Frozen Grave

Chapter 12

DC Zoe Blackman had been guarding Michael Hitchens – Toffee – all night. She’d get back in time to get the boys up and give them breakfast then drive them to school. Then she’d sleep. She was bad at sleeping in the day. For a fleeting, mad, sleep-deprived moment, she wondered if Simon Smith was the person she was guarding Toffee against.

She looked across at him and thought how odd he looked. He was thirty going on sixty, the way he dressed. Still, there was something old-fashioned and charming about his appearance: dishevelled posh boy. It seemed to her like he really cared about Toffee. It showed a basically good side to him. She stood up and went over to him.

‘Fancy a coffee?’

He gave an exhausted smile. He was resting his elbows on his knees.

‘I’d love one but do you think that’s a good idea?’

‘Yes. But you have to go and get it – my colleague went home for an hour, family stuff. I have to stay here and guard Toffee. It will give us a chance to compare notes. I’m white – no sugar.’

He stood and stretched, then smiled at her. She thought how his face was quite good-looking when he smiled. If she were into men who wore old-man sweaters with preppy stuck-up collars, then she might consider it, but she wasn’t. Her husband had been the gym-animal type but always immaculate in his white T-shirt and perfect-fitting jeans. He took steroids. It made him aggressive in the end, or it had brought that side out in him – who knows? But she knew it would be a long time till she went down the relationship road again. Now she was a single parent who juggled a career she loved with the guilt-tripping of trying to give two boys everything and provide a future with money and options in it. Luckily, she had her mum to rely on.

‘Okay,’ Smith said, breaking into her thoughts, then walked off in the direction of the canteen. He came back ten minutes later, carrying two cups of coffee.

‘No biscuits?’

‘Of course. Just wouldn’t have volunteered the info if you hadn’t asked.’ He smiled at her. ‘Was hoping to eat the lot.’ He handed her a coffee and then took two packets of custard creams out of his pocket.

‘Good man.’ Zoe took one and then sat down and put her coffee next to the leg of her chair. She opened her packet of biscuits.

‘Do you mind if I ask you a few questions first?’ Simon asked. ‘Some things I wanted to better understand.’

‘Sure. What do you want to know?’ She prised the top off her coffee cup.

‘What you think happened here?’

‘Here – as in Toffee in here?’ She gestured towards the window.

‘Yes.’

‘He had a run-in with a train.’

‘Was he chased?’

‘No. He wasn’t chased. He was rescued by Detective Inspector Carter; otherwise, he would have died. He ran straight under the path of an oncoming train and just knelt there waiting to be hit.’

‘He wasn’t chased under it?’

‘No. Absolutely not. According to the report, both DC Willis and DI Carter agree that they approached him with the intention of asking him some questions connected to the murder case, and he ran straight in front of the train. He even knelt down and wouldn’t budge. If you believe otherwise then you need to make a complaint. I’m not here for that. I’m here to protect him. I’m also here to take a statement from him when he comes round. Our main priority is to get justice for the dead woman.’

‘I want that too.’ Simon sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair. ‘It’s a lot more than that. What about the dead woman? Do you know more about her?’

‘I can’t tell you a lot, only that she was forty, professional, single.’

‘Why did she go in there? That’s what I can’t understand.’

‘She probably went in there to meet someone she’d met on the Internet. That’s what we think.’

‘Ah.’ Simon shook his head sadly. ‘It’s a shame people have to go to such extremes looking for love.’

‘I think it was less love, more sex she was after.’

‘Ah… yes. Of course. The other side of the dating sites.’

‘Have you ever tried them?’

‘Dating sites? No. Well, maybe I had a look at one… but I never signed up.’

‘I’ve tried them. Disaster. I either had dates with men who were too shy to speak to me or men who wanted to kill their exes with their bare hands… .’ Zoe flashed an apologetic look. ‘Not what I was looking for.

‘Anyway, how did you come to be running the hostel – thought vicars just sang off-key and talked about things they’d never experienced?’

‘I am pleased you have such a balanced view of us…’ Zoe held up her hands to apologize.

He shook his head and smiled. ‘It’s okay. Actually, I was homeless myself. I was one of those rebellious types who had everything but didn’t want it. I ended up on heroin and living in a tent; that was until my girlfriend overdosed and died and I just woke up to what I was doing. My family never gave up on me, even when I stole from them. My sister and I are especially close and she looked after me. She nursed me through the rehab and she was there for me all the way, despite having plenty of her own problems. My parents offered me this chance to pay back a little to society – doing something that I understand. This was their project. They own the buildings behind here and they fund this hostel. I trained as a minister and here we are.’

‘Bit harsh of your parents to make you deal with these problems every day when you’ve just finished dealing with your own – like a punishment?’

‘Maybe it seems like that – but they think it’s a gift and so do I.’ Zoe shrugged. She didn’t look impressed. Simon smiled. ‘I feel very lucky and very grateful and I will always help someone if they want to help themselves – only then.’

‘Tough love.’

‘Exactly. It’s very satisfying work; yours must be too. You’re a detective?’

‘Yes. Just qualified. So chuffed. I’ve worked so hard to pass my exams.’

‘Congratulations. Did you always want to be in the police force?’

‘Always.’

‘Do you have kids?’

‘Yes. They’re ten and seven – two boys. I’m a single parent.’ Zoe didn’t know why she told him that. It must be because he had one of those faces that said: ‘Tell me your troubles.’

‘So who’s looking after them now?’

‘My mum helps me loads. I try not to take advantage but she’s my saviour.’ As she said it, she looked at him and blushed. ‘Not literally, of course.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I know what you mean.’

‘My mum’s religious – she goes to church – well, she did.’

‘I understand. Everyone has busy lives.’ He smiled.

‘No – I mean, she hasn’t since Dad died.’

‘Oh, I see. That’s a pity.’

‘It’s more than that for Mum – it’s a devastation. It’s a massive loss – her faith has just disappeared and exactly at the time when she needed it most.’

She stopped talking as a trolley went past with a patient on it and surrounded by medical staff.

‘It’s busy here – twenty-four-seven, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, organized chaos.’

‘So what do you do every day?’ she turned to ask Simon after the trolley had passed.

‘I get up, shower.’

‘No, you know what I mean. Work-wise. You must be really busy with the hostel. And sermons, I guess?’

‘I have a few staff in the hostel who work really hard, mainly volunteers, who come in to cook, clean, wash up, teach IT, help with benefits applications, housing, health issues, that kind of thing – the skills related to being able to manage on your own.’

‘Can people access the Internet in the hostel?’

‘Yes. We have free WiFi for them to use. There are only three PCs, so they have to keep to twenty-minute slots and book it.’

‘Did Toffee use the Internet?’

‘Yes, my sister taught him. He’s still at the basic stage though.’

‘Often?’

‘A few times. I could ask my staff. We can check how frequently he went on it. Why? You can’t think Toffee was on a dating site?’

‘You said he was a clever man. You also said that even you had looked at one now and again. There’s no reason Toffee was any different. If he could use the Internet then he could access a dating site.’

‘But he would have had to pay and that’s impossible. He didn’t have any money. He struggled to feed himself. He never had a bank card. It’s laughable – plus, he’s in love with my sister.’ Simon laughed.

‘Okay.’ Zoe could see he was getting agitated but pretending not to be. ‘We can check what people were looking at. That will clear it up. We’re working our way through her contacts.’

‘Oh, yes. I see.’ Simon became pensive. ‘Toffee is basically a good man, you know. Most days he comes to chat to me after breakfast. He’s articulate, clever. He follows world affairs. That is – until he starts drinking.’

‘So, would you have expected him to have behaved in this way? We have to presume he had something to do with the woman’s death. He was in that building when she died and he didn’t come forward with the information – the opposite. He tried to kill himself rather than answer questions. He had her phone.’

Simon turned away. ‘I am surprised and saddened if he did. I think he can’t have been thinking straight to get into such a mess. Maybe he was misguided in his aims or lied to. Maybe’ – he looked back at her – ‘this was someone else’s doing and he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We have trouble from the gangs from Hannover Estate.’

‘We’re looking into that. We’re trying to locate one of the leaders – Mahmet Balik. Do you know him?’

‘I have heard that name – he’s the light-skinned lad – about twenty. Charges were brought against him for the attack on Lolly, one of our regulars, but they were dropped – insufficient evidence.’

‘When did you last see any of the gang members hanging about?’

‘I had to tell them to get off church property. They were trying to break into the storage units we have behind the church.’

‘Did they succeed?’

‘No. Those buildings are burglar-proof. Doesn’t stop them from trying of course. They will try and thieve just about anywhere and from anyone. They are responsible for nearly all the violent crime around here as well as the drug dealing.’

‘Do you remember seeing anyone on Sunday evening when the woman was killed?’

He shook his head. ‘But, I see them here a lot. Most days I see one or another of them. There’s a hard core of about six lads. They hang around to intimidate people. In the evening they bring out their dogs – banned breed by the look of them – and they strut around the streets.’

‘Did you ever see any contact between any of the gang members and Toffee?’

‘No. Why would they have anything to do with him? He’s just the kind of person they hate.’

‘But he had money from somewhere. Have you any idea where he got it?’

‘Maybe he won it. I just have no idea.’ He shook his head. He looked exhausted. Zoe smiled, sympathetic – she could see he was struggling.

‘Why are you here? You can’t help him by getting exhausted. You should get back to the hostel.’

‘I know, but I feel I owe it to him. He needs a friend and he counts me as one. I feel I should have been a better one and then maybe he wouldn’t have got involved in all this.’

‘What do you think he’s involved in?’

‘Well, somehow, he knew that the woman had been killed, he had her phone and he had money in his pocket.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘It doesn’t look promising.’

‘No, it doesn’t. I hope he tells us the truth when he comes round.’

‘Yes, I pray he does. Would you like me to see your mum?’’

‘Sorry?’

‘I can see your mum. I’d like to help her. She had her faith knocked. I’d like to help her regain it.’

‘Oh… thanks… I’ll ask her.’

‘I can come and see her or she can meet me for a coffee and we can talk. Just ask what she wants. I’m more than happy…’

‘Yes… thank you. I’ll tell her.’

‘Great.’

‘What about your family?’

‘My family?’

‘Yes. I don’t want to take you away from them in your time off. Are you married? Kids?’

‘No, my time is my own. My sister drives me mad and phones me most days; she comes and helps me in the hostel as often as she can. Apart from that, I take the services at the church sometimes but my main work is running the hostel.’

‘Not much time left after you finish at the hostel, I expect?’

‘No, you’re right. I don’t have a lot of time for hobbies. Although I would like to make time in the future.’

She smiled at him. ‘What do you think about what happened on Parade Street, Simon?’

‘I think it was something that was always going to happen. It was a bomb waiting to go off. If we have people living like that – like animals – then they behave like animals.’

‘You think that someone was familiar with the area, with Parade Street and maybe your hostel?’

He shook his head. ‘People in the hostel could be anyone – you or I – they’ve just run into trouble in their lives. There isn’t a type. Almost ten per cent of our homeless are ex-armed forces. That’s a shameful statistic – an indictment of the way we don’t look after the people who serve us. Thirty per cent of people on the streets have mental-health issues – they shouldn’t be there. Ten per cent have come out of care homes – they’ve already had it rough enough. Thirty-two per cent are out of prison – do we want them to be so desperate that they reoffend?’

Zoe was registering the passion mount in Simon’s gestures and in his voice. He stopped talking and blushed, smiled, embarrassed. ‘What I’m trying to say is… we are a very short-sighted society if we think that it works to turn a blind eye or to de-humanize the homeless.’

She realized she was concentrating on him and not on his words.

Spike stepped in front of the young woman who was wearing her shawl wrapped around her head. Her face was as pale as the moon – marked with craters from the ravages of a diet of drugs and hardship.

‘Martine?’ She stopped in front of him. ‘Toffee’s in hospital. He’s hurt.’

‘Will he be all right?’ She clutched an old backpack in her hand; the strap was broken.

‘Who knows? He would want me to keep an eye on you. You can bed down here with me.’

She looked from Spike to the bundle of rags and clothes in the doorway behind him. She tried to see who else was there in the gloom.

‘Mason here?’

‘No. Mason’s lying low. I’ve helped him all I can. I’m not putting myself out for the ungrateful bastard.’ Spike turned back towards the doorway. Martine turned and walked away. ‘Don’t go near him now. They’ll come for him first. You’re safer with me,’ he called after her. ‘Please yourself. If you see Lolly, tell her I have something for her.’ Spike returned to his corner.

Martine knew where she’d find Mason. She called his name as she got inside the car park. Sandy came out from behind the arch and wagged her tail as she walked across to Martine. Martine ran her hand over the dog’s back and thought how thin she felt. Sandy led her to where Mason was sleeping.

‘Mason?’ She sat beside him but he didn’t answer.

Martine pulled out her sleeping bag and Sandy began snuffling inside the space it left in the backpack. Martine delved deep into the side pocket and produced half a torpedo roll salvaged from a bin. She gave it to the dog, who devoured it in one bite. She laid her bag out next to Mason and tucked her knees under her chin as she waited, listening in the dark. The train thundered overhead. She heard the scuttle of a rat and Sandy ran off in chase. Martine leant over Mason and tried to look at his face. He was lying on his side, his face half hidden in his woolly hat. He was lit by the street light nearby. She looked at the wounds on his face that had curled in on themselves.

‘Mason, we need to get you to hospital.’

He groaned in his sleep. ‘I’ll be okay. Is Toffee coming back?’ he said – his voice breathless. ‘What are we supposed to do now?’

‘I’ll go and see him and find out – he can’t just leave us with this.’

‘Not now. Please, stay with me.’

Martine lay down and put her arms around Mason. Sandy returned and lay back down between them.