“You’re going to have to help at some point,” O’Malley said, in a low voice. “The chief is not going to let this go. If you knew the man, you’d realize that. Your best bet, as God is my witness, is to be helpful now, while it’s still your choice, and make him want to overlook you.”
Stavely balanced the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, and watched it for a while. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just answer a few questions for me. About the drugs, and Daniel Benham.”
Stavely let out a large sigh, and shook his head. “I asked you in for a sale.”
“Think of it,” O’Malley said, drawing out his wallet again, “as a different sort of sale.”
He held out two twenties, and Stavely’s attention was immediately on the money. It was a noticeable shift.
“Here,” O’Malley said, and put the two notes down on the table in front of the dealer. Stavely watched them, his hands moving slowly over each other. O’Malley decided that was enough for him to continue. “You ended up with the Dexedrine after a deal fell through. Is that right?”
There was a pause, but to his relief Stavely said, “It was a guy I’d sold to before. Upmarket guy. He wanted it to sell on. So I got it from my supplier.”
“But the buyer backed out?”
Stavely shook his head. “He got busted. He’d been selling at expensive parties and some girl died. Her boyfriend pointed the finger at him.”
“And you couldn’t return it to your supplier?”
Stavely looked up at him, momentarily incredulous. “You can’t. You can never do that. Never. And if you tried it, they’d never supply you again. It’s not a fucking department store.”
“But you still needed to pay them, all right, so,” O’Malley said, soothing him.
“Yeah. And I was generally sweating it. But…I got put on to Daniel Benham.”
“By Anton Magos?”
There was a silence, and then Stavely lifted his shoulder in a shrug.
“Doesn’t matter,” O’Malley said, quickly. “Tell us about Daniel Benham. He wanted to buy it.”
“Yeah. Well…he seemed like he wasn’t sure.”
“He wasn’t all that keen?”
Stavely shook his head. “No, he…he asked why I had the stuff, and I explained. And he said what would happen if I couldn’t pay, and I said…Well, I said they’d cut my fucking legs off. Which wasn’t really a joke.”
There was a pause while Stavely fiddled with the cigarette.
“And did he ask anything else?”
Stavely shook his head. “No. He made his mind up then. And you know, I don’t want him getting…I know he’s a crappy politician now, but, you know, he did me a favor, all right? And actually I think he bought the stuff because he wanted to help me.”
O’Malley nodded, but he wondered if Stavely was right about that, or whether Benham had had his eye on a very drugged-up party or two.
“Has he bought anything from you since?”
Stavely hesitated, which piqued O’Malley’s interest.
“We’re just keen to know more about him,” O’Malley said. “As a person, like.”
“I can’t remember,” Stavely said, a stubborn look on his face.
“OK. So did you know the others that well?” he asked, acknowledging that Stavely wasn’t going to say any more. “Connor Dooley, Topaz Jackson…”
Stavely shook his head and picked up his cigarette again to take a drag. “I knew Jojo some, because I hung out with Anton sometimes. She was usually around the park when we were. I didn’t know the others.”
O’Malley let a silence descend, and then nodded. “Thank you. That’s all fine. I might need you to come in and say a bit of that on record sometime.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Stavely said quietly.
“It’ll be worth it for you,” O’Malley said with a fixed look. Stavely held the look, and then gave a shrug.
Stavely didn’t get up as O’Malley let himself out. With the door closed behind him, O’Malley moved sideways slightly, out of sight of the peephole. He waited for the sound of the computer game to start up again, but instead, after a pause, he heard Stavely’s voice.
There was no other voice in reply, and then, after a pause, Stavely spoke again, though none of the words reached him. A phone call, then. And given that no phone had rung, one Stavely had made off the back of O’Malley’s visit. Which was more than a little interesting.
* * *
—
AT TEN PAST eight in the morning, Jonah arrived at the Jacksons’ house. He had toyed with calling the family to save himself the trip, but he knew that news of this kind was better handled in person.
It was Tom who answered his knock this time. He was rubbing at his mouth, presumably having been in the middle of breakfast.
“Good morning, Mr. Jackson,” Jonah said. “Sorry for the early call, but I just wanted to catch you up with what we’re doing.”
“As I’ve said many times to various police over the years,” Tom said, a little patronizingly, “I’d much rather be updated than not, at whatever hour of the morning.”
He stood aside, and Jonah squeezed into the small space along the corridor. It actually looked a little tidier than it had on his last visit. There were orderly piles, and even a few gaps in the detritus. Perhaps Topaz and Connor had been busy.
They were all in the kitchen. Joy, sitting at one end of the table, gave him an owlish glance, her eyes wide and wary. Topaz was leaning out from her position in the corner to look at him. Only Connor kept eating, working his way slowly through a bowl of porridge with his head down, until Jonah spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m interrupting breakfast.”
“It’s fine,” Topaz said swiftly. “What’s going on?”
“We have some news,” Jonah said, and Joy suddenly rose and moved a chair round the table so that he could sit facing them. Tom returned to his place in front of a plate of eggs and crossed one long leg over the other. “We’ve had digital analysis back, and various signs point to some form of sexual assault on Aurora before she died.”
Topaz flinched, visibly. Connor finally stopped eating. He rested his spoon carefully on the edge of his bowl, but didn’t make any move to comfort his wife. From Joy and Tom there was nothing. It was as if they were frozen in place.