‘Kept it in my room.’
‘We searched your house,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I had it on me. You weren’t going to strip-search us,’ he said. A light in his eyes, some cheek, pleasure in tricking the police.
‘And yesterday when shots were fired into your house…’
‘I did that. You had me dad but you didn’t have the gun, so if the gun was used you’d know it wasn’t him that done it.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ Gloria Tandy said, ‘I don’t bleeding believe it. What did you think would happen?’
‘They’d let him go,’ he retorted.
‘He’d broken his terms,’ she yelled, ‘let alone he’d a bagful of shooters.’
‘But that’s not murder,’ he said, ‘he wouldn’t go down for murder.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Janet intervened.
‘But you will, you stupid fucker!’ Gloria Tandy shouted.
‘Mrs Tandy, if you interrupt again I’m going to request that we find an alternative appropriate adult. Do you understand?’
Gloria Tandy crimped her mouth shut, tears standing in her eyes. She was heartbroken, Janet could tell, beneath the swearing and shouting she was devastated that she was losing her son.
Janet spoke to Connor. ‘Earlier today you shot and injured a serving police officer. Why did you do that?’
‘She lied to me, she was messing with me.’
‘And you admit to killing Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi?’
‘Yes.’
‘And can you tell me why you did that?’
‘To show him, my dad, to show him and everyone. He wouldn’t let me go with him, said I was still a little kid, no guts, no balls, probably a fucking pansy. Get back in touch again when my balls had dropped. And he hated them, coons, Pakis, immigrants. I’m not scared,’ Connor said. ‘I proved it.’
By killing two young people in cold blood? Two kids who fled God knows what horrors at home to eke out a living squatting in the unforgiving cold of a damp and desolate northern warehouse. Clinging to survival. Janet’s eyes burned. She blinked and took a breath, then thanked him for his cooperation. His solicitor would be informed of any further developments but in all likelihood they would be moving to press charges.
‘What about me dad?’ he said.
‘I can’t discuss that,’ said Janet.
‘He’ll be back inside, that’s right, isn’t it?’ Gloria Tandy said. ‘And none of this need have happened but for you. He’ll be inside and so will you, won’t he?’ she said to Janet.
Janet didn’t answer. Her silence said it all.
Gill was giving a speech to the press and media. She had rehearsed it until near word perfect so she could look at the cameras for most of the time.
‘This afternoon Manchester Metropolitan Police charged a fourteen-year-old boy, who cannot be named for legal reasons, with the murders of Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi. I would like to thank the community of Manorclough for their help and to thank my officers for their dedication and persistence’ but not their pigheaded reckless fuckwittery ‘in pursuing this case. The recent murders of Richard Kavanagh and Victor Tosin and Lydia Oluwaseyi we believe to be hate crimes and if those charged are convicted they can expect to face longer sentences as a result. We all have the right to live safely in our community. Attacking another person for no other reason than a dislike of that person’s ethnicity, sexuality, subculture or lifestyle is an appalling crime and will be investigated with the utmost rigour and determination – as will any murder in our town. Our thoughts are with the relatives and friends of the victims. Thank you.’
Back inside the police station, the incident room was deserted. Plenty more to be done but nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. A wave of exhaustion made Gill dizzy. A good night’s sleep, that was what she needed, something decent to eat, an hour of telly, a chat with Sammy. Some routine. The team would be in the pub. She’d show her face, important to be there celebrating their success, to be part of it.
32
Just Rachel and Janet left now. The lads had stayed for a drink then gone to a pub down the road to watch the match. Mitch had gone home after showing his face. He had a young family and his work meant he missed out on a lot of the domestic stuff. He made up for it whenever he could.
‘He wasn’t thick, was he?’ Janet said. ‘Connor. Not like Noel and Neil Perry. He can’t have thought he’d get away with it.’
‘Search me,’ Rachel said. You could drive yourself mad trying to work out why people did the stupid stuff they did.
‘That hatred, living with it day in day out. It’s easier to fix on that, to blame other people, outsiders, isn’t it?’ Janet said.
‘What for?’
‘For everything that you hate about your miserable little life. But it’s like a split, isn’t it?’ Janet said. ‘He’s matey enough with Victor and Lydia, hangs around there. Probably likes the attention, he’s only fourteen, they’re dealing. Victor trusts him enough to hand him the gun, then it’s like someone’s flipped a switch. Bang bang. What did he think would happen? His dad pats him on the head and trains him up in the family business. No comeback, no repercussions. Did he think we wouldn’t catch him?’
Rachel thought of Dom – it was the same, doing idiotic stuff, no thought of the consequences. Decisions that ended with you banged up with the other lowlifes and hard men, the nutters and the knob-heads. Going slowly demented staring at the walls of a cell twenty-three hours a day.
‘He made a decision, a bad one. He pays the price. We all have to live with what we’ve done.’ Rachel drained her glass.
‘You should go,’ Janet said. ‘Sean’ll forget what you look like.’
‘He’ll be watching the game. No rush. Anyway, shouldn’t you be at home with Elise and everything?’
‘I should. I will. Soon.’
The door flew open and there stood Godzilla, a raptor waiting to pounce.
‘Oh, fuck,’ Rachel murmured, ‘now what’ve we done?’
She came over to them, stopped by the table. ‘The others gone?’
‘Yes,’ Janet said.
‘You’re still here?’ She fixed her beady eyes on Rachel. ‘Could have sworn I sent you home. So, you’ll have another?’
‘Maybe I should get going…’ Rachel reached for her bag, felt the tug of pain in her arm.
‘You’ll not have me drinking alone?’ Her Maj said brightly.
‘Course not,’ Janet said, ‘mine’s a white.’
‘Red, ta,’ said Rachel, giving in.
Godzilla nodded. ‘Chief super’s calmed down,’ she said. ‘Violent crime stats are through the roof, our place in the league tables may be shot to buggery but our clear-up rate is, as of today, bloody amazing.’
Rachel waited for the sting in the tail; it didn’t come. Instead the boss said, ‘You all right mixing red wine with whatever the hospital’s pumped you full of?’
‘Constitution of an ox,’ Janet said.
‘What is an ox anyway?’ said Rachel.
‘Half horse, half donkey?’ Janet said, like she wasn’t sure.
‘That’s an ass,’ the boss said, ‘which is more like it. Not known for their forward planning and risk assessment.’
Bingo.
‘An ox,’ Her Maj went on, ‘is cattle, a castrated adult male. Peanuts?’
They both shook their heads and she made for the bar.
Rachel turned to look at Janet, whose eyes were twinkling.
‘Cheeky bitch,’ Rachel said. Janet laughed and that set Rachel off. It hurt to laugh.
‘Do you think we’re forgiven?’ Janet said.
‘You, maybe. Me? Never.’
‘Oh, go on, look at how she stood up for you when all that stuff with Dominic went down. She knows you’re a good copper, could be great. Just need some fine tuning…’
‘I’d kick you if I wasn’t in such bloody agony,’ Rachel said.
Godzilla came back in no time, tray in hand. Deposited the drinks and sat herself down. Raised her glass. Rachel and Janet did the same.