‘GET OUT!’ a man’s voice bellowed through the house. ‘GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!’
Ashley was cowering in the middle of the hallway, as a bear-like man shouted and tried to punch passing kids. The DJ had his gear all boxed up, but he couldn’t get past the man.
‘Kenny? What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Sorry, Scott.’ And Kenny swerved past him.
Presumably Scott was Ashley’s father, Carly’s parents’ dinner date.
Karen approached him, warrant card out, and that only seemed to spark his rage.
Vicky turned back to Gary.
But he was gone – just an empty box of wine on the floor.
The French doors slammed and Gary was scarpering across the pebbles.
Just great.
Vicky jerked into action, tearing the door open and crunching across the icy pebbles towards him.
Gary was hurtling towards the couple on the swing, who only noticed him as he reached them, then he used them as a stepping stone to climb up the oak.
‘Police!’ Vicky stopped at the bottom of the tree. ‘Get down!’
The couple fled back towards the house, both shrieking.
Vicky looked up the tree, at the translucent green soles of Gary’s Dr. Martens. All she could think of was that Edinburgh cop she’d spoken to on a training course, big lump who’d chased a cat up a tree and got no end of abuse for it from his peers, even after rescuing the poor moggy. Vicky had absolutely no idea how to get up there.
But she needed to – one of the branches hung over the wall and the drunk little sod was heading for it.
No, she needed another option. Wait. She reached into her belt and got out her baton. ‘Gary, I will throw this at you. It will hurt. A lot.’
He turned to look down at her. But it stopped his progress towards the brick wall, maybe a metre away, almost close enough to jump.
She held her baton behind her head, like she did back at school when throwing the javelin.
‘Wait!’ He held up a hand. ‘Wait!’ A loud hiccup, like he’d downed a box of air as well as the wine.
She lowered her baton.
Just as he lost his footing on the tree, slipping down the rough bark.
Vicky jolted forward and held out her arms. She caught him, but he was too heavy and took her down too. She thumped her head against the bark, and it felt like she’d opened her skull. Somehow she got a tight grip on the kid’s arm. ‘Stop!’
He looked around at her, his mouth even wider than Ashley’s had been moments earlier. But he’d lost all the fight, all the piss and vinegar. He just hiccupped.
Vicky felt her temple, but somehow had avoided any blood. The wound was just agony. Probably get a nice Christmas bruise. She grabbed him under the armpits, hot and sweaty, and pulled him up to standing. ‘Gary, stop resisting me.’
He was hiding behind his lank hair again. ‘What do you want?’
‘I need to speak to you about Carly Johnston.’
‘Why?’
Before Vicky could answer, Gary jerked forward and sprayed second-hand red wine all over his boots.
5
Despite the pair of trainers from Lost Property, Gary still reeked of red wine and stomach acid.
Vicky couldn’t decide which was worse.
And he was just a kid. Looked so young, younger than anyone at that party. But he had a haunted look about him too, backed up with tanning a box of cheap wine. That was a fast way to oblivion. Hard to decide if his look was contrived, or if it betrayed some deep trauma. Could be both, or it could just be how he was born, the shape of his sharp cheekbones.
Vicky leaned across the table and tried to direct her voice at the microphone. ‘Gary, it’ll be better for you if you talk to us.’
But he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Eyes closed. Taking deep breaths. At least he’d stopped hiccupping, though the duty doctor couldn’t give any reassurances that he wasn’t going to be sick again. And just under the blood alcohol level – the purging of his guts had a beneficial side to it.
‘Gary, seriously. We’re speaking to you in relation to a murder inquiry.’
He just shook his head. Still couldn’t look at her.
‘Carly’s dead.’
Even that didn’t work. Gary just flared his nostrils. At least his eyes were open now.
Vicky caught a look from Karen, one that read “what the hell is this kid on?” Vicky leaned forward again, close enough to smell the second-hand booze wafting off him. She widened her eyes, trying to emphasise how deep in the shite he was. ‘Someone found her dead body, Gary.’
More head shaking.
‘You do know her, right?’
He swallowed.
‘Were you her boyfriend?’
The shaking got faster. He pursed his lips. But still he didn’t speak.
‘Someone told us you were her boyfriend.’
‘Someone should shut their mouth.’
Vicky sat back, pleased to get a response from him. ‘When I identified myself as a police officer, you ran away. Is that because you killed her?’
‘What?’ Staring at the floor now.
‘Because that seems like the kind of thing a guilty person would do.’
‘I haven’t— I…’ He let out a monster sigh that seemed to take all of his energy. ‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘Sure? Where were you heading?’
‘Nowhere.’
‘Sure about that? Because it looked like you were heading for that wall. Someone else’s garden, then out onto the street and you could get away. Right?’
‘I just needed to climb.’
‘Come on, you’ve got to do better than that.’
Gary sat back, arms folded, that haunted look in full effect. ‘Knew I shouldn’t have gone.’
Okay, so he was talking. Vicky wanted to keep him like that. ‘Why not, Gary?’
‘Because.’
‘Who were you there with?’
‘Open invite on WhatsApp.’
‘So you went on your own?’
‘Right.’
‘And you brought your wine?’
‘Right.’
‘Where did you get it from?’
‘Not saying.’
‘Your parents’ wine rack?’
That got a look. And eye contact. He shook his head again. ‘From the cupboard. It’s cheap stuff for Mum’s sister. My auntie Joan. She
