced at the uniform before returning his power stare to me. ‘Your
solicitor
told us where to find Helen Porson. She told us you had a pre-arranged meeting with the Nkongos at eighteen hundred hours – location to be advised – when they would be offered up.’

‘Is there a point?’

‘You and Jimmy were blackmailing Porson, but it went wrong. One of you killed her. At least you believe that’s who you killed. To cover it up, you cooked up a deal to implicate the Nkongos. You lured them to Porson’s house and then the flat.’

‘And that’s what they say, is it?’

‘More or less.’ He shrugged. ‘They didn’t know they were being played.’

‘Lucky for them you figured it out, then.’

‘Damn straight. Those poor bastards were in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

‘Two wrongs don’t make it right.’

Bugg came and leaned on the table, his eyes locking with mine. ‘The thing I don’t understand is why Jimmy turned up at the meeting? Why would he do that? Unless … unless you lost your nerve. I bet that’s it. And when he finds out you’ve gone nesh on him …’ His voice trailed away.

‘Not too shabby. All you need now is evidence.’

Bugg put his hands in his pockets and started to tap his foot. ‘Oh, I’ve got evidence.’ He picked up the sheets. ‘Helen Porson’s statement. It’s in here somewhere. I’ll find it.’ He thwacked the bundle of papers on the desk, only just missing my nose, then turned and left the room.

I caught the eye of the WPC. ‘Tell me he doesn’t really work here?’

Thirty minutes later, Bob appeared at the door in his civvies. He whispered something to the WPC, and they went outside. After a few minutes, he came in by himself. He picked up the chair and sat down, looking stony-faced.

‘We need to talk, lad.’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

‘I don’t have long.’

‘You’re in luck. It won’t take long to ignore you.’

He looked around the small room, strain pulling on his face. ‘This is difficult, but I need you to understand me. Your dad and I, we …we went back a long way.’

I folded my arms and tried to think of anything that would block out his claptrap. My thoughts returned to interior design. A couple of hanging tapestries might work?