Fell Purpose

‘Like me? Older? Younger?’

‘I dunno,’ Tyler said, and Chantelle shook her head again. Evidently the relative age of grown-ups was an esoteric business to them.

‘Was he dark-haired? Or fair?’ Slider persisted.

‘I dunno,’ Tyler said sadly. ‘I never got a real look at him. I just see him get out the car and then I turns to Chantelle and the next thing we went.’

There seemed nothing more to say. After a moment, Slider said, ‘I’ll need you to write down what you’ve told me and sign it. I’ll have someone come and help you with that. But tell me, why didn’t you come in sooner? Didn’t you read about the murder, or see it on the telly?’

They looked at each other. ‘I never fought about it,’ Chantelle said.

Tyler said, ‘This lady come round this morning and spoke to Chantelle’s mum, asking if she’d seen anyfing, an’ that, and her mum told Chantelle when she come in, and Chantelle told her mum about this girl and the bloke in the car, and her mum said we should come in. So Chantelle rung me up, and we come.’ He looked at Slider helplessly. Evidently doing your civic duty simply didn’t come into their thought processes. Police investigations and murders happened in another world, far removed from the one they inhabited. It was like the world of the telly, which was both real and unreal, pertinent and unimportant, in varying degrees and baffling combination. Most of all, Slider supposed, it was the world of the grown-ups, which was not only nothing to do with them, but never would be. Their self-absorption was developed to an evolutionary degree, like a giraffe’s neck or a narwhal’s tusk, the one immediately noticeable thing about them. Oh, brave new world, he thought, that hath such people in it.

Up in his office, Slider wrote on a piece of paper the reg number he had automatically noted from the car parked in front of Markov’s building, and called Connolly in.

‘Good work on finding the Snogging Couple,’ he said.

‘I didn’t think I had, sir,’ she said, puzzled.

‘The mother of half of it received a visit this morning from “a lady” asking for information about the murder. I assume that was you. She mentioned it to her daughter, the daughter admitted she had been there, and the mother propelled her and the boy in our direction.’

‘Oh, that’s good.’ She looked pleased. ‘And did they see anything?’

‘They did indeed. So well done. Your diligence paid off.’ He smiled at her. ‘Don’t let anyone tell you this job requires brilliance. Just dogged determination and the ability to ask the same question a thousand times and still listen to the answer.’

‘You make it sound so glamorous, sir,’ she said, greatly daring.

‘Changing your mind about joining us?’ he said.

‘No, sir. Is there a chance?’

‘A very good one,’ Slider said. ‘Meanwhile, I’ve got a job for you. A bit of research, and I need it asap.’ He gave her the slip of paper. ‘Find out who owns that car, the keeper’s address, how it’s insured, whether there’s any finance on it, involvement in accidents, outstanding tickets – everything you can.’

‘Is that the car under the bridge?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. That’s what I hope to find out.’

‘It’s like a French farce,’ Atherton said, when he came back from interviewing Mrs Wilding again, and Slider told him what the Snogging Couple had said. ‘You say they saw the murderer but didn’t see Ronnie Oates or Eden; Eden didn’t see them but saw the murderer; Oates didn’t see anyone but the victim. And presumably the murderer didn’t see anyone at all, or he wouldn’t have done it there and then. All of them popping in and out of doors on one small road within one small window of time, and just missing each other.’

‘Such is life,’ Slider said.

‘And death. So where are we now?’

‘I don’t think it was Wilding.’

‘Oh, don’t say that! I’ve invested so much in him. His wife now hates him so much for what happened she’s willing to swear he did it. And he’s softening up nicely in the pokey. Another couple of interviews and he’ll sing like a lark. Chantelle said it was a blue Focus. What more do you want?’

‘Tyler says it wasn’t, and I’d trust him about cars more than I’d trust her,’ Slider said.

‘He had his tongue down her throat at the time and his mind on lower things,’ Atherton said. ‘He was terminally confused. And I really, really don’t like Wilding.’

‘Never mind,’ Slider consoled him. ‘We’ve got a terrific new lead. As soon as we get Tyler’s mobile phone record back, we’ll know who Zellah phoned. And therefore, who came to meet her at the common.’

Atherton frowned. ‘But who would she call to fetch her apart from her father?’

‘I didn’t say “fetch”, I said “meet”.’

‘Classic misdirection,’ Atherton said, surveying his boss’s face. ‘You’re up to something. What do you know?’

‘Only what you know. I’m just putting it together differently.’

‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’

‘I’ve just got one more visit to pay.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘I won’t be long. You can go home. We can’t do anything until we get the various bits of information in – phone records and DNA results.’

Atherton pretended a sulk. ‘I’ll work it out for myself, you see if I don’t.’

‘I wish you would,’ Slider said. ‘It would give me a bit of confirmation that I’m not completely out to lunch.’

‘Hand me my dressing-gown, violin and the customary ounce of shag,’ Atherton said, ‘and I will bend my mighty brain to it.’

On his way down to his car, Slider had a thought, and diverted his steps to the lock-ups, signed himself in and had Mike Carmichael brought to him. He looked tired and much more frightened, the attitude, sulks and anger all dissolved. He had had plenty of time to think, and realized now, perhaps, how bad things looked.

‘Sit down,’ Slider said. ‘I just want to ask you something.’

‘When are you going to let me go?’ Carmichael demanded, but with more of a plea and less assurance behind it. ‘You can’t keep me here like this.’

‘Don’t let’s get into that again. What’s the matter? You’ve only been here a day and a bit. Aren’t they treating you well?’

‘I don’t wanna be here,’ Carmichael said, balling his fists with frustration; but it looked more as though he might burst into tears than lash out at Slider. ‘I’ve not done anything. I didn’t kill Zellah! I was . . . I was fond of her. She was all right, for a kid. And I hadn’t seen her for months, anyway. Why would I want to kill her?’

‘Take it easy, son,’ Slider said. ‘It won’t be much longer.’

‘What do you want to ask me? I’ve told you everything I know. I didn’t kill her.’

‘Was Zellah in love with you?’ Slider asked, abruptly, in the hope of surprising an answer out of him.

His eyebrows went up, but he thought about it. ‘I dunno. I guess – maybe. When we were going out, she was mad for me. It was a bit scary. But I liked her. She was so clever, and funny in a way, and good fun, but . . .’ He paused, thinking it out.

‘Vulnerable?’ Slider tried after a bit.

He looked up. ‘Yeah, I suppose. It was like – I dunno – like nobody had ever touched her before, or taken any notice of her.’

‘As if no one had ever loved her?’

He looked cautious at the use of the word. ‘Yeah, maybe. Sort of. But we never talked about love, you know. I never promised her anything.’

‘I didn’t suppose you had,’ said Slider.

He seemed to take that as a criticism. ‘She was just a kid! I was fond of her, but that was it. What do you want from me?’

‘Did she ever tell you she loved you?’

‘Yeah, but that was just talk. Anyway,’ he went on defensively, ‘she broke up with