Sixteen

Rice inhaled deeply on his cigarette as the detectives returned to the interview room. He studied their expressions. He knew those looks; he’d seen them many times before. The half-smile and the glint in the eye that told him they were confident they’d got a result.

The detective sergeant gave Rice’s solicitor a cursory nod, switched the tape recorder on and announced the continuation of the interview. Then the DI took over, going straight to the point.

‘Mr. Coleman has made a statement naming you as his accomplice

in the burglary in the working men’s club. In fact...’

Rice shrugged and interrupted him. ‘I couldn’t give a toss what Coleman

says. I told you: I left the club before the bingo started and went to Harvey Boyle’s club in Hastings.’

‘We’ve spoken to Mr. Boyle and he is unable to corroborate your alibi. He says he hardly knows you and that he wasn’t with you on the night in question.’

Rice burned with anger, his head feeling as if it might ignite. He stared at the sergeant, who was wearing a provokingly smug grin, and he flipped, using every obscenity in his otherwise limited vocabulary to describe Harvey Boyle. His solicitor stared at the table.

‘I don’t think,’ said the DI, ‘that an alibi will do you much good, in any case. There’s enough forensic evidence that proves you were up in that loft.’

Rice’s eyes clouded over as he struggled to control himself. He still had one card left to play. ‘I’m a professional. That’s what I get for working with amateurs. If Coleman hadn’t panicked, old Alex might still be alive.’

‘Are you saying it was Coleman who killed the barman?’

Rice stared at the tape recorder and spoke clearly. ‘I am. Coleman killed him. The bloke’s an amateur and he panicked.’

***

After ringing the doorbell Donald pressed himself close to the front door, just in case Marjorie decided to look out of the window. If she saw who it was, he decided, it was unlikely that she would answer. He hummed quietly “March to the Scaffold” to keep his sense of humour alive. After an interminable wait, and thinking she must be out, he was about to abandon his foolhardy quest on behalf of his friend when the front door opened cautiously. And before Marjorie could slam it shut, Donald produced a dozen red roses from behind his back and handed them to her. This had never happened to her before and she was temporarily lost in wonder. A man giving her flowers!

Donald beamed at her. ‘Congratulations! You must be overjoyed. And please give my best wishes to the father-to-be.’

Recovering slightly, Marjorie sniffed and said, ‘He’s not here. He’s gone.’

‘Do you mean “gone” as in moved out?’

Marjorie nodded.

‘Oh dear! I hope I wasn’t the cause of this ... upset. If you could spare me just a few minutes of your time to explain, I’m sure we could sort things out.’

Marjorie turned, leaving the door open for him to follow. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll just go and put these in water.’

***

Craig scowled at each portion of fish as he dropped them into the sizzling oil. Mandy watched him closely. As soon as his plastic bucket was empty, she took it from him. ‘What’s wrong? It’s your last week here. I’d have thought you’d be pleased, going on to bigger and better things.’

Craig gave her a half smile and a shrug. ‘Yeah, well...’

‘I thought you might be worried about me losing my job. But seeing as he new owners are keeping me on...’

‘They’d have been stupid not to keep you on, Mandy. You’re worth your weight...’ Craig broke off.

‘Are you trying to say I’m fat?’

‘Of course not.’

Mandy smiled, teasing him. ‘Just a bit on the large side, eh?’

Craig shook his head quickly. ‘Well, you ain’t exactly skinny. So what? You’re great as you are.’ Craig smiled awkwardly. ‘Very tasty, in fact.’

Mandy giggled. ‘Like fish and chips?’

‘If you like.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘Problem?’

‘Yeah. I’ve often caught you looking at me in a certain way. I know because you was my employer, you wouldn’t ... but ... well, now you’re leaving...’

‘Hold on a minute, Mandy. I know women are entitled to take the initiative these days, but...’

‘But what?’

‘This has nothing to do with you, Mandy. It’s just I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

‘Something to do with that bloke?’

Craig frowned, but guessed what she was going to say. ‘He come round one morning ... a few weeks ago. Wanted you to go to the pub. He seemed to have some sort of hold on you.’

Craig let his breath out slowly. ‘How did you guess?’

‘He was bad news. I could tell. You in trouble, Craig?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Anything I can do?’

Craig shook his head hurriedly and disappeared into the back room to fetch his jacket. When he returned, he left a bunch of keys on the counter.

‘Will you lock up for me?’

Mandy looked concerned. ‘How long will you be?’

‘Haven’t a clue.’

Mandy looked on the verge of tears, so Craig stroked her cheek affectionately with the back of his hand. ‘Don’t worry, love: I ain’t done nothing wrong. I’m only helping them with their enquiries.’