Cath Staincliffe - Ruthless

Janet thought back to the interviews. The fleeting reaction to the physical evidence, that moment when he’d faltered. ‘I’m not sure, I think at first he thought he was being framed, thought it was a fit-up. But maybe he worked it out. Figured out who had access to his gloves. He was carrying the bag when the neighbour saw him on the Saturday but not on the Friday.’

‘Been to fetch it on the Saturday?’ Rachel said. ‘He left the family home on the Friday after the argument.’

‘You walk out,’ Janet said, ‘you don’t necessarily take everything with you.’

‘He’d take the guns, keep them close. Maybe some clothes.’ Rachel coughed and winced.

‘Should you be here?’

‘Don’t you start,’ Rachel said. ‘So you’ll ask Connor about the gloves and the accelerant?’

Janet nodded. ‘We have the twins and Greg Tandy meeting at the Bulldog Army malarkey on Sunday. Maybe they’ve heard he’s the go-to man for firearms. They get his number, rendezvous at Bobbins on the Tuesday and buy the gun.’

‘Not hired,’ Rachel said. ‘If they’d hired it, they’d have given Tandy it back but according to Connor they sold it to Victor in exchange for some gear.’

‘Which we found in their bedroom,’ Janet said. ‘So, the twins kill Richard Kavanagh and burn the Old Chapel. They go to the warehouse, sell the gun and get the drugs.’

‘On the Thursday!’ Rachel said. ‘Shirelle saw them leaving that day when she was on her way with new merchandise. She takes the money Victor and Lydia have made, stocks them up and calls at Keane’s on the Friday to give him the takings and get more drugs. Once the murder is made public, Greg Tandy’s cheering about it and his missus chucks him out but he won’t take Connor, in fact he slags him off and the stupid lad decides he’ll prove himself by committing a double murder.’

‘It fits,’ Janet said, ‘it all works.’

‘Don’t mess it up,’ Rachel said.

What the…? Janet stared at her. ‘Me, mess it up? I’m not the one you want to worry about. Did you listen to a word-’

‘Just saying,’ Rachel retorted, ‘we’re nearly there. If you-’

‘Zip it,’ Janet said.

‘I only meant we’re so close-’

‘The hole’s deep enough. Stop digging.’

Unlike his father, Connor Tandy was prepared to answer questions. If only his mother would let him get a word in edgeways. She’d interrupted twice already, running him down, and Janet had to ask her to be quiet and let him talk.

‘You had your knife,’ Janet prompted him.

‘Yes. And we had some fuel for the barbie out the back. I took that and an old wine bottle and a bit of cloth. My lighter.’

‘Anything else?’ Janet said.

He thought. ‘A bag to carry it all and some gloves. In case of fingerprints.’

Janet nodded, non-judgemental, as if they were discussing the weather or bus timetables. She placed a photograph of Greg Tandy’s holdall on the desk and the gloves in their protective bag.

‘I am now showing Connor exhibit MG10 and exhibit MG16. Are these the gloves and the bag?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Your dad’s?’ Mrs Tandy said. ‘You stupid little idiot. What the fuck did you use his for?’

‘Mrs Tandy,’ Janet said sharply, ‘please. Just let Connor speak. Go on.’

‘I went down there when it was getting dark.’

‘To the warehouse?’

‘Yes. They were just chilling.’

‘Victor and Lydia. Had they taken any drugs?’ Janet said.

‘Yes, and I had some weed… I was working out what to do, who to do first…’ His voice trembled slightly, the first emotion he had betrayed. ‘… then Victor, he says, “Check this out.” And he’s got a gun. I says, “Where’d you get it?” and he says, “The Perry boys,” and if he sells it on how much will he get? Or maybe he’ll keep it for protection, right? In case of trouble. Lydia, she wants him to sell it though. They’re arguing but not shouting and I says, “Can I see it?” And he says sure. And I take it and I shoot him, two pops and she’s screaming, trying to get up, and I do her, three, ’cos the first one misses.’

‘Oh God, Connor.’ His mother covered her eyes.

‘Then I get the bottle ready and light it and chuck it by them and it works. Starts the fire.’

‘What were you, what in God’s… Jesus, Connor.’ Mrs Tandy sputtered to a halt.

‘What then?’ Janet said.

‘I went home,’ he said.

‘The bag and the gloves?’

‘Put them back under the stairs.’

‘And do you know what happened to them?’ Janet said.

‘My dad must have taken them.’

‘He did.’ Gloria shook her head. ‘He came round and got his stuff on the Saturday.’

‘You didn’t see him?’ Janet said to Connor.

He gave a shrug. ‘I was in bed.’

‘And the gun?’ Janet said.

‘Kept it in my room.’

‘We searched your house,’ she said.

‘Yeah, I had it on me. You weren’t going to strip-search us,’ he said. A light in his eyes, some cheek, pleasure in tricking the police.

‘And yesterday when shots were fired into your house…’

‘I did that. You had me dad but you didn’t have the gun, so if the gun was used you’d know it wasn’t him that done it.’

‘I don’t believe this,’ Gloria Tandy said, ‘I don’t bleeding believe it. What did you think would happen?’

‘They’d let him go,’ he retorted.

‘He’d broken his terms,’ she yelled, ‘let alone he’d a bagful of shooters.’

‘But that’s not murder,’ he said, ‘he wouldn’t go down for murder.’

‘Hang on a minute,’ Janet intervened.

‘But you will, you stupid fucker!’ Gloria Tandy shouted.

‘Mrs Tandy, if you interrupt again I’m going to request that we find an alternative appropriate adult. Do you understand?’

Gloria Tandy crimped her mouth shut, tears standing in her eyes. She was heartbroken, Janet could tell, beneath the swearing and shouting she was devastated that she was losing her son.

Janet spoke to Connor. ‘Earlier today you shot and injured a serving police officer. Why did you do that?’

‘She lied to me, she was messing with me.’

‘And you admit to killing Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi?’

‘Yes.’

‘And can you tell me why you did that?’

‘To show him, my dad, to show him and everyone. He wouldn’t let me go with him, said I was still a little kid, no guts, no balls, probably a fucking pansy. Get back in touch again when my balls had dropped. And he hated them, coons, Pakis, immigrants. I’m not scared,’ Connor said. ‘I proved it.’

By killing two young people in cold blood? Two kids who fled God knows what horrors at home to eke out a living squatting in the unforgiving cold of a damp and desolate northern warehouse. Clinging to survival. Janet’s eyes burned. She blinked and took a breath, then thanked him for his cooperation. His solicitor would be informed of any further developments but in all likelihood they would be moving to press charges.

‘What about me dad?’ he said.

‘I can’t discuss that,’ said Janet.

‘He’ll be back inside, that’s right, isn’t it?’ Gloria Tandy said. ‘And none of this need have happened but for you. He’ll be inside and so will you, won’t he?’ she said to Janet.

Janet didn’t answer. Her silence said it all.

Gill was giving a speech to the press and media. She had rehearsed it until near word perfect so she could look at the cameras for most of the time.

‘This afternoon Manchester Metropolitan Police charged a fourteen-year-old boy, who cannot be named for legal reasons, with the murders of Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi. I would like to thank the community of Manorclough for their help and to thank my officers for their dedication and persistence’ but not their pigheaded reckless fuckwittery ‘in pursuing this case. The recent murders of Richard Kavanagh and Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi we believe to be hate crimes and if those charged are convicted they can expect to face longer sentences as a result. We all have the right to live safely in our community. Attacking another person for no other reason than a dislike of that person’s ethnicity, sexuality, subculture or lifestyle is an appalling crime and will be investigated with the utmost rigour and determination – as will any murder in our town. Our thoughts are with the relatives and friends of the victims. Thank you.’