Helen Black - Damaged Goods

‘Bugger that. She needs a solicitor and preferably one with her head screwed on.’

Miriam’s tone worried Lilly. The beloved and almost soporific calm had vanished, and in its place was something Lilly didn’t recognise, at least not in Miriam.

‘Is Kelsey all right?’ Lilly asked.

‘Wake up, girl, they’re saying she did it. The police think Kelsey murdered her mum.’

* * *

Lilly was always pleased to see Jack. Among the myriad professionals she worked with in child protection he could be relied upon to let common sense prevail and, like her, see the funny side of things.

They’d met on Christmas Eve, five or maybe six years ago, when Jack nicked one of her clients for stealing three tins of Roses from Woolies. The kid had denied it even when Jack played the CCTV footage showing the tiny figure tottering out of the door, his mountain of chocolate swaying precariously, his Santa hat askew.

As Lilly began to fear ever leaving the station, Jack had sent the kid packing with a telling off and a fiver.

Since then their paths had crossed so often they felt like old friends.

It didn’t hurt that he looked so good either. Tall and thin with the dress sense of Boris Johnson wasn’t every woman’s dream, but Jack’s thick dark hair, perfect skin and soulful eyes did it for Lilly. A mild flirtation with a handsome man eased the endless hours waiting in courtrooms. Harmless, yet highly effective.

He greeted her warmly, but they both understood that the gravity of the situation made their usual banter inappropriate.

‘What’s the story, Jack?’ she asked.

Jack slouched in the door frame, his battered leather jacket thrown over his left shoulder, the collar hooked under his thumb. ‘We need a word with Kelsey.’

Lilly smiled. If anyone could play things down it was Jack. The Irish melody of his voice lent itself to a light mood.

‘No can do. She swallowed a bottle of bleach and her mouth is burnt to shit, she won’t be able to speak for a few weeks.’

‘She can write her answers,’ he reasoned.

‘Is that any way to conduct an interview with a traumatised fourteen-year-old kid?’ she asked.

Jack sighed. He’d obviously anticipated this line of attack. ‘Not my call, Lilly.’

When he said her name it sounded like a song and she had to fight the urge to plant a kiss squarely on his lips.

‘Don’t talk rubbish. You’ve got enough clout at the nick to stop some smart arse in CID from hounding children,’ she said.

‘This is a murder investigation, Lilly, no one’s interested in my opinion,’ he replied.

It was Lilly’s turn to sigh, and Jack seemed to take this as confirmation that she knew it was futile to argue.

‘This whole thing will be less painful if you cooperate,’ he said, his eyes shining not with triumph but with relief at Lilly’s apparent acquiescence.

She pushed past him and went inside. ‘Bullshit.’

Lilly opened the bedroom door. Kelsey was sitting in exactly the same position Lilly had left her almost twenty-four hours earlier. It was if the child hadn’t moved. Lilly felt again the enormity of the situation. How can you represent a kid who can’t tell you anything? Avoidance tactics were her best bet.

‘Kelsey, this is Jack McNally. He’s a copper.’ Lilly flashed a charming smile. ‘He wants to ask you some questions.’

Jack returned the smile. His voice was low and deliberate. ‘That’s right. I’ll drive you to the station myself.’

‘So you’ll need to get a psychiatrist,’ Lilly said.

‘What?’

Lilly shrugged as if her proposal were obvious. ‘There must be a question mark over Kelsey’s stability and whether she’s able to sit through an interview.’

‘On what basis do you say that?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I don’t know – perhaps because Kelsey drank a bottle of bleach a couple of days ago and she’s just been told her mother’s been murdered.’

Jack stiffened. ‘Are you saying you won’t allow an interview to take place until she’s been certified fit?’

‘Not at all. You know as well as I do that I can’t stop you doing anything. I’d just be surprised if an experienced child protection officer like yourself would speak to a juvenile before assuring himself that to do so wouldn’t be harmful.’

‘A few questions aren’t going to hurt,’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’

Lilly glanced at the miserable creature sat at the end of her bed. Her head was buried in her chest, the crown, thick with dandruff, the only thing visible. Jack had walked right into this one.

‘Has she said or done anything to lead you to believe that now is a good time, Jack?’

‘I’ll call the Gov.’

Ten minutes later, Lilly stirred a coffee and placed it in front of Jack. ‘What did he say?’

‘We can’t get a psychiatrist today.’

Lilly already knew that the official police shrink was in court giving evidence on one of her other cases and that his assistant was sitting one of her final exams.

Jack gave a half-smile. ‘We managed an educational psychologist.’

‘Totally inappropriate,’ Lilly said.

‘Figured you’d say that and told the DI to send him home.’

Lilly couldn’t resist a smile but could see Jack’s patience was wearing thin.

‘This isn’t a game, Lilly,’ he said.

‘No shit.’

He fixed her with a hostile glare. ‘Grace was found in her flat by another prostitute hoping to borrow some money. The poor girl’s still in shock.’

‘Cause of death?’ Lilly asked.

‘Her head had been smashed and her body was covered in knife wounds,’ he said.

‘There goes my OD theory.’

Jack drew himself up. Lilly’s attempts at humour were patently annoying him. He rummaged in his bag, pulled out the scene-of-crime photos and slapped them onto the table between them.

‘Whoever did this is dangerous.’

It was Lilly’s turn to be annoyed. The attempt to get her on side was a parlour trick.

‘Goodness, Officer, now you’ve shown me what a monster my client is I’ll advise her to confess.’

‘No one’s looking for a confession,’ he said.

‘Of course you are, Jack. You’ve got no evidence.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘If you’d anything strong to say Kelsey did that,’ Lilly gestured to the photographs, ‘none of us would be sitting here. The DI would have nicked her himself and the first I’d have heard about it was when she got her phone call from the station.’

‘You’re a cynic,’ he said.

‘I’m a realist,’ she replied. ‘Kelsey’s a suspect for no other reason than she’s family and has a motive. The fact that the DI sent you tells me the interview is important. Softly softly catchy monkey. If Kelsey squeals there’s to be no room for me to object because you’ll need to rely on it.’

Jack’s shoulders drooped as the truth of what she was saying hit him. His naivety reminded Lilly that he was one of the good guys.

‘You should use your influence to put an end to this,’ she said.

‘Like I said, it isn’t my case.’

Lilly stared out of the window into the darkness surrounding The Bushes and wondered if the world beyond was still sizzling. Jack was right, this wouldn’t be the end of it. The police had their hooks into Kelsey and would keep picking until something began to unravel. It would be virtually impossible to find a foster placement for Kelsey with this hanging over her.

Lilly was exhausted and on the brink of a killer headache. She pulled a plastic bottle of warm water from her bag. Sam would be starving when she collected him but cooking was not an option. It was strictly fish and chips after a day like today.

Miriam’s voice pervaded the unit. Her lilting accent had returned, the anxiety of earlier banished, for now at least. Didn’t the woman ever get tired of it all? Lilly would ask her one day, but not today.