Fireflies (14 page)

‘How did they know it was a woman, sir?’ Ollie wanted to know.

‘Well they could tell by the shape of the figure even though she was wearing a floor length black coat, massive black sunglasses and a black hat with a large rim round it that almost shadowed her entire face. They put the image out everywhere but nobody came forward with any identification. They must’ve interviewed getting on for a hundred people during that investigation and nothing. Of course they knew that Bernie Connolly and anyone associated with him would be hard nuts to try and crack open but even so they tried but got nowhere. Eventually they just had to close the file and hand it over to the cold case review team for them to deal with when they saw fit. Like I said I wasn’t on that original investigation team but I knew well the senior officers who were’.

‘But the interest for us now is in what connection that crime may have with this current investigation’ said Ollie. ‘Some of the people involved in this case were also involved in the Hilton murder. Was it made certain that the image on the CCTV from the Manchester Hilton was not that of Sophie Cooper, sir?’

‘Yes, if I remember correctly, Ollie, the woman in the image was shorter than Sophie Cooper and, shall we say, wider?’

Ollie smiled. ‘I get it, sir. But I do think there’s something for us to find here. I’ve gone through the statements from the Mayfair hotel staff and I can detect that something is happening at the hotel that they don’t want to talk about, at least not to the police’.

‘But what?’ asked Rebecca.

‘Well could it be that Bernie Connolly’s hotel prostitute ring includes the Mayfair?’ said Jeff.

‘And if it does then did James Clifton end up knowing too much?’ Rebecca speculated.

‘It’s not inconceivable’ said Jeff. ‘But now I want to bring Sophie Cooper in. I’m just not prepared to believe that there’s no connection between her brother and all of this. The new wife of her ex-
fiance is murdered. Her current fiancé is murdered. Both were unfaithful to her and we can see how vengeful she could be. There’s a link here and we’re going to find it’.

‘I’ll see to that, sir’ said Rebecca who then left the squad room. Jeff then asked Ollie Wright to join him in his office.

‘Ollie, have you heard any rumours about me?’ Jeff asked.

‘
Rumours? To do with what, sir?’

‘Well to do with my relationship with DS Stockton?’

‘No, sir’ said Ollie. ‘I honestly haven’t heard anything to do with that, sir’.

Jeff believed him. ‘So you wouldn’t know if DS Stockton and I are being talked about as if we’re involved in something more than just friendship?’

‘No, sir’ said Ollie. ‘I haven’t heard anything like that’.

‘Well it isn’t true anyway just for the record’ said Jeff. ‘But thanks for answering my questions. And
Ollie, is everything okay between you and Jonathan Freeman?’

Jeff noted the look on Ollie’s face that told him everything. ‘He does his job, sir, and I do mine. But I don’t think we’ll ever be best friends’.

‘Why do you think that is?’

‘You’d have to ask him, sir’ said Ollie. ‘Maybe it’s just one of those things. You can’t get on with everybody’.

‘I don’t know why you’ve brought me in here!’ snapped Sophie Cooper. ‘You’re behaving as if I’m some kind of criminal when it’s that cow you let go who’s the murderer’.

Jeff and Rebecca sat down on the opposite side of the table from Sophie.

‘We just need to ask you a few more questions’ said Jeff calmly and in complete contrast to the aggressive tone of Sophie. ‘You do like to get your own way, don’t you Sophie?’

‘So? Is that a crime all of a sudden? It wouldn’t surprise me. I was only reading in the Daily Mail the other day … ‘

‘ …
yes, well I’m sure it was interesting but has no relevance to this case’.

‘So what do you want then because I’ve got a funeral to arrange in case you’d forgotten’.

‘Isn’t that for James Clifton’s parents to see to?’ Rebecca questioned.

Sophie looked at Rebecca as if she’d just stepped in her. ‘I don’t do compromise’.

‘Whether they like it or not?’

‘I’ve just lost my fiancé! Doesn’t anybody care about me and my feelings or is it just all about them?’

‘They’ve just lost their son’.

‘So?’

‘Well do you not have any respect for what they want?’

Sophie shook her hair and crossed her legs. ‘No is the short answer to that’.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I don’t see why I should have to. James was my fiancé. He belonged to me as soon as he put that engagement ring on my finger and from then on as far as I’m concerned his
family were completely out of the picture with no right to any piece of him at all’.

‘Phew’ said Rebecca.

‘Well you did ask and I’m a passionate person when it comes to the truth’ said Sophie. ‘Don’t ask the questions if you can’t handle the answers, sweetheart’.

‘It must’ve hurt when Malcolm Barnes ended his relationship with you for another woman?’ said Jeff.

‘How do you know about that?’

‘It’s how I remembered you’. 

Sophie looked into Jeff’s face for a moment. ‘You weren’t on the case. I don’t remember you?’

‘No, I wasn’t on the case but I knew people who were’.

‘Well they never found the killer of that evil bitch Kim so what makes you think you’ll do a better job of it this time?’

‘Why don’t you just answer the question please, Miss Cooper?’ said Rebecca.

‘Yes it fucking hurt like crazy when Malcolm dumped me for that cow! And yes I wanted to kill her but somebody beat me to it. Alright? Satisfied now?’

‘You seem to store a lot of anger inside yourself, Miss Cooper’ said Rebecca.

‘Well I’ve had a lot in my life to be angry about’ said Sophie. ‘I lost both my parents when I was young. I lost one fiancé because he dumped me for someone else and I lost another because of a murdering bitch’.

‘James Clifton was unfaithful to you, wasn’t he?’

‘You seem to know what you’re talking about. Who am I to argue?’

‘Miss Cooper, was James Clifton unfaithful to you or not!’

‘Yes he was! And I hated him for it. But you already know that I didn’t kill him, that I couldn’t have killed him because I was hundreds of miles away, so why are you going for me like this? Don’t you think I’ve been through enough?’

‘Were you and James Clifton on the verge of splitting up because of his infidelity, Miss Cooper?’

‘No!’ Sophie claimed emphatically. ‘Whoever told you that is a liar!’

‘How’s your brother Bernie Connolly, Miss Cooper?’ asked Jeff.

‘Oh so now I see. You’re trying to get to Bernie through me? You really are pathetic’.

‘I just wanted to know how he was, Miss Cooper’ said Jeff with a sweep of his open hands. ‘No law against that’.

Sophie stood up. ‘You have no basis on which to keep me here so I’m going’ she said. ‘And if you want to know how my brother is then why don’t you just go and ask him?’

‘I think we probably will’ said Jeff. ‘In the meantime please pass on my regards’.

‘And whilst you’re at it get that bitch Tina Webb behind bars where she belongs’ said Sophie. ‘She murdered my fiancé and instead of making sure justice is served you choose to hound me and my brother. Well it didn’t work last time and it won’t work this time either’.

Down on the bus station at Mersey square in Stockport was a fish and chip place that really stretched it to call itself a restaurant. Sharon Bellfield found it without any problem. She just had to follow the smell of vinegar and the steady stream of life’s unfortunates who saw it as the place to be.

When her boss had given her this assignment she couldn’t have had any idea that it would take her into the kind of places that she’d spent her life trying to get out of. Sharon was no snob but as she sat there with a mug of steaming hot liquid they had the nerve to call tea even though the bag had probably been used at least ten times, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the fact that she could well afford better than this now. Her family had all been dead against her becoming a journalist because it wasn’t like ‘getting a proper trade’ and even though she’d been with the Manchester Evening Chronicle for nearly five years now they still didn’t acknowledge what she did as being a ‘proper job’. And even though she’d moved into the city centre and got herself a flat in the Northern quarter, it still wasn’t good enough for a family that didn’t
recognise anything beyond their own narrow sphere. Her sister had got three kids by three different fathers and was living in a grotty council house in Fallowfield but she’d made it as far as Sharon’s family, especially her mother, was concerned. Sharon who had her career, her own flat, her own car and a sizeable disposable income that she often used to help her sister out, was considered some kind of failure. She had a job when the majority of her extended family didn’t but she was still considered as some kind of failure. They thought she was trying to be ‘above herself’. They thought she was turning her back on them when all she wanted was their approval and just some kind of acknowledgment that she’d done well.

So here she was sitting amongst those who her family would consider had made it. There was the man sitting in the corner who looked like he hadn’t washed since Victoria was on the throne, happily chomping away into a plate of fish and chips that he’d mashed and mixed into a pulp with ketchup, mayonnaise, and vinegar. He was getting half of it down his already filthy shirt but he didn’t seem to bother. Then there was the mother who was feeding the occasional chip to a toddler who was screaming in his pushchair desperate to get out and driven mad by the restraints he was under and the fact that he’d probably not been talked to properly or eaten a decent meal since the day he was born. His mother looked like Sharon’s sister. Hair scraped back and in a ponytail. A face that said she hated life and the world and with eyes that looked upon her child as if she absolutely despised his very existence. She was pushing the pushchair back and forth with a nonchalant hand. Her family probably thought she’d made it too. That’s if she had a family that is.

Then there was the family of the future standing at the order counter. Some young guy in his late teens with greasy hair and spots all over his face was holding hands with his girlfriend and complaining to the guy frying the chips that his mother had thrown him out after he told her his girlfriend was pregnant. They live in Bolton but he’d come over to Stockport to look for his Dad to see if he could put him up but he can’t find him so he thinks he must’ve gone back inside. Sitting near him was a man who was dressed like Elvis and was shaking vinegar on top of his chip butty making deep brown stains all over the white bread. Sharon’s sense of compassion kicked in and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for all of them. Such shattered and broken lives under the one roof of a chippy with a sign that read ‘toilets are on the bus station – thank you’.      

‘Sharon?’

Sharon looked up to see this beautiful young Indian girl looking down hopefully and yet nervously at her at the same time. 

‘Yes? That’s me?’

‘Oh good. I recognized your picture from your column in the paper but I still wanted to make sure’.

‘You’re Anita?’ said Sharon.

‘Yes. Anita Patel’.

Sharon stood up and shook hands. ‘Thank you for coming to meet me but tell me, why did you want to meet here?’

‘I always come in here for chips’ said Anita. ‘It’s cheap’.

Sharon thought Anita was stunning. Her thick black hair was brushed off her face revealing large dark eyes. She was short, maybe a little over five feet tall, and was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans with a white t-shirt under a big baggy dark green v-necked sweater. Sharon thought Anita did casual much better than she herself did and her clothes ideally matched her feminine and gentle poise. And at least Anita looked like she’d ironed her clothes and there was no chipping of her bright pink nail polish that matched her bright pink
lipstick. Sharon’s nail polish was chipped and she wrapped her fingertips into her hands self-consciously. She usually threw on what she’d discarded the night before, usually in a heap at the side of her bed. But then she’d never given much thought to her appearance. It wasn’t as important to her as the credit she gave herself for being bloody good at her job. 

‘How come you can eat chips and keep that wonderful figure?’

Anita blushed. ‘I don’t know. I’m lucky I suppose’.

‘Anita, I want you to understand that you’re under no pressure here’.

‘That’s good because … well I’m in my final few weeks of study and I’ve already booked my flight home to Mumbai. I don’t want anything to go wrong. But the thought of some extra money to take back with me is tempting and was the reason why I decided to meet you in the end. I’m not from a rich family. When I go home with my degree and get a job in one of the new high tech companies that are springing up all over Mumbai I’ll be able to earn some good money to support the family’.

‘That’s very good of you and I’ll bet your
family are very proud’ said Sharon. ‘Have you always worked at the Mayfair hotel since you’ve been here?’