appreciate what you told us before. And it was very helpful. But what I want you to tell me is what Jack Anderson was like. Not the facts of his life, but his personality. What sort of lad he was.’
Mottishead scratched his stubbly head and grinned. ‘He was up for anything, Jack. After his dad died, it was like he went off his head a bit. Like he had to get everything crammed in before he died. He was shocking with the lasses-if they wouldn’t shag him, he dropped them like a hot potato. And if they did shag him, he’d get bored in a few weeks and dump them anyway. I heard tell he was into all sorts-threesomes, bondage…you name it, he’d have a crack at it. And if he liked it, he’d do it again. Drink, fags, drugs-he had to be the first to try everything that was going the rounds. It was like the brakes came off when his dad died, and they never went back on again.’
He sounded like a prince, Paula thought. Lucky for him their paths had never crossed. ‘Didn’t anybody try to get him to calm down? His mum? Teachers?’
Mottishead pushed his lips out and shook his head. ‘His mum was in a world of her own half the time. Looking back, I think she was popping Valium like Smarties. And the teachers weren’t interested in owt that happened outside the classroom. Jack was too smart to let his schoolwork go down the drain. He knew getting some qualifications was the only sure way to get out of Bradfield. And he wanted out.’
‘Did he ever talk about how he was going to get out? Did he have a career in mind?’
‘He never said what he was going to do for a living. He always said how he was going stratospheric. He was going to leave the likes of us behind and go all the way to the top.’ His forehead creased with the effort of memory. ‘One time, I remember, we were having a General Studies class and we were talking about ambition. And the teacher was going on about how that Tory bloke, what’s his name, Tarzan they called him…’
‘Michael Heseltine?’
‘That’s the one. Well, apparently when he was a lad, he wrote down a list of what he was planning for his future. Top of the list was Prime Minister. Well, he never made that but he got bloody close, and he did all the other things on the list. The teacher’s going on about this, and about setting goals. And we’re all thinking, “Get a job, get a girlfriend, get a season ticket for Victoria Park.” But not Jack. He’s writing down stuff like, “Get a Ferrari. Own a house on Dunelm Drive. Make a million by the time I’m thirty.” We all laughed at him, but he was serious.’
‘Sounds pretty ambitious,’ Paula said.
That was Jack.’ Mottishead turned serious. ‘If you’re thinking Jack killed Robbie Bishop, I won’t be the one on the telly going, “I can’t believe it.” The road that Jack was on all those years ago? Murder would just be another taboo to walk all over. And he’d make a bloody good job of it. You’d have your work cut out to catch him, never mind to put him away.’
Paula felt herself shiver. This team he used to do the pub quiz with? The Funhouse? Did they all work together?’
‘No, they’d got together because they all play those online games. You know, I’ll be a wizard and you be a dwarf and we’ll have a fight? Anyhow, they’d worked out they all lived local and they decided to get together for the pub quiz. Nice blokes, but a right bunch of anoraks apart from Jack. He didn’t really fit in with them. Mind you, he never really fitted in anywhere. For all his antics, he never really had proper mates. Just people to do the mad stuff with.’
‘And you’ve no idea where he is now?’
‘Not a Scooby. Sorry. I asked around after I spoke to you the other day, but nobody’s seen hide nor hair of him for years.’
‘I don’t understand that,’ Paula said. ‘We believe he’s got a flat in Temple Fields. We think he was in Amatis the night Robbie was poisoned. He must be out and about. I can’t believe nobody’s seen him around.’
Mottishead took a swig from his can. ‘Maybe that’s because he doesn’t live there. A lot of those fancy flats in the city centre, they’re just crash pads for rich sods that live some other place. Maybe Jack made it after all. Maybe he just comes to town when he’s got somebody to kill.’
Hands and shoulders aching from the crutches, Tony made his way down the third-floor corridor. He didn’t remember it being this far from the lift to the MIT squad room. But then the hospital corridor also seemed to have stretched since that morning.
He’d lied to the nurse. He’d said he was going down to the cafe on the ground floor to do some reading accompanied by decent coffee, and not to expect him back for a while. The truth was he worked best when he could talk and listen to the team face to face. He wanted to show Carol Yousef Aziz’s blog posts, because he didn’t think he could convince her without showing her what he meant. And as much as these things, he wanted to avoid another destructive encounter with his mother.
He was disappointed when he walked in to find the only person around was Stacey. Not that he had anything against Stacey. It was impossible not to respect her abilities. He knew from past experience how vital her skills had been to the team’s success. There were people walking around Bradfield who wouldn’t be if it hadn’t been for Stacey’s intimate understanding of silicon and cyberspace. It was just that she’d never quite mastered human communication. He always felt awkward around her, perhaps because he could understand how his own social skills might have been that stunted if he hadn’t worked so hard at passing for human.
Tony swung across the room, smiling as Stacey looked up. Her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet, placing a second chair behind her desk. He sat down gratefully, unslinging his computer bag from across his body. ‘We didn’t know you were coming in.’ He knew it wasn’t meant to be an accusation, but it sounded like one.
‘I was getting stir crazy,’ he said. ‘And besides, this is where I belong at a time like this.’
‘It’s good to have you back,’ she said with all the animation of a talking doll. ‘How’s your knee?’
‘Incredibly uncomfortable. Sometimes very painful. But at least I can get around with this leg brace and the crutches. But I need to take my mind off my leg, which is why I’m here. Do you know if DCI Jordan’s due back?’
‘She’s in a meeting with the Chief Constable,’ Stacey said, already staring at the screen, far more interested in that than in him. ‘She went off about twenty minutes ago. She didn’t say when she’ll be back.’
‘OK, I’ll wait. I need to talk to her about Yousef Aziz.’
Stacey sneaked a quick glance at him. ‘You’re working on the bombing?’
‘And the other stuff. What are you on?’
