at the top of the stairs, wheezing, heaving for breath.
‘I don’t like lifts.’ The words came out in quick accusing pants, as if she was blaming him for living there. ‘I’m never quite sure they’ll carry my weight.’ And he realized her appearance was something she was sensitive about. She’d have been bullied at school and the only way to deal with it would have been to get the jibe in first. Surprised that last night he’d been intimidated by her, he leaned back against the door and let her walk into the flat ahead of him.
Inside, he watched her checking out the flat, saw it through her eyes. It would be tidier than she’d expect. He had lots of electronic equipment but it was all boxed and stacked on shelves along one wall. He didn’t mind a bit of mess but he didn’t like chaos. Against the same wall stood a long desk with a PC and printer, a pair of headphones, a pile of audio magazines. In the middle of the room a sofa and coffee table. In the corner a TV and DVD player. A couple of enlarged black and white photos on the wall. One of the river in the centre of town. Dusk. Looking through all the bridges to the Blinking Eye. But there was nothing really personal, he thought. Nothing to give himself away. He’d allowed himself to keep one photo of Emily, but it was on his desk, small, nothing flashy. The inspector wouldn’t notice that.
‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
Her face was red with the effort of climbing the stairs. He didn’t bother with the lift either unless he had heavy gear, but didn’t even have to catch his breath when he got to the top. He told himself not to be such a smug bastard. She was an overweight, middle-aged woman. Hardly competition.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a beer, have you?’ she said. ‘I’m not fussy, pet. Whatever you’ve got in the fridge.’
He found himself smiling. Despite himself he couldn’t help liking her. He brought out two cans of lager, a glass for her. She lowered herself carefully onto the sofa. He sat on the floor, legs stretched in front of him, felt her looking him over.
‘Your file says you’re thirty-five,’ she said. ‘You’ve not worn badly. If I was guessing, I’d say five years younger.’
‘Thanks.’ He was annoyed at himself for feeling flattered. It was an odd thing for her to say, an odd feeling to have her eyeing him up. It occurred to him briefly that women must feel like this all the time.
‘This place must have set you back a few quid.’ She looked out towards the window. ‘A view like that.’
‘Not really. I bought it from new six years ago. Everyone thought I was mad moving to Shields. I’d make a canny profit if I sold it now.’
‘Live here on your own?’
‘Yes.’
I’m not so sad, he wanted to say. Not really sad, like Clive. I was engaged once. To Emily. The love of my life. We were going to live together in a tidy flat in Jesmond. And since then there’ve been women. Not living in, maybe. Not real girlfriends. But I’ve never gone without for long. And now there’s Julie.
She tugged at the ring pull on the can. He slipped a look at his watch. He still had that phone call to make.
‘Expecting someone?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘Nothing like that. Is this about that student who died? I thought you’d finished with me last night.’
She made him wait until she’d taken a mouthful of beer, straight from the can, not bothering with the glass he’d set on the table in front of her. ‘I’m going to ask you a question,’ she said. ‘You’ve heard it before. This time I want you to think about it.’
He was about to interrupt, to tell her she was wasting her time, that he knew nothing about the student’s death. But she waved her can at him to stop him speaking and he did. She had a way of getting what she wanted. Again she waited until she was sure she had his full attention. ‘Does the name Luke Armstrong mean anything to you?’
‘No. I told you last night.’
‘I said think about it.’
They looked at each other in silence. Gary shook his head.
‘He has a mother by the name of Julie. A sister called Laura. Perhaps that jogs your memory.’
He froze, his beer almost to his mouth. ‘Julie’s son,’ he said at last.
‘Aye, Julie’s son. The lad who’s been ill.’
‘I didn’t mean to mislead you, Inspector.’
‘You did, though.’
‘I never met him. Julie talked about him. I know he’d been having a rough time. But the name didn’t really register. I still think of her as Julie Richardson.’ He looked up at her. ‘He’s dead?’
‘Murdered,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you see it in the press?’
‘I don’t read the papers much. I listened to the radio on the way back from Peter’s this morning. It mentioned Lily Marsh, but not the boy.’
‘We’re not encouraging the media to make a connection.’
‘And he was killed in the same way as Lily Marsh?’
‘Not exactly. But there are similarities.’
‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘Julie will be devastated. She said he wasn’t an easy kid, but I could tell she was crazy about him. I mean, she said she loved both her children, but Luke was special. He needed her most. I don’t know what to do. I was just about to phone her when you arrived. I was expecting her to phone me. She said she would. I thought she’d changed her mind about wanting to see me again. Now I understand.’ He paused. ‘I don’t suppose she’ll want to hear from me now.’
‘Typical man,’ Vera said, speaking to herself. ‘A woman’s lost her son and all he can think about is getting his leg over.’
‘No!’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I meant maybe she could use a friend. But probably not me. I mean, she’d be better off with someone who’s known her longer, wouldn’t she? I’d just be in the way. What do you think?’
‘Eh, pet, I’m a detective, not a relationship counsellor.’
He looked straight at her. ‘How is Julie?’
‘Her son’s just been murdered. How do you think?’
He stood up and walked towards the balcony. The door was still open. A couple of herring gulls screamed and squabbled outside. He knew it was pathetic, but he felt sorry for himself. He wasn’t really thinking about Julie at all.
Vera heaved herself to her feet and followed him out. ‘You do know he died that night you were out with her?’ she said.
Gary turned, apparently horrified. ‘Wednesday?’
‘Aye, she got home from the night in town and found him.’ She paused, narrowed her eyes. ‘Some people might say it was a bit of a coincidence. You were chatting up the first victim’s mother just before he was murdered and came upon the second soon after.’
‘I’d never met either of them,’ he said. ‘Honestly.’
‘Tell me how you got together with Julie,’ she said. ‘I mean, were you set up? Some friend saw her, maybe, thought you were her type. Someone pulling your strings?’
‘No, nothing like that. Why?’
‘Probably no reason,’ she said. ‘I was just looking for a connection. It crossed my mind it would be a way of keeping tracks on her. Someone bringing you together would have inside information. But I’ve never been a great one for conspiracy theories.’
Gary found himself telling the inspector about the meeting anyway. He wanted to tell it. It was like one of those stories which become family legends, told to grandchildren. They stood together, leaning on the balcony rail and looking down into the street. ‘It was a chance meeting. Pure chance. I saw her in the other bar. At least I heard her first, heard her laugh. She’s got one of those laughs. You know, infectious. Then something about her was familiar. I’d not seen her since we left primary school, but I recognized her. Amazing, really, after all that time. And suddenly it hit me. That was what I wanted. To get together with someone like that. Someone who could laugh like that. I’ve always gone for younger women. Lookers, you know. But they’ve never stuck around.
