Once they’d got back to the incident room, the paperwork had continued to mount up. Fortunately for Wendy, Luke Baxter had been in a surprisingly good mood and had agreed to take care of some of it for her.
She had barely had time to sit down and take more than a sip of her coffee when the phone had rung.
Two minutes later, Wendy replaced the receiver, put the lid back on her pen and jogged towards Culverhouse's office with the notepad in her hand.
‘Guv? I've just had a call from a girl called Lyndsey Samuels. Says she was a school friend of Danielle Levy. She saw the appeal on TV and wanted to tell us about a boy she reckons Danielle had been seeing recently. Says it was nothing serious, but she thinks he was a bit of a troublemaker and might have something for us.’
‘What's his name?’
‘Shane Howard. Lives up Forkston Road.’
‘Says it all, really. Perhaps we should go and have a chat.’
Forkston Road was known locally for harbouring a number of criminals. The houses were mostly council-owned or association housing, with a very high rate of unemployment. Shane Howard's family house was a simple two-up-two-down affair, nestled in the middle of four or five similar terraced properties. A light blue rusting Vauxhall Cavalier was parked jauntily on the road outside.
Culverhouse rang the doorbell and waited a few moments before the woman opened the door. Mutton dressed as lamb was the first thought that came into Culverhouse's mind. Not brilliant lamb, either. The enormous golden hooped earrings deflected the eye from the drooping cigarette and pockmarked skin of Shane Howard's mother.
‘Yeah? Wot is it?’
‘Mrs Howard? We've come to speak to your son, Shane.’
‘Wot about? He ain't done nuffin' wrong. Why do you lot keep comin' round and givin' us 'assle?’ Wendy was always amazed at how some people could spot a police officer a mile off, despite no-one having told them who they were. Guilty eyes see all, she thought.
‘We're not trying to give anyone any hassle, Mrs Howard. We just want to speak to him as a possible witness in connection with a recent incident.’
‘Well you won't find nuffin' 'ere. 'E's down the park, ain't he?’
‘Which one?’ Wendy asked.
‘On Meadow Hill Lane. Probably wiv 'is mates. Don't go bovverin' 'im though, will ya?’
‘We'll do what we need to do, thank you, Mrs Howard,’ Culverhouse said as politely as he could.
They didn't stay a minute longer than they needed to.
Pulling the car in beside the tennis courts, Wendy was relieved to be in plain clothes and an unmarked car. She was pretty sure Shane Howard would spot them a mile off anyway, but they’d have a much better chance than they would rocking up in a glow-in-the-dark car with a bloody great light on the top.
Despite the tranquil surroundings, the park on Meadow Hill Lane was a notorious stomping ground for young thugs and layabouts. The old cricket pavilion made for the centre of much of the trouble, standing as it did aside the large open green area donned with football and cricket pitches and tennis courts.
‘Plenty of them about, guv,’ Wendy said, gesturing to the large group of teenagers sat around by the cricket pavilion. How will you know which one's him?’
‘Oh, I'll know, don't you worry. Let's just say we've met once or twice before.’
‘There’s quite a few of them, though. What if things turn nasty? Think we should call for back-up?’
‘Oh yeah, great idea, Knight. Get them to turn the sirens up extra loud as well. Maybe we can all have a big game of cricket afterwards.’
Making their way down the poorly-laid concrete path which ran down the side of the park, past the pavilion, Knight and Culverhouse approached the gang of youths.
‘Oi oi! Anyone smell that?’ one of them shouted.
‘Yeah, smells like bacon!’
The group fell into a roar of rapturous laughter and mock applause.
‘My old mate Inspector Culverhouse! Come to have a bit of a drink and a smoke with us, 'ave ya? Dirty ol’ dog.’
‘Shane Howard, we meet again.’
‘I’ll take that as a no, then. Only need to say, like. More for me, then.’
Shane Howard's gang of lemmings continued to laugh at his every comment, as if entranced by cult.
‘We need to speak to you about Danielle Levy, Shane,’ Culverhouse said calmly.
‘Who?’
‘Danielle Levy. We believe she may have been your girlfriend.’
‘Hah, is that what you call it? Nah, we had a bit of a thing, like, but I wouldn't call her my girlfriend.’ He took another drag on his cigarette.
‘Fuck buddy, more like!’ one of the group piped up, followed by more rapturous laughter.
‘Whatever she was to you, we want to know what you might know about her murder,’ Culverhouse said.
‘Murder, eh? Can't say I can 'elp you, Inspector. If I 'ad to give you information on every girl I shagged, we'd be 'ere a long time, know what I mean? Don't even know 'alf their names, like.’
‘Well, aren't you the big man? Make you feel big, does it? Using a girl for sex and not giving two shits when she ends up dead?’
‘I never killed her, Inspector. Now piss off.’
‘And how do I know that? You've had more criminal records than Cliff Richard.’
‘Well, you'll 'ave to catch me to find out, won't ya?’
Roaring with laughter, Shane Howard stood up, dodged Culverhouse’s outstretched arm and made off on his toes towards the gate on Meadow Hill Lane, his gang of yobs egging him on with every step.
‘Go on, Shane! Leg it!’ one yelled.
Culverhouse was quick to react, beginning only a couple of feet behind Shane Howard, yet unable to make any purchase on grabbing him. Wendy, slower to react, but quicker to gain, soon overtook the bumbling Culverhouse and began sprinting and gaining on Shane as her feet hammered into the concrete path, stumbling and stacking on the uneven surface as she went.
As Culverhouse gave up and slumped on the grass bank panting and wheezing, Wendy came within touching distance of Shane Howard as they approached the front gate of the park. As they reached the pavement on Meadow Hill Lane, Wendy managed to wrap her right arm around Shane's shoulder and yank him back towards her as they grappled for supremacy. Not caring much for guidelines and methods of restraint noted in Blackstone's, Wendy began kicking at the legs of Shane Howard in an attempt to knock him off balance and restrain him until DCI Culverhouse, now back on his feet and moving towards them like a slow mound of jelly, came back on the scene.
With a grunting roar of effort, Shane Howard's body tensed and Wendy found herself feeling momentarily weightless as her feet left the ground and she felt herself moving uncontrollably towards the road. Trying to regain her footing and stop the forward momentum with her hands on the sharp, gritty surface of the road, she twisted over on her ankle, a pain which was dominant only momentarily before the sharp, searing crunch of her lower back put an end to all forward momentum with a screeching of tyres.
She found herself looking at the front of the Volvo from an unnaturally low position, her back howling with pain as she lost all concept of space and time.