After the Fire (Maeve Kerrigan) Page 23

  ‘You don’t understand, Mum. We can’t stay here.’

  ‘No, wait. It’s all right.’ I went over to her and put my arm around her, taking over because Derwent was apparently rooted to the ground. It made me wonder if I was wrong to think he was attracted to Melissa. His usual technique was all about getting into women’s personal space, making eye contact if not physical contact with them. I would have expected him to exploit her fear with ruthless efficiency. But his expression was as closed off and severe as it had been the previous time I’d seen him with Melissa, and he didn’t attempt to comfort her. Maybe he’d been telling the truth when he swore his interest in her was purely professional.

  Melissa was actually shaking with terror. I tried to reassure her. ‘We made it clear to him that he’s not welcome here. He shouldn’t be back. We saw him after he’d tried to get into the ward and the policeman on duty didn’t let him in, so you were safe then and you’re even safer now.’

  We had spoken to the constable on our way past to reinforce the message. It was the one I had told off before, and he had been genuinely delighted he’d got it right.

  ‘He said he was her husband but I told him he wasn’t on the list.’

  ‘The only list he’s on is my shit list,’ Derwent had said, and bounded through the door in a good mood that had mysteriously evaporated the second he got into Melissa Pell’s hospital room. There was no hint of it in his face now.

  ‘You’re safe while you’re here, but I don’t want you leaving the ward.’ He dropped his voice. ‘And I know this is difficult but I don’t think Thomas should be here. Mr Pell was hoping to see him and I imagine you don’t want that to happen.’

  She nodded, her eyes big and shadowy with fear, but she sat down again. ‘I don’t want Mark anywhere near him.’

  ‘I’ll take him and your mum back to my place in a bit.’

  ‘What if Mark follows you?’

  Derwent smiled. ‘He won’t. And if he does, I’ll lose him. I know a few tricks.’

  He usually drove as if he was trying to lose a tail, but I wasn’t going to tell Melissa Pell that.

  ‘You should be out of here soon, anyway,’ I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed near her. ‘You look so much better.’

  ‘I think they’re going to release me tomorrow. The doctor said he wanted to keep me in one more night. We’ll have to find somewhere safe to go.’ Melissa looked at her mother and bit her lip. ‘I can’t think.’

  ‘There’s no hurry,’ Derwent said. ‘Stay at my place for as long as you need to. He’ll never find you there.’

  ‘But you can’t just move out.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I have somewhere to stay for as long as I like.’

  Which was, presumably, my flat. I twisted around to raise my eyebrows at him and got a cool look in return. I suppressed a groan and turned back. ‘Melissa, can I just ask if you’ve managed to remember anything else from the other day? Before or after the fire?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Nothing more about being attacked?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ve been taking a look at the crime scene and it looks as if someone pushed you against the wall on the eighth floor.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘There was blood on the wall.’ I was acutely aware of Thomas, who was sitting under the bed having a conversation with a toy car. He didn’t seem to be listening, but I couldn’t tell and I didn’t want to upset him. I chose my words carefully. ‘And then there was a pool of dried vomit in the eighth-floor hallway.’

  She nodded, slowly. ‘The nurses said my clothes were covered in sick when I came in. That’s why I’m wearing these lovely things.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought they were the right sort of thing given that you’re in hospital.’ Mrs Moore sounded deeply hurt. ‘I didn’t realise I’d got it wrong.’

  ‘They are, Mum. They’re fine. I wasn’t complaining. They’re much better than a hospital gown,’ Melissa said quickly. She tried to smile. ‘They’re all I’ve got, anyway.’

  ‘I’ve asked one of our forensic officers to go over that scene to see if we can find any clue as to who attacked you,’ I said. ‘In the meantime, try not to worry. Just concentrate on getting better.’

  Behind me, there was a thud. I whipped around to see Derwent had dropped to one knee, his face twisted in agony. He was holding his chest and groaning. Slowly – infinitely slowly – he slid sideways until he was lying on the floor.

  Under the bed, there was a gurgle of pure joy. A small hand appeared clutching a plastic gun. ‘Peeoo. Peeoo.’

  Derwent’s body jerked twice as imaginary bullets hit him. ‘Aaaah … I – I’m going … Goodbye, world …’

  ‘Oh, Thomas,’ Melissa began, but she was starting to smile.

  ‘No.’ Derwent tilted his head back so he could look at her upside down. ‘He got me. Fair and square. I’m a goner.’ Then, ‘But I’m not finished yet.’ He pointed an imaginary gun at Thomas. ‘Hands up, kid. I’ll take you down if it’s the last thing I do.’

  Thomas’s response was more muffled giggling and some more shooting. Derwent dropped his weapon, let his head fall back and died for the next ninety seconds, gasping and groaning and rolling around in fake pain. Thomas came out from under the bed to watch, jumping up and down with pure glee as Derwent got as far as agonal breathing and a fine attempt at a death rattle before he gave up the battle.

  Melissa and her mother applauded and I couldn’t help grinning. Thomas went over to him and jumped on his chest. ‘Wake up.’

  This time there was nothing fake about the noise of pain Derwent made. ‘God, Thomas, what do you weigh?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘It’s like having an elephant on my chest.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Okay, not an elephant. That would be ridiculous. A baby elephant.’ He tickled Thomas briefly, which made the boy scream with joy, then moved him onto the floor and stood up, dusting himself off.

  ‘Time to go, I’m afraid.’ He had gone back to the brooding reserve, as if the other version of Derwent – the playful, loving one I’d never seen before – had been a collective hallucination.

  ‘Come and kiss me goodbye,’ Melissa said to Thomas, and he ran into her arms, scrambling up into her lap. She held on to him tightly and I felt very strongly that I was intruding. I got up and moved to the door, where Mrs Moore was checking through her handbag in a worried way. Derwent stood waiting, and when Thomas slid down he put out a hand, which the boy took. He nodded to Melissa Pell.

  ‘Remember, no wandering around the hospital. If you need to leave the ward, take the police officer who is outside the door with you.’

  ‘Okay.’ Her voice was faint and I knew she was holding on to tears that she didn’t want to shed in front of her son.

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ Derwent said. ‘I promise.’

  She nodded blindly, turning her head away, and the four of us walked into the hall, leaving her alone.

  As soon as we were outside the door, Mrs Moore stopped and leaned against the wall.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked, afraid that she was ill.

  ‘I want to talk to you.’ She looked down at Thomas. ‘Not in front of – you know.’

  Derwent nodded and started towards the lift, towing Thomas. The little boy was chatting away to him about his cars, oblivious to any tension. Mrs Moore waited until they were out of range.

  ‘I wanted to ask about Mark. You saw him. How did he look?’

  It was a strange question in the circumstances and I struggled to answer it. ‘I – I don’t know. Normal? I’ve never seen him before.’

  ‘Did he seem upset? Angry?’

  ‘Yes. Both.’ In all fairness, I had to add, ‘But anyone would have been. DI Derwent pinned him up against a wall.’

  ‘Poor Mark.’ It burst out of her. She looked up at me, guilty. ‘I know it sounds strange to say that. But I liked him and I can’t help feelin
g sorry for him.’

  ‘Even though Melissa says he hurt her?’

  ‘Oh, of course all of that is awful. I was devastated when she left without saying where she was going. It made me realise she had to be absolutely desperate. I wish I’d believed her when she told me about Mark, I really do. I could have helped her.’ She pressed her fingertips to her lips as if she was trying to hold the next thought in, but it fought its way out. ‘Even now I can’t quite imagine it. The things she said he did. He’s so nice.’

  ‘Abusers can be. They can be very charming.’ I wasn’t getting through to her. ‘Those are the most dangerous of all. They’re good at manipulating people, and they don’t like to lose.’

  ‘But Mark, of all people. He was such a good husband and father. It seems cruel not to let him see his son. His only child. If someone had taken Melissa away from me when she was three, I would have killed with my bare hands to get her back. I almost feel it’s justifiable for him to be angry with her.’

  ‘He was violent long before she left. That’s why she left.’ Mrs Moore’s failure of logic was beginning to trouble me a lot. I could imagine her arranging to meet Mark Pell. I could imagine her finding a public place where he could see his son – speak to him, even. ‘We have to consider Mark as a suspect in this case, so he needs to stay away from Melissa. But even if he had nothing to do with the fire and the injuries she’s suffered now, he brutalised her for years. You know what Melissa had to endure. He abused her physically and emotionally. He cut her off from her friends and controlled everywhere she went and everything she did. She is terrified of him for a reason.’

  ‘Thomas misses his father,’ she said quietly. ‘I know that. He loves him very much.’

  Deep breath. ‘I think it’s very caring of you to be concerned about Mark and his relationship with his son but your priority has to be your daughter, her safety, and her child’s welfare.’

  Mrs Moore blinked a few times, rapidly, stung by the note of reproof in my voice. ‘You don’t know my daughter. She’s very convincing – of course she is. And charming. But – well, she is a bit of a drama queen.’

  ‘You think she’s exaggerating,’ I said, trying to sound calm and reasonable and unemotional even though my anger was scorching.

  ‘I love my daughter dearly but I know what she’s like. I brought her up. Every bruise was a broken bone. Every graze was a life-threatening injury. She never had a headache that wasn’t a brain tumour.’

  ‘Whether she has a tendency to exaggerate or not, there are medical records of her injuries. There’s evidence. You don’t have to take her word for it.’ Even though you should . . .

  Mrs Moore looked down at the ground and nodded. ‘I shouldn’t think about it. I should just do what Melissa wants me to do.’

  ‘I think that’s for the best. You know, now that Mark is aware of their whereabouts, the situation is different. He can gain access to Thomas through the family courts. They can make a ruling on custody and visitation rights. The courts may not have a great reputation for taking the side of the father but they do try to do what’s best for the children. Mark can wait a little longer to see his son.’

  She nodded again, but she wouldn’t meet my eye.

  ‘Mrs Moore, please don’t get in touch with Mark Pell. Don’t tell him where you are, or where you’re staying. If he manages to contact you, don’t tell him anything about Thomas, even if a question seems innocuous. You can’t take any chances.’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying.’ She looked down the empty corridor. ‘We’d better catch up with the others. I don’t want them to leave without me.’

  They were waiting by the lift. As soon as we appeared, Thomas pressed the button to call it.

  ‘Nicely done,’ Derwent said. He glanced at me for a moment, trying to gauge what Mrs Moore had wanted, and I shook my head very slightly. Later.

  In the lobby, I turned to Mrs Moore. ‘Do you think it would be a good idea for Thomas to go to the bathroom before he gets in the car? In case the traffic is bad?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he should. Definitely.’

  He pouted. ‘I don’t need to.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Thomas.’ There was an edge in her voice that I didn’t like: she was tense about something. Warring loyalties. Irreconcilable obligations. I was willing to bet Mark Pell had been in contact with her already. I was tempted to take her phone away. Or – why not? – take Thomas away.

  Derwent looked down at Thomas. ‘Go on, mate. Do what you’re told. Better safe than sorry.’

  He was still reluctant about it, but he went, holding his grandmother’s hand. I went too, checking the bathroom was empty before they used it, paranoid that Pell would be lurking behind a door. When I came out, I hurried across the lobby to Derwent and he frowned at the look on my face.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You need to take the rest of the day off.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘You need to keep an eye on Thomas. I think Melissa’s mum has been talking to Mark Pell.’

  He swore quietly. ‘Why would she do a stupid thing like that?’

  ‘She likes to think the best of people.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Except her daughter, who’s just a drama queen and probably exaggerating.’

  Derwent’s face darkened. ‘For fuck’s sake.’

  ‘I know. Try not to get annoyed with her. I just don’t think we can trust her not to tell Mark Pell where she is, and where he can find Thomas.’

  ‘She might have done that already.’

  I shook my head. ‘He was hanging around the hospital because he didn’t know where else to go. He wanted to see Thomas, remember? And Melissa, but we know she’s safe upstairs.’

  ‘So you think he’ll go back to Mrs Moore?’

  ‘That’s what I’d do. If he can get the boy, he can get Melissa to come back to him. She’d never leave him with his father, even if it cost her dearly.’

  Derwent nodded. ‘He’d make a good hostage.’

  ‘If you’re in the flat you can keep an eye on him. Melissa will be out tomorrow. She can take over from you then.’

  ‘All right.’ He was watching the bathroom door, knowing that they would come out any minute. ‘You’ll have to cover for me with Burt. She’d never agree to me minding the boy instead of investigating Armstrong’s death.’

  ‘What should I tell her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, irritable as ever. ‘Tell her I had a headache. Pretend I was with you. Does it matter? Lie.’

  Easier said than done. ‘Don’t drop me in it,’ I warned him. ‘I’ll tell you what I tell her, and you have to back me up. She’ll punish both of us if she finds out I lied for you.’

  He nodded. ‘What are you going to do with the rest of the day?’

  ‘See if I can find out anything more about Mark Pell and where he was on Thursday afternoon. I want to know what car he’s driving too so you can keep an eye out for it near your place.’

  ‘Good girl.’ He straightened up. ‘They’re coming back.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Let’s get going,’ Derwent said with a wide grin, guiding Mrs Moore and Thomas towards the car park.

  Mrs Moore twisted so she could see me. ‘Aren’t you coming too?’

  ‘I need to make some further inquiries here,’ I said, and I meant it; I’d completely forgotten about Mrs Hearn until I saw Young Kevin sitting in the corner of the lobby staring unseeingly at a poster for flu vaccinations. ‘DI Derwent will look after you.’

  ‘Oh.’ She gave him an uncertain look. He planted a hand in the small of her back and pushed her in the right direction, and I appreciated it as a technique when it wasn’t me he was pushing around. It might not have been respectful, but it was certainly effective.

  I went back towards the lifts and pressed the button. The lift came quickly and I stepped inside, but stopped when I heard a hoarse voice calling.

  ‘Hold the lift. Wait a second.’ />
  I complied, holding the doors open so Debbie Bellew could slip through them. I could smell cigarette smoke on her clothes, her breath. I couldn’t blame her for needing a break, if the nurse was to be believed. She was drawn, her eyes sunk in her head, and she didn’t look at me.

  ‘Mrs Bellew.’

  She jumped a mile. ‘What – who?’

  ‘I’m Maeve Kerrigan. I’m a police officer. I spoke to you before.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked thoroughly confused. ‘What do you want?’

  I remembered what the nurse had said about Debbie being on Valium and decided it wasn’t the right time or place to ask her about Carl. ‘Just saying hello. How’s Becky?’

  She shook her head and I couldn’t tell what she meant. The lift juddered to a stop on the second floor and a woman with a walking frame faltered on. When the doors closed, Debbie looked at me.

  ‘What do you want?’ The same question as before. I tried to look unthreatening.

  ‘Nothing. I’m just checking on one of the other victims of the fire. Mrs Hearn.’ I would walk down from Intensive Care, I’d decided, rather than leaving Debbie Bellow on her own in the lift.

  A shrug: no recognition of the name.

  ‘She’s an elderly lady – she lived on your floor. Flat 104.’

  ‘I never noticed her,’ Debbie said dully.

  ‘She noticed you.’ Debbie stared at me and I felt I had to explain. ‘She had a security camera over her door. She watched everyone coming and going.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘But she’s had a stroke.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘So I wanted to check on her.’

  It was absolutely clear to me that Mrs Hearn’s health and well-being meant nothing to Debbie Bellew, and why should she care? She was wholly absorbed in her own private hell. Not for the first time, I contemplated the reality of my job: by the time I turned up, it was too late to put things right. Catching the person or people responsible for Becky’s injuries wouldn’t help Becky, or her mother. Essentially, everything I did was irrelevant.

  We reached the sixth floor and Debbie stepped out of the lift like a sleepwalker, walking away from me without so much as a goodbye.