What Remains (5 page)

HEALY
: Did you ever see him wearing that shirt again?

WESTERWOOD
: I can’t remember.

HEALY
: I really need you to think hard, Sandra.

WESTERWOOD
: No. I don’t think so.

HEALY
: So it might just have been an olive-green shirt, not a shirt associated with a particular delivery company?

WESTERWOOD
: I suppose so, yeah.

HEALY
: Did Gail seem concerned by his presence?

WESTERWOOD
: Oh no, definitely not. She seemed happy. She and the girls seemed to be comfortable with him.

At the end of the interview with Westerwood, she’d given a description of the man, but the results were vague: white, five-ten to six feet tall, black hair, mid-to-late thirties, medium build. That was never likely to take investigators very far.

‘The Malcolm thing was just one big blind alley,’ Healy said, rubbing together the fingers and thumb of his right hand. The coarseness of his skin made a crackling noise. ‘My team came back with a list of over eleven thousand men with the first name Malcolm in the Greater London area alone. And what if it
wasn’t
Malcolm? What if it was Malachi or something else? What if he wasn’t even
from
London? We didn’t have the resources to cope with that level of search. The only thing that really went our way was that, according to Westerwood, this guy was Caucasian – that meant we could, at least, discount names like Malik and Jamal.’

‘She said he might have been a delivery driver.’

He shook his head.

‘That didn’t lead anywhere either?’

‘Conjecture. We didn’t have any other witness statements to back her up, and although people told us they
might
have seen delivery vans in and around the estate in the weeks and months leading up to the murders, no one could say for sure whether they’d seen the
same
van returning over and over. We looked for businesses using olive-green uniforms, we doorstepped delivery companies all over the city, and we got nothing.’

The size of the task facing Healy’s team had been formidable: taking a list of 11,236 men called Malcolm, narrowing it down to those in their thirties with black hair and a medium build, then trying to narrow it down further by focusing on those who may have been employed as delivery drivers. That was even assuming Westerwood had heard the man’s name correctly, and the green shirt
had
in fact been his uniform. Healy, clearly, remained doubtful.

‘So that line of inquiry stalled?’

‘Yeah.’ He stopped, sniffed, shrugged. ‘We found delivery drivers called Malcolm who didn’t match the physical description Westerwood had provided, and men called Malcolm who weren’t delivery drivers, but matched the physical description. We didn’t find a single person who fit convincingly into both camps.’

‘What about CCTV footage?’

He looked at me. ‘That should have been our best lead.’

‘But it was another dead end?’

‘The council didn’t give a shit about the estate, so nothing worked there. We had three cameras that could have got us something half-decent. One was at the tenth-floor
stairwell, but it was bust. It had been vandalized back in February, and no one had been round to repair it. Then there were two cameras on the outside of the building: one faced Cork Hill Lane, which is the only way in and out by car – that’s where you must have parked earlier on.’

I nodded. ‘And the other?’

‘The other camera faced down towards the play park. That’s where you’d approach if you were coming from the Tube station.’

‘So what happened?’

‘The one facing the play park had wiring problems, which meant the feed repeatedly cut out.’ He shook his head, chewing on his frustration. ‘The further back in time we went, the less pronounced the problems got, so on 26 March we actually found something: an unidentified man, at the swings, with the Clark family. The man matched the description of “Mal” from what we could tell, but they were too far away to make out much detail, and eventually they headed towards the Tube. It was the only time that we caught all four of them on film.’

‘What about
before
the camera on the tenth floor packed up?’

‘You mean, was there any video of him with the family prior to February? No. Maybe that was because he and Gail only officially started dating in the March, or maybe it just meant he was clever enough to stay out of shot – at least until he made a mistake on 26 March, and we got him on film at the play park. Either way, it never made much difference. Even when we
did
get him, he was just a blur.’

‘So only one camera was working the night they were killed.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you get anything from it?’

He was rubbing his fingers harder now, his muscles and tendons trying to find the cigarette that wasn’t there, even while his thoughts remained tethered to the case and its maze of dead ends. Eventually, he reached into his pocket and removed a lighter – placing it next to his coffee on the table – and then a packet of cigarettes. The movement pulled him from his daze, and he glanced at the file.

‘Healy?’

‘It was all just a load of shite,’ he said quietly.

‘What was?’

‘Everything. If the case had been a dog, you’d have put the fucking thing down. No motive, no DNA, vague witnesses, eleven thousand men with a name that might not even be relevant.’ He paused, shifting the cigarette packet around in front of him, opening and closing the lid. Eventually, he picked up the file and began to riffle through its pages again, flipping forward to another witness statement.

When he found it, he returned the file to me.

‘What’s this?’ I said.

‘About the only thing worth a damn.’

But I never got the chance to read it.

6

A second later, my phone began buzzing again.

It was Annabel for a second time. I glanced at Healy, then back to the phone. We were right in the middle of something, and I could see he expected me to let the call go to voicemail – but it was rare for Annabel to phone out of the blue, even rarer for her to press the issue like this. She was twenty-five, independent, completely self-sufficient, and because she worked with kids, in schools, in clubs, she was a big believer in routine and structure. If she was calling me, and she hadn’t mentioned that she would call me, something was up.

‘I’m going to have to take this,’ I said to him.

He frowned. ‘Can’t it wait?’

‘It’s Annabel.’

‘So?’

‘So, I need to take it.’

‘Just phone her back when we’re done.’

‘I’m taking the call, Healy.’

His eyes flicked between the file – open on the page he’d selected for me – to the phone in my hand. ‘This is bullshit,’ he whispered, but loud enough for me to hear, and then started to slide out of the booth, propping a cigarette between his lips. Without another word, he headed for the exit. Outside, snow was falling like clumps of wet paper, hard and fast; a man from the motel – hood on, zip up to his chin – was desperately trying to grit the car park
as wind ripped off the river. Healy emerged from the front, cigarette already lit, a pissed-off expression on his face.

I pressed Answer.

‘Hey sweetheart.’

‘Hey,’ Annabel said quietly.

‘Are you okay?’

‘It’s Olivia.’

I felt a moment of panic.

Olivia was her nine-year-old sister. Annabel and I had only discovered the truth about our relationship fourteen months ago – and while, biologically, Olivia wasn’t mine, the minute Annabel entered my life, they both entered my life.

‘What about her? Is she okay?’

‘I’m in Torquay,’ she said, her words a little smudged. It was clear she’d been crying. ‘At the hospital. We’ve had loads of snow here, and she went out on the sledge with one of her friends – just down to the field at the end of our road.’ Annabel burst into tears. ‘She hit a tree. She’s in surgery at the moment. I just …’ She faded out.

‘Okay,’ I said, trying to sound calm. ‘It’s okay.’

‘She’s got internal bleeding.’

My heart sank.
Shit
.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know who else to call.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ I said to her, my mind already shifting forward. ‘You did the right thing calling me.’

I paused, looking out of the window at Healy. He was halfway through his cigarette, its molten orange glow winking in the snow as he took another drag.

‘What have the doctors said?’

‘Nothing.’

‘They haven’t explained her injuries?’

‘I’m not sure they know yet.’ She stopped, sniffed, obviously trying to regain her composure. ‘They just said she had internal injuries and they had to get her straight into surgery. I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do if …’ She started crying again.

I tried to clear my head. There was just no way I could leave her in that hospital alone.

‘I’m setting off now,’ I said to her.

‘You don’t have to –’

‘I want to.’ I glanced out of the window. Healy was in the same spot, his gaze fixed on the man from the motel as he dragged a big bag of grit back towards the entrance. ‘It’s going to take me four hours, maybe longer, especially in the snow. But I want you to keep me up to date, okay? Phone me any time. If you can’t get answers from the doctors, you give me their name, and I’ll speak to them.’

‘Thank you.’

‘All right. I’ll speak to you in a sec.’

I ended the call, pocketed my phone and glanced at the file, open on the table in front of me. Healy had been directing my attention to another statement, this time from a witness called Joban Kehal. I grabbed a pen from my jacket and starred the page so I knew where to come back to, then I collected up the three pictures of the family that Healy had set aside and returned them to the case file. Taking the file and my phone, I headed out of the bar and into the narrow foyer.

Healy was already back inside.

‘I’ve got to go,’ I said to him.

He stopped, frowning. ‘What?’

‘I’ll take this with me and read it when I’m down there.’

‘Down where?’

‘I need to see Annabel.’

‘You’re going down to
Devon
?’

‘Olivia’s been in an accident.’

The next part of his response had already been on his lips –
What the hell are you going to Devon for when we’re right in the middle of something?
– but, at the mention of Olivia’s accident, he stopped himself. His lips flattened, almost as if he were trying to hold the words in, and I could see his brain kicking into gear.

‘Is she going to be okay?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What happened?’

‘She was out on her sledge and hit a tree.’

He nodded. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah, well, I need to make sure.’

He glanced at the file. ‘You taking that?’

‘I’m going to read over it.’

‘While you’re driving?’

He said it flatly, but that didn’t mask the acidity.

‘She’s on an operating table with internal bleeding,’ I said. ‘Shall I just ignore that and sit here for another hour, or two, or three, talking about this file?’

‘You don’t think it’s important. I get it.’

‘Don’t twist my words. Are you actually listening to what I’m saying?’

I looked at him, waiting for a comeback.

I got nothing in return.

‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘I’m going. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

As I headed out, he said, ‘Leave the file.’

I turned. ‘I’m going to
look
at it, okay?’

He shook his head, something shifting in his expression, and I understood. He wasn’t suggesting I leave it
because I already had enough to think about. He wanted me to leave it because he was going to go off and work the case himself.

‘No,’ I said.

‘I already know everything in there, anyway.’

‘So why are you asking for it back?’

He eyed me. ‘Just give me the fucking file.’

‘Look,’ I said, biting my tongue, trying hard to keep the frustration out of my voice. ‘You’ve got that interview at the builders’ merchants first thing in the morning. Maybe concentrate on that for now, and then I’ll give you a call at lunch tomorrow and we can pick up where we left off with the file –’

‘I’m not going.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not going to that interview.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Exactly what I just said. I’m not going.’

I took a step towards him. ‘It’s a decent job.’

‘It’s store security.’

‘The money’s really good.’

He shrugged.

I rubbed at my forehead, trying to suppress my anger. ‘Can you just do me this one favour? Please. I need you to go to this interview tomorrow because I know the guy who runs the company and he’s the major reason you’ve made the shortlist. I talked him into giving you a shot. He pulled strings to get you this interview. So if you don’t turn up tomorrow morning, it makes me look like a –’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I
organized
this for you, Healy.’

‘Then unorganize it – because I’m not going.’

I moved even closer to him. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing’s the matter with –’

‘I
told
you I would help you with this case.’ I held up the file in front of him. ‘I’ve just
said
I will look at it.
I’ll look at it
. Okay? How much clearer can I make it for you? But I need you to be in Deptford tomorrow for this interview. This job, you will have to
seriously
screw it up not to be in with a chance of getting it. Do you understand me? All you need to do is turn up there and say the right things.’

Over Healy’s shoulder, one of the motel staff was watching us from the counter, a disapproving look on her face, and I realized how loud I’d become.