Friendless Lane Page 16

‘No comment.’

  Jack nodded as if it were all the same to him and went back to his box file. He pulled out a photograph of the entrance of Orlando’s.

  ‘Do you know this establishment?’ he asked.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘It’s a gentlemen’s club in Tye Cross.’ Jack gave a tight laugh. ‘Though I don’t think you’d find too many gentlemen inside.’ He pressed the pad of his thumb over the image of the window, obliterating the name and the stupid top hat. ‘Is it somewhere you’re familiar with, Mr Hussain?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Are you saying you’ve never visited this club?’ Jack asked.

  Jafari sighed. ‘He’s not saying he has and he’s not saying he hasn’t. He’s saying no comment.’

  ‘You see, Gemma worked in this club, Mr Hussain,’ said Jack.

  ‘I thought she was a schoolgirl,’ said Jafari.

  ‘Unfortunately Gemma’s life was not an easy one.’

  ‘You mean your victim was a stripper,’ said Jafari with a laugh.

  ‘She isn’t my victim,’ Jack retorted. ‘And yes, she was a stripper. So what? Does that make it okay?’ He turned to Hussain. ‘Is that an opinion you share? That girls who work in places like this don’t matter?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Do you think girls like Gemma deserve everything they get?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘Do you think she’s not even worth the effort of answering a few simple questions?’

  ‘No comment.’

  Jack retrieved the still of Hussain’s car from the CCTV footage. ‘Righty-o, here’s something you might have less trouble with. Is this your car?’

  Hussain looked down at the photograph. ‘No comment.’

  Jack laughed. ‘Come on now. The DVLA have confirmed that this car is registered to you. Even you can’t argue with that, can you?’

  Hussain’s throat moved as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He was needled.

  ‘Now here’s the thing about Tye Cross,’ said Jack. ‘A lot of dodgy people come and go there.’

  ‘Your victim included,’ said Jafari.

  Jack narrowed his eyes. He absolutely was not going to lose it on film, but no way was he going to let that one slide either.

  ‘Mr Jafari, I’ve been very patient with you and played along with your silly little games, but I will not allow you to speak about a dead wee child in this manner. You’ve demanded respect be shown to your client, which I think I have done, yet you can’t show any respect to a murder victim?’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Shame on you.’

  ‘Have you finished?’ Jafari snarled.

  ‘To be honest, I haven’t even started,’ said Jack, delving into his box file and pulling out three pictures from the autopsy. ‘These are the injuries Gemma sustained prior to her death.’ He put them before Hussain. One, two, three. ‘As you can see, a sustained and brutal attack.’ He slapped the photograph of Gemma’s wrists. ‘Here’s where she was tied up and kept prisoner for three days.’ Then the photograph of her head and neck. ‘And here are the marks left after she was strangled.’ He stared hard at Jafari and lifted a finger towards the camera. ‘So if you have any more smart remarks about my victim, please be my guest and let’s get them recorded.’

  [#]

  There was only one thing worse than taking drugs and that was not taking drugs. Kelsey was already bored with it.

  She’d left the substance abuse team armed with a ton of leaflets and a feeling of firm resolve. Trouble was, leaflets and resolve weren’t much of a replacement for getting off your tits.

  She knew she wouldn’t be able to go cold turkey. No way. She’d been forced to do it a couple of times in custody and had seriously considered topping herself. Cutting down was the best way to go, but even that was proving a nightmare.

  She’d told herself that she wouldn’t do anything until five o’clock, but by three she was climbing the walls, unable to think about anything except the feel of a pipe between her lips, the heat of the lighter on her face as she sparked up a rock. She’d knocked back a Valium, hoping to sleep for a few hours. Of course all she’d done was roll around on the bed, sweating and cramping. Worse, the Valium had clouded her mind so that she kept forgetting why she felt like shit and just assumed she was dying, clutching the sheets in terror and confusion.

  When Talisa called round, Kelsey had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. The leaflets had been full of advice about avoiding drug-using friends and acquaintances, but fuck that for a game of soldiers. Who else did she know?

  ‘Jesus,’ said Talisa. ‘You look like death warmed up.’

  ‘I’m trying to cut down,’ said Kelsey.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m going into rehab,’ said Kelsey. ‘I’ve got to do a reduction programme.’

  ‘Why?’

  Kelsey sighed. Jabba had said it would be better to do the reduction, but right now she couldn’t imagine how it would help if it just meant that every second was going to be torture before she got in there.

  ‘You don’t want a rock, then?’ Talisa pulled out her pipe.

  Kelsey looked at the time. She could have one now, just one, then that would be it for the day.

  [#]

  Three rocks later, they’d taken some brown for the comedown. Kelsey had allowed herself a quick smoke as part of her programme, but Talisa had injected a nice big dollop. Watching Talisa still crashed out, oblivious, her chest rising and falling peacefully, Kelsey wished she’d let herself have a dig. Now there was no gear left and she felt edgy.

  She dragged herself from the sofa to the sink in the kitchen and ran the tap until the water was cold, then put her wrists under the flow. Her mum had always done this, saying it calmed her down when she was stressed. Somewhere along the line Kelsey had picked up the habit.

  She needed to get out of the flat, but where could she go?

  Not to work. For one thing, all the girls were users, and even if Reggie didn’t allow drugs in the club, it didn’t stop everyone talking about it. For another thing, if she hadn’t had a good bit of gear before she arrived, there was no chance she could dance and chat up the punters. For that, she needed to be stoned. Not so stoned that she couldn’t operate, but stoned enough that she didn’t smash in their filthy faces with a pint glass.

  She needed to talk to someone about how she was feeling. The leaflets Jabba had given her had numbers to call. Helplines and that. But how could a complete stranger understand what she was going through?

  She removed her hands from the water, dried them on a tea towel and reached for her phone.

  Chapter 8

  You don’t know what to do.

  Everything’s so confusing.

  Mum’s downstairs; you can hear her pacing up and down. When Raz brought you back home you thought she’d fly at you, asking what the hell had happened at the police station, but she didn’t. Instead, she went straight on the phone.

  Oh God. Things are just getting worse and worse.

  Raz is supposed to be your boyfriend. He calls you his girl and even says he loves you. But he’s done such horrible things to you.

  Back at that house, he left you with Cal again.

  Cal was bad enough when you’d had a stomach full of vodka, but when you were virtually sober and you could properly take him in, it made you want to cry.

  He’s even older than Raz and his skin is covered in craters where he must have had really bad chickenpox or acne. He talked constantly like you’re meant to be super-interested, but all you could think about is those disgusting photos on your phone.

  ‘I need to go home,’ you told him.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ He pulled a tin from his pocket. Inside were Rizlas, tobacco and a block of hash. ‘I only just got here.’

  ‘I’ve been here too long. My mum will be worried.’

  He looked puzzled and pulled out two papers, running the end of his tongue along the sticky side to glue
them together. It made you feel sick.

  ‘See, I don’t think she can be too bothered.’ He sprinkled tobacco into the Rizla. ‘I mean, she lets you stay out late and she lets you drink, don’t she?’ He pulled out a lighter and wafted the lump of resin back and forth on top of the flame. ‘She even lets you do puff.’

  ‘She doesn’t like it,’ you told him.

  He shrugged and crumbled some of the softened hash into the joint, then put the block back in his tin. On the lid you could read the words ‘Kendal Mint Cake’. It must have been a really small cake to fit in the tin.

  ‘Yeah, but she doesn’t actually do anything about it.’ He twisted the end and lit the joint. The smell of smoke filled the air. It made you cough. ‘There’s no way I’d let any daughter of mine go running round the place. We just don’t let our girls act like that.’

  He handed you the joint and you took it. You don’t even know why. Your mind was already mashed up.

  ‘No one’s looking out for you,’ he said. ‘No one cares enough.’

  You wanted to tell him that your mum cares and she says it, like, a thousand times a day. You feel bad now that sometimes you tell her to shut the fuck up or whatever.

  ‘You need to think about these things,’ said Cal. ‘Don’t be so stupid.’

  You wanted to tell him that Mum won’t let anyone use that word about you. How she went completely postal when Leah said something as a joke.

  When you went to St Margaret’s, no one ever said it either. Mrs Thomas, the learning support coordinator, used to call you special and draw smiley faces at the bottom of your work. Sometimes, when you’d tried really hard, she might peel off a gold star and stick it on your jumper.

  It was all different at Field High. Everyone called the kids in the additional needs unit names and threw spit balls at them. Then Leah and the rest of them would get their own back, waiting in the toilets, pushing their heads down the bog, calling them ‘snobby cunts’.

  Mum said you should try not to get involved, but that wasn’t an option. You had to choose a side or spend every day getting your head kicked in by both of them.

  Cal moved closer so his shoulder touched yours. God, he made your skin crawl.

  ‘Why don’t you try being a bit more friendly?’ he said

  ‘I need the toilet.’ You sprang to your feet. ‘I’m dying for a wee.’

  ‘Be quick,’ he said.

  You nodded and almost ran from the room.

  In the toilet, you pressed your forehead against the door. You wanted to stay in there, but there wasn’t a lock.

  You press your head like that again, only this time against the door to your bedroom. You wish that everybody and everything would just disappear. Like in a magic spell or something.

  You wish you could just stay here. That it would all sort itself out.

  But you know it won’t. You know Raz will call or text and that you will go to him.

  What other choice is there?

  [#]

  Lilly’s phone bleeped to alert her to another text. She knew it would be from Sam.

  I’m calling Dad.

  She sighed. It wasn’t fair to dump Alice on him like this, but Jack was going to get into hot water if he interviewed Hussain without this information. Then again, Jack was an adult and Sam was just a kid. She could hear the sound of juggling balls hitting the floor.

  She was opening the door to leave the station when her phone rang.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m on my way home now. You don’t need to call Dad.’

  ‘Where are you, Lilly?’ It wasn’t Sam.

  Lilly cursed herself for not checking caller ID. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘It’s Kelsey.’

  Kelsey? What did she want at this time?

  ‘I’m a bit busy right now,’ said Lilly. ‘At the police station, in the middle of things, you know?’

  It wasn’t a lie. She was at the nick and she was in the middle of something; just not work.

  ‘I need to speak to someone.’ Kelsey sounded desperate. ‘Just for a minute or two.’

  Lilly had to get back to Sam and Alice.

  ‘I don’t know who else to call.’ Kelsey began to cry. ‘You’re the only person I could think of.’

  Lilly felt her resolve begin to evaporate.

  [#]

  ‘I think we need to suspend this interview.’ Jack looked from Hussain to Jafari and back to Hussain. ‘I’m sure you need to discuss how to proceed from here.’ He left the pictures of Gem’s dead body on the table. ‘Because I’m going to come back soon and ask you about every date and time that your car was seen coming into and out of Tye Cross, including the night when the victim was last seen alive.’

  He stood and reached behind him to turn off the camera.

  ‘You are seriously going to regret this,’ said Jafari.

  Jack nodded and smiled.

  ‘I’m going to bring you down,’ said Jafari.

  ‘Not if I get in first,’ Jack replied and left the room, letting the door slam behind him.

  Back in the custody area, two bodies in uniform were booking in a girl in her late teens. She was so drunk she was swaying as if aboard a ship. There was a rip in her leggings from thigh to shin and she was wearing only one trainer, the other foot covered in a sodden and filthy sock. Where was the other trainer? Jack knew better than to ask.

  ‘I ain’t fucking done nothing,’ she shouted. ‘Nothing at all, you bastards.’

  The custody sergeant smiled. ‘That’s what they all say.’

  ‘Do you think this is fucking funny?’ The girl lurched at him. ‘Do you think this is a fucking …’ She lost her footing and crashed into the desk, catching her chin. ‘Fuck.’

  Everyone jumped backwards as blood spurted from the wound.

  ‘Fucking hell.’ She put her hand to her chin, but blood poured through her fingers and down her chest. ‘Do something, you fucking arseholes.’

  ‘Can someone get the FME?’ the custody sergeant shouted. ‘I think he’s still in the medical room.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Jack.

  He hurried away from the commotion and stuck his head around the door of the medical room.

  ‘We’ve a wee problem in the custody area, Doc.’

  The doctor smiled wearily. God knows how long he’d been stuck at the nick.

  ‘Some kid’s cut her chin open,’ said Jack. ‘There’s a hell of a lot of claret.’

  The doctor pulled himself to his feet, grabbed a pair of latex gloves and headed towards the noise. By the time Jack got there, the girl was lying on her back on a bench, a towel pressed to her face. The doctor lifted it gently and wrinkled his nose.

  ‘A and E, I’m afraid.’

  ‘A and fucking what?’ the girl screamed.

  ‘Accident and Emergency,’ said the doctor. ‘That needs stitches.’

  ‘This is your fucking fault.’ The girl pointed at the custody sergeant. ‘I’ll sue you.’

  ‘Course you will,’ said the custody sergeant.

  ‘I’ll take you to fucking court.’

  The custody sergeant waved a form. ‘Fill this in, darling. Make a formal complaint.’

  The girl roared in anger and fell off the bench, hitting her head on the floor. Everyone sucked in their breath. The girl threw up. Green vomit mixed in with the puddles of blood. What in the name of God had she been drinking? The smell was disgusting.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Jack and made for the door before he started retching himself.

  As he keyed in the code on the pad, the custody sergeant called out to him.

  ‘By the way, Jack, someone called Lilly Valentine is here for you. Says it’s urgent.’

  [#]

  Kelsey fell through the entrance of the police station and crumpled into Lilly’s arms like a used tissue. She sobbed and shook against Lilly’s chest. The hard-as-nails carapace had well and truly cracked, revealing something soft and vulnerable. The ferocity of it shocked Li
lly. Kelsey hadn’t wept like this when Gem died. Hell, she hadn’t wept like this when they’d carted her off to prison for killing her own mother.

  ‘What’s happened, love?’ Lilly asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I can’t do it, Lilly,’ Kelsey replied. ‘I can’t carry on no more.’

  Lilly could smell Kelsey’s hair. A chemical odour that was almost minty, but not as fresh, and caught in the back of the throat: crack cocaine.

  ‘I wanna be a better person,’ said Kelsey. ‘I wanna live a good life, but I ain’t made that way.’

  Lilly led her to the seating area and pressed her into a metal chair.

  ‘Kelsey Brand,’ she said. ‘I’ve known you a long time and you’re one of the bravest people I know.’

  Kelsey shook her head. ‘I ain’t, Lilly. I’m scared.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Lilly replied. ‘We all get scared. What marks out the strong ones is that they do it anyway.’

  ‘Do what? I ain’t done nothing.’

  Lilly laughed. ‘You’re still here, aren’t you? No matter what life’s thrown at you, you’ve carried on.’

  ‘It ain’t exactly gone according to plan.’

  Lilly laughed again. ‘True. But at least you had a plan, and you’ve still got one, haven’t you?’

  Kelsey gave a watery smile and wiped her nose on her coat sleeve.

  ‘I want to see the babies,’ she said.

  ‘I know you do.’

  ‘I want to get clean, but it ain’t easy.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Lilly, who found it hard to resist the kids’ selection boxes and often had to replace them twice, sometimes three times, before Christmas Day.

  The inner door opened and Lilly glanced up. It was Jack. He looked puzzled to see Kelsey sitting there.

  ‘Oh thank the Lord.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘I’ve been desperate to catch you before the interview.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I need to tell you something before you speak to Hussain.’

  Jack’s face fell.

  ‘Shit,’ said Lilly. ‘You’ve already done it.’

  Jack seesawed his hand. ‘We got started but he’s gone no comment. I’m letting him stew for a bit before I take him through the CCTV footage night by night by bloody night.’ He couldn’t help smiling. ‘He’ll crack then.’