Morton: ‘Where will they be displayed? I’ll fix up to get them out of the police store, but where are they going to? I believe Rider was rather obstructive to your offer, Ronnie?’
‘ Well, he had his fucking chance. I’ll have that club in my hands tonight — in a physical sense. Then I’ll exert some more pressure on John and I’m sure he’ll sign everything over to me… and then get convicted.’ He guffawed. ‘Then there’ll be no one in my hair to bug me. Munrow gone for good, Rider gone for life. If you do your job, that is.’
He looked at Morton.
‘ That’s just what Henry Christie is doing for you.’
Rider’s breakfast appeared on a blue plastic plate with a white plastic spoon and red plastic mug of tea. The food was lukewarm, having come all the way down from the canteen. It consisted of congealed beans, a sausage and a rubbery fried egg and one piece of toast which had looked at a grill from about six metres. The tea was hot and sweet, tasted wonderful and he devoured it.
He munched his sausage and took a few measly bites of the toast.
His night’s sleep had been interrupted by the consistent banging of other cell doors and the shouting and bawling of drunks. Being a suspected murderer he was given a cell to himself, for which he was grateful. Had a drunk been thrown in with him, he would have murdered him too.
He was allowed a quick shower and a shave before being banged up again.
A cop pushed a copy of the People through his hatch and Rider thanked him genuinely. Any short escape from boredom was welcome.
He settled down, deciding to read every word.
When the cell door opened a few minutes later he was deep into an article about a show-jumper and a tart.
‘ You’ve got a visitor,’ the gaoler informed Rider.
Breakfast in the Christie household was a chaotic affair. The two girls rushed around as if the house was an obstacle course, both seemingly hyperactive after a good night’s sleep. They were getting ready for riding lessons and moved around in various stages of undress, finally emerging in jodhpurs, boots, whips and hats, ready to go. Kate and Karen volunteered to take them. They went in Donaldson’s Cherokee and the girls were delighted that, at last, they were in a car which complemented their hobby.
The men sighed and stretched out.
‘ Great kids,’ commented Donaldson.
‘ Sell ‘em to you,’ Henry offered. ‘Nahh, they’re brilliant. Not long for you now?’
A smile of satisfaction spread slowly across the American’s face. Fatherhood beckoned and he was a willing participant.
Henry drank the last of his tea and the two men finalised their plans for the day ahead with an agreement to meet or contact each other at 6 p.m.
They shook hands before parting.
‘ Watch your ass,’ Donaldson said. ‘Don’t trust any of the fuckers an inch.’
‘ I won’t.’
They weren’t allowed to touch one another. It was a closed visit. Rider sat on one side of the room with a wall and glass panel in front of him. Isa sat on the other side. A speaker in one corner of the glass allowed them to communicate.
She looked forlorn and helpless and he had a need to reach out and hold her very tightly.
‘ Jacko told me,’ she said in answer to his question.
Rider nodded. ‘I told him not to tell anyone.’
‘ He thought I should know.’
‘ I don’t deserve you,’ Rider said simply.
Her eyes misted over. She tilted her head back but could not prevent a tear rolling down her cheek. ‘I love you, John. I can’t stop loving you because of what you’ve done. I just want you to know that I’m here for you and I’ll wait. Corny, but true. You’re all I’ve wanted for years and I’m not going to let you go.’
He looked away from her quickly. His eyes were unable to level with hers.
‘ I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he babbled. ‘I really screwed up, didn’t I?’
She forced the glimmer of a smile. ‘Yeah, so what’s new?’ she said, but not unkindly. ‘What’s going to happen, John?’
‘ They’re trying to fit me up, but there’s no evidence. I should walk, but you were right. I don’t think Munrow did light that fire.’
‘ Who did?’
‘ Conroy. I was conned by Ron the Con. Munrow didn’t do it; it wasn’t his style. I should’ve realised that. He would have met me face to face. I should’ve listened to you, then maybe we’d still be in bed, reading the Sunday papers… naked.’
‘ Don’t, John,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want to think about it. All I want to do now is help you. How can I do that? How?’
‘ Just do what you said you would. Be there for me. That’s all I need. You’ll pull me through that way.’
Henry walked past Isa as she was leaving the custody office, not knowing who she was, of course. Siobhan was waiting for him, reading through Rider’s custody record.
‘ Ready?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. I’ve got the Duty Inspector to authorise a search of Rider’s flat. We’ll see if we can find the gun there and some authentic evidence. Maybe then there won’t be a need for this charade.’
Siobhan had already booked out a set of sealed tapes.
‘ Interview first,’ she said.
The morning custody officer walked into the office. ‘The duty solicitor rang in about ten minutes ago to say she would be delayed about an hour.’
‘ Thanks, Jim.’
‘ In that case, we might as well have a brew together, Henry,’ Siobhan suggested.
‘ I think not,’ he replied.
Henry took the opportunity to approach the Patrol Sergeant who, amazingly, rustled up four bobbies to help him search Rider’s flat. Henry knew it would be a waste of time, because if Rider did have a gun, or a ski mask, or bloodstained clothing, it would be gone by now. Rider was no fool. But the motions had to be gone through.
Prior to setting off, Henry went to his desk and found his extendable baton which he fixed on his belt in its plastic, quick-draw pouch. Just in case there was any resistance at the Rider household.
The little team set off in a personnel carrier, with Henry sat in the back together with two of the Constables. The other two were upfront, one driving.
Siobhan ran out of the back door of the station to see the van drawing away. She shouted something which Henry could not hear, but his lip reading skills were advanced enough to know that she was questioning his parentage. He gave her a little wave.
They were at the basement flat within minutes and went en masse to the door at the front of the steps. Henry knocked. He was looking forward to breaking the door down, just to vent some of his suppressed anger.
There were footsteps inside.
The door opened.
Henry immediately recognised the woman as being the one he’d walked past in the custody office not many minutes before.
‘ Yes?’ she said suspiciously.
Henry dangled an A5-size form in front of her eyes. ‘I’m DS Christie from Blackpool police station. This is an authority to search these premises — by force if necessary.’
She peered closely at the form, then closed the door.
Henry was about to exclaim, ‘Yes!’ in anticipation, and reach for his baton — which he had yet to use — when the chain slid back and the door opened fully.
‘ Come in,’ she said wearily. ‘You won’t find anything.’
Henry stood by to let the PCs pass him and commence the search.
‘ You his wife or something?’
‘ Some hope,’ Isa said. ‘Do you want a brew? I’ve just boiled the kettle.’
Surprised by the hospitality, Henry said yes. House searches were usually met with resistance, not acquiescence. They were often battles and quite good sport.
She led him into the kitchen and flicked the kettle switch again.
‘ And you are?’ he asked.
‘ Why?’
‘ I need to make a record of people present during the search.’ It was true, he did.