We watched from the car as Jordan kicked a stone along the pavement, a half-smoked cigarette smouldering between his fingers. His school shirt was untucked and his tie hung loose. He tossed away the cigarette before letting himself into a narrow terraced house. The street was tidy but shabby, flowers planted in short front gardens counteracted by scuffed wheely bins dotted in others.
We’d decided to question Jordan first because the college he attended let out earlier than Leo’s private school and he lived closer to the station. There was also a chance Jordan would confess he’d murdered Melanie in a fit of rage after finding out she was seeing someone else, rendering an urgent interview with Leo unnecessary.
‘Shall I take the lead?’ Juliet spun her phone on her knee. ‘This is in no way a reflection on how you’ve been working, but I have a feeling a brisker approach may be more effective with our young friend. Your softly-softly will work better with Leo.’
I wasn’t sure how I felt about this suggestion. Jordan probably would respond better to Juliet and Leo to me, and I wasn’t disappointed at losing the chance to practise harsher interrogation techniques. Still, I would have liked to have been the one to prompt the change.
‘An important part of leading is knowing when to delegate,’ I said.
Juliet grinned and slid her phone into her pocket. ‘I shall allow you to delegate this to me then.’
We climbed out of the car and walked towards Jordan’s house. I relished being out in the cool air after long minutes of waiting in the car, despite the rotting smell from bin bags piled under a nearby tree. A patch of overgrown grass separated Jordan’s house from the road. Juliet led the way over uneven paving stones and rapped on the plastic front door. It didn’t take long for a blurry silhouette to appear behind a pane of misted glass.
A thin woman opened the door, her collar bones jutting above the hem of a faded orange jumper. Her hair was a similar dirty blonde as Jordan’s, pulled into a tight ponytail. She had the same feral air as him; a rat trapped in a cage who would take any chance to run.
‘Hello. I’m Detective Inspector Juliet Stern and this is Detective Sergeant Gabe Martin. Is Jordan in? We need to ask him a few questions about the murder of Melanie Pirt.’
The woman’s eyes widened, darting to the row of houses behind us. This area might not be as well-to-do as the suburb I was renting in, but apparently the neighbours were every bit as nosy. She ushered Juliet and me inside.
‘I’m his mum.’ She led us through to a cramped living room. ‘I know that makes me biased, but Jordan’s a good boy. He might not get the best grades or be the most well behaved in lessons, but he wouldn’t have hurt Mel. He was nuts for her.’
Juliet pulled off her coat and folded it over the arm of a faux leather sofa that spanned the length of one wall. ‘If we could talk to Jordan?’
His mum dithered but left the room. Juliet settled herself on one side of the sofa and I took the other, the inner workings complaining as it took our weight. Glass doors led out onto an overlooked garden, which was as neglected as the patch of grass at the front of the house. Juliet examined the remote on the scratched coffee table and muted the widescreen TV hung on the far wall. I pulled my notepad out of my pocket and flicked to a fresh page.
The floorboards overhead creaked as Jordan came downstairs, his mum walking in his shadow. He took the only remaining seat, a battered recliner under the TV, leaving her to hover in the doorway.
‘What do you want?’ Jordan had changed into a pair of jogging bottoms and an oversized green hoodie, but he didn’t look comfortable. His shoulders were hunched, his eyes bloodshot.
‘We need to ask you a few more questions about the nature of your relationship with Melanie Pirt. When we met with you before, you told us you’d not hurt her.’ Juliet pulled the pictures we’d printed this afternoon from between the pages of her organiser and spread them on the coffee table. Melanie’s thighs were discoloured with blacks and deep purples. ‘I’m going to ask you again. Jordan, did you ever hurt Melanie Pirt?’
His mum squeaked, her hand flying to her mouth. Jordan shrunk into his chair. I leant forward and gathered up the pictures. The point had been made. We didn’t need to cause Jordan or his mum any more distress.
‘I need you to tell the truth,’ Juliet said. ‘Because, to me, it looks like you were hurting Melanie for a long time. We need you to tell the truth, otherwise we’ll come to our own conclusions, and that may cause us to believe you had something to do with Melanie’s death.’
‘I didn’t have anything to do with that.’ Jordan’s jaw quivered. ‘And I didn’t mean to hurt her.’
Juliet sat forward, her face intent. ‘Tell us what you did, Jordan.’
‘I didn’t start off doing it. I didn’t mean to.’ He sniffed and held the sleeve of his hoodie under his nose. ‘I loved her, I still love her. But sometimes she would say or do something so stupid, like smile at another guy, and I’d lose it.’
His mum’s hand hadn’t left her mouth. It was clamped there, her fingers digging into the skin of her cheek. I made a note about her reaction. It would be horrible for any parent to find out their son was beating his girlfriend, but this seemed a little extreme.
‘Did you hit Melanie Pirt regularly before she died on the 9th October?’ Juliet asked.
Jordan nodded into his lap, a fallen tear creating a dark circle on the pale grey of his jogging bottoms. With a small sound like a mouse being stepped on, his mum fled the room.
‘Jordan?’ Juliet’s eyes hadn’t strayed from him. ‘Did you have anything to do with Melanie’s death?’
‘No.’ He looked up, swiping the wetness from his face. ‘I told you, I didn’t kill her. I wouldn’t hurt her.’ He flinched, confronted by the hypocrisy of his own statement. ‘It’s stupid. The only reason I ever did stuff to her was because I didn’t want to lose her. I wouldn’t have killed her.’
I’d heard similar disturbed logic before. Some men beat women because they had a screw loose, but others lashed out because they couldn’t see any other way of keeping those they loved close and controlled.
Jordan rubbed his sleeve over his face. ‘I told you before; someone up on that estate killed Mel. There’s a guy who lives there called Leonard. I think he did it.’
Juliet tilted her head to the side. ‘You told us you don’t know anyone who lives on the Dunlow Estate.’
‘I don’t.’ Jordan glared at her. ‘I looked up who lives there. Leonard’s our age, he’s a posh private school boy. He’s everything I’m not so he’s exactly the type of guy Mel would go running to when she was pissed at me.’
Juliet stood. ‘We have everything we need.’
‘No. Wait.’ Jordan jumped up. ‘I know this sounds bad and I know I’m not a reliable witness or whatever, but you have to listen to me. Someone up on that posho estate killed Mel, and I really think it was Leonard. It wouldn’t have been anyone older; Mel would have told me something like that to make me jealous. Leonard makes sense. He was obsessed with her. The guy couldn’t have her, so he tricked her onto the estate and killed her. He’s one of those privileged twats. If he can’t have her, no one can.’
Jordan couldn’t know any of this. He was desperately clinging to any morsel of blame to throw at someone else.
I stood alongside Juliet, while Jordan breathed heavily. He was one second away from shouting or crying.
‘Jordan?’ I said. ‘We’ll take this into consideration. Thank you for being honest today. That must have been hard.’
His face crumpled. If Juliet had made one of her caustic comments, he might have come at us, fists flying, but my gentle words broke his façade down. We left him climbing back into the chair, his head buried in his folded arms.
His mum must have hidden away upstairs. We walked through the hall, past a pile of battered trainers, and out of the front door. Soft rain hit our faces as we rushed over to the car. Juliet sat stiff in the passenger seat, watching droplets patter on the windscreen, as I turned on the ignition and twisted the heating dial. Hot air blasted from the fans.
‘Do you believe him?’
I blew out a breath. ‘Mostly, yes. He was hurting Melanie and I don’t think he had anything to do with her death. I’m not sure about his Leo theories though. Seems like he’s lashing out at an easy target.’
‘I’m not so sure about his claim that Melanie would have told him if she was seeing someone older either,’ Juliet said, staring ahead. ‘Why would she want to annoy him when the consequence was a beating?’
‘Agreed.’ I pulled on my seatbelt. ‘Leo should be home from school soon. If we get to the estate early enough, we might be able to interview him without his father lurking around.’
Juliet nodded, tugging her seatbelt over her chest. ‘Did you see her reaction?’
I flicked on the indicator and turned onto the road. ‘Jordan’s mum’s?’
‘Yeah.’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘We didn’t meet Jordan’s dad today, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Jordan was copying behaviour.’
‘Why does she live like that?’ Juliet sighed. ‘Why stay with someone who hurts her? Why keep her kid in that place so he will repeat his father’s mistakes?’
I waited at a junction for a gap in traffic streaming across the busier main road. I wasn’t sure why Juliet was so irked by Jordan’s parents’ situation. It was unpleasant but unless his mum spoke up, we were powerless. Juliet didn’t normally care about the personal lives of the families we encountered, or at least was only interested so far as they gave insight into a suspect’s behaviour.
‘Not everyone is strong like you,’ I said. ‘I’m not making excuses, but it’s true.’
Juliet turned away, fixing her gaze on droplets of rain dribbling down her side window.
I didn’t expect her to reply, so almost missed her whispering, ‘I’m not strong. I’m just not weak.’