Ann Cleeves - Harbour Street

‘She was on the bus that took us from Partington to Mardle. I couldn’t take the risk that she might tell somebody, could I?’ Ryan looked up now, aggressive again, proud because he’d had the nerve to kill two women, ready to boast. The solicitor touched his arm, a gesture of warning, but Ryan took no notice, and Vera thought the solicitor was as disgusted as the rest of them. Certainly he made no further attempt to stop the boy from talking.

‘Talk us through that, would you, Ryan,’ Joe said. ‘Tell us how you got into her flat.’ The voice bland, a schoolmaster’s voice. He could have been Stuart Booth. Talk us through that equation, would you, Ryan?

‘She invited me in.’ The boy gave a sudden wild, wolfish grin. ‘She was pissed and bumped into me on her way back to Percy Street. ‘Offered me sex. Stupid cow! As if I’d ever had to pay for that.’

‘Go on.’ No accusation in Joe’s voice. Vera felt a moment of pride. He was her protégé and he’d learned to control his emotions. He’d been soft as clarts when he’d first come to her.

‘The flat was a dump,’ Ryan said, as if that was an excuse for what would come later. ‘Filthy. She went into the bedroom to change. I mean, just looking at her made me gag.’

‘And then?’

‘There was a knife on the table in the front room. A kitchen knife. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but I thought it would be safer. Better not to use my knife.’

He flashed a look at Vera. My God, he wants a gold star for being clever. She clamped her mouth shut. Best not to reply. He’d like any response better than being ignored.

‘But the knife did work?’ Joe made it sound as if he was truly interested.

Ryan didn’t answer that at first. ‘I switched up the telly,’ he said. ‘In case she made a noise, then I went into the bedroom.’ He looked up at Joe. ‘The blade was a bit bendy. It took some strength to get it in. But yeah, it worked fine.’

‘What did you do then, Ryan?’

‘I went into the bathroom and washed. I wiped my fingerprints off the door handles and the handle of the knife. Then I went back to school. I had music and I didn’t want Stuart telling my mother that I was bunking off again.’

It was midday and they’d finished for the holiday. Stuart Booth had come to collect Kate Dewar. Vera wondered what sort of Christmas there’d be in that house, and if the relationship would survive beyond Boxing Day. Stuart had colluded with Kate to tell her what she wanted to hear: that Ryan wasn’t such a bad lad; the boy was misguided and had got caught up with the wrong crowd, but he was sound really. Had anyone in school seen the bullying and the drug-dealing, the petty cruelties? But perhaps nobody had wanted to see. Ryan came from a respectable family, his mam was Katie Guthrie, who had once been famous and would be guaranteed to pull in crowds at the summer fair. Only Margaret Krukowski was anxious, reminded of another cocky young man who’d thought himself above the law. And finally it was the parallel with Ricky Butt that had helped Vera and Joe to find the murderer too.

They stood in the car park outside the station. Vera, Joe and Holly. ‘Let me buy you a drink,’ Vera said. ‘To celebrate. Or come back to mine. I’ll shout the cabs to get you home.’

Holly looked shocked. Vera had never invited her to her house before. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m spending Christmas with my folks. It’s a long drive and they were expecting me yesterday.’

‘Ah.’ Vera was pleased really. She suspected Holly would disapprove of the state of her home. ‘Joe?’

‘Sorry! Sal’s got plans.’ He raised his hands, a gesture of apology. And to show that he’d have liked to come back with her to talk through the case, but Sal would really go ape if he came back pissed, today of all days.

‘Course she has,’ Vera said. ‘Wish the family happy Christmas for me.’

It was only as Holly got into her car that Vera remembered something. She chased after her, waving. Holly pressed a button and the driver’s window opened.

‘Shit, Hol, we never did that Secret Santa thing.’

‘Nah,’ Holly said. ‘Never mind. It was never going to work, was it?’

Vera got into Hector’s Land Rover and set off alone for the hills.

Ann Cleeves is the author behind ITV’s Vera and BBC One’s Shetland . She has written over twenty-five novels, and is the creator of detectives Vera Stanhope and Jimmy Perez – characters loved both on screen and in print. Her books have now sold over one million copies worldwide.

Ann worked as a probation officer, bird observatory cook and auxiliary coastguard before she started writing. She is a member of ‘Murder Squad’, working with other northern writers to promote crime fiction. In 2006 Ann was awarded the Duncan Lawrie Dagger (CWA Gold Dagger) for Best Crime Novel, for Raven Black , the first book in her Shetland series. In 2012 she was inducted into the CWA Crime Thriller Awards Hall of Fame. Ann lives in North Tyneside.

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