“Alfred Scott. People call me Alfie.”
“May I ask why not, Alfie?”
“Mr Scott,” came the reply, as Joseph fell into the trap. “And I don’t have to let no copper in my house if he ain’t got a warrant, do I?”
“No, you don’t,” Joseph agreed.
“There you are then.”
“Can I ask where she is?”
“You just did, didn’t you?”
“And are you going to answer me?”
“No.”
“Why not, sir?” Joseph tried to keep his voice calm, but he could feel his heart pumping. He’d felt the strength with which Janet’s husband had pushed him back, felt the power in that movement alone. Joseph couldn’t handle Alfie physically.
The man leaned forward, his face closing in slowly on Joseph’s. “Because we don’t talk to the police here. Now, if you’ve nothing better to do, clear off.”
“Could you tell her to call into the station on Market Street when it’s convenient for her? I can write that all down if it’s helpful.”
“You can stick it where the sun don’t shine for all I care.”
“Sir, I must insist. We’re investigating a murder.”
“A murder?” Something clicked inside Alfie’s head, Joseph saw it. A moment of realisation. Now he knew why he had the police at his door. He didn’t say anything more, but let a slight, cruel smile cross his lips that could easily have gone unnoticed.
“Yes. It’s vitally important that we speak to Janet.”
“And why is that?”
“We believe she might have information pertinent to the case.”
“I don’t know how that’s possible. I mean, she never really leaves the house, so unless someone got murdered inside these four walls, I don’t know how you can possibly think she could be of any use to anyone.” He didn’t even attempt to hide the mockery in his voice now.
“Be that as it may…” Joseph began.
“Be that as it may indeed… look, I’ve been at work all day. I’ll be sure to pass your message on.” Alfie shone a mock smile at Joseph. “Now, clear off will you?”
With that, Alfie withdrew himself back into the house, slamming the door. Joseph turned, head slouched down into shoulders, and walked out into the street, crossing the road, then looking back at the house. Alfie had lied about Janet being out. It didn’t take any of his powers of deduction to work that out. If Alfie Scott had ever sat down to play poker, he’d have been very poor, very quickly. That was if the table hadn’t been turned over in a fit of rage first.
He hovered for a moment, watching the house. The problem swirled in his head as he sought for something to tell Ray tomorrow morning. Then came the shout. Angry and loud from inside the house. Alfie’s voice carrying through the windows as he raged inside. The words incomprehensible, but not the emotion.
Joseph had stopped now. Rooted to the spot by the fear that Alfie Scott had placed in him. If only he hadn’t been alone, he told himself. If only he had Ray with him, then he could help.
Another sound came from inside the house. A short, sharp sound, like the yelp of a wounded animal. Then the silence rushed back in. Joseph’s stomach twisted and his mind urged him to cross that road, to hammer on that door and shout at Alfie to let him in, if only so that the noise might bring someone else out from a neighbouring house. Someone who could help him. Someone who could keep him safe. He hesitated.
Then Alfie’s voice. Lower now. The rage released, but the resonant anger still there. Another cry, but this time a sustained one, quieter than Alfie’s voice. Someone who knew not to make too big a deal of it when Alfie lost his temper. Someone who knew they had to suffer quietly. Relief enveloped him like a warm blanket, only to be chased away by shame because the relief came from avoiding a confrontation with Alfie. He should have been relieved for Janet Scott.
He turned and ran away from the Scotts’ house.
*
Joseph didn’t return to the station. Instead, he made for home and the sanctuary that Dziko offered him. When he arrived, he found her cooking again. Within minutes of his entrance, they both sat at the table. She’d made a stew, the sort of thing Joseph had eaten hundreds of times before in his life, but somehow Dziko had managed to infuse hints of flavour that meant every bite was new and exciting. His tension eased and his mood improved as they made small talk. He almost felt normal again when he caught Dziko looking at him.
“What happened?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” he replied, hoping he could bluff his way out of it.
“You think that I don’t know when something is wrong?” she said, an amused look on her face as if she couldn’t believe he would ever think he could deceive her. “You came in here like a frightened cat, your tail all puffed up, hardly able to make a coherent sentence.”
“It was nothing, just a work thing.”
“It’s not nothing and not just a work thing when you bring it through that door though, is it? It’s for us then. For me to help you.”
“I don’t know if you can.” He bowed his head towards his plate as he said it, hiding from her reaction.
“That’s funny,” she playfully dismissed him. “Now let’s get to the point.”
He gulped, his head still down, shame building inside once more as he prepared to tell her. “I did something I’m not proud of.”
“What?”
“I… I didn’t step in to help when I could have done.”
“Help who?”
