They got what he meant. He offered very little new insight, merely echoing what Derek had told them; that whilst Gerald annoyed a lot of people, he didn’t believe anyone would take things so far as to kill the man. “Like I said,” he repeated, “didn’t deserve that.”
*
Garry Wise, another longshoreman, was next. His assured smile as he introduced himself, shaking the hands of the officers, suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to the police.
“What can you tell us about Gerald?” Joseph set them in motion.
“I didn’t mind him,” Garry bucked the trend. “There are people who didn’t like him, as I’m sure you know, but with me, no, he was all right. You had to know how to take him, I guess.”
“When did you first meet him?” Joseph asked.
“Earlier this year. I moved from another warehouse down the dock, got shunted down to this one, working with Gerald. Needed an extra hand, I guess. And yeah, he had his ways. He knew how to needle people. To say that little thing that just got them royally wound up. But he never meant nothing. Always had a smile on his face. I think a lot of them wanted a reason to dislike him.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think? They don’t like the coloureds, do they, a lot of them. Problem is that when they meet them, they realise, ‘Oh, they’re just like us,’ and they have to manufacture a reason to keep disliking them. Gerald gave them that in spades.”
“And his colour never bothered you?”
“We live in modern times. Enlightened times. You think things are going back to how they were? Not a chance. The world is smaller now and it’s going to be even smaller in fifty odd years. Might as well just get on with it and get on with them. Now, that said, I don’t think that’s why he was killed. His colour, I mean. I think you need to ask who he owed money to.”
Joseph shuffled forward in his chair. “Go on.”
“I don’t know any specifics myself. But there were rumours he owed a few bob. Gossip round the kettle and all that. I’m not sure on the specifics.”
“You’re not sure?” Ray stopped pacing and looked straight at Garry.
“No, but I can ask around, see what I can hear. People talk, after all.”
Ray looked at him for a second, tilting his head. Garry didn’t flinch. “You do that,” Ray said eventually.
“We’ll be sure to follow up as well,” Joseph added.
More men filed in and out of the office. All had similar stories. No one knew what had happened last night. The night had been quiet. No arguments. No one with a grudge, at least no one who had voiced it out loud. Lots of people didn’t like Gerald, but none who seemed motivated enough to murder him.
*
Their last interview of the day was with Harry Jones, an apprentice and the youngest member of the team. He had been working at the docks for four months. He sat opposite them, looking washed out and pale, shivering as he did so, despite the fire burning in the room.
“Cold?” Ray asked.
“A bit,” Harry sighed, his arms folded around his chest.
“You look a bit tired,” Ray added, glaring at the rings around the young man’s eyes. “Out last night?”
“I wish,” Harry said, staring down towards a spot on the floor, somewhere between Ray’s feet and the fire, before snapping out of his trance and looking at the two of them. “I mean, don’t get the money here to do that and pay the bills. I worked late that night, but off site. Took a load up to Camden.”
“Live on your own?”
“No. With my mum and sister.”
“No dad around?”
Harry shook his head. “He didn’t come back. From the war, I mean. Yeah. It isn’t easy. Not for my mum.”
“No, I can imagine.” For the first time in all their interviews, Ray’s tone softened. “You work a lot here?”
“As much as I can.” Harry seemed to perk up. “It’s the way out, isn’t it? Get a good job here. Make enough for my mum to be okay, and for me to go and do my own thing.”
“That’s what you want? A career?”
“It’s what Mr Nadderley says I can have, if I do what I’m told.”
“And what about Mr Trainer?”
Harry shrugged. “He didn’t help, but he didn’t not help neither.”
“How was he with you? I mean, you’re the new boy and I’ve been told he liked to wind people up. I can imagine he saw you as fair game.”
Harry’s gaze went to the floor again. “It’s what happens, isn’t it? When you’re new somewhere. You get people who say things or do things to you. It makes you stronger though, I guess, in the end. You learn not to care what they say.”
“What sort of things did he say?” Ray asked, keen to find out more about their relationship.
“Stupid things. He called me a name. I wasn’t a fan.”
“What name?”
“Harry Up. Said he was always waiting for me.” Harry’s head dipped.
