Storms Page 2

  Jeff smiled. ‘You’ll keep me posted if you hear anything?’

  ‘Of course. I’ve got your number. We’ll keep in touch. I’m not your enemy, Jeff. I support you in what you’re trying to do’.

  ‘Thanks Royston’ said Jeff who was then collared by the members of the press. He told them he had nothing to add to what he’d said in his speech and to what he’d said earlier that day in the press conference. As for whether his strident tone would win him more enemies than friends he said that was too early to tell but that he had an investigation to conduct and he and his team would be getting on with that. Once they realised they weren’t going to get any more gold out of him they lost interest and transferred their efforts to what remained of the audience. Jeff noticed that most people were standing round Melanie Patterson who gave him the odd backward glance that didn’t look friendly. She was probably in her early forties and Jeff admired the way her chocolate coloured skin contrasted with the deep red of her nail polish and lipstick. He watched her put on a thick overcoat. It was cold out but as he watched her he thought that maybe it was time to start looking towards the future where relationships were concerned. Up until recently he hadn’t been able to even entertain the idea of being with another woman. He certainly found this woman attractive but he could never entertain the idea for one second of getting involved with the mother of a murder victim. It just wouldn’t be right on so many levels. But to establish some kind of positive rapport with her might be useful in unlocking the community resistance to police enquiries.

  ‘She’s the one woman in this community who you really do need to have on your side’ said Royston who’d been kept back by the journalists and then seen where Jeff’s eyes were focusing. ‘She’s like an unofficial leader. The rest of them listen to what she says. Of course there is talk about what kind of role she really plays in this community’.

  ‘How do you mean?’ Jeff asked.

  ‘There are stories, rumours’ said Royston. ‘They say that she’s always been the real power behind the Gorton boys’.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh yeah’ said Royston. ‘They’ve made her out to be a proper Winnie Mandela at times. Now I don’t know for sure and I wouldn’t like to speculate beyond what I’ve already said. But it might be worth your while persisting with her’.

  ‘I think I’ll try and talk to her again’ said Jeff. He jumped off the makeshift stage and stepped briskly over. The rest of the people dispersed as he approached.

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Jeff. ‘Mrs. Patterson? Could we have a word?’

  Melanie Patterson didn’t look at him as she replied. ‘I suppose you think that was a fine speech you made?’

  ‘Well it wasn’t scripted’.

  ‘And it sounded to me like it was driven by your ignorant prejudice about this community. Talk to you? Listen to you? I’d rather die’.

  ‘No I’m sorry I’m not going to let you get away with that one’.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘What you just said to me was not only wrong but it was unpleasant and deeply offensive. Now I know you’re grieving but if I didn’t care about what I was doing and if I wasn’t being genuine then I wouldn’t have come down here tonight and I wouldn’t have said any of those things’.

  ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘That we’ve got more in common than you think’.

  ‘So you say’.

  ‘Why can’t you work with me? Don’t you want us to find the killer of your son?’

  Melanie gave out a short laugh. ‘You think I’m going to agree to colluding with the enemy?’

  ‘For the sake of finding your son’s killer then yes I do’.

  ‘Do you have children?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a simple enough question’.

  ‘Yes, I do. I have a son. His name is Toby’.

  ‘And I suppose Toby is being taken care of tonight in your nice big house in your nice white suburb by your nice pretty wife who doesn’t have a care in the world?’

  ‘Actually my nice pretty wife died almost two years ago of an aneurism that exploded in her brain. She was only thirty years old. I’m a single Dad and both father and mother to my son. It’s not always easy. So do you want to make any more judgements about me and my family when you know nothing about my life?’

  Melanie was embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry to hear all that. A young man like you shouldn’t be left with a child to bring up on his own’.

  ‘It’s no more or less difficult than it is for a woman left in the same circumstances’ said Jeff. ‘It’s called life and you have to get on with it. And I’m trying to reconcile here the fact that you love to judge others but won’t be judged yourself. How do you work that one out? And why is it that you think the only prejudice is against black people?’

  ‘Because it is’

  ‘Well let me tell you something, my wife was of Chinese decent and do you know where the racism in our life came from? It came from my own parents who never accepted Lillie Mae because she was Chinese and who never come anywhere near their grandson because he’s mixed race even though he’s lost his Mum at such an early age and could do with knowing that they love him. So don’t lecture me about racism, Mrs. Patterson, because I know all about it at first hand’.

  ‘I’m sorry again’.

  ‘You don’t have to be. I know that you know about it too. But black people don’t have the monopoly’.

  ‘You do speak frankly for a police officer. I’ll give you that’.

  ‘I really think it might help if we talked sometime, Mrs. Peters’ said Jeff.

  ‘But I blame the police for my son’s murder and that includes you’.

  ‘That’s not fair, Mrs. Patterson, your son was part of a gang that terrorised people in this community and you have the nerve to stand there and blame the police for his murder?’

  ‘Well if you really want me to think differently then find my son’s killer’ Melanie struck back. ‘Then I might be prepared to believe that you’re genuine and we might be able to talk’

  ‘We’ll need to talk way before then if we’re going to really help things around here’ said Jeff. ‘You already have my card from when I came to see you before. Call me’.

  Melanie picked up her handbag and threw it over her shoulder. ‘I’ll think about it’.

  ‘That’s all I can ask’.

  ‘You’ll keep me informed about the investigation into my son’s murder?’

  ‘You do believe there is one going on then?’

  Melanie smiled. ‘Alright, I’ll give you that one. Well, I’d better be going’.

  ‘How are you coping?’

  ‘I lost Leroy’s father to cancer five years ago. I don’t cope, Mr. Barton. I get through each day as best I can but I don’t need to explain that to you because you know what it feels like to lose someone close’.

  ‘Good days and bad days’.

  ‘Exactly. And I was just getting over the loss of my husband when life dealt me this new blow’.

  ‘I think you should call me Jeff’.

  ‘And I suppose you can call me Melanie’.

  ‘So will you call me so we can talk?’

  Melanie smiled. ‘I said I’d think about it and I will think about it’.

  STORMS THREE

  ‘So now with regard to the Leroy Patterson case’ said Jeff who was sitting in his office with DI Rebecca Stockton. ‘I wanted to sound you out, Becky, about the initial statement by Melanie Patterson, mother of Leroy?’

  ‘Well to be honest, sir’ said Rebecca. ‘I’ve never heard such sanctimonious twaddle in all my life’.

  Jeff gave a half smile. ‘Don’t sit on the fence now, Rebecca’.

  ‘Well sir, her son had been a thug and yet she was talking about him as if he’d found the secret to achieving world peace. She claims to have been devoted to him as his mother and yet all that devotion led to him becoming a member of a gang that terrorised people. Leroy left school a y
ear early without any qualifications to do anything with his life other than engage in criminality. I’ve read his school reports. They all say he was too lazy and had too much attitude to focus on his education but of course, according to his oh so devoted mother it was none of her or his fault. It was all the fault of the rest of us’.

  ‘I take it you’re not too keen on her then?’

  ‘The hypocrisy of her hit me like the smell of someone wearing dirty underwear’.

  ‘Right, well I think I’ll go and see her on my own in that case’ said Jeff.

  ‘Are you saying I can’t be professional and keep my private opinions to myself, sir?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that, Becky’ said Jeff who was slightly taken aback by the sudden aggression in Rebecca’s tone.

  ‘Well with all due respect it sounds like it to me’ said Rebecca who was seriously annoyed at Jeff’s attitude.

  ‘Look, the important thing here is to build trust in the community to help solve the case’ said Jeff. ‘And you’ll need to put your feelings to one side in order for us to do that’.

  ‘I’m well aware of that, sir’ said Rebecca, testily. ‘I’m hardly a rookie recruit’.

  ‘Right’ said Jeff who wondered what the hell had got into Rebecca. ‘I’m glad that’s settled. Look Becky, I don’t know what gets in to you sometimes but you’ve got to stop this moodiness of yours. Sometimes I don’t know who the hell you’re going to be from one day to the next, whether you’re going to be the excellent police officer and someone I regard as a close friend, or whether you’re going to be this stroppy teenager who keeps throwing her toys out’.

  ‘Is this an official bollocking, sir?’

  ‘You see, there you go. Becky, we’ve got two new officers joining the team today. I don’t want them walking into an atmosphere of tension between the two senior officers so buck your ideas up and that’s an order’.

  Rebecca looked at Jeff and wondered if he was genuinely in denial or just plain stupid. ‘I’ll see the Leroy Patterson case through to its conclusion, sir. And then I’ll apply for a transfer to another team’.

  ‘Rebecca, I ... ‘

  ‘ ... you just don’t see it, do you sir?’ she blurted out, more emotionally than she’d wanted to. ‘You just don’t see it’.

  ‘What don’t I see?’

  ‘That it’s ... that it’s better for the integrity of the squad if we don’t work together’.

  ‘You’ve got to say more than that after dropping that bombshell’.

  ‘No, sir, actually, I don’t have to say anything else’.

  ‘I may not accept your transfer request’.

  ‘Then I’ll go to the police federation’.

  ‘Oh Becky for God’s sake ... ‘

  ‘ ... and sir, if you don’t mind, it’s DI Stockton from now on’.

  Jeff drove onto the Gorton estate and pulled up outside the house of Melanie Patterson. Earlier he’d had another exchange of words with Rebecca Stockton about whether or not she should accompany him on the visit. He didn’t like falling out with any of his officers and he had thought that Rebecca was more of a friend than a colleague and could therefore get past any short circuits in their working relationship. Perhaps he was wrong. So much tension had crept into their relationship over recent weeks and he’d clearly got under her skin about something which was why she was intending to transfer from his team. But he also had to remember that he was her boss and if she continued to speak to him the way she had been doing then another far more uglier issue might have to be addressed. Jeff had never thrown his rank around. He’d never needed to. His management style had always led to his team co-operating with him and not challenging him for the sake of their own ego. This may be one of those times when he needed to be a lot firmer about just who was in charge. They say that familiarity breeds contempt. He didn’t really hold with that but he wouldn’t be taken the piss out of just because people think they can on account of his less than fervent style of authority. But something was driving Rebecca’s oscillating moods and he would never accept any transfer request until he knew what that was. His brother Lewis had often said that it was as clear as day that Rebecca was in love with Jeff. But Jeff didn’t see that. He and Rebecca were too close as friends for there to be anything else involved and besides, he just didn’t feel that way about her. At least, he didn’t think he did. He’d never really thought about it.

  After he’d got out of his car he didn’t have to look in order to know that suspicious eyes were falling on him from everywhere. Curtains were parting, doors were being opened and people were appearing to see who the stranger in their midst was. Some of them would remember him from the town hall meeting but some of those would’ve been determined to forget. But that didn’t matter to Jeff. He wanted to know how a killer had come on to this estate, snatch a member of the controlling gang and then dumping his dead body back here a couple of days later. Did Leroy Patterson know who his abductor was and go with them willingly not knowing the trap he was being led into? Was somebody here helping whoever it was? Was it someone from inside who had their own reasons for turning on the Gorton boys? There were plenty of questions Jeff needed answers to and he had to get people round here to talk if he was going to find the killer of Leroy Patterson.

  The inside of Melanie Patterson’s modest former council house was absolutely immaculate. It was one of those houses where you are a little bit afraid to sit down in case you disturb the perfect arrangement of cushions. It didn’t look like there was a thing out of place and everything had been cleaned to within an inch of its natural life. The front window didn’t have any of the marks of residue cleaning liquid that some people’s windows have and as she talked Melanie was constantly fiddling with something. Either she was straightening the already perfectly hung curtains or running her hands over the cushions even though they didn’t need it. Then between all that she picked up bits of fluff off the carpet that Jeff couldn’t actually see. She was wearing a grey soft woolen v-neck jumper and a pair of black trousers that had both been perfectly pressed. She was a lady who liked to keep up appearances and that can’t be easy when you live on benefits. None of the things Jeff saw around him looked like they’d come from the cheaper end of the market.

  ‘Remind me, Leroy did live here with you, Melanie?’ asked Jeff.

  ‘Indeed he did’ said Melanie with a slight smile in Jeff’s direction.

  ‘He hadn’t moved out then?’

  ‘No, he was born in this house and I took him to the cemetery from this house’.

  ‘But I understand you don’t live here alone?’

  ‘No, I still have my miracle child’.

  ‘Your miracle child?’

  ‘About fifteen years ago there was a massive hurricane back home in St. Kitts’ she explained. ‘The death toll ran into three figures. My brother and sister-in-law perished and the authorities had initially assumed that their son had perished too, poor child. He’d only have been five years old then. But just two months ago my nephew Jackson Williams turned up on my doorstep large as life. He’d been rescued during the hurricane and put into an orphanage and last year he decided to track down his family. He found out about his old Aunt Melanie in Manchester, England. So he came over here and I welcomed him into my home. It was as if the good Lord knew that I was going to be lonely’.

  ‘Where is Jackson now?’

  ‘He’s out and that’s all you need to know’ said Melanie, a little sharply. ‘Sorry. It’s just hard for me to separate the man from the police officer when I talk to you. Jackson has been a great comfort to me these past few days since I lost my son to a murderer. Have you got anywhere with your … investigation?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Melanie’ Jeff admitted. It was true enough. They’d drawn a complete blank in their enquiries. ‘Look Melanie, I really need your help here. I’ve listened to talk here and there and I know that people in this community look to you for leadership’.

  Melanie put on a hal
f-smile. ‘Not always in a good way as far as the police are concerned. I’ve been harassed by your so-called fellow officers on more occasions than I care to remember’.

  ‘Well let’s park that for the moment’ said Jeff. ‘Melanie, there’s so much we need to know if we’re going to make any headway with this investigation but all we’ve had so far from conducting door-to-door enquiries down this street and those around it are the doors slammed in our faces. You can see how that makes our job difficult’

  ‘I suppose you’ve got a point’ said Melanie who despite herself couldn’t help but like this tall white man with the dark blond hair and the sparkle mixed with sadness in his eyes that were a reflection of her own. ‘Don’t you think it hurts me if my friends and neighbours know something that they’re not passing on to you?’

  ‘Then help me, Melanie. You won’t be betraying anybody but it might start something that will lead to us getting justice for Leroy’.

  ‘I’ll talk to people round and about’ said Melanie. ‘I’ll do my best’.

  ‘And what about Evelyn Squires?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I need the names of those who stopped her ambulance getting through, Melanie’ said Jeff. ‘And I’m equally as determined on that as I am on getting justice for your son’.

  ‘I can’t promise you the earth, Jeff’ said Melanie who was in a dilemma when it came to the incident with the ambulance. Nobody was going to drop their own kid in it but she needed Jeff on side to get whoever had taken Leroy. ‘But you’d better come back in a couple of days with the rest of them you need to do your work and I’ll try and make sure the doors aren’t slammed in your face’.

  ‘That’s as much as I can ask, Melanie’ said Jeff. ‘Thank you’.

  ‘You’re welcome’.

  ‘Why do so many young men join the Gorton boys, Melanie?’

  ‘You don’t ask easy questions, Jeff’ said Melanie. Her heart was heavy with the loss of her son but she had to keep on protecting him. She was his mother. ‘You see Jeff, the young people round here feel as far away from the bright lights of the city centre just down the road as they do from somewhere like America. They don’t feel part of the great modern success we’re all being told that Manchester is. They feel they have no control of anything to do with their destiny except these streets’.