Dead Wrong - [57]

‘Sal, Maddie, come in. Sit down,’ barked Moira. ‘What’s up?’

I explained and Moira told Maddie she was going to look into her ear with a special torch.

‘No,’ Maddie began to panic, ‘no, Mummy.’

‘It’s only a light,’ I struggled to keep the irritation from my voice.

‘You look into your mum’s ear,’ said Moira to Maddie.

‘Can I?’ Her face brightened.

‘Thanks,’ I muttered, and played patient until my daughter was relaxed enough to be examined.

‘Yes, there’s quite a lot of inflammation. I’ll give her a short course of antibiotics, in suspension; give her five ml three times a day after meals. You can carry on with the Calpol today. Should kick in pretty quickly after that. Make sure she finishes the course.’

‘Would it clear up if she didn’t have them?’ I asked, thinking of all I’d read about super bugs and immune systems.

‘Probably. Take longer, though and I’d want to see her every couple of days to make sure it was no worse.’

‘Mummy, I need the medicine,’ Maddie became tearful.

‘Yes, you do. We’ll take it.’ The prospect of trailing back and forth to Moira’s all week and having Maddie off school for twice as long helped me make the decision. And she didn’t have antibiotics very often, I reassured myself.

Maddie clutched the bag containing her bottle of syrup as we drove back. I accepted that this would be a short working day. I had to call Mrs Deason, tell her to warn Joey. I had better ring Victor Wallace, too. I’d pass on the information on the stalker, now Gary Crowther, to Rebecca Henderson and let Debbie know that things were moving. But after that it would be bliss to curl up with Maddie and try to catch up on some sleep.

There was a white van parked opposite my house. I felt giddy and sick. I drew up into the drive and sat in the car wondering what I should do. Before I could make a decision, I saw Rashid Siddiq get out of the van and make as if to cross the road. I told Maddie to stay put. I got out and locked the car behind me. I intercepted him at the gateway, my prime concern to keep him away from my child.

‘What do you want?’ I demanded.

Close up he smelt of Imperial Leather and I could see a nick on his chin where he’d cut himself shaving. He was a big man, large-boned, with very broad shoulders.

‘You wanted to see me, didn’t you?’ he said softly.

‘Not now I don’t.’

‘No? You’ve been to see little Joey. Now he may have told you stories. No truth in them. His head’s totally fucked.’ The language was more shocking because of his gentle tone. ‘Too many drugs. He can’t tell night from day. He’s a junkie. He sees things. Things that aren’t there. Sad bastard. You should forget everything he said.’

And if I don’t? I didn’t speak. There was plenty I wanted to say but I thought it wise to keep quiet. Silence as a form of self-defence. All I wanted to do was for him to leave.

‘Little girl not at school?’

A wave of rage. For a moment my eyes blurred red and I couldn’t see him. I forced myself to remain still and silent, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing that I’d see in them the hot glint of the bully underscoring his threat.

‘Forget it.’ He turned and walked away.

I rushed to the car and got myself and Maddie inside the house, anger searing my belly like burns from an iron. I locked the doors and settled her with some bread and soup, doses of medicine, drink and a video. All the while the impotent fury bucketing around inside me. How dare he, the bastard, how dare he!

Chapter Twenty-Six

I wouldn’t sleep but at least I should eat. I felt nauseous but it would help to have some food. There wasn’t much in and for a moment I felt a tantrum of disappointment start. Wasn’t it about time Ray did his share of the shopping? Why didn’t he notice we were getting low on supplies, why did I always have to tell him? Oh, get on with it, I chided myself. I made fried egg and mushrooms and cut thick slices of bread. I gobbled it up, drank two mugs of tea and had a banana.

Fortified by this mega-snack, I dialled Mrs Deason’s number. Let it ring fifteen times. No answer. I rang Detective Sergeant Hatton at Bootle Street, the man I’d talked to previously about the case. I told him that I wanted to report that I was being intimidated by a witness. I had their name and the registration number of their van.

He heard me out and said he would make a note of it.

‘Will that be a formal complaint?’

‘Not as such. You’d have to come in and make a statement in person.’

I felt exasperated. ‘I can’t do that today,’ I said, ‘but I’d like to make it official as soon as I can.’

He assured me he would keep my call on record.

Rebecca Henderson was delighted that I’d got the low down on Debbie’s stalker. I gave her all Gary Crowther’s details.

‘Well done, Sal,’ she said. ‘It’s taken a bit longer than we hoped but I can move on this straight away now. Send me your bill.’

‘I will, and I’ve the letters here – I’ll forward those as well and the photos I’ve done.’

‘Good. I’ll be in touch. We’re snowed under – should be plenty more work coming your way.’

‘Great.’ I needed more work. After all, both my cases were over now, bar the paperwork. I was relieved at her promise of more jobs, though I hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with too many Debbie Gosforths. I checked the number for the house where Debbie was staying. Her friend answered the phone and I gave my name and asked to speak to Debbie.