‘Mrs O’Connor thinks that the two of you will now marry.’
‘It’s early to make long-term plans. I haven’t seen Ros since I heard about Dominic. I expect she’s still reeling from the shock.’ He looked at his two visitors for a long moment, teasing them with the thought that he might be about to cast aside his lover. Then he said, ‘But I expect we shall marry, after a suitable interval. There isn’t any need to formalise things quickly, in modern society. And even Ros’s Holy Mother Church can’t object, now that Dominic’s dead and she’s a free woman.’ He let a little flare of contempt into his tone as he mentioned religion.
‘What do you do for a living, Mr Alderson?’
‘I expect you already know that, through your efficient police research machine. I’m a consultant. I advise on engineering problems.’
‘At present unemployed?’
‘Yes. The work comes and goes. It’s generally quite lucrative, when it’s around. You may have noticed that the country is at present enduring a prolonged recession.’
‘Indeed we have. It’s even affecting the police service. No doubt Mrs O’Connor will be a rich woman now.’
‘Which will be very convenient for me as well as for her. I can’t help that, DCI Peach.’
‘It makes this a very opportune death for both of you.’
Alderson shrugged his slim shoulders and raised his hands palm-upwards for a moment. He allowed himself a small smile, but he didn’t speak. Peach regarded him steadily, then gave a tiny nod to Northcott, who said, ‘You worked in Middlesbrough before you settled in Brunton, I believe.’
‘You believe correctly.’
‘Where you were involved in some unpleasantness.’
Alderson forced a smile. ‘I like that word, “unpleasantness”. It’s very English. The facts are that we were involved in a very nasty industrial exchange. One small firm took business away from another, by means we didn’t like. They undercut us far beyond what you could call fair competition. They were non-union, so we couldn’t even ask the union to help us. We’d no choice but to take matters into our own hands.’
‘With serious injuries resulting.’
‘Broken arms and a couple of broken jaws. Nothing life-threatening. You may have noticed that I walk with a limp. It dates from that time.’
‘But you dealt out more than you received.’
‘How well-informed you seem to be.’ His voice was mocking as he looked from Northcott’s earnest black face to Peach’s round white one. Then his tone hardened. ‘I grew up on a sink estate in Newcastle. I learned to take care of myself early in life.’
Clyde Northcott nodded. ‘So you could have taken care of Dominic O’Connor, when you found that he stood in your way.’
John Alderson looked hard at Northcott. ‘I reckon you could handle yourself, if you needed to. Well, good for you! And yes, I might have harmed Dominic, if it had come to a direct contest between the two of us. But sneaking up on someone the way the papers say this happened isn’t my way. Make a clear note in your little book that I deny all connection with this murder, will you, please?’
Peach said quietly, ‘Where were you on Friday evening, Mr Alderson?’
‘I was here all day on Friday, apart from a visit to my local shop for bread, milk and a paper. And before you ask, I was alone. That’s the way of things, when you’re unemployed and single. Perhaps I would have tried to see Ros, but I knew she was going up to Settle to see her sister.’
‘What car do you drive?’
‘A metallic grey Ford Fiesta. It’s in the garage, if you wish to inspect it. And it was there all day on Friday. I don’t know who killed Dominic O’Connor, but if I have any useful thoughts on the matter I’ll be in touch with you immediately.’
‘The vice squad’s moving in tomorrow on those Asian men who are procuring minors from care homes. We’ve passed on our evidence to them,’ said Lucy Peach to her husband as she dried the dishes.
‘And about time too.’
‘We needed the evidence. We’ve got it now. No one’s going to walk on this one.’
‘Including Linda Coleman, I trust?’ Percy couldn’t get the image of that affluent woman threatening violence to Lucy out of his mind.
‘Including her for certain. She and her cronies have been financing the whole business, setting up the big-money clients and creaming off the best of the profits.’
They watched indifferent television for an hour or so. Eventually his arm stole around her shoulders and she leant contentedly against him, her head on his chest. He loved the clean, outdoor smell of her hair, as well as its softness and its rich red-brown colour. He nuzzled it softly, wishing that he could remove her for ever from all physical danger. ‘How’s your mum?’
‘She’s fine. What brought that up?’
‘Aren’t I allowed to ask after Agnes? She’s my favourite seventy-year-old.’
‘I shouldn’t think there’s a lot of competition for that honour. At least I don’t feel jealous of Mum.’ She ran her fingers along the back of Percy’s hand and up his forearm. ‘Wonder what’s happening to poor old Tommy Bloody Tucker?’
Percy sat upright beside her. ‘Wash your mouth out, Lucy Peach! That name is not to be mentioned in this house. I shall ravish you as a penalty!’
‘Ooer! Am I allowed to join in?’
‘Only if you do that thing you did last week.’
‘All right, then. I’m not sure what it was. I might have to run through my entire repertoire to find the bit you want.’
‘Bloody ’ell, Norah! You know how to turn a man on. Even a man in terminal sexual decline like me.’
He watched from between the sheets whilst she disrobed, producing his usual guttural groans of sexual anticipation as more and more of the delicious flesh was revealed. ‘There’s no call for that!’ said Lucy.
‘It’s expected of me. I can’t let down my audience of one,’ said Percy.
She leapt between the sheets and was immediately enveloped in his arms. She gasped and giggled almost simultaneously. ‘I swear you’ve got more than two hands at times.’
‘Standard issue when you make DCI. But I do appreciate a good handful of buttock.’ He took two handfuls for good measure.
‘Buttock! You make it sound like the fatstock market!’
He kissed her urgently; it seemed the simplest method of shutting her up. Later, much later, he said sleepily, ‘She has some good ideas, your mum. It’s fun trying to produce these grandchildren.’
FOURTEEN
Manchester’s Moss Side is now world-renowned as a dangerous area. Even the police tread carefully there. They do not care to venture into the narrow old streets after dark, unless it be in numbers and on a particular assignment. This raises all sorts of questions about the law of the land and its enforcement. Anarchy is perilously close, when criminal forces control an area and the police tacitly acknowledge it.
Things were different in daylight. Or DCI Peach hoped they were. This was unfamiliar territory for him. He knew all about Moss Side, but it was largely by hearsay. He said to Northcott as the big man drove into the area on Thursday morning, ‘You’ll feel at home here, Clyde. There are more black faces than white ones.’
‘There’s every shade here, sir. And every shade of soul.’ They were silent for the next five minutes, though observant of their surroundings. Percy wasn’t sure whether he was more surprised by the title of ‘sir’ or the mention of soul. Neither was common between the two of them.
There were lace curtains at the windows of number twenty-two, the house they wanted. They were cleaner than they might have expected. ‘My mother had lace curtains at one time. She got rid of them when I was in short trousers,’ Peach told Northcott. The big man didn’t comment. He wasn’t used to seeing Percy Peach nervous: it was almost a first.
Peach decided after close examination that the woman who opened the door was probably around sixty. She looked seventy-five. Her face had the grey pallor of someone who saw little daylight and no open skies; her features carried the shiftiness of a being who kept a constant watch on the other creatures around her. Percy had abandoned his jacket for a sweater and scuffed the usually immaculate toecaps of his shoes to come here, but he was sure from the look in her tired eyes that this woman recognised them as coppers.