Jo spain THE FALL

Rob’s instincts said there was more to this than first met the eye

11p.m. on a Saturday night. His brothers were out in the pub right now. Given the choice, Detective Rob Downes would be in bed, a heat pad attached to his skin and a pack of paracetamol on the nightstand.

He’d been up since 6 that morning, helping his father and brothers lug hay bales around the farm. Then he’d gone off to do a shift in his real job. You’llget yourrewardinheaven, his mother liked to tell him.

“Detective.” The enthusiastic, baby-faced sergeant greeted him at the entrance to the dated apartment building. “The lift is out of service. Victim is on the second floor landing.”

Sergeant Dave Percival, that was his name, Rob remembered.

“Who called it in?” he asked.

“The woman whose door he landed outside. Pensioner. Mrs Doreen Reid.”

“Any ID on the victim? Is he a resident?”

“Owner of the apartment at the top of the stairs he fell down. Luke Carroll. His wife and 10-year-old son are up there. Alison and Theo. The pensioner is with them. Everyone’s a bit shocked but, bloody hell, the whiff of drink off him would floor you!”

Rob silently issued thanks to the man above. A quick scene review with the crime tech folk, a chat with the pathologist, the obligatory questions for the family and he would be home in no time. The paperwork could wait until the morning. Best laid plans…

Rob knew, as soon as he took in the scene at the foot of the stairs, that Luke Carroll hadn’t fallen of his own accord.

Sergeant Percival had his strengths. He’d collected plenty of useful information for Rob. But he’d completely missed the signs that pointed to murder.

The senior crime scene tech nodded at Rob, then at the obvious injuries on Luke Carroll’s face, then she showed

Rob the scuff marks on the carpet at the top of the stairs.

It was entirely possible Mr Carroll had lost his balance and pivoted several times before falling backwards, somehow hitting the front of his face as he fell, even though he’d landed on his back. And those scratch marks on the wooden banisters could have been him trying to grab for safety, as opposed to hanging on for dear life before he was pushed.

But Rob’s antennae were up. “Something blunt to the face sustained quite recently,” the pathologist sounded the final blow. “I’d imagine something long and cylindrical. Like… a slim torch or a poker.”

Upstairs, in the dead man’s apartment, Rob encountered the neighbour first. Mrs Reid was making tea in the small pristine galley kitchen just off the entrance hall.

“Detective Rob Downes,” he introduced himself. “You must be the lady who rang in?”

She was eighty, at least, snow white hair in a neat bun, glasses, rosy cheeks.

“A terrible business,” she said, then held up a mug, offering him tea.

It was probably the most exciting thing to happen to her in a while, Rob thought. He took the tea.

“It must have been dreadful for you,” he said. “Seeing him there, like that.”

“Well, that man drank seven days a week. He was due a fall. I’m surprised he didn’t break his neck long ago.”

“I see,” Rob said. “Did you hear or see

As soon as he took in the SCENE Rob KNEW this was no ACCIDENT

anything before you found him?”

Mrs Reid opened her mouth to reply but somebody was pulling at Rob’s arm. He looked down to see a child – Theo, he presumed – staring up at him. Big eyes, dark hair, no hint of tears and a definite maturity to his expression that was beyond his years.

“My mum is waiting for you,” he said. Rob glanced at Mrs Reid.

“I’ll be here,” she said. “You go easy on her, now. That girl has had it tough.”

Rob frowned, then followed Theo through to the small, equally immaculate sitting room. Everything was in its place, including Luke Carroll’s wife, who sat

rigid on the settee, hands clasped around an old-fashioned handkerchief.

The swelling under her right eye was entirely unmistakeable.

Long sleeves on the sweater covering her arms. A polo neck. Nervous blinking. The posed, slightly fake-looking family pictures on the sideboard. The perfectly ordered apartment and its lack of any personality, including toys or signs that a ten-year-old lived here.

Rob was re-evaluating his earlier positive impression of Percival from inexperienced to totally blind.

“Mrs Carroll,” he said. “I’m–”

“I know. Detective Downes. They said. Downes, the farmers?”

Most people round these parts knew the family farm and Alison Carroll was no different, it seemed. Plus, Rob looked like he worked the land. But Rob had certainly never met her out and about. He wouldn’t have forgotten her. She was a beauty. Frail, but stunning.

“Would you like to tell me what happened this evening?” he asked.

“Of course. My husband came home from an evening out. I was waiting for him. I heard him making some noise as he came up the stairs. I opened the door. I think I startled him. He fell backwards before I could grab him. He hit Mrs Reid’s door at the bottom.” Her voice was clipped. Rehearsed. She looked up at Rob, her eyes wet. “That’s it, really.”

“I see,” Rob said. “I’m just going to check something with a colleague. Give me one moment.”

Rob stepped outside the apartment and collared Sergeant Percival.

“Get onto the doctor’s surgery in town,” he said. “They’ve an emergency out of hours number. Tell Doctor McKee you’re phoning on my behalf, that we’ve Alison Carroll here and she’s in a state of shock. See if she can call over and also, ask if she’s treated Mrs Carroll recently.” “It’s an accident, then?” Percival asked. “Did you see the wife?” Rob snapped. “She’s had a hiding. And the man has sustained a blow to his face.”

“Oh. What do you think happened?” Rob bit back his impatience. As his mentor had always said, the young learn best from instruction, not insults.

“My guess?” Rob said. “Maybe he beat her up then went out to the pub. When he came back, she was waiting for him. We need to look for whatever she hit him with. And let’s find out from the doctor how often she was in so we can see if there was a pattern. Mrs Reid has

implied he was out drinking most nights.”

Percival’s eyes grew wider. Rob patted him on the shoulder and returned to the apartment.

Theo met him at the door.

“Is that it, then?” he said. “Can we go to bed now?”

Rob stared at the kid. It struck him then. Theo was still dressed. Jeans and a footie jersey. It was almost 11.30pm and the call had come in at 10.15pm. Why wasn’t the kid in his PJs? Rob bent over until he was level with the child.

“Were you up this evening when your father returned home, Theo?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m just wondering. You’re still in your clothes. Liverpool FC, eh? Love them, myself.”

Rob moved to touch the sleeve of the jersey but Theo pulled back sharply, instinctively. Rob swallowed.

“I got dressed again. But I was awake.” “Did you see your mum open the door?” A blink, the tiniest hesitation on the boy’s face and Rob’s heart sank further. “No,” he said. “I was in my room.” It was a lie.

“What were you doing?”

“Reading.”

“This late?”

“I used my torch.”

Goddamn! He was a tall enough kid. Average build, not too skinny. Standing at a height would have given him some leverage, too.

“You love your mum, Theo?”

“Yeah.”

“And what about your dad? Did he love your mum?”

Theo stared at Rob. Then he ran up the hall, back to his mother.

Mrs Reid was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “He’s a good kid,” she said. “Always helps me carry up my messages when the lift is out. Takes care of his mother. Deserved better.”

“They usually do,” Rob said. He sighed, walked back into the sitting room. This time the old lady followed him. He could tell she was intrigued.

Alison Carroll looked up, haunted, desperate. “Are you moving him?” she asked, like she wouldn’t really believe her husband was no longer in her life until they’d taken away his body.

“We will, shortly,” Rob answered.

“I’m afraid I have to ask you some questions, Mrs Carroll. Was your husband involved in an altercation before he fell? I see that you appear to have suffered a blow to your eye. Is there anything you would like to tell me before I take an official statement?”

It was fleeting, but Rob saw the mother glance at the son before she looked back up at him. Then she placed a hand to cover her eye.

“I… I banged it…”

She wasn’t a natural liar. She was going to struggle to maintain whatever story she’d concocted in her head. Rob reckoned if she’d pushed her husband,

Rob’s mentor told him, READ what you SEE and what you DON’T see

she’d come out and say it. But she’d do her best to protect her son.

“I saw it all.”

Rob spun on his heel. Mrs Reid was nodding adamantly.

“He came in. Looked like he had some marks on his face, like he’d been in a fight. Stumbled up those stairs like the drunk he was. Alison opened the door. Bet he wasn’t expecting her to still be up. Got a shock, he did. And he fell. Backwards. All the way down until he hit my door.”

“I’m sorry, you saw this?”

“I was wearing my glasses, too. Perfect vision.”

“How did you see this if you were in your apartment?”

“I never said I was in my apartment.” “You didn’t?”

“No. I was coming up the stairs behind him. I’d just put my bins out.”

Rob looked at Mrs Reid. He looked at

Alison Carroll. He looked at Theo.

“You put your bins out after ten o’clock on a Saturday night?”

“You can check. They’re out there.” Rob was sure they were. He stood silently in the middle of the room.

His mentor had told him once that you read what you see and you read what you can’t see.

Rob couldn’t see all the bruises on Alison Carroll. Or the ones that had probably faded on her son. But he could see the looks in their eyes. He could see the fear. And he still reckoned that, whatever they thought Rob would do to them, it wasn’t as bad as what they’d had to endure before.

Falls on stairs cause a lot of injuries. Drunk men get into a lot of pub fights.

Rob had two eye witnesses telling him the same thing.

He’d never regret this decision. Even if it meant going out to Sergeant Percival to tell him he’d been wrong. It was just an accident.

“OK,” he said. “I guess I’ll just get everything wrapped up outside. Sorry for your loss.”

Alison never moved. Her son, though, seemed to exhale relief. The last thing Rob saw before he left the room was Theo putting his arms around his mother.

At the front door, Mrs Reid grabbed his hand.

“Thank you, son,” she said. “He was a bad ’ un, no doubt about it. Nobody will cry for him. I knew the signs. Lived with it myself for a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Rob said.

She shrugged.

Then, Rob glanced down. He hadn’t realised, but the woman was using a stick to walk with. A long, wooden stick, knarled and tough.

In the right hands, that could be a lethal weapon.

He looked into the old lady’s eyes. Whatyouseeandwhatyoudon’tsee. He hadn’t even seen Doreen Reid when he’d arrived – not properly.

But she’d seen Luke Carroll.

And she’d put a stop to him.