John Harvey: A Darker Shade of Blue

‘Damn!’ Helen smiled back. She liked flirting with him; it was something they did. Somehow it helped them along; kept them, Helen sometimes thought, from ever getting close to the real thing.

‘You want to tell me your news?’ Will said.

‘You know that expanse of water the other side of Ely? Close to the railway line?’

‘I think so.’

‘These kids were out there the day Fraser was killed. Late morning. They’d taken a makeshift toboggan, thinking the water might have frozen over, but it hadn’t. Just a little at the edges maybe, but that’s all. Not worth taking any risks; near the centre it’s pretty deep.’

Will nodded, waiting, perched on the edge of a desk. She’d get to it in her own time.

‘While they were there, the Nottingham train went through. They didn’t know it was that, but I’ve checked. One of the boys swears he saw someone throwing an object from the window between the carriages. Just for a moment, he thought it looked like a gun.’

‘How old? This kid, how old is he?’

‘Nine? Ten?’

‘You think he’s any way reliable?’

‘According to his mother, he’s not the kind to make things up.’

‘Why’s he only come forward now?’

‘Mentioned it to his mum at the time. She didn’t think anything of it till she saw something about the investigation on the local news.’

‘You know what the boss is going to say. Divers don’t come cheap.’

‘Not even if they’re our divers?’

‘Not even then.’

‘Think you can persuade him?’

‘What else have we got?’

‘So far? Diddly-squat.’

‘Why don’t I tell him that?’

‘Instant Tanning’ read the sign in the window. ‘Manicure, Pedicure’ in similar lettering below. ‘Top Notch Beauty Salon’ above the door. Lisa was sitting on the step outside, pink tunic, sandals, tights, smoking a cigarette.

Malkin crossed towards her and as he came close she glanced up and then away.

‘Busy?’ Malkin said.

She looked at him through an arc of smoke. ‘Takin’ the piss, right?’

By appearance she was a mixture of African-Caribbean and Chinese, but her accent was East Midlands through and through, Notts rather than Derby.

‘Lisa?’

‘Yeah?’

Malkin squatted low on his haunches, face close to hers. ‘You used to know Wayne Michaels.’

‘So what if I did?’

‘I’m sorry. About what happened.’

‘Yeah, well. Been and gone now, i’n’t it?’

‘You’ve moved on.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Good.’

Something about his voice made her feel ill at ease. ‘Look, this place.’ She looked up at the sign. ‘It’s what it says it is, you know. Not one of them massage parlours, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘Not at all. It’s just, if you’ve got the time, I thought we could talk a bit about Wayne? Maybe his mate, Jermaine? You were friendly with both of them, weren’t you?’

Lisa narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re not the police, are you?’

‘Perish the thought.’

‘Not some reporter?’

Malkin shook his head. ‘I used to know Wayne’s father a little, that’s what it is.’

‘Him told you ’bout me, I s’pose, were it?’

‘That’s right.’

Lisa lit a new cigarette from the butt of the last. ‘Got a good twenty minutes till my next, why not?’

There was a pair of divers, borrowed for the occasion from the Lincolnshire force, and they struck lucky within the first hour. Will grateful he could assure his boss there’d be no need for overtime. The weapon was a Glock 17, its bulky stock immediately recognisable. Any serial numbers had, of course, been removed. If they begged and pleaded with the technicians, another twenty-four hours should tell them if it was the gun responsible for Arthur Fraser’s death.

Will and Helen were both parked up at the side of the road, a lay-by off the A10, the Ely to Cambridge road. They were sitting in Will’s car, a faint mist beginning to steam up the insides of the windows.

‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Will said.

‘Most probably.’ A hint of a smile on Helen’s face.

‘This shooting. Nothing to suggest any kind of fight or quarrel. Nothing personal. Every sign of careful planning: preparation. A single shot to the head with a weapon that’s almost certainly clean. A professional job. It has to be.’

‘Someone hired to make a hit on Fraser?’

‘It looks that way.’

‘Then you have to ask why.’

‘And there’s only one answer,’Will said. ‘Sharon Peters.’

Helen nodded. ‘The family, the parents, we should go and talk to them?’

‘Let’s wait,’ Will said. ‘Till tomorrow. Make sure the ballistics match up.’

‘Okay.’

It was warm inside the car. Their arms close but not touching. An articulated lorry went past close enough to rock them in its slipstream. Still neither one of them made a move to go.

Finally, it was Helen who looked at her watch. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting back?’

‘If anything had happened, Lorraine would have called on my mobile.’

‘Even so.’

He left her leaning against the roof of her VW, smoking a cigarette.

When Will arrived home, Lorraine was wandering from room to room, Cowboy Junkies on the stereo, singing quietly along. ‘A Common Disaster’ playing over and over, the track programmed to repeat. To Will, it wasn’t a good omen.

‘Lol?’

‘Huh?’

‘Can we change this?’

‘Change?’

‘The music. Can we…?’

‘I like it.’

Okay, Will thought, go with the flow.

A good few years back, when he and Lorraine had first started going together, she would fetch her little stash from where she kept it upstairs in the bedroom — her dowry, as she called it — and roll them both a joint. Now that he no longer smoked cigarettes and, Will supposed, with this latest promotion, if she ever suggested it, he passed.

Lorraine, he was sure, still partook from time to time, the sweet smell lingering in the corners of the house and in her hair. Maybe, looking at her slight, slow sway, she was stoned right now.

How would that be for the baby, he wondered, if it were so?

Would it make him a cool kid or slightly crazy?

There were some cans of beer in the fridge and he took one and went into the living room and switched on the TV. Lorraine had been vague about dinner, but he thought she was entitled, hormones all over the place like they were. Later he’d phone for a curry or, better still, a Chinese. It was ages since they’d eaten Chinese.

They were in bed before ten thirty, Lorraine set to read a chapter or so of whatever book she had on the go, Will rolling away from her and on to his side, arm raised to shield his eyes from the light.

He must have fallen asleep straight away, because the next thing he knew it was pitch dark and the bed beside him was empty. Lorraine was sitting on the toilet with her nightgown pulled high across her thighs.

‘You all right?’ Anxiety breaking in his voice.

‘Yes. Yes, just woke with this pain.’ She indicated low in her abdomen.

‘But you’re okay? I mean, nothing’s happened?’

‘Nothing’s happened.’

When he bent to kiss her forehead it was damp and seared with sweat. ‘Why don’t you let me get you something? A drink of water? Tea? How about some peppermint tea?’

‘Yes. Peppermint tea. That would be nice.’

He kissed her chastely on the lips and went downstairs.

Back in bed, he found it near impossible to get back to sleep, dozed fitfully and got up finally at five.

Jake was fast off, thumb in his mouth, surrounded by his favourite toys.

Will made coffee and toast and sat at the kitchen table staring out, willing it to get light. At six thirty he gave in and dialled Helen’s number. She answered on the second ring.