She allowed herself a flush of pleasure at the thought of being able to solve all three murders and the prospect of taking Topsy and Turvy out of circulation for good.
Rachel’s phone went. She didn’t recognize the number. ‘DC Rachel Bailey,’ she answered.
‘It’s Liam Kelly, from the shop.’
‘Yes.’ The newsagent.
‘We’ve just found Shirelle in the alley outside, beaten up,’ he said. ‘You were asking about her. I’ve called an ambulance.’
‘I’m on my way.’
Rachel went to the boss. ‘Shirelle Young, beaten up at the shops. I’ll go see.’
‘Keep me posted,’ the boss said.
‘Yes.’ Rachel was already wondering if the beating related to the murders or the drug-dealing or if it was personal. Remembering the slightly built girl, her nerves as they had talked at the flat, the way she repeatedly looked to the door. Expecting trouble.
Shirelle was still there, on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance that had manoeuvred down the alley and stopped outside the back entrance of the newsagent’s.
Rachel identified herself to a uniformed officer and then spoke to the paramedics. ‘How is she?’
‘Battered. Respiration and circulation’s satisfactory. Concussed.’
‘Can I?’ Rachel nodded to the ambulance.
‘We’re going now.’
‘Two ticks,’ Rachel said.
She stepped up into the van. The girl’s face was a mess, swollen, one eye pulped, cuts across her cheek and a torn lip. Her white leather jacket scuffed and spotted with blood.
There’d be no talking to her until she was back in the land of the living.
Rachel recognized some of the group waiting in the alley, Liam Kelly and Mels from the newsagent’s and Connor Tandy. Connor presumably had no idea his father had been picked up and was mixed up in the murder inquiry. And Rachel knew she mustn’t give anything away or the search at the Tandys’ in the morning and the further questions for mother and son could go tits up. No sign of the chip-shop woman, though judging by the smell in the air they were still serving. Liam Kelly introduced her to Mrs Muhammad from Soapy Joe’s, whom Janet had spoken to, and her daughter Rabia, and in turn Rabia named her friend, Amina.
‘Can you all move back.’ Rachel assisted the uniformed officer to secure the area. It was hard to see if there was anything of interest in the dim light from the lamp post at the end of the passageway; people had probably already trampled over any evidence but it was still important to try to recover what they could.
‘Come down to our shop,’ Mrs Muhammad said, ‘there’s more room in there than yours,’ she gestured to Liam Kelly.