Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(25)

‘Great.’

‘What about your family?’

‘My family?’

‘Yes. I don’t want to take you away from them in your time off. Are you married? Kids?’

‘No, my time is my own. My sister drives me mad and phones me most days; she comes and helps me in the hostel as often as she can. Apart from that, I take the services at the church sometimes but my main work is running the hostel.’

‘Not much time left after you finish at the hostel, I expect?’

‘No, you’re right. I don’t have a lot of time for hobbies. Although I would like to make time in the future.’

She smiled at him. ‘What do you think about what happened on Parade Street, Simon?’

‘I think it was something that was always going to happen. It was a bomb waiting to go off. If we have people living like that – like animals – then they behave like animals.’

‘You think that someone was familiar with the area, with Parade Street and maybe your hostel?’

He shook his head. ‘People in the hostel could be anyone – you or I – they’ve just run into trouble in their lives. There isn’t a type. Almost ten per cent of our homeless are ex-armed forces. That’s a shameful statistic – an indictment of the way we don’t look after the people who serve us. Thirty per cent of people on the streets have mental-health issues – they shouldn’t be there. Ten per cent have come out of care homes – they’ve already had it rough enough. Thirty-two per cent are out of prison – do we want them to be so desperate that they reoffend?’

Zoe was registering the passion mount in Simon’s gestures and in his voice. He stopped talking and blushed, smiled, embarrassed. ‘What I’m trying to say is . . . we are a very short-sighted society if we think that it works to turn a blind eye or to de-humanize the homeless.’

She realized she was concentrating on him and not on his words.

Spike stepped in front of the young woman who was wearing her shawl wrapped around her head. Her face was as pale as the moon – marked with craters from the ravages of a diet of drugs and hardship.

‘Martine?’ She stopped in front of him. ‘Toffee’s in hospital. He’s hurt.’

‘Will he be all right?’ She clutched an old backpack in her hand; the strap was broken.

‘Who knows? He would want me to keep an eye on you. You can bed down here with me.’

She looked from Spike to the bundle of rags and clothes in the doorway behind him. She tried to see who else was there in the gloom.

‘Mason here?’

‘No. Mason’s lying low. I’ve helped him all I can. I’m not putting myself out for the ungrateful bastard.’ Spike turned back towards the doorway. Martine turned and walked away. ‘Don’t go near him now. They’ll come for him first. You’re safer with me,’ he called after her. ‘Please yourself. If you see Lolly, tell her I have something for her.’ Spike returned to his corner.

Martine knew where she’d find Mason. She called his name as she got inside the car park. Sandy came out from behind the arch and wagged her tail as she walked across to Martine. Martine ran her hand over the dog’s back and thought how thin she felt. Sandy led her to where Mason was sleeping.

‘Mason?’ She sat beside him but he didn’t answer.

Martine pulled out her sleeping bag and Sandy began snuffling inside the space it left in the backpack. Martine delved deep into the side pocket and produced half a torpedo roll salvaged from a bin. She gave it to the dog, who devoured it in one bite. She laid her bag out next to Mason and tucked her knees under her chin as she waited, listening in the dark. The train thundered overhead. She heard the scuttle of a rat and Sandy ran off in chase. Martine leant over Mason and tried to look at his face. He was lying on his side, his face half hidden in his woolly hat. He was lit by the street light nearby. She looked at the wounds on his face that had curled in on themselves.

‘Mason, we need to get you to hospital.’

He groaned in his sleep. ‘I’ll be okay. Is Toffee coming back?’ he said – his voice breathless. ‘What are we supposed to do now?’

‘I’ll go and see him and find out – he can’t just leave us with this.’

‘Not now. Please, stay with me.’

Martine lay down and put her arms around Mason. Sandy returned and lay back down between them.





Chapter 13


Zoe phoned Carter as she was on her way home to get some rest.

‘Does Smith think Toffee could have been clever, sober enough to fool Olivia Grantham into meeting him?’ Carter asked her.

‘I don’t know. He’s fond of Toffee and that must mean he can talk to him. He says Toffee’s a clever man but off his face a lot of the time.’

‘Could he have afforded the fees on a dating site?’

‘That’s what Smith said when I mentioned it. He said there was no way, but then . . .’

‘Someone else in the hostel might have paid for him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does he have any more thoughts on the murder?’

‘He thinks the gangs are responsible for all the trouble around that area.’

‘It’s true that they tend to know about it at least.’