Trophies: a gripping detective thriller (The Wakefield Series Book 1) (13 page)

“Partly. When I think about it now, though, I think a lot of it was doon tae the dreadful way the men were treated at the Govan Shipyard. You’ll have heard o’ the lock-in back in 1971, Jimmy Reid and all that?”

“I do, it was never off the news at the time. Waited until the yard had closed down for the holidays before they announced the complete closure, didn’t they?”

“Aye, that’s it. Anyway, he decided that the writin’ was on the wall as far as the yards were concerned so he took work in a bar. Eventually, a pub came up in Partick, so they took that on. It seemed to do fairly well at first but … whether it was workin’ with each other every day or what … anyway, the arguments got worse. On top o’ that, well, you must know about his record?”

“Of course.”

“He’d got wanderin’ eyes. The only trouble was the disease spread to other parts o’ his body. I always suspected he was havin’ the big blousy barmaid but he never got caught. Where he did get caught though, was with some pro’ in Blythswood Square one night. Apparently gave her a good slappin’ when she didn’t perform to his high standards.”
Strong could hear the emotion in her voice as she recalled what were obviously painful memories for her.
“That was the final straw for our Sheila,”
Mary went on,
“she walked oot after that. And not a moment too soon in my opinion.”

“So when was this exactly?”

“Well, they only had the pub for about a year so it must have been 1973.”

“And you said the boy, Alan, left home soon after?”

“Almost as soon as he was sixteen. He was a right wee bugger. Gave his mum a hard time, stayin’ out all night, drinkin’ and all sorts o’ nonsense.”

“Any idea where he is now?”

“Not a clue.”

Strong thanked her and told her she’d been a great help, then terminated the call.

He glanced at his watch; ten to two, time to get back to Sedgley Park. He was about to start the engine when his phone rang.

“Yes, Kelly,” he said, recognising her number on the display.

“Guv,”
she said,
“Sorry to trouble you but I think you ought to know, I’ve just been to see Irene Nicholson and it looks like the silver chain was hers. I’m taking it round to her house on Monday morning to get a formal identification.”

“How sure are you?”

“Put it this way, she described a knot in it which isn’t clear from the photograph.”

“Well, this opens up a whole can of worms. What time are you going back to see her on Monday?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“Right, I’ll come with you. Any news from the others?”

“Luke and Trevor checked out Hinchcliffe’s brother-in-law. He confirmed he sometimes gave him a few repair jobs to do and supplied him with the odd spare part for him so he could do his own little bit on the side to help him out. Sam and John are working their way through Williams’ known associates.”

“Nothing on the errant Kenny Stocks yet?”

“Not so far. Sam and John have been trawling the low-lifes but no one’s letting on.”

“Has anybody interviewed Billy Montgomery again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, Kelly, we’ll pay him a visit on Monday after we’ve been to see Irene Nicholson.”

“Right, guv. How’s the conference?”

“Oh, you know.”

“That good eh?”

“Anything planned for the weekend?”

“I’m going to Mum and Dad’s for lunch tomorrow. I feel the need of some decent home cooking. Too many late nights and eating crap.”

“Sounds good,” he said, recognising more truth from her than she’d like to admit. “I’ll see you Monday, Kelly.” Strong switched his mobile off before firing up the engine and setting off back to the conference.

23

As Stainmore drove Strong to Irene Nicholson’s house on Monday morning, she brought him up to speed with some background. “Still lives at home with her parents.”

“Bet you wished you did sometimes, don’t you?”

She smiled. “Especially my mum’s Sunday dinners. Alcohol free last night too.”

“That’s unusual for you, is it?” He glanced across at his DS. She was looking haggard these days, he thought.

“Seems to be.”

He brought the conversation back to Irene. “She’s what, twenty-seven now?”

“Yes. I know it’s a bit unusual in this day and age but since her ordeal her world’s fallen apart. Afterwards, she just withdrew into a shell. She was engaged and about to marry the following year but that collapsed.”

Strong exhaled sharply and shook his head.

“Slowly, with the help of her family, she’s begun to re-establish some form of confidence. The job in Lewis’s where her mother’s sister, Maureen, works was the first step towards rebuilding her life.”

Stainmore slowed as they passed the garden Irene was forced into on that rainy winter’s night. New tenants lived there now and the garden had been tidied up.

A couple of minutes later, they were parked outside the brick-built council-owned terraced house Irene shared with her parents. It was in a quiet street not far from the centre of town.

“You were here at the time weren’t you Kelly?” Strong asked.

“Just. I’d transferred from Huddersfield a few months before.”

“What do you remember about the enquiry?”

“Well, DCI Cunningham was in charge. He was a DI then. At first, Irene couldn’t remember any details of the attack but, over time, she began to build up a picture of what happened. We did the usual sweep of all the known pervs and sex offenders, including Summers.”

“Who did the main interviews with her?”

“The DCI mostly, along with DC Sharp. If you remember, she passed her sergeant’s exams and went off to the Met not long after.”

Strong paused. “Oh, yes, that’s right. A bit of a high-flyer as I recall.”

“Some would say she was up Cunningham’s backside,” Stainmore said, adding as an afterthought, “Sir.”

“Kelly, I’m surprised at you,” Strong said in mock surprise. “Come on, let’s go in. It’ll be better if you take the lead, seeing as she met you on Saturday.”

Maureen Hodgson answered their knock on the door and Stainmore introduced Strong, both displaying their warrant cards.

“Come in,” she said. “Irene’s mum and dad are out at work.”

Maureen ushered them into the living room where Irene was standing by the side of the sofa, nervously playing with her hands. A gas fire was set into the wall where an open fire would have been when these properties were first built. It was lit and on the maximum setting. The room was sweltering.

“Hello Irene,” Stainmore said. “This is Detective Inspector Strong.”

Strong nodded and unbuttoned his coat.

“Sit down, please.” Irene indicated the sofa and then fussed around the fire, turning it down. “Sorry, is this too hot for you?”

“That’s fine,” Stainmore said, as she and Strong sat down, careful to avoid the glass-topped coffee table in front of them.

“Would you like tea or coffee or anything?” Maureen asked.

“No, thanks, we’re fine.”

Irene slowly sat down in the armchair facing the window whilst Maureen sat half on the chair arm with her hand resting on the chair back above Irene’s shoulder in a protective fashion.

“Irene,” Stainmore began, “when we spoke on Saturday, you indicated that you may recognise a chain in the photograph I showed you.”

She nodded and leaned forward.

Stainmore took out a clear plastic bag from her leather briefcase and placed it on the coffee table. “Can you take a look at this and tell us if you’ve ever seen it before?”

Her eyes widened as she saw the chain. She looked nervously towards Maureen then back again before tentatively reaching for the bag.

“You can take it out if you like,” Stainmore assured her.

She picked up the bag carefully and studied the chain through the plastic before pulling the self-sealing top slowly apart. She tipped the chain onto her hand as Maureen leant forward to take a look for herself. After a few seconds, Irene shuddered, threw the chain onto the coffee table then buried her head in Maureen’s shoulder, sobbing.

Strong and Stainmore exchanged glances. “Take your time, Irene,” Stainmore said quietly.

“Give us a minute, please,” Maureen said, helping Irene from the chair and out through a glazed door into the kitchen behind them.

Stainmore made to rise and follow but Strong put his hand on her arm and shook his head. Taking advantage of this enforced interruption, he got to his feet and began to tour the room. A china cabinet was built into the alcove to the kitchen side of the chimney breast. A dinner service took up most of the display with the ubiquitous Silver Jubilee mug and plate also on view. However, in the middle, a crystal dish commemorating John and Susan Nicholson’s silver wedding in July 1996 was prominent.

He moved towards the other side of the fireplace near the window where a set of wooden shelves had been fitted. Apart from the top two filled with various paperbacks, the others displayed a few ornaments and a variety of framed family photographs. School photos from around the age of five through to teenager traced the development of the young Irene as well as a boy Strong assumed to be her younger brother. He picked out a happy smiling Irene from the family group that appeared to be celebrating the Nicholson’s silver wedding. In stark contrast, a rather sad, empty-looking Irene stared at the camera in her brother’s wedding day photograph. The true consequences of what she went through were captured in those two shots. In Strong’s experience, none of those responsible for this type of crime ever showed any true remorse, or ever seemed aware of the scale of the damage they did to their victims. He turned the frame over looking for a date.

“My nephew’s wedding two years ago,” Maureen said, as she and Irene came back from the kitchen.

Irene seemed composed now, only the red eyes betraying her recent upset. “That,” she said falteringly, “is my silver chain.”

“Thank you Irene,” Stainmore said. “Unfortunately I can’t let you have it back just yet.”

“It concerns another case, doesn’t it?” Maureen asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Strong replied.

Irene brought a paper tissue up to her eyes as she sank back down into the armchair.

Maureen remained standing and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think this is what we’ve been dreading for the past four years.”

Stainmore looked at Strong who then took up the conversation, “Do you want to tell us about it?”

Irene stayed silent as Maureen responded, “How do we know we can trust you?”

Strong was surprised. “Is that an issue?”

“The other one, Inspector Cunningham, was it …?”

“Detective Chief Inspector Cunningham?”

“Got promotion for his efforts, then.”

“How do you mean?”

“Come on, a conviction secured on this case didn’t do his career prospects any harm, did it?”

Strong was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the way the conversation was developing. “Look, I think you’re going to have to trust us on this. Are you saying you were … shall we say, less than happy with the way the investigation was handled?”

Maureen and Irene exchanged glances. “I think your DCI Cunningham helped our Irene remember a bit more detail than she actually could,” Maureen said.

Strong held Maureen’s gaze for a few seconds. “Let me get this straight,” he said, before concentrating his attention on Irene. “You’re saying that DCI Cunningham suggested certain information to you?” Maureen opened her mouth to answer but Strong put his hand up to stop her. “Irene? Is this what you’re saying?”

“Well,” Irene began, then hesitated before her aunt interrupted.

“Come on, Irene, you’re going to have to tell them.”

“Look, I just don’t know any more.” Irene got up from her chair, tears welling in her eyes. “Leave me alone!” she yelled.

As she rushed for the sanctuary of the kitchen once again, Maureen made to stop her.

“Please, Mrs Hodgson,” Strong interjected, “let her go for now. Sit down will you.”

Maureen looked about to protest but sat down in the chair Irene had vacated.

“Kelly,” Strong said quietly, motioning towards the kitchen. “Perhaps Irene could get us some tea.”

Maureen watched as Stainmore got up and went to join Irene. When the door had closed she turned towards Strong. “You see the state she’s in now, Inspector. You can imagine how distraught she was just after it happened.”

“You’re very close, I can see that. Why don’t you give me your interpretation of events?”

Maureen took a deep breath while she considered her response. “This is very difficult for us. After the trial, Irene thought she could put it behind her. However, it played on her mind. I think she was always worried she might have made a mistake. She picked out this guy, Summers, in the identity parade but I don’t believe she actually saw her attacker. In some bizarre way she thought she’d done the right thing then and couldn’t go back on it, not without letting everyone down, including you lot. She became withdrawn. That led to the break-up of her relationship with Mike. It wasn’t his fault, he was very patient.”

She paused for a moment. Strong said nothing, not wanting to interrupt her flow. “Look,” she went on, “you can understand what must be going through her mind right now. I’ve worked hard to help her get over it, and just when I think she’s making progress, you turn up with this.”

“But at the end of the day, Mrs Hodgson, it’s important we get the right man.”

Maureen looked as if she was close to tears herself and shook her head. “I know, I know.”

The kitchen door opened and Stainmore led Irene back into the room. Strong shuffled up the settee allowing Irene to take the hint and sit next to him.

“I think Irene’s ready to talk about things now, sir,” Stainmore told him, remaining on her feet.

“Go ahead then, Irene,” Strong said. “In your own time.”

She looked to the ceiling as if seeking courage from some divine being before turning to face Strong. “The truth is, Inspector, I don’t remember seeing who attacked me that night. The other one, Inspector Cunningham, had told me that in cases like this, nine out of ten were committed by people who knew the victim. In the line-up, he looked familiar.”