Hush Hush. Mel Sherratt
was lying, but he wasn’t quite sure this time. His brother seemed sincere, but, then again, he’d been fooled by him before. ‘I’ll check the cameras.’
‘I can do that.’
‘I want it done properly.’
‘I can do it properly!’
‘And quickly.’
‘Fine. Take control as usual.’ Leon shook his head as he left the room too.
Once on his own, Eddie pulled up the backup camera footage on his computer. The police would be looking through what he had given them but he needed to see what was on there too. Starting from when the gym was closing, he watched to see if anyone slipped back in after going outside. It seemed impossible to think that just an hour later Josh would be dead.
There was a lull, he presumed, while Josh did his workout. The first time his friend came into view, it was 22.45. Eddie watched as he checked over everything before setting the alarm and then leaving through the front entrance. From there he would head to the car park at the back of the building.
Eddie froze the frame and looked to see if he could see a shadow, an image, a shape that would suggest anyone was there. Purposely, their cameras didn’t catch every angle of the car park, and lots of their members knew this. Josh had been on his own when he left the gym and locked up, but as Grace Allendale had insinuated earlier, it also showed that whoever had attacked him might have realised exactly where to do it. This could have been a very calculated kill.
He sat back in his chair and stared at the photo of him and Josh on the wall until he couldn’t see through his watery eyes. Josh had been his stalwart. He was going to find out who had murdered his best friend and God help them when he got his hands on the bastard.
Visiting the families of the deceased wasn’t a part of Grace’s job that she enjoyed, but it always gave her a sense of the family dynamics. She’d worked on several cases in Manchester where spouses had feigned grief after having killed their loved ones and then tried to cover it up. It wasn’t hard to spot. The cracks started to appear once the pressure mounted, mistakes were made, little white lies turned into inconsistencies.
But people could be manipulative, so Grace felt she needed to know everyone involved for that reason too. It was why she’d been the one to speak to the Steele family at the gym. She could have asked Perry to question them; she was his manager. For now, they were all persons of interest until any evidence came back. Which was also why Grace could understand Nick being keen for her to go to the victim’s family home with him.
Josh Parker lived in the south of the city, on the southern edge of Stoke-on-Trent in an area called Meir Park, bordering Longton. Grace parked her car in a cul-de-sac of around twenty detached houses, surprised to see that he lived in such a nice area. Most of the gardens were tidy, lawns cut and looking healthy, flower beds and the odd tree a riot of autumnal colours.
‘At least we know it is him because of his tattoos,’ Nick sighed. ‘Although we will need formal ID from Mrs Parker once the body is in the morgue.’
‘Is there anything I need to know about Parker before we go in?’ Grace asked Nick once the engine had been killed.
‘He’s married with two children. Five and eight, something like that.’
‘Caleb and Mia? The names on his tattoos.’
Nick nodded. ‘I think so. His wife is Christa, and despite her beauty she’s a foul-mouthed layabout. Be prepared to be sworn at as she hates the police too.’
‘Charming,’ Grace muttered. ‘What about work stuff?’
‘He’s always been with the Steeles doing something or other since he left school. Him and Eddie were as thick as thieves, literally. When the gym opened twelve years ago, Josh trained as an instructor.’
‘Criminal record?’
‘A bit for dealing and ABH in his teens, and a stretch for robbery in his early twenties, but he’s stayed on the outside since, even though we know he isn’t clean.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, he mixes with the Steeles.’
‘Ah.’
Nick smiled to acknowledge her discomfort. ‘None of them have been trouble-free, but nothing really stuck for long. And they’re all pretty pissed off that we haven’t found out who murdered their father. I hate unsolved cases.’ He unclipped his seat belt. ‘I’m sure you’ve done your research on the family, but I’ll be happy to go through anything with you at the station.’
At the front door, they showed their warrant cards. PC Warren introduced himself to Grace as the family liaison officer and showed them into a living room. He pointed to the garden through a large picture window.
‘She doesn’t want to speak to me,’ he explained. ‘Her mother is coming over, but she lives in Derby. She’ll be here soon.’
‘Shall I try, sir?’ Grace wasn’t certain she could get the woman to cooperate, but she would give it a go.
Nick nodded and she went outside, while he stayed indoors to chat with the officer.
Christa Parker was sitting at a table on the patio, dressed in black. She stayed seated but removed her sunglasses as Grace drew level with her. Grace tried hard not to stare: everything about the woman seemed false. Nails, hair, tan, lashes, lips. It had all been enhanced.
‘Mind if I join you?’ Grace asked tentatively.
‘You still think it’s him?’
‘Yes.’
Nick had been true to his word about Christa. After sobbing, there was shouting, a string of expletives, in between smoking and stubbing out two cigarettes. Grace tried not to hear the swearing. She was used to it in her line of work, but when it was every other word, it became tedious and a little disrespectful, despite it being Christa’s husband who had died.
‘And you’re certain Josh didn’t mention anything unusual to you lately?’ she asked. ‘I’m sorry for the intrusive questions, but it will help if we know.’
Christa shook her head. ‘He has many enemies – two scars from knife wounds from his early days as a bouncer. But no one would dare cross him now if they hadn’t taken him by surprise. Someone must have been waiting for him. To throw acid on him and stab him when he was down? That’s sick, and the sign of a coward.’
Grace said nothing, hoping Christa would fill the silence.
‘Don’t you have any clue who the bastard is?’
‘We’re making enquiries at the moment.’
‘You mean you have no one?’
‘It’s very early into the investigation, Mrs Parker,’ Grace explained.
‘Not even anyone you want to question?’
‘We’ll be able to tell you more when we’ve gathered the evidence.’
Grace left when the swearing started up once more. She couldn’t ask her to stop. The woman had to grieve the way she saw fit. As long as it wasn’t being hurled at her, it didn’t matter.
She could recall a few times when she had acted out of character when Matt died. She’d often gone into a ball of rage whenever anyone said she’d be best clearing his belongings out. It had taken her six months before she was able to do it, and even then the guilt had got to her. The sense of letting go of everything, its finality. Luckily, she’d had her mum around to help her through it. At least Christa Parker would have her mum there with her too.
When Matt had died, Grace’s mum had been there for her. She didn’t know what she would have done without her, and had been