Page 42 of Little Children
The second name on the list left under Stacey’s keyboard belonged to Dean Jackson, who, it turned out, lived above a small café two streets away from the Promenade.
‘Now why am I already feeling like this guy probably did something wrong?’ Bryant asked as they rang his bell.
‘Honestly, you are so judgemental sometimes,’ Kim said, but the same thought had crossed her mind. Possibly it was the graffiti scratched into the front door, or the cigarette ends piled up in the corners, or even the presence of recently deposited spit pools on the floor that she was actively trying to avoid.
Knowing she secretly shared his view, he gave her a sideways glance as the door opened.
‘And you can just fuck off,’ said the man behind it, who had taken one look at them before glowering.
‘Excuse me,’ Kim said. They hadn’t even had a chance to speak.
‘I can smell bacon a mile off. Not locally sourced, but you’re both still pigs.’
This wasn’t starting exactly as she’d hoped because she already wanted to smack him in the mouth.
She guessed Dean Jackson to be mid-twenties. He was tall and gangly and looked like he was crying out for a good meal.
‘Whatever you’re here for, I didn’t do it and I was at my girlfriend’s.’
Good to know he had a pre-paid alibi.
‘You don’t even know why we’re here,’ Kim protested.
‘Nothing good can come from your lot. So unless you’ve been sent to tell me I’ve won the lottery and you’re my protection from thieving bastards, you can just fuck off.’
The man’s hostility was leading nowhere. But it was hardly the first time she’d been faced with an aggressive interviewee.
‘Mr Jackson, we just want to ask you a couple of questions.’
‘Yeah, course you do. That’s how it starts. Well, I ain’t falling for that again.’
‘We think you can help us with something,’ she said. ‘And for the record, you haven’t done anything wrong.’
He considered for a second.
‘May we come inside?’ Kim pushed.
‘Nope. Ain’t going nowhere without witnesses. Plenty folks around at the minute so I’d rather stay in full view.’
This guy had some serious issues when it came to the police, but his words were giving her a clue about how to approach this.
‘My colleague and I are from West Midlands police. We’ve been invited by the local force to review some recent incidents of police contact for the purpose of making improvements going forward.’
His expression was incredulous as he laughed in her face. ‘Are you having a fucking giraffe?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Laugh. Are you having a laugh? First of all, no one would send you my way to discuss police contact, and secondly that’s the biggest load of bollocks I’ve ever heard.’
‘It’s the official explanation I’m giving to find out what happened between you and the local team,’ she said honestly.
‘Makes no odds to me why you’re asking. I’m happy to talk.’
She nodded towards the café. ‘Do you want…?’
‘I’m fine, thanks, and this won’t take long. Basically, I was hauled in for questioning over a string of robberies. Someone said they saw me in the area when one of them happened. I said I didn’t do it, and those bastards were convinced I did. They smacked me around a bit, kicked me in the bollocks and tried to get me to confess. My first three requests for a solicitor were ignored.’
‘Did you report it?’
