M. Arlidge - Little Boy Blue

‘She told you all this?’

‘She doesn’t seem to mind, in fact she seems to enjoy it.’

‘So why hasn’t she confessed? If she’s so willing to talk?’

‘It could be that she’s innocent – though she’s never said as much. It may be that she’s cornered and wants to enjoy the game for as long as possible. Or it may be that actually admitting what she’s done is too hard for her. Don’t forget she’s a victim too.’

‘So what’s the next play?’

‘We keep digging – see if we can link her to BDSM purchases made with stolen credit cards. Anything we can turn up will increase our leverage.’

Gardam nodded and drew hard on his cigarette. A brief silence followed as Helen did likewise. They were alone today and the smokers’ yard had a curiously intimate feel.

‘I really should give these things up,’ he said, exhaling.

‘Me too. But somehow every time I make the decision to quit -’

‘Something comes up.’

Helen nodded.

‘Occupational hazard, I guess,’ Gardam continued, flicking his ash on to the ground. ‘How long have you been a smoker… ?’

‘Since I was a kid,’ Helen replied. ‘There wasn’t much else to do round our way when we were bunking off school. It was my sister who really got me into it.’

‘I was the same. I wanted to be like my older brothers. Of course, they both quit years ago and now the bastards do triathlons just to rub my nose in it.’

Gardam finished his cigarette and rubbed it out on the wall behind him.

‘Maybe we should both quit together?’ he said. ‘Keep an eye on each other.’

‘Let’s not run before we can walk, eh?’ Helen replied, extinguishing her cigarette. ‘We’ve still got a long way to go on this one.’

‘I guess you’re right,’ Gardam answered, pocketing his packet of cigarettes.

Helen waited to be dismissed, but Gardam made no move to do so.

‘Was there anything else, sir?’

‘No. And don’t feel you need to call me that. Jonathan is fine, as long as it’s not in front of the troops.’

‘Of course, thank you.’

‘Good night, Helen.’

Helen took her leave and headed back to the seventh floor. Perhaps she had been wrong about Gardam. Against all the odds, they were starting to get along.

‘It’s so nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who understands. It must have been hard losing your dad so young, but you turned out ok, didn’t you?’

Emilia Garanita nodded and gave Dinah Carter’s arm a squeeze. The latter was clearly terrified that her son would be left traumatized by his father’s sudden death and she desperately needed some female reassurance. Emilia was happy to oblige – she was good at making people feel better and what she’d told her so far was mostly true. The fact that her dad was not dead, but serving a sentence for drug smuggling, was a minor detail. It had been tough for her becoming a surrogate parent to her many siblings at such a young age, but the experience had been beneficial for her in the long run and now she didn’t regret it. It was certainly useful in situations such as these.

Dinah Carter had been reluctant to open the door. She’d already had journalists round offering her money, but she’d run scared of them. Emilia sensed that they had been too aggressive, too obviously grasping for a piece of Dinah. Emilia by contrast had tried the softly, softly approach, mainlining on her sympathy for the bereaved ex-wife. And it had worked – Carter hadn’t shut the door on her. Emilia suspected it was more than just her empathetic manner that had made Dinah hesitate – the extensive scarring on her face helped too. Emilia wasn’t proud of the way she looked, but it certainly had its uses. People could see she had suffered – there was no need to explain – and more often than not that got her through the door.

They had already spoken at length about Dinah’s son, Thomas, but there was a finite amount of copy in this, so Emilia moved the conversation on. The moral majority out there had limited sympathy for a man of Max Paine’s alternative lifestyle, however loving a dad he might have been at the weekends. What they – and Emilia – were interested in was who might have killed him.

‘Did DI Grace tell you what lines of enquiry they’re pursuing, in relation to Maxwell’s death?’

Dinah shook her head, fiddling nervously with the buttons on her cardigan.

‘Do they have a suspect in mind?’ Emilia enquired. She was aware that another suspect – Michael Parker – had been arrested in connection with the enquiry, but she wasn’t sure how serious this new line of enquiry was yet.

‘Not that they told me. They just wanted to know what kind of man Maxwell was. I told them about how he used to be, the good side of him, but beyond that…’

‘And do you have any suspicions yourself? Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Maxwell?’

For the first time, Dinah hesitated. She looked nervous, even a little tense.

‘Has anyone harmed him before?’ Emilia sensed a breakthrough.

Still Dinah paused, then:

‘I don’t know if I should be telling you this.’

‘I won’t print anything you don’t want me to.’

It was an easy lie to tell and Emilia had done so many times before. Did Dinah smell her duplicity? She still seemed uncertain whether to trust her new friend, whether she should unburden herself. Then, making a decision, she said:

‘He was attacked once before.’

Emilia nodded and looked concerned, giving this piece of info the weight Dinah obviously felt it merited.

‘When was this?’

‘About nine months ago. He had to cancel a day out with Thomas. I was livid, shouted at him down the phone, so he sent me a photo. Poor sod had been beaten black and blue.’

‘Have you still got this photo?’

‘Probably. On my old phone.’

‘It would be great to have a quick look before I go,’ Emilia said quickly. ‘What did the police say about this?’

‘I… I didn’t tell them.’

‘May I ask why?’

Dinah said nothing, but Emilia could tell there was more.

‘Surely you must want to catch Maxwell’s killer? For Thomas’s sake, if not your own. Why wouldn’t you tell them?’

‘Because it was a police officer that did it.’

‘How do you know?’ Emilia asked.

‘Because he told me. He wanted to do something about it, but how can you, when it’s one of their own?’

‘Did he say why he was attacked?’

‘No, just that it was unprovoked. He didn’t like talking about it much – he was embarrassed, I think, because it was a woman that did it.’

‘It was a female officer?’ Emilia responded, failing to contain her surprise. ‘Did he give you a name?’

‘No.’

‘A description?’

‘No, but he said she was well-known round here. He knew who she was, but he wouldn’t tell me. Wanted to protect me, I guess.’

‘Or protect himself,’ Emilia thought, but said nothing. She was prepared to play along with Dinah’s fantasy of Maxwell as the innocent victim for now. Thanking her for her time, Emilia began to wrap things up. She had come here with relatively low expectations, but was leaving with a major new lead. Could it be true? If it was, it presented some very interesting possibilities.

A narrative was taking shape in Emilia’s mind that would trump all of the stories she’d penned so far in her brief, colourful career. She would need to be sure of her facts of course. And there was one person who would be able to help confirm her growing suspicions.

This was Emilia’s next stop – one she hoped would finally blow this story wide open.