Free Blood on the Cowley Road by Peter Tickler Page A

would not have noticed any change in the smile on Holden’s face, behind it the raised hopes were suddenly extinguished. She wondered how she could have been so stupid to expect anything else. With Danny, there was always someone following, so of course there was bound to have been someone following Jake, as there had been someone following Sarah, as no doubt Danny had been followed all the way from his room to the day centre that morning. Not to mention yesterday. Or the day before.
    â€˜How do you know he was being followed?’ she asked, but her questions were now on autopilot. Only, unlike an airliner, they were going nowhere.
    He frowned, as if puzzled by the question, then after a few seconds smiled. ‘It was obvious,’ he stated. ‘Obvious!’
    â€˜It’s not obvious to me,’ said Holden, her autopilot betraying signs of irritation.
    â€˜You didn’t know him,’ he said calmly. He was still smiling, not at
Holden though, but at his hands. He held his left palm open, and with his right he traced a pattern on it – a figure-of-eight, Holden reckoned – first one way, and then the other. ‘I did. And from that day, he was different.’
    â€˜How do you mean, different?’ Holden asked.
    Danny looked up from his hands, but he was still smiling, almost beatifically. Holden was reminded of a picture of a saint that had adorned a notebook once given to her by her Aunt Ida. ‘Different like two identical apples,’ he explained, and his hands traced smooth patterns through the air as if he was a priest standing before the altar. ‘One apple is green and shiny, and when you bite into it, it tastes like the best apple you have ever tasted, like the one your dad picked off the tree that day he took you to the fair and you sat on his lap down the helter skelter. And the other apple is green and shiny too, but when you bite into it, the flesh is soft and brown, and in the middle is a long black worm that has gorged itself so full that as soon as your teeth reach it, it explodes like a landmine of bitterness inside you. That was what Jake was like after I’d smashed his car.’
    Holden leant back. She had turned the autopilot off, but the feeling that she was wasting her time was growing by the second. She looked back at Danny’s grinning face, and then up at the looming figure of Fox. Her eyes sent out a SOS, and he dutifully responded.
    â€˜Can you give us a description of this man that was following Jake?’ he asked.
    â€˜A description?’ Danny replied with puzzlement in his voice.
    â€˜Yes Danny,’ Fox said firmly. ‘How tall was he? What colour hair did he have? Or was he bald? What was he wearing?’
    Fox paused, but Danny made no reply. His right hand was tracing patterns on his left hand again, but the movements were faster than earlier, and jerkier. ‘You did see him, didn’t you Danny?’ Fox pressed. Again there was silence. Danny’s right hand began to slow down, until it stopped moving altogether. There was a slight shrug of the shoulders, and a single muttered word: ‘No.’
    â€˜In that case,’ Holden smiled, ‘I don’t think we need to ask you any more questions, Danny. But thank you. You’ve been very helpful,’ she lied.
    As Danny got up from the chair, Holden motioned to Laing to stay.
She waited until Fox had closed the door before asking her question. ‘So what is your take on all of this, Ms Laing. I gather you know something about the vandalizing of Jake’s car?’
    â€˜Who doesn’t here? It was the big day centre news when it happened.’
    â€˜And when was that?’
    Laing shut here eyes briefly as she tried to focus on the detail. ‘About three months ago, I should reckon. But you can check that in your records. Jake reported it to the police because his car was so damaged. But until just now, I had no idea that it was Danny who did