Against the far wall were more groceries and a green door with the red stencilled words ‘NO ENTRY’ printed in capital letters.
Matthew Oram certainly knew his customers.
A young man was standing behind the counter with a till on his right and a closed shelf of cigarettes behind him. He didn’t raise his head from the MMA magazine he was reading.
There was nobody else in the shop.
‘Hiya,’ Emily said brightly, ‘is the owner around?’
The young man finally lifted his head. ‘No.’ He then went back to reading his magazine.
Emily fished out her warrant card. ‘I’m DS Parkinson. I talked to Mr Oram on Friday and I’d just like to follow up on a few things he said. Do you know where he is?’
The man’s bottom lip came up over the top one. ‘No.’
Emily glanced at Ridpath. She reached forward to close the magazine.
‘Oi…’
‘Now I have your undivided attention, where is Mr Oram?’
The man attempted to snatch back the magazine but couldn’t take it from Emily’s grip. ‘I told you, I don’t know. Sunday is his day off, that’s why I’m here. He’s probably cooking dinner for his mother. That’s what he normally does on Sundays.’
Ridpath relaxed. He was at the address Chrissy had got from the electoral register, then.
‘So he’s not here?’ Emily persisted.
The man took his magazine back. ‘Look around. Can you see him?’ He rolled his eyes as if to say these people are so stupid.
‘Thank you for your time,’ responded Emily.
She turned back to Ridpath but the man carried on speaking.
‘He’s probably upstairs. His mum lives in the flat above and she don’t go out much. In fact, she don’t go out at all.’ He leant forward. ‘She’s a bit strange,’ he whispered. ‘Scares the hell out of me.’
Both detectives stopped. Emily turned back to face him. ‘How do we get into the flat?’
‘The stairs are through that green door. I can ring him and tell him you’re coming if you want.’
‘Don’t bother,’ said Ridpath, striding towards the door. ‘We prefer to surprise him.’
Chapter 98
He’d just finished cleaning the mess the boy had made when he heard a noise coming from the back alley.
He looked out of the window to see a blue uniform ducking down behind a low wall.
His Corsa was parked in full view, in the place they reserved for deliveries to the shop, not in the garage. He’d wanted to move the boy up to the flat as quickly and silently as possible.
The top of another policeman’s head appeared briefly above the wall. There were at least two of them out there.
Were they onto him? Or just checking out the car?
Another sound from downstairs. The bell ringing as somebody entered the shop.
It was quiet, too quiet.
He walked to the bedroom, grabbing the baseball bat from behind the door. The boy was still lying on the bed, his open eyes staring at the ceiling.
Should he finish him off?
He heard the door from the shop open and footsteps coming up the stairs.
He raised the bat above his shoulders, ready to bring it down on the boy’s head.
The doorbell rang.
Should he answer it? Brazen it out? They couldn’t come into the flat without a warrant anyway. He didn’t want to kill the boy, not yet. It would be such a waste.
The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time.
‘Coming, coming,’ he shouted, ‘keep your shirt on.’
Closing the bedroom door, he checked everything was OK in the flat.
It all looked fine. He would say Mother was sleeping and that’s why they couldn’t come in.
He walked to the door and checked through the peephole. It was the same female detective who had asked him about the ATM on Friday. Why was she back?
And there was somebody else with her. A taller, thinner copper he hadn’t seen before.
The bell rang again.
‘Hang on,’ he shouted, placing the baseball bat out of sight and opening the door.
Chapter 99
Emily Parkinson smiled as broadly as she could. ‘Hiya, Mr Oram, remember me?’
Matthew Oram stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a smart, casual outfit; a white shirt and blue slacks with a pair of brown, tasseled loafers on his feet. It was as if he was about to go on a Sunday afternoon date.
‘Of course, you’re the policewoman who was asking about the ATM footage. Did you get it in the end?’
‘We did, thanks.’ She tried to peer around him to see into the flat. ‘I’ve just got some follow-up questions. I wonder if I could come in? It won’t take more than a few minutes.’
Ridpath stayed quiet, staring at the man. Was this their killer?
‘It’s a bit awkward, I’m cooking afternoon lunch for my mother.’
‘It won’t take long.’ Emily tried to push past him but he stood his ground.
‘I’d like to ask you a few questions, Mr Oram.’
‘I’m afraid it’s not convenient now.’
Ridpath spoke for the first time. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come down to the station to answer the quest—’
Before Ridpath could finish the sentence, Oram had a baseball bat above his head and was striking down at Emily.
The bat hit her with a dull thud where the neck joined the head and she fell forward into the flat.
For one second, Ridpath stood there staring down at the inert body of his colleague. Oram raised the bat once more, and Ridpath, realising the danger he was in, threw himself forward, taking the man around the chest in a classic rugby tackle.
They both fell to the wooden floorboards with a heavy crack. Ridpath felt the air explode from his mouth as the handle of the baseball bat struck him in the chest. He lay there struggling for breath, his chest heaving, desperately searching for air.
Ridpath felt something hit him in the stomach.
Oram’s knee.
He bent double, trying to grab the man’s arm, but he wrenched it free. He was far stronger than
