Back When the Music's Over
Chapters (23)
  1. Prologue
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. Epilogue
  19. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  20. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  21. ALSO BY PETER ROBINSON
  22. CREDITS
  23. ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

“Yeah. And the parts were small. Just little cogs, really, so I’d no need to go all the way back to Stockton between deliveries. What’s all this about? It wasn’t a big deal. Jim’s a nice bloke, he’s hardly a major criminal.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t drive it again that night?”

“Are you joking! I told you. I was pissed as a newt. You might think I’m a dangerous criminal or something, but one thing I don’t do is drink and drive.”

“Doesn’t stop some people.”

“No way.”

“Well, I’m puzzled,” Annie said. “Perhaps you can help me out.”

“Uh-huh?”

“You say Mr. Nuttall’s van was parked in the lane behind Paul’s flat all Tuesday night, so why do you think it showed up on CCTV footage heading for Bradham Lane close to two o’clock in the morning?”

“I don’t know. There must be some sort of mistake. Those cameras aren’t always reliable, you know. I had a mate once who—”

“Are you sure about this, Albert?” said Annie. “Because we think you’re lying, and that’s a very serious business. We think you brooded about Mimosa and her Asian friends. You either already knew she was going for a ride to Dewsbury that night, or you just took it into your mind to go down to Sunny’s and break a window or two to vent your anger, and you saw her leaving in a van with three men. You were curious. You followed. You held back a while before Bradham Lane because you thought your lights would be spotted following them down there, and you knew you could catch up with them later, somewhere there was likely to be a bit more traffic. It must have given you the shock of your life when you saw Mimosa walking up that lane towards you. Dirty, naked, bleeding. So you came to a stop just past her, and she turned and walked as best she could to the van. She must have thought it was a lifesaver, whoever it was. Did something snap? Was that it? Did she say something to you? Put you down? Did she laugh at you? Was that it? Or did she shame the family? Was it your version of an honor killing?”

“That’s rubbish, that is. I told you I was at Paul’s. He said so.”