Looking for Trouble

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I was late getting to school. Mortal sin. I found Maddie sitting with her teacher in the empty classroom.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I gushed. ‘The traffic was awful.’ Mrs Cummings looked relieved; Maddie burst into tears. Guilt.

‘Why didn’t you come?’ she repeated time and again in between sobs, as we drove to collect Tom. I’d tried to hug her but she’d shoved me away. She needed more time to be angry, to hate me for abandoning her. My explanations and apologies were irrelevant. The deed had been done.

The nursery stays open till six to cater for working parents, so my being half an hour later than usual was neither here nor there. Tom had been on his Castlefield Museum trip and was full of chatter about trains with smoke coming out of them.

Maddie headed straight for the television and sought comfort in Alvin and the Chipmunks. Tom joined her. I took them in some biscuits and milkshake then got myself a cup of tea.

So now I knew. JB hadn’t been a user. Smiley had killed him. Found some way to stick a needle in his arm and pump him full of heroin. Oh, I was jumping to conclusions, but it wasn’t much of a jump. Now I had a whole new crop of questions. They all began with why. Why was asking after a runaway such a threat to Smiley? After all, I’d seen Martin myself. He wasn’t dead or anything.

Maybe he was mixed up with the drug cartels or starring in porno films. Interest in Martin might turn up information that jeopardised others. Worth killing to keep under wraps. But JB hadn’t found anything out anyway, as far as I knew.

I’d have to go to the police. What’s the point, as Leanne would say? All I had was hearsay. Impossible to prove without Leanne’s co-operation. And running counter to the official version of events. Nevertheless, I’d have to tell them what I’d heard. There was no way I was going to pursue some nutter like Smiley. Way out of my league. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to know a bit more about him. I rang Harry.

‘Sal, you’ve saved me!’

‘From?’

‘Repetitive Strain Injury. I’ve been glued to the screen all bloody day. I forget to take breaks. They’re addictive, you know.’ I didn’t. My funds didn’t stretch to a typewriter, let alone a word-processor. It was high on my list of things I’d get when-my-boat-comes-in.

‘An article?’ I asked.

‘Guardian. Selling off Salford – poorest city in the land. Dockland development for the rich, no-go areas for the poor.’

‘I get the picture.’

‘So, is this a social call?’

‘No, business. I want to find out about someone, well, he’s a gangster by all accounts.’ Harry made a murmur of surprise.

‘He was seen leaving JB’s flat the day he died.’

‘How was the funeral?’

‘Deadly.’

Harry laughed.

Maddie came out of the lounge and thrust her empty cup in my face. I nodded and pointed to the phone. She went off whining.

‘I’m not up to date on the criminal fraternity,’ said Harry, ‘but I know a man who is. What’s this bloke’s name?’

‘Don’t know. Nickname’s Smiley. Got a scar either side of his mouth. He’s done time, into heavy stuff, drugs, pornography. That’s all I know.’

‘See what I can do. No rush, is there?’

‘No. Curiosity really. I’m not about to rustle up a posse.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

Bedtime was a marathon. To make amends for the day, I treated Maddie to an extra long story about space princesses with secret powers. I didn’t get downstairs till half-past nine. The lounge was a tip. Littered with toys, empty cups, kids’ clothes. I hadn’t the energy to clear it up but I couldn’t stand looking at the clutter.

I went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea. Settled into the old armchair by the big windows. Ray had been scanning the small ads; he hunts down auctions, gets tools that way. I flipped to the front page. BOLTON WOMAN BRUTAL MURDER. Photograph. Those large eyes, lit by a smile. I spilt my tea. My eyes raced over the print. I couldn’t make sense of it. Oh, the facts were there; where the body was found, how she’d been killed. But the woman that stared out at me, the woman who’d cried in my office two days ago, was Janice Brookes, a single woman living alone. ‘Miss Brookes leaves a mother and sister.’ No son. No husband. No Mrs Hobbs.

Now what the fuck was going on?