Cath Staincliffe - Blue Murder

Janine looked at the team. ‘Suggesting?’ she prompted them.

‘Not much of a fight,’ Shap said.

‘He’d not done much gardening,’ put in Chen.

Janine nodded. ‘He died sooner rather than later.’

Richard turned the pages of the document. ‘Dr Balloran concludes that the weapon was a sharp knife with a slightly curved blade. All-purpose type used by fishermen, gardeners… murderers.’

‘All right,’ Janine warned him.

‘Five inch blade. The attacker was right-handed. Victim in good health, report refers to a recent scar on upper chest.’

‘Ferdie Gibson carving his initials,’ said Janine. ‘Miss Grassmere?’

Rachel Grassmere flicked on the overhead projector. Richard turned off the lights. ‘Dabs still being processed,’ the forensic specialist announced, ‘but we’ve got a decent one on the tap. The trainer print, here by the water butt.’ The screen displayed an enhanced version of the muddy print Janine had struggled to make out. ‘Right foot, somewhere between a ten and a twelve from the look of it. Small tear on the outside heel and two puncture marks on the ball of the foot, sort of thing that a drawing pin leaves. It’s a dream. The lab’s getting us make and model.’ She snapped the projector off and the lights in the room came on again.

‘Butchers, best eliminate Mr Simon, first on the scene, before we go round checking people’s shoes.’ Janine told him. Butchers nodded glumly.

Janine stood up brushing crumbs from her clothes. ‘Ferdie might be the break we’re looking for but we don’t know that yet. As ever we have to look closely at next of kin.’

‘Mrs Tulley a suspect, boss?’ Shap asked.

‘Let’s just say we haven’t been able to rule her out yet. We’ll be seeing her today and trying to establish an alibi. Matthew Tulley’s diaries.’ Janine held up the books. She had spent an hour the previous evening scanning through them. ‘Practically all the entries relate to Tulley’s job. Meetings about Year 7 intake and Year 9 GCSE options, Governors and staff meetings. A few unexplained entries, star and time, but no indication what the appointment was. No leads there at present. So, the rest of you, you know what you’re working on. Back here at five,’ she instructed them, ‘and let’s fill this wall.’

‘We’d like a word with your son, Mrs Gibson, is he in?’ They put away their badges.

‘What’s it about?’ Her brow furrowed and she glared at Janine and Richard from the doorway. One arm was wrapped about her waist, the other, elbow propped on it, held the fag close to her mouth.

‘It’s in connection with one of our enquiries,’ Richard explained.

‘What enquiry?’ she said derisively.

‘The murder of Matthew Tulley,’ Janine spoke sharply. ‘Is Ferdinand in?’

‘He’s got nowt to do with that. That’s bloody harassment, that is. That man assaulted Ferdie,’ she shook her cigarette at them, ‘and he was given an official warning by the school. Bleeding disgrace, deputy head and he’s lamming into kids.’

‘And then Ferdie knifed him,’ Janine pointed out.

‘You can’t prove that. That never went to court,’ her mouth worked furiously, spittle gathering in the corners of her lips. ‘Ferdie’s never been near him. Just leave him alone.’

‘We need to talk to him,’ said Richard. ‘Now either we can have a few words with him now, clear things up and hopefully eliminate him from our enquiries or we can come back with a warrant to hold him for questioning at the station.’

‘Go get yer warrant, then,’ she began to shut the door.

Richard stopped it with his hand. ‘Don’t you think you’d better see how Ferdie wants to play this? He might not be best pleased if you have him dragged down to the station, kept for 24 hours.’

She shot him a look of contempt and closed the door.

Janine glanced at Richard, raised her eyes to heaven and back. ‘I still don’t know all the ins and outs,’ Janine resumed their previous conversation, ‘but Michael was pretty shaken up. Got a right shiner.’

They heard Mrs Gibson coming back and bowed to each other: the tactic of sending her to check with Ferdie had worked. The door opened and Ferdie Gibson appeared behind his mother. The close haircut gave him a weasely appearance, his scalp was a greasy white colour beneath the fuzz of hair. Janine noticed the botched tattoo on his neck. He was barefoot with a Nike top, a fancy Rolex-type watch and Adidas pants on, white stripes and rows of buttons all up the legs. Janine wondered about the buttons; did people undo them when they got hot, leave the fabric flapping like chaps?

‘Hello, Ferdie,’ said Richard, ‘I’m Detective Inspector Mayne and this is Detective Chief Inspector Lewis.’

‘What d’ya want?’

‘We’d like a word. Inside if you don’t mind, more private.’

He shrugged and wheeled to face the nearest room; they filed in after him followed by Mrs Gibson. The small room boasted three sofas and a TV and video. The system looked state of the art, the sofas were an ill-matched trio, all had seen better days.

Ferdie flung himself onto the faded pink, over stuffed couch, his mother took the olive green sofa bed and Richard and Janine shared the low slung settee which had sludgy orange and brown cloth and wooden arms.

Janine could feel the supporting elastic ropes through the thin cushions. In a previous era it would have been up-to-the-minute modern design along with fondue sets, convex mirrors and pedestal ashtrays. Like thirty years ago.

Where were Ferdie’s trainers? She glanced at Richard and down at the lad’s feet. Richard acknowledged the query. Janine gave Richard the nod – he should ask the questions.

‘We’re investigating the murder of Matthew Tulley,’ he said.

‘I want a brief then.’

‘Just an informal chat, Ferdie. If you could tell us where you were between nine and eleven yesterday morning.’

Janine detected a change in the boy’s demeanour, subtle and fleeting but there all the same. Did he know something?

‘I was here, in bed,’ he swivelled his head to face his mother, ‘that’s right, innit, Mam?’

‘He never gets up in the morning,’ she said emphatically.

‘You were here all that time?’

‘Had my shopping to do but he was in bed.’

‘Till when?’ Richard asked Ferdie.

‘Dunno. ‘Bout one. Called for my mate, went to the pub.’

‘Your watch not work?’ Richard nodded at the bulky model on the boy’s skinny wrist.

‘Didn’t know it mattered, did I?’

‘When did you last see Mr Tulley, Ferdie?’

‘Months back. Punched me in the head, you know. ‘S affected my concentration, know what I mean. I get these panic attacks.’

Give him an Oscar, Janine thought as she watched him elaborate on his symptoms.

‘Still carry a knife, Ferdie?’

‘S illegal, innit?’

‘But you used one on Mr Tulley.’

‘They never charged us.’

Janine wondered why there’d been no crime report. Why hadn’t Matthew Tulley pressed charges?

‘This mate you called for, what’s his name?’

‘Colin.’

‘And where does Colin live?’

He gave them the address. Janine stood. ‘I’ll leave you to finish off, Inspector.’ Ferdie glanced at her, suspecting something but unsure of what. ‘I’ll let myself out.’

Mam was crying. Jade hated it when she cried, it was worse than her shouting and being all stressed out. Jade was on the top step. Mam was in the lounge, on the settee making a horrible moany noise and Jade knew her face’d be all red and lumpy from crying. Jade didn’t want to see her but she wanted some breakfast. What she’d really like was Coco-Pops but Mam said they cost a bleeding fortune and she had to have corn flakes or Weetabix.