The doorbell delivered a distorted ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’, enough to rouse the dogs on the other side of the door into life. The Victorian property was one of many which had been renovated by the council to make room for the larger families in the area. The intelligence system had brought back a plethora of results on the family. There wasn’t one child out of their brood of ten that was not in trouble at some stage or another. From shoplifting to handling stolen goods, social services had been involved on more than one occasion. Much of their benefits had gone on alcohol and cigarettes rather than the food and clothing the children desperately needed. Judging by the racket coming from within, it seemed that things had not improved. It was little wonder that Nicky had ended up on the streets. After updating the investigation, Ruby was keen to speak to Nicky’s family. Sharon’s words played on her mind. Given that the overheard phone call had focused on his murder she had thought it best to start close to home.
As the door opened, Ruby held her warrant card aloft, introducing herself to the pimply teenager on the other side. Sandal-footed, he wore blue tracksuit bottoms and an Eminem T-shirt that was two sizes too big, his short bleached blond hair suggesting he was a fan.
‘Yeah?’ he said, grabbing the larger of the three mongrels by the collar and pushing him back from the door.
‘Can I come in?’ Ruby said. ‘I need to speak to your mum and dad. It’s just some enquiries, nobody’s in any trouble.’ Calling on a grieving family was not ideal, and Ruby knew her visit would be unwelcome, but she had no choice. After the slip-up with officers checking the derelict building, she would not be satisfied until she spoke to the family in person. The boy shrugged, pulling back the door to allow her inside.
A waft of something foul rose up to greet her, and Ruby cast her gaze to the floor. ‘Your dog’s had an accident,’ she said, pointing to the ice-cream shaped turd.
Sloping further down the corridor, the boy picked up a piece of newspaper, slowly layering it on top before stamping it down. ‘Come in,’ he said, closing the door behind her.
Ruby arched an eyebrow. Someone needed to have a word with this kid about the fundamentals of house-training his pets. All the same, she would be following up with children’s social services upon her return to the station. Previous reports spoke of children who had grown up in their pushchairs, stewing in their nappies in front of the TV. Such children became lethargic and disinterested in life when released from the confines of their straps. Ruby guessed that the young man leading her into the living room was once one of the children involved.
She followed him down the dim corridor, passing several green-tinged tanks, and peeping into each one. A languid iguana flicked his tail in annoyance as she tapped the glass to check for signs of life. She peered into the next tank, temporarily forgetting the urgency of her call. Ruby had always wanted a pet. The only thing holding her back was her inability to commit herself to caring for another living creature – a problem which apparently did not bother Nicky’s family, given the state of the tanks on show. She recoiled as a tarantula scuttled under a piece of wood. As she peered into the tank containing scorpions, Ruby wondered what purpose such creatures served in a family home. She smiled as a mixed-race toddler came running up to greet her, tugging her trouser pockets in search of sweets. Nick was the oldest in the family, and his parents seemed to have had a child every year since his birth. Judging by their different skin colours, not all of them shared the same father, but the couple had been living together for over twenty years, just the same.
Standing by the fireplace with arms folded stood Michelle Ellis, Nick’s mother, her gaze weary as she observed Ruby enter the room. The flowers on her dress evaporated into a washed-out grey hue. Ruby blinked under the dim light, realising, as she stepped closer, that it was not a dress at all, it was a nightie. Michelle’s hair hung limply around her face, black; the same colour as Nicky’s, except for a few strands of grey. Everything about her appeared disinterested, and Ruby wondered if it was because she was suffering a loss or if that was her permanent expression.
Ruby picked her way through the broken and chewed plastic toys littering the grubby carpeted floor. A small curly-haired boy sat in the corner of the room, amusing himself by hammering nails into a piece of wood. Nick’s father, Phil Ellis, sat in a leather armchair, staring obliviously at the one pristine piece of furniture in the home – a forty-eight inch television.
It was another familiar sight. Amongst the chaos of neglected children, unruly dogs, and faeces minefield was a top-of-the-range TV, and, judging by the Sky box, with access to hundreds of channels.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ Ruby said, trying to find a clean space on the floor to stand. ‘Is there anywhere we can speak in private?’
Phil Ellis jabbed his thumb towards the door, his gaze on his wife. ‘Sod off to the kitchen, I’m trying to watch the telly here.’
The X Factor rerun was on subtitles due to the constant stream of noise echoing within the four walls.
‘It’s about your son. It would be better if you both came through,’ Ruby said, raising her voice to be heard over the din.
‘You talking about the queer? ’Cos we had your lot here yesterday,’ Nicky’s father said, raising his gut from the chair.
Ruby felt her temper flare: if there was one thing she could not abide it was homophobia but she also accepted that her outrage would not change a thing, apart from getting herself thrown out of the house. She clamped her lips tightly together, swallowing back her response. They were still his parents, and it was a tragedy. The fact that she found Phil Ellis wholly offensive was something she would have to keep to herself.
After finally getting them to sit down at the kitchen table, Ruby endured Phil’s mumblings as she took out her pocket notebook and pen.
‘We have to pay for the funeral now,’ he said, his little finger buried in his ear. ‘More money.’
Ruby’s lips parted as she exhaled her disgust. She turned to look at Nicky’s mother, whose eyes were swimming with tears. At least one of them cared.
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Ruby said. ‘I don’t wish to intrude on your grief, but it’s crucial that we find the person who killed your son before they strike again. Have you ever spoken to or visited a Doctor Tanner?’ she said. ‘We believe he may be connected to the case.’
‘Nah,’ Mr Ellis sneered. ‘We see that Indian bloke down the precinct.’
Ruby nodded, grateful that at least she had been spared a racial slur. ‘Do either of you recall an acquaintance by the name of Mandy? Ever seen her around?’ Ruby forced herself to return her gaze to Phil after Nick’s mother delivered a blank stare.
‘Acquaintance, my arse! I know what he’s been up to,’ Nicky’s father sneered. ‘And ’im getting killed, it’s all he deserved. Made me a laughing stock down the Horse and Hounds, he did, selling blow jobs down the alley for a tenner. I can’t show my face round there again, thanks to ’im.’
‘You didn’t mind taking his money,’ Nick’s mother said, finally opening her mouth to speak. Her tone was cold and brittle, and she clasped her fingers tightly together as she leant over the kitchen table, her knuckles turning white. ‘You didn’t ask about where the money came from when he was handing it over so you could go boozing. How are we going to manage now? The benefits barely cover the food. How are we going to survive without his money?’
Ruby could feel the atmosphere thicken between them, and knew an argument was about to erupt. She felt sorry for the children who would witness what was to follow, but they were most likely immune to it now. She remembered something a social worker had said to her once: it was not the youngsters who screamed and cried after a domestic that you had to worry about, it was the ones who accepted it as everyday life. Such children grew up to be perpetrators and victims themselves. Water found its own level, she had said, and there were enough damaged souls in the world to find each other and begin the cycle all over again. The little girl that had tugged on her trousers now stood in the doorway, her eyes devoid of emotion. In a fleeting moment, Ruby could see her life all mapped out for her. It made for depressing viewing.
‘Here’s my card,’ Ruby interrupted, returning her attention to the arguing couple. But as they exchanged expletives, it was as if she wasn’t there at all. ‘If either of you recalls anything about Mandy, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know. I’ll show myself out.’
Walking to her car, Ruby took a few breaths of air to expel all remnants of the Ellis household. She knew what social services would say because they had heard it all before: their hands were tied. As long as the children had a roof over their heads, a warm bed and food in their bellies, then the best they could do was to work with the family if they were willing to engage. She did not blame the partner agency because they were doing the best they could. Like the police, they were over-stretched and under-resourced, and the first in the line of fire when the media highlighted their failings in the worst possible way. Everyone was a critic. She thought about the headlines that the fairy-tale killer wanted to create, and how hard she had worked to ensure details of Nick’s case had not come to light. No family wanted to see their son portrayed in such a way, not even the Ellises. She glanced at her watch, well aware of the seconds ticking past. There was still so much to do, and time was running out for Mandy Prentice.