boys to get closer.
‘OK, who wants to take on Pele?’
‘Who’s Pele?’ Ewan said.
‘He was nearly as good as Ashley Cole only he wasn’t a bum boy,’ Kyle said.
‘Ashley Cole isn’t a bum boy.’
‘Yes he is!’
‘No he isn’t.’
‘Is too!’
‘Isn’t.’ Ewan turned to Riley for some sort of adult input to settle the dispute.
‘You like Chelsea, Ewan?’ Riley said, pointing at the kid’s shirt.
‘Yeah, sort of. Better than Man U Wankered anyway.’
‘Chelsea are my team too. Think they can win the league this year?’
‘Dunno. Yeah. If Drogba can stay on his feet.’
‘Hey, isn’t there a guy who is a real Chelsea nut round here?’ Riley nodded his head in the direction of North Prospect Road. ‘Wears his shirt all year? Bit of a lad?’
Ewan hesitated and the boy’s eyes wandered away from Riley toward the estate. Conflicting loyalties, Riley thought, and wondered if he had pushed his luck. He tried again.
‘Only some of the lads at the station are thinking of organising a minibus up to the Bridge one Saturday and we’ve got a few spaces free. Fancy coming along?’
‘Oh, you mean rabid David?’ The name was pronounced so the couplet rhymed.
‘That’s him. Did he ever have a kick around? Like we have.’
‘No. He was scary. Once he nicked our ball and booted it right out there.’ The lad pointed to the Wolsey Road, a dual carriageway on the other side of the playground. ‘He was a bloody nutter. ‘Lewis almost went under a fucking bus trying to get the thing back.’
They were interrupted by a shout and Riley looked over to where a woman was getting out of a little red Toyota that had pulled in behind their car.
‘Hey, can I help you?’ The woman began jogging over toward them.
‘DS Riley, miss,’ Riley said, producing his warrant card.
‘Oh, sorry.’ The woman flicked a lock of dark hair away from her face and smiled. She was late twenties and wore faded jeans and a black chunky knit jumper that hugged her figure, accentuating her curves. Cute, Riley thought. She continued. ‘Only I got a phone call saying a couple of guys were down here talking to the kids. Can’t be too careful these days.’
‘And you are?’
‘Julie Meadows. I run NeatStreet, a kid’s charity. Minding this lot is part of the job. For my sins.’ She ruffled Ewan’s hair and when the boy smiled back at her Riley saw something approaching love in the lad’s eyes.
‘He’s a real detective Julie, ‘cept he’s black.’
‘There are black cops as well, Ewan, only we don’t get many down this part of the world.’
‘Yeah, I know that. He said he was going to take some of us to watch Chelsea. Not on TV, not on Sky. For real. At the Bridge. He promised.’
‘Did he now?’ Julie cocked her head to one side and half-smiled at Riley. The smile hit Riley somewhere deep inside his ribcage. To hide his embarrassment he kicked the ball away toward Enders and the boys took chase.
‘We are trying to find out about a man called David Forester. I understand he used to hang around down here?’
‘Forester? Big guy with a football shirt? Drove a black 4x4?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’
‘Yes, he came from here. Forever poking about with his video camera.’
‘What, shooting the kids?’ Riley indicated the playground.
‘No, the mums. Young mums, yes, but legal. He was always promising them modelling contracts, saying he would help them get discovered. He belonged to some photo club and he said to the girls he would get them work doing glamour shoots if they would audition for him first. From what I heard an audition involved them going back to his place and taking their clothes off.’
‘Anything else?’
Julie stopped. She belonged here, like Ewan, and Riley guessed she would be unlikely to want to reveal information which might make their lives any worse.
‘It’s important,’ Riley said. ‘Forester’s missing, a girl is dead.’
Julie looked around, as if the whole neighbourhood was watching in judgement. She sighed.
‘Forester did drugs. Used and dealt. Some of those girls ended up getting screwed by him. Metaphorically and literally. Do you understand what I mean?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘He could talk the talk, that was the problem, and round here people cling to any last hope. It is all too easy to tell them a fairy tale they want to believe. He could spin things so it seemed as if it was only one step from here to living in a mock Tudor mansion with a footballer as a husband and Hello Magazine beating a path to your door.’
‘Any idea what type of stuff he used to shoot?’ asked Riley.
‘Glamour, to begin with. Then he’d get them to show a bit more flesh, give them a little tit-bit as a reward. Next, rumour has it at least, he’d get the video camera out and start shooting full-on hardcore. I heard the material used to go up on the web on some paysite he helped run.’ She shook her head. ‘I am not a prude, but to think of those girls with Forester makes my skin creep.’
‘Do you recognise this girl?’ Riley took out his picture of Kelly Donal.
‘I’ve seen her on the news, yes, and once before, here actually.’
‘At the playground?’
‘Yes, she was draping herself over the roundabout, breasts hanging out of a halter top. Forester was using a video camera and following her around as she went on all the equipment. Then the girl left and Forester started chatting to some of the mums.’
‘Was he popular round here then?’
‘I don’t think popular is the right word, respected is more like it.’
‘Respected?’
‘Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? But Forester had money and drugs as well as the gift of the gab.’
‘Enemies?’
‘Dozens, I’m sure. Wouldn’t have bothered him though. You know, on the day when I saw him and the girl this other guy turned up. He had a camera too. Forester seemed to be showing him the footage on the video camera when out of the blue the other guy hit Forester. Just like that. Well, Forester erupted. He chucked the camera down and laid into this other man. He was soon on the ground and Forester was kicking him over and over again. I was about to call you lot when Forester stopped. He picked up the camera, gave the guy one more kick and went off.’
‘What happened then?’
‘I was a bit concerned about the other guy so I went over to ask if he was alright. His face was a mess and he had blood pouring out of his nose, but I shouldn’t have bothered; he told me to piss off and mind my own business!’
‘Charming.’
‘Anyway, I went to talk to some of the girls in the playground and the guy sat on the bench over there, just sat with his head in his hands. After a while he recovered and then he was scribbling things down in this little notebook. It seemed strange. I remember thinking at the time maybe he could be a reporter, but that didn’t fit with him hitting Forester, nor with the way he kept staring.’
‘Staring at what?’
‘At me, at the girls, the mums.’ Julie shuddered. ‘He kept licking his lips and looking around. He was creepy and I must admit, despite what had happened, I didn’t feel much sympathy for him.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘About your height, black hair, very pale skin, white almost, as if he didn’t get out in the sun much.’
