Steven Dunne - Deity

‘Russell had a tough time of it, didn’t he?’ ventured Brook. ‘All those different schools, all those bullies. .’

Yvette smiled sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘He did. He was so vulnerable. He just didn’t know how to talk to people.’

‘The other kids called him names?’ asked Noble.

‘Yes. They called him a bastard and they told him I was a whore. They said he was an orphan because his dad didn’t want him.’ The tears rolled down her cheeks.

‘What happened when he was fifteen?’ asked Brook softly.

Yvette wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean something happened to him. He changed.’

Yvette’s mouth dropped open. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Yes, you do. He stopped being a victim, Yvette.’

‘And started becoming the aggressor,’ chipped in Noble, pulling out the relevant documents. ‘Ruthin Road High School, Connor’s Quay College, Holywell College. .’

‘Russell was excluded from all these schools and colleges for cyber-bullying. You came here for a clean break before Russell could exhaust all his chances. The move to Derby College was a last chance for Russell, wasn’t it?’ Eventually Yvette nodded. ‘So what happened?’

The tears welled again, accompanied by a bitter smile. ‘You’re right. He changed.’

‘How?’

‘Rusty just wouldn’t take it any more so he took a stand, he lashed out. It’s not his fault. He’s a good person. Why are you asking me all these questions? Why aren’t you finding my Rusty?’

‘Because maybe he’s tried to bully someone else, the wrong person, and they’ve taken matters into their own hands,’ said Noble. ‘Could that be possible?’

‘No. He stopped all that. I bought him the camcorder. He’s got a hobby now. He loves his films. He can spend a whole day filming and playing it back on his laptop. He doesn’t need to lash out any more.’

‘Do you think he might have filmed the wrong person, seen something he wasn’t supposed to see and got himself in trouble?’

‘I don’t know. He loved filming. And sometimes people would get angry when he stuck the camcorder in their faces.’

‘Anyone in particular?’

‘No. It was never anything serious. Just annoying.’

‘Until he filmed Becky Blake in her bedroom,’ said Brook. ‘I assume you watched the news.’

Yvette’s head dropped. ‘You don’t know that was him.’

‘Have you seen the film?’

‘Yes.’

‘Someone filmed Wilson jumping into the river as well,’ said Brook. ‘Someone with a camcorder.’

Yvette’s head shot up and a hand went to her mouth. ‘Was that shown on the website?’

‘Not yet. But you can see why we’d wonder how you knew we’d found a body.’

‘I told you,’ she mumbled. ‘Someone phoned me.’

‘Who?’

‘I don’t know.’

Brook smiled. It unnerved even Noble. ‘Yes, you do.’

‘I don’t,’ she insisted.

‘What’s Len done to deserve this kind of loyalty?’ said Brook. Her eyes widened and her breathing shortened. ‘So it was Len who rang you.’

‘No, he didn’t ring me,’ she said defiantly. ‘Feel free to check my phone records.’ Then her face hardened. ‘And now I think you’d better leave.’

Brook pulled the BMW into the St Mary’s Wharf car park.

‘Shouldn’t we be going to talk to Len Poole?’ said Noble.

‘Not until we have some idea what’s between the two of them.’

‘You were right about Yvette Thomson,’ said Noble as they stepped out of the car. ‘She’s very attractive.’

‘Did I say that?’

‘Actually, it may have been Alice Kennedy,’ said Noble. ‘But you’re not denying it.’

‘No. She’s very pretty,’ said Brook. They walked to the entrance and pressed their smartcards against the terminal. ‘Did you notice she seemed attracted to you?’

‘She’s got eyes, hasn’t she?’ Noble grinned.

Brook smiled but rolled his eyes. ‘Sorry to cast doubt on your many virtues, John, but I suspect she gives that impression to every man she meets.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Noble.

‘She was the same when I first met her. I think it’s to do with being an orphan. It’s about survival. You use what you have to get by.’

‘And she uses her looks.’ Noble shrugged, not totally convinced by the downgrading of his pin-up status. ‘You didn’t ask her about Wilson.’

‘It’ll keep. If Wilson called to see her after the assault on Kyle, we’ll find out about it soon enough.’

‘What makes you think Wilson went to see her?’

‘Because, like most of the species, he was attracted to her too. Yvette told me he was always calling round.’

‘You don’t think she had anything to do with his death?’

‘Not from the footage we saw or her reaction at the river,’ said Brook. ‘That’s why it’ll keep.’

Sergeant Hendrickson was at the duty desk. But for once, instead of marching hurriedly to the lifts, to Noble’s surprise, Brook ambled over to the counter.

‘Sergeant. Who was on duty this morning when the call came in about the body in the Derwent?’

Hendrickson didn’t answer or approach the counter to speak to Brook. Instead he turned, thin-lipped, towards Noble, who stood behind his DI. Noble made no attempt to fill the awkward silence and, absurdly, the three officers stood motionless, locked into their mute triangle for nearly a minute.

When Brook showed no signs of moving off, Hendrickson managed to croak out a hate-filled, ‘Sir?’

‘You heard me,’ snapped Brook. ‘Chop-chop.’

Hendrickson’s mouth fell open and he again sought Noble’s now amused eyes, this time with an expression that hovered between pain and incredulity.

‘We haven’t got all day, Sergeant,’ chipped in Noble.

In shock, Hendrickson approached the counter with the roster, opened it and moved a finger down the page. ‘Sergeant Grey.’

Brook smiled. ‘There. That wasn’t too hard, was it?’

Noble fought back the grin until they reached the Incident Room where Brook finally gave him the briefest glance of acknowledgement. DS Morton handed Noble a manila folder.

‘Leonard Poole was the Chief Pathologist for Derby Hospitals NHS Trust from 1999 to 2003,’ read Noble. ‘He retired and moved away the same year you moved to Derby.’

‘So he was in Derby for only four years.’

‘He may have worked in Derby for four years but he and his wife actually lived in Uttoxeter. When Len retired they sold up and moved back to Chester.’

Brook raised an eyebrow. ‘That date, 2003 — sound familiar, John?’

Noble glanced up at Brook. A second later he rummaged around on his desk and located a piece of paper, holding it next to the report on Len Poole. ‘Yvette Thomson lived in Uttoxeter from 1999 to 2003.’

‘She did,’ said Brook, without surprise. ‘And I think I know where this is going.’

Noble’s voice picked up speed and volume. ‘He lived in Chester and was a pathologist for the old North Wales NHS Trust until 1998. He left Chester to work for the Shropshire County Primary Care Trust for a year. .’ he looked up at Brook ‘. . moving to Whitchurch. Yvette Thomson left Chester that same year and also moved to Whitchurch. A year later she moved to Uttoxeter — when Len moved there to take the job in Derby.’

‘And when Len retired and moved back to North Wales. .’

‘She moved back there as well.’ Noble smiled with satisfaction. ‘You were right. They’ve known each other for years.’

‘Anything else?’

Noble read some more. ‘The bastard,’ he said on a reflex. ‘Sorry.’

‘What?’

‘He was Chairman of the Board of Trustees for St Asaph’s School for Boys and Girls from 1992 until he moved to Shropshire in 1998.’