He turned round, a dramatic flourish of the arms as he went all Bronski Beat on me. ‘Yes?’
I pointed to my boot. ‘Do you see that?’
He eyeballed me.
Bad idea.
‘A foot, for standing, perhaps walking,’ he said. Sniggers from his shitkicker friends.
I edged closer, went nose to nose with him. ‘Would you like me to introduce you to another of its uses?’
He backed away. If he’d went any faster he’d have given himself whiplash.
A gap appeared in the queue.
Ordered, ‘A coffee, please, and a pot of tea. Can you hold the tea till my friend arrives?’
‘I’m here… I’m here.’ Fitz appeared ruddy-faced, cheeks on him like the fire station doors. He carried a bag over his left shoulder — the look was way too metrosexual for him.
We took a table. Fitz loosened his collar.
‘Did you run here?’ I said.
‘Feck off, man. ’Tis that hill: damn near has me buggered.’
The tea and coffee came, got placed down before us.
I thought to ask him how the case was going, but knew if he had anything that he was prepared to divulge it would be dished up soon enough. He leaned back on his chair, reached for the bag. He took out a padded envelope. ‘This is, erm, well… It’s your brother’s possessions.’
I imagined what would be inside. Little see-through plastic bags containing Michael’s watch and wedding ring. Whatever else there was, I didn’t want to see it. I took the package — it seemed very light.
Fitz said, ‘There’s a computer and some stuff we took from his office; I gave that to uniform to drop off at the factory.’
‘Have you been into the computer?’ I knew I was being optimistic.
‘Oh yes, the boffins have been all through it. Nothing for us, I’m afraid.’
I expected no more.
I held the envelope in my hands as though it was made of the most delicate porcelain. It seemed to take my attention from Fitz. My thoughts wandered all over the place; I was no more than emotional carrion now. I broke out of my daydream, placed the package on the table. Fitz started to stir his tea.
I said, ‘Thank you.’
‘I thought, y’know, you might be better taking the bits and pieces to his wife… Might come better from you.’
I was grateful for the compassion. ‘It was a generous thought.’
He flicked up an eyebrow, pointed with his spoon. ‘I wanted to say… after our last chat…’
‘Yeah?’
‘I wanted to reassure you that, all we can, we’re doing for you.’
I tutted. I knew what doing for me meant to most of the force. I swung from gratitude to anger: I knew I was the only one moving this investigation forward. ‘Is that so?’ I said. I leaned in, placed my elbows on the table. ‘I’ve been doing a bit more myself since I saw you last, Fitz, and let me tell you, I’m not convinced your lot are doing enough.’
He raised his cup, slurped. ‘Is that so?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I slumped back in my seat, ‘I don’t see you all over the papers announcing you’ve made any progress, like you’ve found the gun or have a suspect for Michael’s murder… or Andy’s, or Ian Kerr’s either.’
That got him fired up. ‘Fucking papers.’
‘You’d be happy enough to have the press splash any good news about.’
He slammed his cup on the saucer. The spoon jumped. ‘There is progress, but I can’t tell you everything.’
I lurched for him. ‘Why the fuck not?’
‘Look at you… because you’re away with it, man! You’d go haring in like some mad heller and get yerself and Lord alone knows who else killed if I gave you a sniff of what I’m on to.’
I wasn’t wearing that, lamped in: ‘Why haven’t you busted the Czechs?’
‘For what? I can’t go around throwing just anyone in jail, especially foreign nationals. You want me with an international incident on my hands?’
I got up. I’d heard enough. I knew Fitz hadn’t moved the case on an inch since our last meeting: he was still sitting around waiting for the Undertaker to fuck up and get his next glamour collar. ‘I’m sure it’ll all fall in your lap.’
As I bent down to pick up the envelope he grabbed my arm. ‘C’mon, sit back down, Gus.’
I didn’t trust him when he called me by my first name. ‘Why?’
He nodded to the package. ‘That wasn’t the only reason I called you out.’
‘No?’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
I sat back down. ‘Go on, then.’
Fitz put a fat finger above his tie, stretched the loop wider, ‘I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but… We had your niece down the station the other night.’
‘Alice?’ I wondered what she’d been up to now. Did I want to hear?
‘Nothing heavy: she’d had a jug of something with a group of the local young crew… The uniforms printed her, took her down the cells, but I drove her home.’
I panicked — how had Jayne taken it? ‘Her mother?’
Fitz shook his head. ‘No. No. I never told the mother, woman has enough on her plate, I’m sure… Very bad time of year for, y’know, this type of thing.’
I scratched the top of my head, let out a long sigh. ‘Thanks again.’
‘No bother. I’d keep an eye on the lass, though. She was a bit… emotional.’
‘Emotional?’
Fitz drew a deep breath, exhaled. ‘About her father… I’d say she’s struggling to get to grips. It’s a bad age for her; I know, I’ve got daughters myself.’
I thanked him again, nodded. Said, ‘I’ll have a word.’
‘Mind your family, Gus. Leave the investigation to us.’
I stood up, said nothing. Anything I thought to mention would only make him flare up.
He grabbed my arm. His eyes burned into me. ‘I mean it: think how they’d take another loss so close to home.’
Chapter 30
I couldn’t bear to open the envelope from Fitz.
I looked at it: a padded manila job, dog-eared corners; on the front a white label with my brother’s name and a case number written in black marker pen. I couldn’t stop my imagination picturing what was inside, but I didn’t want to go there yet.
I remembered Michael lying in the mortuary, how pale he’d looked, so still. The small grey hole beneath his heart, barely a half-inch wide, where the bullet had entered, and taken his life.
I sat with the envelope on my lap, then brought it up to my chest.
‘Och, Michael.’
The blood was coursing through my arms as I gripped tightly to the package. I felt ready to howl out my hurt. I was ready to tear down the world that had taken away my brother. ‘I find who did this, Michael… I’ll kill them. I promise you. I’ll take a life for yours.’
I got up too quickly from the couch — black dots flashed at the edges of my field of vision. I needed another wrap. I took the envelope through to the bedroom and put it on top of the wardrobe. I played with the idea of taking it straight to Jayne, but I knew she wasn’t ready for that kind of shock either.
I fired some more speed, felt twitchy. The backs of my eyes itched; felt like scooping them out with spoons.
