Ann Cleeves - Killjoy

By early evening the news of the Pastons’ arrest had spread over the Starling Farm estate. Neighbours who hadn’t seen Alma Paston in the open air for years described her departure in the police car.

‘Man, you’d have thought she was the Queen, waving and bowing. Ellen held an umbrella over her so she’d not get wet. And the size of her! They tried to squeeze her into the back of the car but she wouldn’t fit and in the end she had to go in the front beside the driver.’

It started as good-natured gossip. There was little resentment. Most of the people in the street had guessed what the Pastons had been up to and thought they had been lucky to get away with it for so long. They’d had a good run for their money, the neighbours said. You couldn’t blame the police for doing their job. Alma Paston had never been popular. They were too frightened of her.

It got nasty later. When the trouble was over they blamed Connor for that. He’d always been a hot-head, a firebrand. They’d never taken him seriously but he had too much influence over the kids. They could only guess at his motive for stirring up resentment. Perhaps it was political. He was always talking about the revolution. Perhaps he believed it would finally start on the Starling Farm estate. Or perhaps he had his own personal reason for wanting to cause trouble for the police-he had always been close to Alma Paston and had supported himself for years by supplying her with stolen goods. Whatever his motive, everyone agreed that without Connor the evening would have ended quietly. It was a cold and wet Monday evening-not the night for taking to the streets. It took Connor’s rhetoric to start the kids off.

He got the news in the Community Centre on the Starling Farm in the afternoon. A boy who had bunked off school to play pool passed on the information almost casually, as if it were a joke.

‘Old Ma Paston’s been arrested!’ he said. ‘ The cops took her away at dinner time.’

It was Connor who called the arrest harassment. He made the unemployed teenagers switch off the music and stood in the middle of the Games Room lecturing them.

What right did the police have, he said, to take the two ladies from their home? What harm could they be doing? How would they feel, he demanded of his audience, if the police came and dragged their grans into the police station for questioning? It was a vendetta against the Paston family, he said earnestly. Robbie was dead, Gabby was dead, and now Ellen and Alma were in custody. He was so eloquent that the boys almost believed that the police were responsible for Gabriella Paston’s death.

‘It’s Evan Powell,’ he said at the end. ‘He’s behind it. He’s never liked the Pastons or the Starling Farm estate.’

‘What are we going to do about it then, Connor?’ one of the lads asked.

‘We’ll show them,’ he said, ‘who’s in charge here.’

At the police station Alma Paston was remarkably frank despite the tape-recorder and the policewoman sat in the corner. Ellen seemed so confused and frightened that she was almost incoherent and Hunter soon gave up on her. He’d never been known for his patience. But Alma told them everything they wanted to know. Ramsay sat in on the interview and watched her dominate the conversation.

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I can give you names. It was John Powell, hinnie. He brought in most of the stuff and he was behind the ram raids too.’ She repeated the boy’s name at every opportunity like a talisman or a chant, looking at the machine on the table as she spoke to make sure it was recording.

Later Ramsay sought out Evan Powell to tell him of the allegations made against his son.

‘I tried to phone you yesterday,’ he said at first. ‘You must have been away.’

‘Yes,’ Evan said. ‘ Jackie’s been off-colour lately. I thought we could do with a weekend on our own. I took her to a place we know in the dales.’

So the house had been free for John and Anna, Ramsay thought, but he said nothing. The boy’s illicit night of love-making with a girlfriend hardly compared with the other things Evan would have to accept. Evan looked tired and drawn and Ramsay thought that the weekend could not have lived up to expectations. He had expected a romantic second honeymoon and had been disappointed.

‘How can I help you?’ Evan said. He spoke warily but without hostility. Perhaps he thought Ramsay was there to apologize for the bad feeling between them on Friday night.

‘Hunter arrested Alma and Ellen Paston this morning. Their house is full of stolen goods. Apparently they’ve been dealing for years.’

‘Why are you telling me?’ Evan said, though he must have guessed what it was all about.

‘Their statement implicates John.’

‘No!’ Evan cried. He leaned forward across his desk. ‘Don’t you see? It’s their way of revenge. They’re lying to pay me back for Robbie’s death.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Ramsay said. ‘It was revenge of a sort. They encouraged John to get involved. They knew that would hurt you more than anything. But he was there. Hunter saw him. And he was seen by Joe Fenwick in Anchor Street on the night of the Co-op ram raid driving a car similar to that used by the thieves.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Evan said. ‘ He was home all night.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ramsay said. ‘ Couldn’t he have left the house without your knowing?’

Evan said nothing.

‘We’ll have to talk to him,’ Ramsay said. ‘You do realize that? Have you seen him today?’

Evan shook his head. ‘He’d left for school before we got home.’

‘He’s not in school,’ Ramsay said. ‘ We’ve checked.’

The news that John was absent from school seemed to affect Evan more than the possibility of his arrest. He had put all his faith in his son’s academic success. He saw it as a passport to a brilliant future. Now he put his head in his hands and shut his eyes. All the fight had left him.

‘He’ll be at the rehearsal at the Grace Darling tonight,’ he said. ‘If you don’t pick him up during the day you’ll find him there. Whatever happens he’d not miss that.’

‘You don’t know what plans John had for the weekend?’ Ramsay asked. ‘Did he mention a party? Friends he might visit?’

Evan shook his head. ‘He told me he’d be working,’ he said. ‘And fool that I am, I believed him.’

‘Yes,’ Ramsay said. ‘I see.’ He would have liked to offer some comfort to Evan but knew that kind words would only make things worse. ‘I’ll check at your house first,’ he said. ‘Just to make sure John’s not gone back there. You don’t mind?’

‘No,’ Evan said. ‘I’d be pleased. You can talk to Jackie. She might know where he is.’ He paused. ‘I’d rather she heard about all this from you than from the press.’

‘You could come with me,’ Ramsay said. ‘Take some time off to be with her.’

‘No,’ Evan said. ‘I can’t face her. Not yet. I’d lose my temper. Say things I’d regret.’ He looked up at Ramsay. ‘You will go yourself?’ he said. ‘ I’d not trust anyone else.’

Ramsay nodded but when he got to Barton Hill the house was empty and there was no reply when he knocked at the door.

Over the weekend Gus Lynch thought with relief that at last Jackie was getting the message that their affair was over. During the week following Gabby Paston’s death there had been no peace from her. She had phoned him almost continually. At home he had switched the telephone to the answering machine and at work he refused to take her calls. Joe Fenwick was usually on the switchboard and had come to recognize her voice. She never gave her name.

‘It’s that woman again,’ he would say.