Dead Wrong - [12]

‘Your dad said you were good friends.’

He nodded, chewed a corner of his lip, sat very still. ‘I didn’t do it,’ he said quietly, and his nose grew red and his eyes shone. He swallowed, struggled hard for composure.

‘But you don’t remember,’ I said gently.

He took a breath. ‘I never…he was my best…’ His efforts failed and tears streamed down his cheeks. He put his hands up to cover his face. I glanced over at the window. Would they yank him away for so emotional a display? I reached across and put my hand on Luke’s shoulder. He cried almost silently, his head bobbing in his hands.

Indignation flared in me. This boy, barely a man, hadn’t been tried yet, might well be innocent – but he was in here alone and terrified almost senseless. I shouldn’t think he’d have had any access to counselling, or seen anyone to help him deal with the trauma he’d been through. If he fell apart they’d put him in the hospital, but until then…

After what seemed like ages he straightened up. I withdrew my hand; my arm had gone dead and I rubbed at it to stop the pins and needles while he wiped his face with the palms and backs of his hands. I passed him some tissues. Do not pass any materials to the prisoner. He blew his nose noisily.

The crying had calmed him. His eyes no longer swept here and there. He gazed steadily into the distance. ‘They wouldn’t let me go to the funeral. I should have been there.’ He looked directly at me, ‘I still can’t believe he’s dead. I dream about him and then I wake up and…’ He sighed. ‘When we were in Year Seven, that’s when my mum died, Ahktar, he was great. He didn’t mind if I got moody or anything, he just stuck with me. There was no one else. My dad was in a right state. Ahktar was…he didn’t talk about it or anything,’ he leant forward, trying to make me understand, ‘he just kept coming round. He wasn’t embarrassed, everybody…that’s the main thing, they’re embarrassed, they make you feel awkward.’ He paused. ‘We’ve still got his guitar in the cellar.’

‘You had a group? What instrument did you play?’

‘Drums, Ahktar on guitar and vocals, Simon on bass, Josh on keyboards. Ahktar made it though.’ He smiled at some memory; it made him look so young. ‘He had a brilliant voice and he wrote the songs as well. That night, New Year’s Eve, we were going to see this guy at the club. He had a recording studio, his brother was one of the DJs at the club. Ahktar had talked to the DJ and he said he’d introduce us.’

‘Did he?’

“Nah. It was crazy in there.’

‘So you do remember part of the evening?’

‘Yeah, we got the bus into town, we went straight there. Everyone knew it’d sell out. We were there by eight. We all got in.’

‘Who were you with?’

‘Simon, Josh and his girlfriend, Ahktar, Joey D, Zeb and Emma.’

I asked him about the people who hadn’t been mentioned before.

‘Joey D.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Joey D is sad. He’s at school with us. He has a hard time, his old man’s an alcoholic. Joey lives with his grandma. She’s loaded, rolling in it. Joey’s got more money than sense, so people use him. He gives them stuff, he thinks they’ll like him.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

He shrugged. ‘CDs, computer games, watches.’

‘Drugs?’

‘Maybe.’ Automatic caution.

I stared at Luke. ‘Listen, Luke…’

‘OK,’ he said. I didn’t need to finish my little speech about complete honesty. Luke recognised his mistake.

‘Yeah, he could get most things – dope, E, whizz.’

‘For you?’

‘Sometimes, for parties, not on a regular basis. Well, only dope as a regular thing.’

‘Did you all smoke dope?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And the rest? Whizz, E?’

‘Yeah, the weekend or parties like I said. Everyone does it, it’s not a problem.’

I nodded. ‘OK, so Joey D was there. Who else?’

‘Zeb, Ahktar’s cousin, and Emma.’

‘He’s at school with you?’

He smiled briefly. ‘No, he’s older, he works for his brother Janghir. They all call him Jay. Clothing business. They’ve a place up Cheetham Hill.’

‘And when you got inside, what did you do?’

He thought about it. ‘We went to the big room downstairs. We had a drink. We had a dance. It was livening up. Zeb had brought Ahktar this jacket he’d been after for ages. Canadian import, can’t get them here. Really nice jacket, silk and microfibre, black and yellow. Weighs nothing, really warm. They use them up in the Arctic. Anyway Zeb has one and Ahktar had paid him cash upfront back in the summer. It was getting hot but Ahktar, he won’t take this jacket off.’ He smiled. ‘Everyone-took a tab. Everyone was dancing.’

‘Who did you get it from?’

‘Joey. He’d gone off to sort it soon as we got in there.’

‘Go on.’

‘That’s it. There was lots of stuff going round – pills, some heavy dope. Everyone was trying it all.’

‘Including you?’

He nodded. ‘I can’t remember anything else, not till…after. Someone said they were going to turn the sprinklers on at midnight, cool everyone down for New Year but I think that was just a rumour.’

‘Do you remember leaving the club?’

‘No.’

‘Do you remember anything outside the club?’

‘I’ve tried, there’s nothing.’

‘Do you remember going to the police station?’

He studied his hands. ‘No. The next thing I knew I was waking up, I was cold, I was shaking. There was blood all over my T-shirt and my hands. I thought I’d had a nosebleed.’ He looked at me. ‘It wasn’t my blood, it was Ahktar’s. They asked me all these questions then. I couldn’t tell them anything. They just kept on about Ahktar, what had we argued about? I couldn’t remember anything. In the end, I lost it. I shouted at him: “I can’t fucking remember! Why don’t you ask Ahktar?” One of them stared at me, hard. “We can’t,” he said, “he’s dead.”