said
nervously, juggling the baby up and down. The child picked up her
tension and the volume from its lungs increased by several
decibels.
‘ We’re just after some information, that’s all,’ Henry
informed her. ‘We won’t keep you long - honest.’ He
smiled.
She tutted, put the door to, unhooked the chain and let the
two detectives come into her living accommodation. It consisted of
three tiny rooms: a bed/living room with a mattress covered with
grimy sheets in one corner, a couple of big, second-hand armchairs
and a good quality TV set on top of a small cupboard; a minuscule
bathroom, and a kitchen with a three-ringed cooker, sink and no
fridge. In overall area, the flat was no bigger than a small towing
caravan but was much less luxurious.
A large amount of baby clothing littered the place; in one
corner of the room was a high pile of unused disposable nappies.
The room smelled of sick and pooh with just a hint of
cannabis.
What a fucking life, Henry thought. She must be all of
seventeen. ‘And you are?’ he asked.
‘ Jodie Flew.’
‘ You alone here?’
‘ At the moment, yes,’ she answered tartly. ‘What d’you want?’
She brushed back a strand of greasy hair from her face. The baby’s
volume decreased. Seymour crossed to the TV and switched it
off.
Henry told her, gave a description of the dead girl and asked
Jodie if it were possible she knew her, or if she lived in one of
the flats.
‘ Well, maybe. Dead, eh?’ Jodie was not too concerned by the
news. ‘A new tenant moved into one of the flats upstairs, day
before yesterday, don’t know which one, but I only seen her a
coupla times in passing. Could’ve been her, from the description.
Hard to say. You spoken to the landlord?’
Henry shook his head.
‘ He lives downstairs.’ She pointed to the floor. ‘If he isn’t
in, he’ll be at his club, that one on Withnell Road.’
Henry thanked her and made to leave.
‘ Any idea where that bastard of a boyfriend of mine is?’ she
asked as they stepped out.
‘ Should we?’
‘ Well, he’s always in trouble for something or other. He went
to the match yesterday and he hasn’t come back yet. I know he gets
pissed up an’ all, but unless he got himself nicked, it’s a long
time to be away, even for him.’
‘ What’s he called?’
‘ Shane Mulcahy.’
Henry blanched at the mention of the name. He knew Shane
hadn’t given this as his address, otherwise he wouldn’t have
knocked on the door in the first place. ‘Does he live
here?’
‘ Most of the time. Sometimes crashes out at his
mum’s.’
‘ Did he give you that?’ Henry nodded at her.
‘ What? The kid or the black eye?’
‘ Whichever.’
‘ Both.’
Henry regained his composure and said, ‘No, don’t know. Why
don’t you give the nick a ring and ask the Custody
Sergeant?’
‘ What with? I don’t have a phone and I don’t have any spare
money until the Giro comes. That bastard took it all with him
yesterday. I’ll ring his soddin’ neck when he comes
back.’
She slammed the door behind them. Henry heard the chain slot
back, then the TV get turned up.
Seymour said, ‘Isn’t that the one you kneed in the
knackers?’
‘ You make it sound like an unprovoked assault, Dave. It was
self defence.’
They went outside and trotted down the steps to the basement
flat.
Henry rapped on the door.
‘ There’s one thing about it,’ Seymour said dryly. ‘There’s a
one hundred per cent chance of him giving her a black eye again,
but only a fifty per cent chance of him fathering another little
Shane Mulcahy.’
The front entrance to the club was a pair of large wooden
doors, gloss painted a deep shiny maroon.
Henry looked at Seymour with a surprised expression when the
doors had been virtually closed in their faces by Jacko with a
curt, ‘You’ll have to wait here while I get the boss.’
‘ Interesting reaction,’ said Seymour. He leaned on the
doorbell as though pushing it hard
nervously, juggling the baby up and down. The child picked up her
tension and the volume from its lungs increased by several
decibels.
‘ We’re just after some information, that’s all,’ Henry
informed her. ‘We won’t keep you long - honest.’ He
smiled.
She tutted, put the door to, unhooked the chain and let the
two detectives come into her living accommodation. It consisted of
three tiny rooms: a bed/living room with a mattress covered with
grimy sheets in one corner, a couple of big, second-hand armchairs
and a good quality TV set on top of a small cupboard; a minuscule
bathroom, and a kitchen with a three-ringed cooker, sink and no
fridge. In overall area, the flat was no bigger than a small towing
caravan but was much less luxurious.
A large amount of baby clothing littered the place; in one
corner of the room was a high pile of unused disposable nappies.
The room smelled of sick and pooh with just a hint of
cannabis.
What a fucking life, Henry thought. She must be all of
seventeen. ‘And you are?’ he asked.
‘ Jodie Flew.’
‘ You alone here?’
‘ At the moment, yes,’ she answered tartly. ‘What d’you want?’
She brushed back a strand of greasy hair from her face. The baby’s
volume decreased. Seymour crossed to the TV and switched it
off.
Henry told her, gave a description of the dead girl and asked
Jodie if it were possible she knew her, or if she lived in one of
the flats.
‘ Well, maybe. Dead, eh?’ Jodie was not too concerned by the
news. ‘A new tenant moved into one of the flats upstairs, day
before yesterday, don’t know which one, but I only seen her a
coupla times in passing. Could’ve been her, from the description.
Hard to say. You spoken to the landlord?’
Henry shook his head.
‘ He lives downstairs.’ She pointed to the floor. ‘If he isn’t
in, he’ll be at his club, that one on Withnell Road.’
Henry thanked her and made to leave.
‘ Any idea where that bastard of a boyfriend of mine is?’ she
asked as they stepped out.
‘ Should we?’
‘ Well, he’s always in trouble for something or other. He went
to the match yesterday and he hasn’t come back yet. I know he gets
pissed up an’ all, but unless he got himself nicked, it’s a long
time to be away, even for him.’
‘ What’s he called?’
‘ Shane Mulcahy.’
Henry blanched at the mention of the name. He knew Shane
hadn’t given this as his address, otherwise he wouldn’t have
knocked on the door in the first place. ‘Does he live
here?’
‘ Most of the time. Sometimes crashes out at his
mum’s.’
‘ Did he give you that?’ Henry nodded at her.
‘ What? The kid or the black eye?’
‘ Whichever.’
‘ Both.’
Henry regained his composure and said, ‘No, don’t know. Why
don’t you give the nick a ring and ask the Custody
Sergeant?’
‘ What with? I don’t have a phone and I don’t have any spare
money until the Giro comes. That bastard took it all with him
yesterday. I’ll ring his soddin’ neck when he comes
back.’
She slammed the door behind them. Henry heard the chain slot
back, then the TV get turned up.
Seymour said, ‘Isn’t that the one you kneed in the
knackers?’
‘ You make it sound like an unprovoked assault, Dave. It was
self defence.’
They went outside and trotted down the steps to the basement
flat.
Henry rapped on the door.
‘ There’s one thing about it,’ Seymour said dryly. ‘There’s a
one hundred per cent chance of him giving her a black eye again,
but only a fifty per cent chance of him fathering another little
Shane Mulcahy.’
The front entrance to the club was a pair of large wooden
doors, gloss painted a deep shiny maroon.
Henry looked at Seymour with a surprised expression when the
doors had been virtually closed in their faces by Jacko with a
curt, ‘You’ll have to wait here while I get the boss.’
‘ Interesting reaction,’ said Seymour. He leaned on the
doorbell as though pushing it hard
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