36

Cara’s eyes and nose felt raw from crying, but she gamely answered every question from the young policeman. As she answered them, Paula stayed by her side, holding her hand and stroking her arm. Cara knew this action was really an effort by Paula to calm her own shock, so didn’t tell her to stop it.

Her first instinct was to disappear. She’d already thrust herself into the investigation of another violent death – albeit one that was recorded as a murder suicide. She now worried it wouldn’t look good if she was present at another so soon after. But a split second after that thought struck, it was replaced with another: the CCTV cameras in the area would probably highlight her presence. Perhaps, even, if they were trained in the right direction at the right time, they could let the police know that she was the one who’d found him.

Poor Danny.

Then she was hit by a purely selfish thought: would she never get to know the full truth about Sean’s death, now? She had needed Danny to tell Paula what he knew, for her to come clean on any knowledge she had about her husband’s other life.

She couldn’t close her eyes without seeing the sag of Danny’s mouth and that knife sticking up from his chest. At first she half thought he was going to jump up and shout, Gotcha. And start laughing. Calling her an eejit for falling for it. When he was younger, Danny and Sean were always up to some kind of prank. She could see them as preteens: skint knees and smudged cheeks, egging each other on.

Last time she saw him just down from the entrance to her flat, he seemed jumpy. Did he know he was at risk? Should she tell the young cop this? And what about that blue car? Was that just an innocent driver or something more malicious?

She didn’t have a good track record with the police, though; whatever she told them was dismissed. Back in Stewart Street police station, they didn’t want to know. What did that detective Drain say? She had some imagination, or something. So, no way was she going to be believed. Better to remain silent and appear dumb than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. There was truth in that saying.

‘Anything else?’ the young cop asked her.

Cara looked at the acne scar on his cheek, the raised eyebrow, and wondered what he saw, what he was thinking, what he would tell his colleagues. In her imagination she heard him talking to them: Aye, that Cara Connolly, daft bint.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I know the family. Knew he was homeless, and my friend and I here just wanted to make sure he had some food for the day, you know?’

Paula gave a little sob, so she placed a hand over her shoulder and pulled her close.

‘Can we go now? My friend here’s had a terrible shock. We both have.’

The cop nodded. ‘We have your details. The investigating team will be in touch just to go over things again.’

‘What about the wee dog?’ asked Cara.

‘It’s a cute wee thing, eh?’ the cop said. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get it to a kennel or something.’

‘Okay, officer. Happy to help in any way,’ Paula murmured.

Cara pulled her away to the side, ready to make her escape. She mumbled, ‘Don’t appear too keen, eh?’

‘That poor boy.’ Paula was still holding the coffee and the sandwich. She looked at them and then up at Cara, as if she couldn’t remember what food was for.

They retraced their steps. Cara saw that Stu was still there and indicated that Paula should hand him the food and drink.

‘What was a’ that aboot?’ he asked as he accepted the sandwich. ‘It’s usually they dog-walkers that find dead bodies, innit? Not wee wifies bearing gifts.’

‘Have you spoken to Danny recently?’ Cara asked.

‘You going all detective on me, doll?’ Stu asked with a weak smile, displaying a mouthful of teeth that should have been condemned years ago. ‘Terrible, eh? Danny was a good cunt. Wouldn’t harm a fly but.’ His attempted smile slid off his face as his expression lengthened and he coughed, as if bearing down on any emotion that might leak through.

‘How well did you know him?’ Paula asked. Cara heard the tremble in her tone and wondered if she sounded the same. There was too much death around her these days.

‘Just enough to say hello, you know? We were ships passing through the shite of modern life.’

‘Did you ever get past the hellos to something more meaningful?’ she asked.

‘Whit, like the weather?’ Snort. ‘He had bother with his pitch a few weeks back, right enough. Some other cunt tried to knuckle in on his space.’ He lifted the sandwich out of the bag, held it up as if asking for permission, took a bite and continued talking as he chewed. ‘A couple of the other guys stepped in. Huckled the guy.’ A crumb of food flew out of his mouth and hit Cara on the cheek. She took a step back. ‘Sorry, doll,’ Stu said. ‘This is just…’ He took a look over to where the police had constructed a small white tent to hide the crime scene. ‘Now that I remember it…’ He took another bite. ‘S’funny how a wee bit of nourishment helps the old brain cells, eh?’

Cara wanted to give him a ‘get on with it’ look, but softened it into a smile.

Stu indicated with a nod and a lift of his cheek that he understood her. ‘Don’t usually get such a willing audience when I’m out here, you know. Anyway. One of the guys that stepped in – Wee Gav? – said they took the guy up the alley back there and were about to give him a kicking…’ He held a hand up when he saw the look of alarm on Paula’s face. ‘Nothing really damaging, you know. Just enough for a warning, doll. A few bruises an’ that. But, they stopped when this guy claimed he was offered money to make life difficult for Danny.’

Cara stared at him hard now.

‘People do that?’ asked Paula, alarm evident on her face.

‘This is the streets, darlin’,’ Stu answered. ‘Anything can happen.’

‘Do you know this guy? Any idea where we could get a hold of him?’ Cara asked.

‘You are going all detective, aren’t ye?’ Stu asked, his eyebrows lifted as if he was impressed.

‘You don’t think this guy came back and knifed poor Danny in revenge do you?’ Paula asked, looking at Cara and then Danny.

Cara considered this. Dismissed it. ‘No, there’s more to it than that, I’m sure of it.’ She had another look over at the site of Danny’s final rest. ‘He’s the one person that knows about our Sean and how he died. He was scared when I saw him the other day and that was more than the worry about someone stealing his pitch. I start pushing him for answers, finally get him to agree to speak to you – you know he wouldn’t dream of it if your husband was still alive – and now, suddenly he’s dead?’

She stared into Paula’s face. She knew her accusation was hard: You know something and you’re not telling me. Cara had allowed herself to be pulled in by this woman’s performance as the grieving widow, but no longer. People were dying here.

‘You sure you’re not letting your imagination get away with you?’ Paula asked, and there was a defensiveness there. As far as Cara could see she was still to face up to the fact that her husband had been up to no good.

‘For God’s sake, woman, open your eyes. Just about everywhere we go there’s a trail of dead bodies. Is that all in my imagination, too?’