Ruthless - [18]

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Kavanagh,’ said Janet. ‘It is a very difficult situation. Is there anyone you’d like me to contact, anyone you’d like to be with?’

‘No, thank you, I’ll be all right.’

‘Thank you for your help. Please can we take a short statement from you now, confirming what you’ve told us?’

The woman nodded and cleared her throat and they began.

Karen and Barry Kavanagh still lived in Rhyl. Rachel and Janet spoke to Karen at the restaurant where she was a chef and to Barry at the local high school. Both confirmed the information that Mrs Kavanagh had given them. While each of his children were shocked to learn of Kavanagh’s death, neither of them seemed particularly upset. And why should they, Rachel thought, they’d not seen him for years, only remembered the chaos he’d caused.

She snatched the chance to smoke as they walked to the front, in search of potted shrimp. The place was more or less deserted, just a few tourists wearing raincoats and carrying brollies, but in the amusement park most of the machines stood idle, there was no queue at the ice cream van. The tide was up and the grey water empty save for some seagulls.

They stopped at a café for a cuppa and a bite to eat.

‘Staying long?’ the bloke in the café asked.

‘No, just passing through,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s quiet.’

‘The weather, and money, people watching their pennies. First thing to go, holidays and that, luxuries. Sometimes I wish they’d gag the weather forecaster. You hear it’s going to be unsettled again, you’ll not be eager to come down here.’

‘He kept the ring,’ Janet said, on their way back to the car.

‘Probably couldn’t get it off,’ said Rachel.

‘What?’

‘His fingers got swollen, his knuckles. The only reason an alkie down on his luck wouldn’t part with a piece of gold like that is because he’d have to cut his finger off to get at it.’

‘You are such a cynic,’ Janet said.

‘A realist.’

‘He could have had the ring cut off.’

‘Not easy if it’s really tight. And most jewellers won’t let someone like that over the threshold.’

‘I think you’re wrong,’ Janet said. ‘I think he kept it because it was all he had left to remind him of what he’d had, what he’d lost.’

Rachel stared at her. ‘Cue the violins.’

‘Harsh,’ Janet said. ‘So where has he been since Bury in 1999? What was he doing on Manorclough?’

‘Rick!’ Rachel exclaimed, making Janet jump out of her skin.

‘What?’ she said.

‘Hang on.’ Rachel looked back through her notes, eyes running across the pages, flipping paper over then back. ‘Not written it down.’

Janet tutted. ‘Naughty.’ Write it down, a mantra the boss drummed into them.

‘Can we stop on Manorclough?’ Rachel said. ‘Something the woman at the newsagent’s said. A tramp they gave handouts to, called Rick.’

‘Brilliant,’ Janet smiled. ‘Let’s go see, shall we?’

7

The misty rain at the coast had turned to a steady downpour back in the Pennines. The shop was busy, a bunch of rowdy kids in uniform, buying sweets and fizzy drinks. The air peppered with ‘fucks’ and ‘knobs’ and ‘slags’.

‘Ten Lambert & Butler,’ one of the kids said. Liam Kelly’s eyes flicked towards Rachel.

‘Proof of age?’ he said.

‘Come on, Liam,’ the lad complained.

Liam Kelly simply shook his head. The lad wheeled round, arms raised in exasperation.

‘One twenty-nine,’ Liam Kelly said, pointing to the snacks.

‘I need some fags.’

‘Against the law, I could be prosecuted,’ Liam Kelly said. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, DC Bailey?’ The kids looked at Rachel and Janet. The hubbub quietened.

‘That’s right,’ Rachel said. ‘And this is DC Scott.’

‘Aah!’ the lad who’d been refused service groaned. ‘The dibble.’

‘Cagney and Lacey,’ someone called out.

‘Is it about the murder?’ said a girl with teeth covered in braces and a narrow face like a shrew’s. ‘That fella what was shot and burned alive?’

‘If he was shot, he wouldn’t be alive, thicko,’ the first lad said.

‘Depends where they shot him,’ she snapped back, shoving the boy for good measure.

‘It is about the murder,’ Rachel said, ‘and if anyone here knows anything that might help, you can call at the mobile incident unit up the road. In complete confidence,’ she added.

‘Not very confidential if everyone can see who’s going in,’ piped up a very small boy with a brutally shaved head. He had a point.

‘You can ring in,’ Rachel said.

‘You ever shot anyone?’ This from the shrew girl.

‘Don’t tempt me,’ Rachel said. ‘You’re not armed,’ said the small lad. ‘Only special units carry guns.’

‘Now we’d like a word with Mr Kelly…’ Janet said.

‘Ooh!’ a voice called out.

‘A threesome, eh?’ the shrew girl said.

A bout of laughter.

‘Who’s got the handcuffs?’ More laughter as they spilled out on to the streets.

Liam Kelly raised his eyebrows, shook his head.

‘Your partner,’ Rachel said, ‘she mentioned someone yesterday, hadn’t been round for his food parcel?’

‘Rodeo Rick, yeah.’

‘Seen him today?’

‘No,’ Liam Kelly said.

‘Where’s he live?’

‘He’s homeless, dosses where he can.’

‘Can you describe him?’ Rachel said.

‘Tall, on the skinny side, long hair.’

‘White guy?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How old?’

‘Hard to say, fifties, sixties.’

‘You know his full name?’ Rachel said.