Cath Staincliffe - Blue Murder

When he got home, he sat rocking in the dark. Same as when his mum died and they took him into care.

Shap had taken the call from the priest while Janine was out with Michael. He’d left a memo for Butchers and gone to see what the story was. They both expected it to be a wild goose chase. Impressionable kid wanting fifteen minutes of fame or some extra attention.

He sat in the kid’s house while she told him, her eyes wide, her mum looking on with thinly veiled dismay.

‘It was the lady on telly. The one on the news that was asking for help.’

‘What was the lady doing?’

‘Running away.’

‘What else can you remember about her?’

‘Someone had hurt her.’

Shap looked sceptical.

‘They did,’ she insisted. ‘They’d battered her and she was all covered in blood. Like a nosebleed.’

Shap pulled out his phone, asked the kid a couple more questions then rang it in.

At the station Richard answered the phone in the murder room. Listened to Shap and then reported to Janine.

‘Kid at number three saw Lesley Tulley running from the scene, dripping blood on Saturday morning.’

Surprise rippled across Janine’s face. ‘Why the hell didn’t we have this sooner?’

‘They weren’t home in the first house-to-house. When Butchers finally questioned her, the kid lied. She was forbidden to play on the allotments. Couldn’t tell us without getting in trouble.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Time?’

‘Definitely before 9.25. She saw…’ he paused to check his notes, ‘the end of Digit?’

Janine smiled at his mistake. ‘Diggit. How old?’

‘Seven.’

Janine winced. Very young. ‘A witness, though. I’m bringing Lesley back in.’

She grabbed her coat.

‘Is it enough?’ Richard said.

‘It’s all I’ve got. I’m buggered if I’m going to let O’Halloran waltz in and get the credit. We’ve worked damn hard on this and we’re nearly there. Well?’

Richard picked up his own coat. ‘You’re the boss.’

Lesley felt drained, her whole body ached as though she had been physically beaten. She stared at the mug in her hand. Let her thoughts drift.

‘Lesley,’ Emma startled her. ‘It’s your friend John again.

The man from the car park. Tears stung her eyes.

‘I’ll tell him to come back later.’ Emma said briskly, turning to go back to the front door.

‘No,’ she got to her feet, ‘really, it’s fine.’ She daren’t refuse to see him.

‘Are you sure, you’re exhausted?’

‘Yes, I’d like to see him,’ she said brightly, ‘he won’t stay long.’

She took him into the lounge. He shut the door. Stared at her. He came and stood very close. She could smell tobacco on his clothes and cooking fat.

‘What I know. Could be crucial.’

‘You just gave me a ticket, that’s all. Don’t be ridiculous,’ she tried to deflect him.

‘Just a question of whether I ring Crimestoppers or not.’

‘What do you want, money?’

‘Now, how do you cost a thing like that? Five hundred? Five thousand? What price freedom, eh?’

She waited. It was a nightmare. It was all a nightmare.

‘And there are other things besides money,’ he reached out and ran his finger along the edge of her jaw. She began to shake.

‘Let’s say a thousand cash, to start,’ he whispered. ‘And the rest, we’ll play it by ear. Lady like you, just be a question of which card to draw it on, eh?’

‘They won’t-’

‘Soon as you get chance. I’ll call same time tomorrow. Be nice if we were alone.’ He pressed the pad of his finger against her lips. She was rigid with fear and dislike.

A sudden commotion from the hallway and the door swung open. Chief Inspector Lewis came in, her mouth set. ‘Lesley Tulley, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Matthew Tulley…’

They took Dean to make his phone call. His chest hurt and he felt like he was losing it big-time but he had to try, one last chance.

‘Paula,’ his voice sounded dry and faraway. ‘I’m in South Manchester police station. I want to see you, Paula, I know I’ve messed you about but I just… things are okay, you know? Just come and see us will you?’

‘Dean,’ she said, sounding unsure.

‘I’ll tell you, all of it, everything.’ And he meant it. ‘Will you come and see us?’

There was a long pause, then her breath, a little shaky. ‘All right.’

Dean sniffed hard, wiped his nose with his hand and cleared his throat. He thought about the roll of dosh he’d slung up into Douggie’s lampshade. If the Bill hadn’t nabbed it, might be worth a trip to Oldham next chance he got. Nice little nest egg. ‘It’s gonna be all right,’ he said, reassuring himself as much as her. ‘Don’t worry.’ Be happy, like the man said.

‘Is there anything you wish to say, Lesley?’

‘If I could help, in any way, don’t you think I would? I loved my husband.’

‘Is that why you put up with his perversions?’ Janine said calmly. ‘The torture.’

‘What about the man who was calling on you just now?’ Richard said. ‘Was he one of your husband’s contacts?’

Janine sensed uncertainty in her response.

Lesley licked her lips. ‘Just a friend of mine.’

‘Really?’ Richard said.

Lesley kept quiet.

‘A witness has come forward.’ He told her. ‘They place you at the allotments shortly after nine a.m.’

Lesley recoiled with shock, shook her head in denial, her forehead creased. ‘No!’

Janine spoke. ‘You were covered in blood, you were running away. Later you get rid of the knife in a litter bin in town. We recover that knife. In other words, we can place you at the scene and we can link you to the weapon.’ Stretching it a bit, Janine mentally crossed her fingers. ‘We can also show that you consistently lied to investigating officers and constructed a false alibi. We have a motive, too – you were subjected to horrendous physical and sexual abuse in your marriage.’

Then Lesley Tulley looked at her, wounded eyes, mouth trembling. Speak, willed Janine, for God’s sake speak. A rap on the door broke the spell. She could have screamed with frustration. What the hell were they playing at? They knew this was a crucial interview. Lesley Tulley sat, face averted and her eyes half-closed.

Janine stalked out. ‘Boss.’ Shap mouthed. ‘Trouble!’

‘But it’s an eyewitness, sir.’ Janine told The Lemon.

‘An eight-year-old?’

‘Seven,’ Janine went on hurriedly, ‘she gave us a detailed description, sir. as well. If I can just work at it-’

‘No. No clothes, no forensics, no chance. Release her.’

‘But sir, I think-’

‘Release her.’

She nearly had her, why couldn’t he see that? ‘No. I’m sorry-’

‘Chief Inspector Lewis!’

She left the room without another word, furious and disappointed.

A leaden sense of failure hung over the team in the murder room. She’d told them what Hackett had instructed, but she had not yet released Lesley Tulley. Janine couldn’t sit still, her mind working overtime, her belly tense with the stress of the situation. If she only had the clothes. ‘They searched the drains?’ She went over it again.

‘They did the lot. Nothing on the premises.’ Richard said.

‘It just doesn’t add up. They were in the washing machine. The woman hasn’t been out of the house without police escort. She’s been nowhere. Why didn’t she burn them with the tapes?’

‘Too obvious?’ Richard stretched his arms, folded them behind his head.