Ramsay 04 - Killjoy
you’ve any information,’ Ramsay said impatiently, ‘you should tell me.’ But Alma Paston gave no sign that she had heard him and remained with her eyes shut.
    The door bell rang. Ellen stood uncertainly by the door and did not move. The bell rang again. Eventually Alma Paston opened her eyes.
    ‘Go on, then, pet,’ she said. ‘Let’s see who’s there.’
    Still Ellen hesitated and looked at her mother as if questioning her judgement. Alma nodded encouragingly and Ellen lumbered slowly to the front door.
    ‘It’s Gary Barrass,’ she said cautiously.
    ‘H’way in Gary, hinnie,’ shouted Alma. ‘Don’t be shy.’
    Ellen stood aside to let in a boy of indeterminate age. He was thin, with a grey unhealthy pallor. His hair was cropped short and Ramsay wondered if he had recently been released from some institution. Despite the cold he wore a short-sleeved cotton T-shirt. He shivered slightly and stared at Ramsay.
    ‘This is our Gary,’ Alma said to the Inspector. ‘My friend’s lad. He runs errands for us, don’t you pet? Helps us out in the garden.’
    The boy, obviously confused, simply nodded. He looked at his hands. LOVE had been written in black ink on the knuckles of one hand and HATE on the other. His nails were split and bitten.
    ‘I don’t think we need anything today, pet,’ Alma Paston said. ‘But perhaps you could come back later.’ She winked at him.
    ‘What time?’ the boy said.
    ‘Oh,’ Alma said. ‘Any time.’ She laughed. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
    The boy hovered. He shuffled from one foot to the other and seemed about to ask a question.
    ‘Off you go now,’ Alma said interrupting. ‘This is Inspector Ramsay from Northumbria Police. You don’t want to disturb him.’
    And he disappeared before Ramsay could speak to him.
    With his departure the atmosphere in the room changed. The women relaxed. Ramsay felt again that he had been outwitted in some way. The heat and Alma’s superficially jovial words had worn him down. He thought he would get no more from them now. He stood up and sensed Alma’s triumph.
    ‘Are you off now, Inspector?’ she said. ‘You’ll not mind if I don’t get up. Ellen’ll see you out.’
    Ramsay stood in the doorway for a moment, enjoying the fresh air, reluctant still to go. He knew that the interview had been a failure. He wondered, as he always did at times like these, if Hunter could have done any better. But even Hunter would have found it hard to bully two ladies on their own. Perhaps he would have taken them at face value, commiserated with their loss, considered them characters in the great Tyneside tradition. What motive could they have for murdering the girl? The idea was ludicrous. But Ramsay was uncomfortable. As he hesitated on the step he heard a deep, uncontrollable chuckle from the depth of the house. Alma Paston was laughing. At a time of grief the noise was horrifying. Ramsay walked quickly to his car and drove away.
    As he was approaching the main road which circled the estate Ramsay saw Gary Barrass, the boy who had come to the Pastons’ house supposedly to run errands. The idea of Gary as an angel of mercy was improbable and Ramsay was interested. The boy was standing on a corner outside a big gloomy pub called the Keel Row, which had been famous once for its Saturday night fights, but which now attracted so few customers that it had lost even that distinction. Gary seemed to be waiting for someone. He was dancing up and down with the cold and seemed pathetically young. When Ramsay slowed the car and drew up beside him he approached at first as if this might be the person he was waiting for, then he recognized Ramsay and he started to run.
    Ramsay jumped out of the car and chased after him, wondering as he did so why he was bothering. Gary crossed the pub car park and scrambled over a wall. Ramsay, already out of breath, stood and watched as the boy scuttled down an alley behind a row of almost derelict houses. He knew

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