The Death of the Elver Man (11 page)

Alex managed a wry grin and took a sip. The wine slid down, soothing her fear and sending a gentle warmth
outwards
through her body. She drank again and leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

‘I know he’s a danger,’ she said. ‘He’ll skip, for sure and then he’ll be on the loose, free to do any damn horrible thing he wants but there’s nothing I can do about it. Can you
imagine
the police if I went along now. “Well, he looked at me in a funny way, his house smelt and he ran after me to give my pen back”. They’d laugh me out of station and with good reason.’

Sue nodded, took a slug of her wine and put the glass down with a bang. ‘Well, while you were out socializing you missed another of Garry’s delightful surprise meetings,’ she said.

‘Oh? How the hell did he manage to fit that in? He was heading off somewhere else about three this afternoon. I know because he changed the time of
my
meeting. Not that I knew about the wretched thing in the first place,’ she added bitterly.

‘Alison?’ asked Sue.

‘Alison. So tell me, what was this get-together about?’ Alex drained her glass and did not protest when Sue filled it again.

‘He had a couple of Head Office bods round just after you left. Then a few minutes to five he had Pauline herd us all upstairs and launched into this presentation.’

Alex waited but there was there was nothing more forthcoming.

‘Presentation about what?’ she asked finally.

Sue shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He started on about
stopping
snot or something. It sounded disgusting so I just sort of tuned out for a lot of it.’

‘The new priorities,’ Alex said. ‘SNOP, SLOP and STOP.’

‘That’s it,’ said Sue. ‘I remember now. Anyway, I wasn’t paying much attention until he got on to the stuff about the away-day.’ Sue picked up the bottle, upended it with a frown and rose from the table.

‘Away-day? What do you mean, away-day?’ said Alex.

‘Next month, in some hall somewhere. We’re all going, clerical and everyone,’ called Sue from the kitchen. ‘Ah, here we are.’ She appeared in the doorway flourishing a fresh
bottle
of wine and a corkscrew.

‘You’re a fount of information today,’ grumbled Alex. ‘A meeting for an indeterminate purpose, on an unspecified date, at an unspecified location and for an unspecified length of time. Oh please don’t let it be a residential!’

Sue was wrestling with the cork but glanced up at the anguish in her friend’s voice.

‘Oh, yes there is that. It’s two days so we’re all staying
overnight
.’ The cork popped out of the bottle and Alex reached for her glass, holding it out for another refill.

‘Are you sure? You don’t normally drink this much in a whole evening.’

‘Shut up and fill it, you bringer of doom. Like you said, I’m having a pretty terrible week.’

When Margie looked into Kevin’s cell that evening he was sitting on his bunk, scrunched up in the corner with his arms around his legs and his knees drawn up tight against his body.

‘Hey,’ she said softly.

Kevin peeked out at her through his greasy hair but did not reply. Margie waited for a moment on the threshold and then stepped into the cell. Like most of the prison it smelt of feet, sweat and cheap aftershave, probably splashed around to cover the scent of illegal alcohol fermenting in a warm corner somewhere. It was amazing what they could produce from orange juice, sugar and any potato peelings they could
smuggle
out of the kitchen, Margie thought as she approached the figure huddled on the bed.

‘Just checking you’re alright,’ said Margie. She was careful to keep her voice level and neutral, as much to avoid undue attention from other prisoners as to keep the young man calm. Kevin tucked his head into his arms and muttered something she couldn’t make out. Giving a glance behind her to make sure it was safe, she stepped further into the room and was disturbed to see Kevin flinch.

‘Kevin – it is Kevin, right?’ She waited but there was no response. ‘Well, your P.O. asked me to drop by, see if there’s anything you need.’ There was still no reaction from Kevin but at least he’d stopped cowering away from her. Alex was right, thought Margie, there was something nasty going on here and she wasn’t letting it go. Not on her watch. Margie prided herself on doing the best job she could. She’d never lost a prisoner whist on duty, not from violence or suicide, but she recognized the signs and this was a very vulnerable inmate. In theory there was nothing she could do. He was on remand and should be safe, separated from the convicted criminals in the main population. He certainly didn’t belong with the ‘veeps’ – the ‘vulnerable prisoners’ who had their own wing. That elite group was a mix of drug dealers, sex offenders and members of the justice system – bent coppers, judges or ex prison officers, all of whom were at risk in the main population, or, in the case of the drug dealers,
constituted
a threat to others. Anyway, he was still not convicted, presumed innocent despite the fact he was locked up. There was nowhere for him to go except … she hesitated, knowing
she was setting herself up for days of derision from the male officers. She looked at Kevin for a moment and sighed
heavily
as she reached out and took his elbow.

‘Up you get. You’re coming with me.’

‘The hospital? Why’s he in the hospital? Has something
happened
to him?’ Alex demanded when she got a call from the prison in the morning. She felt dreadful – pounding head, red eyes, sick and slightly dizzy, the classic symptoms of a
monster
hangover for which she held Garry personally
responsible
. Too much wine last night, the pending ‘away-day’ and now this. She hoped she didn’t have to go back to Bristol because she suspected she was in no state to drive.

‘He’s all right, not injured or anything like that,’ said
Margie’s
voice on the other end of the phone. ‘I checked up on him and you’re right, I think he’s being picked on. He looked pretty dreadful and was in no state to watch out for himself, so I had a word with the duty doctor on the phone and got him signed into the hospital for a week. Give him a chance to rest a bit, maybe. Can’t be more though – he’ll have to go back on the wing in seven days and the best I can do then is put him on suicide watch. That’ll not improve his popularity with his cell mates neither.’

Alex knew just how effective suicide watch was sometimes. Regular checks on prisoners thought to be leaning towards self-harm were designed to dissuade them as well as ensuring the officers knew what they were up to. Unfortunately the constant clanging of the hatch, every half-hour through the night, tended to result in broken sleep and frayed tempers, particularly amongst the non-suicidal cellmates. No, Kevin wasn’t necessarily suicidal but he was in danger from
someone
in the jail and they could bide their time and get to him during the day.

Margie echoed her thoughts as she added, ‘Better try
getting
him out on bail. Maybe a hostel or something down near your way?’

Alex thanked her profusely. She knew Margie would have
to put up with all kind of snide, sexist remarks about ‘
soft-hearted
women’ and ‘mothering the criminals’. As she hung up she wondered why any woman would choose to work in such a place. Still, it was a good thing for Kevin she did and, on reflection, wasn’t that exactly the sort of knee-jerk
reaction
she had to put up from her own family?

Desperate for a coffee, she made her way downstairs to the communal lounge. To her relief it was empty and she filled the kettle and began spooning coffee (only instant but better than nothing) and sugar into a relatively clean mug. She was
rooting
through the fridge for milk when she heard the main door open behind her and Alison walked in. Alex turned to face her and knew something was wrong. Alison wore her usual sulky face but this morning it was embellished with a scowl.

‘Ah, morning Alison,’ said Alex, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her tone. ‘How are you today?’

Alison blinked at her with watery eyes and gave a sniff, another of her delightful mannerisms, the product of a
low-grade
but seemingly eternal cold.

‘Fine, thank you, just fine. Are you finished with that?’ She held out her hand for the milk bottle and Alex tipped milk into her beaker and handed it over. Alison turned her back and began to pick through the sink searching for a cup that didn’t have green crusty mould in the bottom. She was
muttering
to herself, Alex realized.

‘I’m sorry Alison, is there a problem?’ she asked. For a moment she thought the woman would back down, but her hopes were dashed when she launched into a tirade about ‘snooty, overpaid officers thinking they were too good to clear up after themselves’. She was almost crying, Alex noticed with some alarm. She was no psychologist but she was pretty sure this wasn’t about who did the washing up. Struggling with a cowardly impulse to flee the scene and nurse her hangover upstairs, she put down her own beaker and guided Alison gently towards the window seats.

‘Here, sit down for a moment. I’ll get you a drink. Oh – do you prefer tea or coffee?’ She felt a flash of guilt. She’d
taken so little interest in Alison she didn’t even know which she preferred. Maybe there was some truth in her view of ‘snooty officers’ thinking they were better than everyone else. Deep down inside, Alex had to admit to herself she did think she was better than Alison, but she certainly didn’t consider herself in any way superior to Lauren, so what did that say about her? She hastily made tea, picked up her own mug and walked over to join Alison at the table. Alison took the cup and muttered ‘Ta’ before resuming her moody contemplation of the sky through the window.

‘So, what is it Alison? I can see you’re upset about
something
.’ Alison gave a shrug worthy of Brian at his sulky best – or worst. Fighting an almost overwhelming urge to reach over and slap her very hard, Alex ploughed on. ‘Has someone upset you or perhaps there’s a problem in the office?’

Alison swivelled her head round on her long, skinny neck and stared at her. ‘As if you don’t know,’ she said.

Alex waited, but Alison just sat, in silence, staring at her until she gave another watery sniff and turned back to the window. Alex’s patience was exhausted. She had enough of this type of behaviour from the clients – she was damned if she’d put up with it from the staff as well.

‘Fine, if you don’t want to talk there’s nothing I can do. I’ve got work to be getting on with,’ she said as she rose to her feet.

‘You know what you did,’ muttered Alison, the sulky child fully in evidence as she screwed up her face and pouted.

‘No, I don’t. I don’t know what you think I’ve done and unless you tell me I can’t do anything about it.’

‘Yesterday, when you were with Garry. You didn’t have to tell him I’d had to go out. Now he’s put a note on my file. He was really horrible this morning.’

Alex was aghast. ‘You think I told Garry you’d gone out yesterday? What on earth gave you that idea?’

Alison snuffled into a soggy tissue. ‘You were up there in the afternoon, at the meeting just after we spoke. Someone said you came down to find me.’

Alex gave a deep sigh. ‘Alison, stand up. Now, where’s Garry’s office from here?’

Alison pointed out of the window, up another floor to the imposing centrepiece of the block at right angles to them.

‘Right. Now, look down into the yard – see? He’s got a perfect view of the entrance. He spends half his time at that window, watching who goes in and out. Haven’t you ever noticed him up there?’

Alison looked so stricken Alex wondered what else she’d been up to recently.

‘So it wasn’t you?’ she asked in a tiny voice.

‘No, it wasn’t me. I don’t do things like that. If I’m annoyed because I can’t find you I’ll ask you about it, not tattle away to Pauline or Garry. So, is there anything else?’

Alison shook her head. She looked close to tears as she reached over and tried to give Alex a hug. Her hands were damp and fortunately the table was in the way. Alex patted her shoulder and gave a rather sickly smile.

‘Well, I’m glad that’s sorted out. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.’

She extricated herself as gently as possible and hurried out, wondering how anyone could possibly think she’d toady up to Garry, of all people.

Back in her office she mused on the problem of Kevin. It was highly unlikely she’d be able to get Brian to make a statement and he was neither the most reliable nor the most believable of witnesses at the best of times. There had to be something else she could point to. The police case seemed weak, relying on circumstantial evidence – Kevin’s presence in the van and the money in his pockets. There was no sign of the knife used, Kevin had no blood on him or his clothes, except for his shoes, and, crucially, he had no reason to murder the Elver Man. Kevin was obsessed with the Carnival gangs and he needed his income from elvering to meet the hefty subscription demanded by the town clubs. Even if he had robbed him that night, he’d needed more – quite a lot more according to Lauren. The Elver Man
had been the best source of income Kevin had. Besides, Kevin was a nervous specimen. He was going to pieces in the prison, not the sort of character to kill someone in cold blood, take their money and calmly settle down at the scene for a snooze until the rain stopped…. She was struck by a sudden memory. Kevin’s clothes were still wet when he was arrested. He’d been out in the rain just a few minutes before the police arrived. And the elvers – the elvers were still alive! She realized she didn’t know anything about elvers. How long did they live out of water, for example? Maybe Eddie would know. He was the outdoorsy type, after all, and he was a local boy, raised near Glastonbury. He’d probably sneaked out to go elvering himself when young. She picked up the phone and buzzed his office.

‘Well now, it really depends on so many things,’ said Eddie. Alex smothered a sigh. She just wanted a simple yes or no answer, but like most things in her life at the moment it looked as if she was going to get a lecture on the difficulties inherent in her question.