Borrowed Light (8 page)

Nadine Lorrimer was one of Kim Crocker’s best friends. The Communications Intelligence Unit had extracted her contact details
from the mobile recovered from Monkswell Farm. She lived with her mother on an estate on the edges of Newport. On compassionate
grounds she’d been excused college for a couple of days.

Suttle drove across with one of
Gosling
’s D/Cs, Patsy Lowe. Lowe, in her early forties, had a great deal of experience as a Family Liaison Officer. She was small
and overweight, with a quick smile and slightly punky hair. She’d grown up on one of Pompey’s rougher council estates and
had the knack of making most people quickly forget she was a police officer. It had been Faraday’s idea to put her alongside
Lorrimer.

Nadine turned out to be a goth. She sat in the darkened front room with the remains of a roll-up, dressed in black, stroking
a tabby cat called Ron. Suttle, wary about the tea Nadine had just made, was glad to be spared tears. Mum was out at work.

‘So how well did you know her, Nadine?’ This from Lowe.

‘Kim? Really well. Really,
really
well. Not just mates, more sisters. Know what I mean?’

‘And what was she like?’

‘Sound. And beautiful. A beautiful person. And a laugh too. I could tell you all kinds of stuff but I’m not going there.’

‘What kinds of stuff?’

‘The kind of stuff we used to get up to, girlie stuff … You don’t want to know.’ She turned her head away, fumbled with
a lighter, sucked at the roll-up. A thin grey light through a crack in the curtains washed over the room. ‘She used to stay
over a lot, Kim. Like I say, she was a laugh.’

‘Did she talk about her home life at all?’

‘All the time.’

‘What was it like?’

‘Mad. Her dad was off the planet most of the time, total headcase. Actually he wasn’t her dad at all but he used to …
you know …’

‘Used to what, Nadine?’

‘Used to get really heavy.’

‘Physically, you mean?’

‘Not really. He never hurt her or anything, not that she ever said. It was more the way he was out of it all the time, just
falling around, shouting at everyone, really irritating stuff. Kim would defend him sometimes, say it was the drink talking,
say it wasn’t his fault. She was silly like that, Kim. She knew how to look after herself, stand up for herself, but she always
gave people the benefit of the doubt, even Rat Face.’

‘That’s what you called him? Rat Face?’

‘Yeah. He must have had this really bad acne, you know, horrible pitted scars. And his face had gone a kind of funny colour,
a yellowy colour, maybe with all the booze.’

‘What about Julie? Kim’s mum?’

‘She was lovely, really nice.’ For the first time there was a tiny catch in Nadine’s voice. ‘She’s the one that held everything
together. Rat Face was hopeless that way. Couldn’t hold a job down. Couldn’t bring the money in. Total waste of space. To
be honest, I don’t know how Kim’s mum put up with him. If it was me …’ She bent to the roll-up again.

‘So you’re saying, between her mum and her dad …?’

‘Nothing. They had nothing. Just rows all the time. That’s why Kim spent so much time here. She couldn’t stand it at home
…’ Her voice trailed away.

It was dustbin day. Suttle could hear the truck grinding up the street and the hollow
thud-thud
as the dustmen returned the empty bins.

‘Kim had a boyfriend,’ he said. ‘Robbie Difford.’

‘You know Robbie?’ She seemed surprised.

‘No. We’re trying to find him. Do you know where he might be?’

Nadine gave the question some thought.

‘It’s Tuesday, yeah? He’ll be at work. That exhaust place on the industrial estate.’

‘They haven’t seen him since Saturday.’

‘Maybe he’s off sick then. He lives with his mum. Like all of us do.’

‘No. He’s not there either. We checked.’

‘His mum’s away. She went to Tenerife for a week. Maybe he’s asleep. Maybe you should knock harder.’

Suttle exchanged glances with Patsy Lowe. If they couldn’t find
Difford by lunchtime, Faraday had authorised a forced entry to the house. These days grief could do the strangest things
to kids.

Lowe wanted to know more about Kim and Difford. How long had they been together?

‘Not long. Couple of months? I dunno.’

‘So what’s he like? Difford?’

‘He’s good, really cool. He sings in a band, pub stuff mainly. The music’s crap but he’s got an OK voice. He really looked
out for her, Kim. She liked him a lot.’

‘And Robbie?’

‘He was mad about her. Couldn’t get enough of her. We used to laugh about it sometimes, me and my mates. They were always
at it.’

‘Where?’

‘
Where?
’

‘Yeah. Here? Other friends’ houses?’ Lowe paused. ‘Or Kim’s place? Out at the farm?’

‘I dunno. Wherever, I guess. Definitely here a few times, when my mum was out. Why? Is this kind of stuff supposed to matter?’

Lowe didn’t answer. Suttle leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

‘Did you ever get the impression that Robbie could be jealous?’

‘About Kim?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sure he could … you know … if anything ever kicked off.’

‘And
did
anything ever kick off? That you can remember?’

Nadine looked at them both, then reached for her Rizlas. Neither Lowe nor Suttle said a word.

‘You’re talking about that stuff that happened last week, aren’t you?’ she said at last. ‘You must know about that. It must
be on all those records you keep.’

‘You mean some kind of incident?’

‘Yeah. The Old Bill were involved, your lot. Kim told me.’ Suttle nodded.

‘So what happened?’

‘I dunno. Not the details.’

‘But you do know something happened?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Like what, Nadine?’

Her head went back. A tiny shred of tobacco on her lower lip.

‘Kim said her stepdad came on to her.’

‘Came on to her?’

‘He wanted to have sex with her.’

‘And was that the first time it had happened?’

‘No.’

‘It happened a lot?’

‘I don’t know. She never liked talking about it. But more than once. Definitely.’

‘So what happened last week?’

‘He did it again. It was in the evening. There was no one else in the house. He came in pissed and tried to … you know
… grab her.’

‘So what did she do?’

‘She hit him. She yelled at him. She told him he was an animal. She was really upset.’

‘And he stopped?’

‘Yeah. And Kim says he apologised too. Said he hadn’t really meant it. Just a joke, yeah?’

‘So what did Kim do?’

‘She went outside and phoned 999. Then she had second thoughts and phoned Robbie as well.’

‘And?’

‘He drove straight up there. Confronted the bloke.’

‘They had a fight?’

‘Not really. Robbie’s a cool guy. He’s fit too. I think he just told Rat Face to sort himself out.’

‘And what else?’

Nadine let the question hang in the air. She was wary now. Suttle could see it in her face. She’d said too much. She wanted
this conversation to end.

‘Well?’ It was Lowe again.

‘I dunno.’

‘Yes, you do, Nadine. Because Kim told you.’

‘Yeah? You’re sure about that?’

‘Yes.’ Lowe nodded.
‘And if Kim still matters to you, which I’m sure she does, then maybe you ought to tell us.’

Nadine gave the suggestion some thought. She lit the roll-up, took a deep lungful, then exhaled. The thin plume of smoke hung
in the chilly air.

‘We’re talking about Robbie, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s really wound up. It’s the heat of the moment. All that stuff.’

‘And?’

‘You still want to know what he said?’

‘Yes, please.’ Lowe nodded.

‘Then we’ll leave you alone.’

‘Really?’ She frowned, then ducked her head.

‘Well?’

There was a long silence. Finally, Nadine stifled a cough before looking up.

‘Robbie said that if Rat Face ever touched Kim again …’ she shrugged ‘… he’d kill him.’

Lowe bent her head and scribbled herself a note. Nadine watched her, aghast.

‘There’s no way—’

‘No way what?’

‘No way Robbie had anything to do with what happened. Rat Face was the crazy one. Not Robbie.’ She looked from one to the
other. ‘Yeah?’

Suttle shrugged, said he didn’t know. Police had responded to the 999 call. An area car had driven out to Monkswell Farm to
find Kim, Robbie and her stepfather in the house. On the phone, hysterical, Kim had talked about some kind of assault. By
the time she was offered the chance to make a full statement she seemed to have had second thoughts. The boyfriend’s recent
arrival may have had something to do with this, and on the RMS entry the attending officer had noted the details and suggested
a possible referral to Social Services. At seventeen, Kim Crocker was still a minor. Better safe than sorry.

Suttle asked Nadine about Saturday night, the night of the fire. What had Kim been up to?

‘I dunno. I saw her at college on Friday and she said she’d phone Friday night in case anything was going down over the weekend.
But …’ she shrugged again ‘… it never happened.’

‘So what do you think she
might
have done?’

‘I haven’t a clue. She worked at WH Smith’s on Saturdays. Saturday night she was probably with Robbie. They were
getting to be like an old married couple. Cosy cosy.’

‘Her place? His? Out somewhere?’

‘Dunno. There’s a girl called Rachel works with her on Saturdays. She might know.’

Lowe made a note of the name. Nadine couldn’t supply a number.

Suttle was curious about access to Robbie Difford’s place. Might a neighbour be holding a key? Or maybe a close friend?

Again Nadine shook her head. She’d had enough by now. Her roll-up had gone out. She had a headache. She wasn’t sleeping too
well. There was stuff she had to do before the funeral. She gave them a few more names, other mates of Kim’s, then walked
them to the door. On the point of saying goodbye, she asked what had happened to Kim.

The question stopped Lowe in her tracks.

‘I’m not with you, Nadine.’

‘Like where is she?’

‘Now? Still in the mortuary, I imagine.’

‘You’ve done one of those post-mortems? Cut her up? All that stuff?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Horrible. Yuk.’ She gave herself a hug, shivering in the chill wind, her face the colour of chalk. Then she brightened. ‘Tell
Robbie to give me a ring, yeah?’

Suttle phoned Faraday from the Fiesta. He was in conference with Gail Parsons and couldn’t spare time for more than the briefest
conversation. Suttle said they’d talked to the girl Nadine. In his view they needed to take a good look at Robbie Difford’s
place. Like now.

Faraday smothered a yawn.

‘Do it,’ he said.

Winter was at the Royal Trafalgar by half ten. A couple of calls on other mates of Johnny Holman had been fruitless – no one
at home at either address – and in the end he’d decided to wait and see what Leyman might come up with.

At the hotel he was supposed to share an office in the basement with Stu Norcliffe. Neither man had much liking for Bazza’s
take on working space – two second-hand desks from a government surplus store in Highland Road, plus an enormous filing cabinet
Baz had acquired from a repo company he was in the process of buying – but Norcliffe, for once, was sitting behind his battered
desk.

One look at his face told Winter all was far from well.

‘You won’t fucking believe this …’ Stu said.

‘Tide Turn?’

‘Too right. You know that new minibus of ours? The one I bought a couple of months ago? It went missing last night. Henrik
thought someone had nicked it and he was right. Three guesses.’

‘Kieron O’Dwyer?’

‘Spot on.’

Winter hid a smile. He’d spent the best part of a miserable year in charge of Tide Turn, trying to pretend that the likes
of Kieron O’Dwyer were human beings. Thankfully that job had come to an end, but nothing he’d learned at the helm of Bazza’s
favourite charity had changed his mind about the hard core of Pompey youth. These were the kids, he told himself, whose forebears
had scared the French shitless at Trafalgar, and nothing had changed since. Afloat or on dry land, they were programmed to
get in your face.

O’Dwyer, it seemed, had nicked the keys from the Tide Turn office in Albert Road, picked up a bunch of mates in Somerstown,
made another couple of stops in Portsea and Buckland, and headed north. By the time the minibus demolished a garden wall in
a pretty village on the West Sussex border, O’Dwyer and his crew had emptied the first litre bottle of vodka and were starting
on the rest of the stash.
When the police arrived, they were partying in a nearby graveyard, out of their heads on White Lightning and handfuls of
assorted tabs.

‘The vehicle?’

‘I haven’t seen it. According to the police it’s a write-off.’

‘Baz’ll be pleased.’

‘I’ve told him already.’

‘And?’

‘He told me to leave it to him. I gather he’s got some ideas on the subject.’

‘You mean O’Dwyer?’

‘Yeah. He was after the boy’s address.’

Winter nodded. O’Dwyer had form. At fifteen, he’d forgotten what it was like to go to a normal school, to get up at a respectable
hour, to lift a finger in anyone’s interest but his own. After endless skirmishes with the criminal justice system, and now
Tide Turn, he’d realised that most of what he wanted in life was there for the taking, a conclusion that no adult had yet
to contradict. Maybe Bazza would come up with something novel, he thought. Before O’Dwyer was old enough to become a proper
criminal.

‘So where is he?’

‘Still banged up at Central. Still waiting to shout at his social worker.’

‘I meant Baz.’

‘No idea, Paul. According to Marie, he’s got a lot on his mind just now.’ He pushed his empty mug towards Winter and nodded
at the coffee pot on top of the filing cabinet. ‘Surprise, surprise, eh?’