happen, John?’
‘ They’re trying to fit me up, but there’s no evidence. I should walk, but you were right. I don’t think Munrow did light that fire.’
‘ Who did?’
‘ Conroy. I was conned by Ron the Con. Munrow didn’t do it; it wasn’t his style. I should’ve realised that. He would have met me face to face. I should’ve listened to you, then maybe we’d still be in bed, reading the Sunday papers… naked.’
‘ Don’t, John,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want to think about it. All I want to do now is help you. How can I do that? How?’
‘ Just do what you said you would. Be there for me. That’s all I need. You’ll pull me through that way.’
Henry walked past Isa as she was leaving the custody office, not knowing who she was, of course. Siobhan was waiting for him, reading through Rider’s custody record.
‘ Ready?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. I’ve got the Duty Inspector to authorise a search of Rider’s flat. We’ll see if we can find the gun there and some authentic evidence. Maybe then there won’t be a need for this charade.’
Siobhan had already booked out a set of sealed tapes.
‘ Interview first,’ she said.
The morning custody officer walked into the office. ‘The duty solicitor rang in about ten minutes ago to say she would be delayed about an hour.’
‘ Thanks, Jim.’
‘ In that case, we might as well have a brew together, Henry,’ Siobhan suggested.
‘ I think not,’ he replied.
Henry took the opportunity to approach the Patrol Sergeant who, amazingly, rustled up four bobbies to help him search Rider’s flat. Henry knew it would be a waste of time, because if Rider did have a gun, or a ski mask, or bloodstained clothing, it would be gone by now. Rider was no fool. But the motions had to be gone through.
Prior to setting off, Henry went to his desk and found his extendable baton which he fixed on his belt in its plastic, quick-draw pouch. Just in case there was any resistance at the Rider household.
The little team set off in a personnel carrier, with Henry sat in the back together with two of the Constables. The other two were upfront, one driving.
Siobhan ran out of the back door of the station to see the van drawing away. She shouted something which Henry could not hear, but his lip reading skills were advanced enough to know that she was questioning his parentage. He gave her a little wave.
They were at the basement flat within minutes and went en masse to the door at the front of the steps. Henry knocked. He was looking forward to breaking the door down, just to vent some of his suppressed anger.
There were footsteps inside.
The door opened.
Henry immediately recognised the woman as being the one he’d walked past in the custody office not many minutes before.
‘ Yes?’ she said suspiciously.
Henry dangled an A5-size form in front of her eyes. ‘I’m DS Christie from Blackpool police station. This is an authority to search these premises — by force if necessary.’
She peered closely at the form, then closed the door.
Henry was about to exclaim, ‘Yes!’ in anticipation, and reach for his baton — which he had yet to use — when the chain slid back and the door opened fully.
‘ Come in,’ she said wearily. ‘You won’t find anything.’
Henry stood by to let the PCs pass him and commence the search.
‘ You his wife or something?’
‘ Some hope,’ Isa said. ‘Do you want a brew? I’ve just boiled the kettle.’
Surprised by the hospitality, Henry said yes. House searches were usually met with resistance, not acquiescence. They were often battles and quite good sport.
She led him into the kitchen and flicked the kettle switch again.
‘ And you are?’ he asked.
‘ Why?’
‘ I need to make a record of people present during the search.’ It was true, he did.
‘ Isa Hart.’
He scribbled her name down on a piece of paper.
She turned to the worktop and began the tea-making process, facing away from Henry. She was leaning on the surface with both hands taking her weight. Henry thought she was watching the kettle boil. Then he saw that her shoulders were shaking. Her head dropped, chin onto chest, and she sobbed.
‘ You all right?’ he asked.
She tried to pull herself together, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse and tilting her head back as though to get the tears to roll back into her eyes. They would not stop coming.
Henry reached for the kitchen stool and placed it to one side of her.
‘ Hey, sit down before you fall down. C’mon,’ he said gently.
She lowered herself onto the stool and blinked despairingly up at him. Her eyes were pools of clear water and streams of tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped them irritably away. ‘I’m sorry. This isn’t getting the tea made.’
‘ That’s OK,’ he said, not bothered about tea. He was more aware that quite often, valuable information, sometimes good evidence, could be gained from emotional friends, relatives, lovers. His pleasant bedside manner was a bit of a con trick really. ‘D’you want to talk? I may be able to help, you never know.’
‘ No, no, it’s all right.’ She heaved a huge sigh. ‘It’s just… Oh God, he promised…’ She shook her head. ‘I’m lying, he didn’t promise a damned thing, but he said he loved me and suddenly we had a future, then in the next breath it’s gone.’
‘ Why did he do it?’ Henry asked.
Isa was worldly enough not to get taken in by that one, even in her turmoil. ‘I didn’t say he did it… but I know that he’s been set up and now he’s told me you lot are going to make certain he gets sent down. He doesn’t have a chance. We don’t have a chance. Oh God, I don’t know who I feel more sorry for, him or me.’
‘ You said he was set up?’ Henry’s ears (at least the unbitten one) had picked up gold dust from the emotional dross.
‘ Bastard Conroy!’ she wailed. ‘And now you’re working for him, aren’t you? Just like all the other cops on his payroll.’ The expression on her face taunted him. ‘I hope you’re proud of yourself. Guilty or not, you’re going to get him, aren’t you?’
She buried her face in her hands. ‘He’ll be an old man when he comes out, if he comes out, and I’ll have had a completely wasted life.’ Suddenly she flared up without warning, anger bubbling over. She propelled herself at Henry and attacked him, pounding her fists into his chest.
He grabbed her hands and bent them roughly back. She screamed. He tossed her away from him. She skittered across the floor and landed in a heap next to the washer where she continued to cry.
Henry rubbed his chest. Too many people were hitting it.
‘ Y’allreet, Sarge?’ A couple of the PCs had abandoned the search on hearing the commotion in the kitchen.
Henry nodded. ‘One of you make sure she’s OK and the other one take me back to the nick. Then come back and finish the search.’
Before leaving, Henry wrote his home number down on a scrap of paper and left it on a work surface. ‘If you feel like talking,’ he told Isa, ‘bell me.’
Henry ensured he was dropped off at the front of the station. Siobhan, if she was waiting, would probably expect him to come back via the rear yard, one floor below. He wanted to avoid her at all costs. He dashed in through the public enquiry area and was buzzed into the building. He dropped down a flight of steps into the
