Sara started to answer then stopped, quickly aware that she had been caught in a lie. “Oh, for God’s sake.” Her head drooped and she wailed. “All he asked me to do was take his money and tell you I was with him. Gave me the same rate he normally did, only this time I didn’t have to touch him, did I?”
“Who did?” Joseph knew who she meant, but he had to hear her say it.
“That Derek chap from the docks. He’s been a regular for a while, hasn’t he? Gives me a few bob to relieve his stress of an evening. Only this time he asked me to contact you lot and say that he was with me when I heard a scream. I didn’t know what was going on.”
“You didn’t know there’d been a murder?” Ray finally spoke up.
“No. I’d been out of town, but I guess you know that now. Some posh do up in Cambridge. We were paid to go and look nice and make nice, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, we know,” Ray said, not even attempting to keep the judgement from his voice.
“You know we’re going to have to bring you into the station and get a full statement.”
“You mean arrest me?”
“We’ve technically already done that part,” Joseph pointed out, less than helpfully, going on Sara’s expression.
“Jesus,” she sniffed. “I only tried to make a few quid. You lot complain when I turn tricks, complain when I don’t.”
“We wouldn’t complain if you did an honest day’s work,” Ray said, placing his hand on her shoulder and guiding her towards the car as Joseph shut the front door behind her.
“Where’s the benefit in that?” she asked.
*
They booked her in at the station, then headed straight back out to the dockyard. Bringing in Derek Nadderley and preserving any evidence they could find was critical. They had to get hold of his work boots. Joseph would have bet anything that they had a slash in the sole of one that would match perfectly up with the imprint taken by Sean Campbell. Joseph had noted down that Derek changed his work boots to leave at the end of the day, complaining that they were uncomfortable. Ray had played devil’s advocate. Anyone could have got access to the boots, he said. Joseph didn’t disagree, but it didn’t dent his certainty.
The docks were quieter on Saturdays, but not completely shut down. People were still working to unload and load the boats that sat on the river and to shuttle the cargo in and out of the yards. A smaller crew than Joseph and Ray were used to seeing. As they checked the timecards, they saw that Derek was on site.
“How far does that timecard go back?” Ray asked as Joseph went to put it back in the correct slot.
Joseph scanned down the list of marks on it. “It’s just for this week,” he said, noting that Derek had not long checked into work.
“I don’t suppose you remember when Derek checked out on the night of the murder do you?”
Joseph didn’t off the top of his head, but his notepad had the answers. One of the earliest pages written down had been a copy of everyone’s clocking in and out times on the night of the murder. “It’s down as ten thirty-three,” he reported.
“And yet according to Sara Queen’s testimony, he was still in the area at gone one that night. It doesn’t make sense really, does it? We should have twigged on that sooner,” Ray admitted. Derek had remained in the area. His own desire to cover his tracks had led to him ultimately exposing himself. But it still wasn’t enough.
A thin wisp of smoke crept from the chimney on the roof of Derek’s office as they approached. They planned to keep things as casual as possible. To talk to him before revealing their suspicions, in the hope that they could elicit something from him to help corroborate their suspicions.
Derek said nothing as he opened the door, he just shook his head and turned, walking back into the room, towards the fire. The grate hung open as kindling burned inside. A pail of coals glowed as he heated them before putting them in the burner.
“Good morning, Mr Nadderley,” Ray said as they walked in, Joseph shutting the door behind them and bringing out his notebook. “Busy day?”
“Always,” Derek said. Joseph thought there was something different in his tone. He was quieter, his words clipped. He certainly sounded as if he would be less argumentative than before. Had he realised his time was up?
The temperature had already started rising in the room and Ray had taken off his coat, folding it over his arm, sleeves rolled up. Joseph paced around the room, scanning it for the boots. Derek still had his shoes on; he hadn’t yet had time or cause to change into his work boots, which sat under where his coat hung.
“We wanted to let you know that we believe our enquiry is about to come to an end, and we just have a few loose ends to tie up that will allow us to move onto the next stage.”
Derek bent down to his bucket of coal. “Next stage, eh? Sounds to me like you’ve got your eye on someone. Care to say who?”
“At this stage it’d be premature to name names. We don’t want to put people in the frame and then find out we were mistaken,” Ray did his best to avoid the subject, maybe even appease any fears Derek had that he might be the one the spotlight had fallen on.
“Right,” Derek sighed, his head dipping. In that moment, all three of them realised that they were on the same page. That they had arrived at the truth. Joseph popped the lid off his pen, ready to take Derek’s confession.
It didn’t come. Derek sprang up with surprising speed and agility, the coal bucket in his hand, swinging it at Ray who stood nearest to him. Ray raised his arm to block it, the bucket crashing into his exposed forearm, causing him to cry out in pain. At first, Joseph thought the blow must have shattered the bone. Ray dropped to a knee, his other hand reaching out to clasp his injured arm. Derek turned towards him, the pail still in his hand. He hurled it this time, straight at Joseph, who ducked. It bounced off his arm, glancing the side of his head. The searing metal stung. Derek sprang towards the door, opening it and lunging out.
“Get after the fizzer,” Ray implored through gritted teeth, before howling in pain. Joseph fought the urge to help him. He could see where the pail had burned the skin. Already it had blistered, turning bright red. He wanted to find a rag and some water to give to Ray to soothe the pain, but that wasn’t what Ray wanted. That wasn’t what he had to do. He had to chase Derek and he had to apprehend him.
Derek had reached the bottom of the stairs by the time Joseph made it out of the door, rounding the corner, turning back on himself and heading for the main gate of the docks. Joseph knew he couldn’t let him get out and into the maze of side streets, certainly not with the head start he had built. He raced down the first few steps, then jumped. No time for the voice in his head to tell him this was a terrible idea. That he would get hurt. The same excited energy that he’d had when he chased off Harry’s attacker took over. He placed his right hand on the banister to catapult himself over it, his body twisting in the air as he did so. His left arm and legs flailed through the air as he spun, exaggerating the motion, causing him to land not gracefully on his feet as he might have hoped, but to tumble side first into Derek. Joseph’s ribs took the brunt of the blow, the wind being driven from his body as they found Derek’s bony shoulder. The two men crashed to the ground, Derek swearing loudly as the two of them tried to disentangle.
Derek stood, wobbling with pain as he did so, as Joseph scrambled on the floor and reached out a hand, trying to grab at the fleeing man’s foot. His fingers couldn’t quite reach around enough to lock onto him, but it did enough to trip him once more, causing Derek to stagger. He regained his composure as Joseph got to his feet. By now the scene had caught the attention of a couple of workers standing by the hut which housed the timecards. They started to walk towards the pair, ready to help.
“Stop him,” Joseph shouted as Derek started off again towards the exit, before adding, “police,” to ensure that the men knew which side they should be on.
The men started towards Derek, maybe keen to avenge any mistreatment he had dished out to them over the years, or perhaps just civically minded. Their motivation didn’t matter; their actions forced Derek to check his route, turning back on himself, deeper into the docks and towards the river.
Derek limped as he ran, possibly from the fall, possibly from some pre-existing injury. Joseph was gaining on him. Derek cut left into a warehouse, barging through a cluster of surprised men. They blocked Joseph’s way inadvertently as they turned and cursed at Derek. Joseph zigzagged past them, losing a couple of yards, but as they reached the opposite end of the warehouse, coming out through large double doors to the riverside, he closed on his prey.
“Stop!” he called out as Derek reached the water’s edge.
Derek came to a halt, turning to face Joseph, who eased off his run, not wanting to barge the two of them into the water.
“It’s over,” Joseph shouted. “Where are you going to go? In the water?”
Derek turned and looked over his shoulder at the dirty river. He looked back at Joseph. “You know, I studied a bit of history. About these bloody darkies when they started coming over. Know your enemy and all that. You know what some of these idiots did when we took them out of the jungle? They jumped off the ships in the middle of the Atlantic. Rather bloody drown than come to the new world.”
