Scratch Deeper (24 page)

His nod was slow and measured. ‘A lot of resources have been ploughed into that. A sought-after unit to be in, I imagine.'

She reached for her carry-case. ‘Mr Cooper –'

‘Bob.'

‘Bob, I have a couple of images here. Do you think they might be the people you saw coming out of that alley?'

‘I'll do my best.'

She removed the mugshots of Vassen and his companion.

‘Something told me you weren't really looking for the white guys,' he said, taking the printouts and studying each one. He tapped on Vassen's face. ‘Him. Not sure about the other. He was on the far side of the taller one, who obscured my view.'

She took a deep breath. ‘How sure are you?'

‘Sure as I can be.'

It was them, she thought. It had to be. She directed a quick look out at the mouth of the alley. They had been right there, only hours ago. ‘Mr Coo— Sorry, Bob. There's a takeaway place on the next street. I think the man you identified visits it quite regularly.'

Bob's eyes lit up as he handed the printouts back. ‘You need an observer? I have some experience in that particular field.'

Iona smiled, removing one of her cards as she did so. ‘Then I'm sure you know the drill. If you see either of them, here's my mobile number.'

He took the card and slid it into the pages of his Robin Cook memoirs. ‘My new bookmark.'

‘Obviously, this is all in the strictest—'

‘How aware are the officers who were here before?'

‘Sorry?'

‘In case they come back. I need to know what they know about you.'

‘They have been told I'm from Community Relations, that's all.'

‘Fine,' he replied.

She gathered her things and stood. ‘Don't worry about seeing me out. And thank you, Bob. Call me, whatever time it is.'

‘Understood.'

From the way he was sitting there, Iona suspected he'd already started his vigil. ‘Of course, I don't expect you to pee in a carrier bag.'

‘No?' He clicked his fingers in mock-frustration.

The drive back to Bury's police station took her past the town's library and then a large church. As its bell tolled out, Iona slowed to allow some members of the departing congregation to cross the road. The sign before it said, St Mary's Roman Catholic Church. Sunday Mass was at eleven thirty. On the front step was a figure putting on a flat cap.

She was looking away when the flat cap registered in her mind. Her eyes returned to the church entrance. The man was chatting warmly to the priest. The old guy from the side of the football pitch, she realized, watching as he reached out to clasp the vicar's hand. She moved forward once more, passing some kind of council offices, all the lights off. As she turned the corner, her mobile started to ring and she checked the screen. Wallace. Just seeing his name filled her with revulsion. ‘Hello, sir,' she said, pulling over.

‘Where are you, Detective?'

‘Up in Bury, sir.'

‘You are?' He sounded surprised. ‘Doing what?'

‘Looking into the Mauritian community, as you asked. I've been observing a football match involving that team whose details you gave me.'

‘Anything interesting?'

‘No sign of our pair from outside the library.'

‘How about the mosque? I need intelligence on that place. Have you given it more thought?'

‘Been there, sir. Only for a quick drive past. It seemed pretty quiet.'

If he was pleased, it didn't show in his voice. ‘And now you are . . .?'

‘Heading back to Bury Police Station to liaise with officers there. Another thing; there was a racially aggravated incident last night I'd like to look into.'

‘When will you be back?'

‘Mid afternoon, hopefully?'

‘Update me when you get in, Detective.'

‘Sir.' She dropped the phone and wiped her fingers on the side of the seat.

Back at the station, she found the duty sergeant just coming out of his review meeting, a sheaf of papers in his hand. Motioning to her, he led the way back to the room he'd been in earlier. ‘Any luck?'

‘Some,' Iona replied, stepping inside. ‘Can you arrange for a scene-of-crime unit to drive out to the alley? There's an abandoned takeaway and some blood spatter about halfway along it. It wasn't right for a Community Relations officer to start collecting evidence.'

‘Didn't my officers check that area?'

‘Didn't seem so,' Iona mumbled, aware she'd just shown them up. ‘Weren't they due to follow up on the white van?'

He twisted round and retrieved a piece of paper from the table behind him. ‘A. J. Neill, plumber. There was a website with contact details.'

‘Have they tried ringing?'

‘No – I said to leave it with me for the moment. Sent them to deal with a couple of burglaries out in Freetown.'

‘Thanks, Sergeant. Mind if I make the call?'

‘That's what I thought you'd want to do.'

I
ona listened to the person's mobile phone ring. If you owned a plumbing business, she reasoned, you'd have your phone switched on at weekends, surely? Burst pipes, broken washing machines, that kind of thing. Just when she thought it was about to go to answerphone, the call was picked up.

‘Adrian here.'

The man sounded a lot older than Bob Cooper had made out. ‘A. J. Neill, plumbers?'

‘That's me. What's the problem?'

‘I'm with the Greater Manchester Police.'

‘Police? This isn't a call about plumbing?'

‘No. I'm calling about an incident last night. In Bury.'

‘I'm not sure I follow you – I'm up in Cumbria. Is this to do with my house? Have I been burgled?'

It's not him, Iona thought. He wasn't driving the van. ‘There's no need for concern, sir. Do you own a work van?'

‘Yes.'

‘Is it with you at the moment?'

‘No, Lee has it. Don't say he's crashed it, is that it? He's written the thing off?'

‘No, there's no cause for concern, sir. There was a road traffic accident last night at a junction in Bury. Your van wasn't involved, but CCTV from the scene picked up the vehicle going past. We believe the driver may have witnessed the collision.'

‘Lee?'

‘Is that an employee of yours? Does he have the keys for it?'

‘Yeah, Lee Madsen. If I'm away, I leave it with him in case of any call outs. You want his number?'

‘Yes, please.'

‘So . . . there's no problem? I mean, no one's died?'

‘No, everyone's fine. We're trying to find out who was at fault, that's all.'

‘Well, that's a relief. OK, I have his number here. Shall I read it out?'

‘Thanks. And if you have an address for him, that would be great, too.'

A check on the PNC showed Iona that Lee Madsen, twenty-two years old, had three previous convictions. One for shoplifting and two for burglary. Served eight weeks in a young offenders' institute back in 2006. Kept himself clean, since then. He'll also have, Iona reflected, experience dealing with the police.

Minutes later, she was standing in front of a semi-detached house, regarding the two buzzers outside the front door. She was familiar with the arrangement. The front door would lead into a communal hall. There'd be two doors beyond – one giving access to the flat on the ground floor, one giving access to the flat on the first floor. The fact Madsen's buzzer was for the first floor was good, she decided. Assuming she could get him downstairs to answer her call, there would be no need to enter a property on her own that could well contain three violent males.

She took another look at the van parked on the other side of the road. It appeared like it was fresh from a car wash and she wondered if the inside had been cleaned just as meticulously.

She lifted the flap to the letterbox and peeped through. Stairs in front, no sound of a TV or radio drifting down. She pressed the button and listened as an angry buzz rang out.

Straightening back up, she waited. No response. She pressed again, following it with a quick succession of bangs with the heel of her hand. The skin was still tingling when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

‘Who is it?' a voice asked from the other side of the door.

‘Police. Open up, please.'

It opened a fraction and a young man with messy hair looked out to see a warrant card inches from his face.

‘Open it properly, would you?'

Eyes that were still puffy from sleep momentarily tried to focus. He then checked over her shoulder and looked back at her with a frown. ‘What's this about?'

‘You know what it's about, Lee. Open the door.'

He delayed for a split second longer, then swung it back. Iona put her warrant card away, taking in his bare feet, tracksuit bottoms and baggy T-shirt as she did so. He was about six feet tall. The fact he was also two steps above her gave him a massive height advantage. Worse than that, his crotch was not far from the level of her face. ‘Who's upstairs, Lee?'

‘You what?'

‘Who else is in your flat?'

He shook his head. ‘No one. Why?'

‘You lying to me, Lee?'

‘No, it's just me,' he said quietly.

‘Take a seat on the stairs behind you. I think we can get this sorted here.'

He rubbed at his sternum through his T-shirt. ‘You what?'

‘Sit on the stairs. It's there or the station. You decide.'

He backed away, reaching behind him with one hand and lowering himself slowly on to the third step up. ‘Don't know what you're on about.'

Iona caught his look of defeat, rapidly getting the impression he was no ring leader in what had occurred the previous night. She stepped into the hall, careful to keep the door open. ‘Shortly after eleven thirty last night, your works van was observed waiting on Hudcar Street. Were you the driver? Your boss said the keys are entrusted to you when he's up in Cumbria.'

He hung his head and started picking at the stubble on the back of his neck, playing for time.

Aware the person living in the ground-floor flat could be listening, she whispered, ‘At the moment, he believes you might have been witness to an RTA at a junction somewhere in Bury. Answer my questions, he carries on believing that and you keep your job. Muck me around, Lee, and – given your previous convictions – losing your wage will be the least of your worries. Were you driving that vehicle?'

He raised his head and she could see he was trying to appraise the situation. That's right, Iona thought. I've just offered you a deal. ‘Lee, if I was here just to haul you in, it would be with a couple of uniforms and a patrol car. I'm on my own.' She sensed the time was right to dangle him his get out. ‘Now, I reckon you were dragged into driving for the other two. My witness says you played no part in the incident in that cut-through. I doubt you even wanted to be part of their plan.'

He dragged a hand down the side of his face, little finger catching on his bottom lip, peeling it down to reveal his lower teeth for a split second. ‘Shit.'

‘Names, Lee. Who were they?'

‘I'm not sure.'

She got out her mobile. ‘I don't have time to mess about. Do I call your boss first or my colleagues back at the station?'

Lee sagged sideways against the wall. ‘I don't know who the headcase was, all right? Gary, that's what Martin called him.'

‘Who's Martin?'

‘I know him from when I was inside. He's not a mate – he just turns up every now and again. Usually trying to tap me for booze or whatever.'

‘Where can I find him?'

‘I don't know. He dosses about, no regular place.'

‘Have you got a surname for him?'

‘Rushton.'

Iona jotted it down. A check on the PNC would show up if he really was NFA. ‘What about the other one?'

‘Like I said, he was called Gary. Geordie accent, just out. Said he was inside for robbing a shop.'

‘Out from where, Strangeways?'

Lee stayed slumped against the wall. ‘Somewhere Newcastle way, for all I know. Martin just turned up with him. They wanted a ride. I didn't think they were really going to . . .'

‘To what?'

‘You know, go looking for Arabs or whatever.'

‘That's what it was? An unprovoked attack? The first two poor sods you could find?'

‘They weren't poor sods,' Lee said under his breath.

Iona let the comment pass. ‘Where did you see them, the two men who were attacked?'

‘On Woodhill Road. One was carrying a takeout. When they turned down the alley, Gary said to stop the van. He went after them, Martin followed. I didn't want to, I swear. Gary said to wait on the next street, where the alley came out.'

‘Who's was the baseball bat?'

Lee picked at the skirting board. ‘Mine.'

‘What happened in the alley?'

‘They didn't really say . . .'

‘Something happened. Half the neighbours heard it going off. Who was it you had to help back into the van?'

He looked at her. ‘The little one – has he said about stabbing Gary? I bet he left that bit out, didn't he?'

Iona kept her expression blank. ‘Gary was stabbed?'

‘Yeah – the little one with the shaved head did it.' He hauled himself up into a sitting position. ‘He didn't mention that to you, did he? Vicious little fuck – you want to arrest him.'

He thinks the two people they attacked have made a report, Iona thought. She studied her notebook. ‘Where did the knife come from?'

‘He was carrying it – the shorter one. Don't let them act the poor little Pakis because that's bollocks.'

‘You know the knife belonged to the shorter one with the shaved head?'

‘That's what Martin said. The little one ran off to start, left the lanky one behind. Then he reappears to properly fuck Martin and Gary up. That Gary, he's got muscles jumping off him. The one with the knife smashed him, Martin said. Smashed both of them.'