Chapter One Tuesday 24/1/89
Becky
CRIME SCENE - DO NOT CROSS
Yellow tape seals the doorway between the lifts and the east wing of the halls of residence – tenth floor. Instead of diving into the lift to head down for breakfast, I move closer and try to see beyond the tape. But all that’s visible is the dimly-lit corridor with doors on either side – the male student bedrooms. One of the doors on the left looks open, but it’s hard to tell without breaching the barrier.
Instead I peer into the common room – still accessible, but next to the forbidden area. Four young men are slumped in armchairs, various degrees of distress showing on their faces. Sanjay and Nathan are still wearing pyjamas. Studying Politics and History respectively, they tend not to have early morning lectures and are rarely seen before lunch. Stuart, Dentistry, is dressed for lectures in jeans, black Metallica t-shirt and red and white check shirt. His freckles stand out against the fair skin, several shades paler than usual.
Finally, I allow my gaze to rest on my best friend in Halls. Daniel, tall with dark curly hair, has his knees curled up to his chest, and appears to be staring at his knees. I stumble to his side and put my hand on his shoulder, pulling back slightly as I get close. The stench of his sweatshirt that he wore all last week hits me; he must have grabbed whatever was closest to hand.
He doesn’t respond to my touch, so I take a deep breath and turn to Stuart, who seems the most conscious of the four.
“What’s happened? And where’s Rick?”
Rick Kennedy is the dish of the house. Six foot two, with blond hair, a smile that would melt diamonds, and the bluest eyes ever; he shares the corridor with the four men present. And he’s missing.
“He’s dead, Becks.” Stuart’s voice is hushed.
“What?” I stare at him. A ball of lead settles in my stomach. Rick and I were flirting over pizza and chips in the dining hall only yesterday. My legs threaten to buckle, and I sit down beside Daniel. “He can’t be… Are you sure?”
“Dan found him this morning. In his room.”
Questions flood through my brain, but my tongue feels suddenly too big for my mouth. I’m unable to form a coherent sentence now, and I hug my knees to my chest, subconsciously mirroring my friend. Stuart doesn’t bother asking if I’m okay. No one is.
“Where did you say Rick was found, Stu?” asks Nathan suddenly. “In his room.”
“Rick’s room?” Nathan seems alert now, but I don’t get his questions. I thought it was obvious.
“Yeah, where else?” says Stuart.
“I reckon Nathan thought Rick might have been in my room.” Daniel’s voice is muffled against his knees, and sounds as though he has a bad cold.
“You said ‘Dan found him… in his room’. Wasn’t obvious, mate!” says Nathan. He casts Daniel a covert glance.
I know there have been rumours. Even I don’t know if they’re true, and I’ve been friends with Daniel for a few years now – long before we came to Uni. Rationally I don’t care if the rumours are true, but the jealousy twisting my gut tells a different story.
Rick was in his own room. Why and how he died is beyond any of us.
The common room is beginning to fill up, as curiosity takes hold of the tenth-floor residents passing the police tape.
“Why are the police here?” asks Michelle from my corridor.
As if in response, a man in a suit appears in the doorway. He has a blond moustache and curly hair that looks like a perm.
“I’m the officer in charge here. How well did you kids know Mr Kennedy?”
Stuart and Nathan seem to bristle at being called kids. The officer doesn’t look much more than thirty. I answer before they have a chance to say something rude.
“We’ve known him about five months, since the start of Uni. He’s a nice guy. Friendly with everyone.” I don’t add that every girl within a five-mile radius fancies him. I don’t think PC Permed-Hair-And-Moustache would care. I push the thought away and ask the burning question. “How did he die?”
Everyone in the common room stares at me. Even Daniel raises his head to give me an incredulous look.
“Don’t know yet, Miss. Might be drugs. We can’t be sure at this stage though. We’ll need to take everyone’s details. You boys will need to wait until we’ve searched your rooms before you can go back in. When we’re sure none of you have anything to hide, you can go back in there.”
I can’t get my head round this. Rick is dead. Is there any chance he killed himself? Was it an overdose? It seems so out of character. I didn’t know he even took drugs. And this policeman is an idiot. Surely if the boys had anything to hide, they would have put it somewhere ‘safe’ long before the police were called?
Chapter Two Tuesday 24/1/89
Daniel
He’s dead. How can he be dead?
We were together only yesterday evening, chilling out in my room, listening to music. I know the other guys suspect something’s going on. They’re wrong. We’re just friends.
Shit. We WERE just friends. The pain in my chest is worse than any heart attack. Gripping, intense, and impossible to breathe through.
There’s some thick policeman in the room, trying to ask everyone questions. His voice is background noise; easily ignored. Becky is at my side, but I know she’s watching me. Grey blurs at the edge of my vision. I try to take a deep breath. Failing, I settle for a shallow one. I force a half-smile, trying to reassure Becks. She rests a hand on my shoulder.
“Alright?” she whispers into my ear. I shrug. We both know I’m not.
I’ve known Rick one term and a week. We clicked straight away, but it took a couple of weeks for me to fall in love. A fortnight of popping into each other’s rooms; sharing our favourite music (Abba, Erasure, Culture Club), discussing the Belgariad books by David Eddings, and catching the bus up to UMIST together – him to go to his Management Science lectures and me for Biochemistry.
By the time we’d watched The Princess Bride together at Film Night at the student union, I was his for life.
Life that’s been cut short. Hideously short. He was nineteen, for God’s sake.
“Are you okay, young man?” The policeman is crouching down in front of me, with a worried look on his face. Maybe he’s not so stupid.
Becky’s hand tightens on my shoulder.
“Of course he’s not okay. His best mate is dead, and he can’t get into his room to grieve in peace.” She stands up. “Dan, do you want to lie down for a bit in my room?”
I nod, and she hands over a key. “Go on. Take your time. I’ll hang out here for a bit. Do you want to ring home? Maybe you could go back for a couple of days?” Her voice is hesitant. She knows I’ve got a ropey relationship with my dad. Otherwise it would have been a good idea. Get away from here. Away from all the reminders.
“I need to stay. Thanks though. And yeah, I’ll go and hang out in your room for a bit.” The officer stands up to let me pass, and I go along to room 1009, Becky’s room.
I fumble with the key; my hands are still shaking. I hadn’t realised how much I was trembling when I was in the common room. It probably confirmed all the suspicions of the other guys. What do I care? I don’t care about anything any more.
I finally manage to get inside, and go over to the window, kicking aside Becky’s dirty washing that litters the floor. She’s an old friend, and I’d do anything for her, but she’s such a slob. Sometimes I tidy her room up a bit, but it’s not important today. Nothing’s important, except that Rick’s not here any more. God, I can’t cope with this.
I stare out of the window, taking in the grey views of a wintry Manchester. The same views that Rick had from his room. That he’ll never see again. I squeeze my eyes shut to stem the tears that threaten.
How the hell can he be dead?
Chapter Three Tuesday 24/1/89
Becky
With a sense of relief, I watch Daniel leave the common room.
It’s short-lived. As soon as he’s out of earshot, the gossip begins. “Do you reckon they were having an affair?”
“Are they gay?”
“What if Rick found he’s got AIDS?”
“Shut up, all of you! It’s none of our business. So what if they were gay? And we don’t know either way anyhow. And not everyone who’s gay has AIDS. Grow up, for God’s sake!” I glare at Nathan, who’d asked this ridiculous question.
A tiny doubt creeps into my mind, and I shove it away.
The policeman has settled himself into an armchair opposite the TV, and appears to be watching Oprah with subtitles. A tautness in his bearing suggests he is less interested in the show than he appears. I suspect he’s listening intently to our argument and wants us to forget he’s there. Several people seem to have granted his wish.
I leave the sofa, and go over to him.
“What are your colleagues doing? Are we needed? Will you be questioning us?” He gives me an amused and somewhat supercilious smirk.
“My colleagues are checking out the area where Mr Kennedy died. Once they are certain they’ve collected any clues as to whether this was accident, suicide or murder, they will let me know how they would like to proceed. One of my constables is already getting all your details from the Hall Warden, so as far as I’m concerned you can all go off to your lectures. I know where to find you.” He looks round at the gathering of students on armchairs and sofas dotted around the room. “Don’t leave the city without telling us, kids.”
There’s a murmured response, not all of it polite. The policeman gets up to leave. I put my hand out to detain him a moment.
“Wait. What’s your name?” I ask. “In case one of us has any information for you, how do we contact you?”
He hands me a card in silence.
I read it out: “DI Tom Bannister. Longsight Police Station.” There’s a phone number below. “Are you the nearest to here, Inspector?”
“It was us or West Didsbury. You got us. You should be pleased. We’ve a much better response rate than they have. Anyway, trot off now. I’m sure you’ve got classes to go to.”
I gaze at his sneering face for a moment. I think I would have preferred the DI from West Didsbury.
I head back to my room patting my pockets for my key. It’s only when I get to the door that I remember I gave my key to Daniel. I hesitate. What if he’s crying? He might not want me to see. I listen at the door, but can’t hear anything. I knock.
There’s a shuffling sound, then a bang.
“Shit!” Dan opens the door and stands there rubbing his elbow. “Oh it’s you. Come in.” He turns and makes his way to the chair by the desk.
I kick a few jumpers out of the way as I head for the bed. I sit back against the wall and look at my friend. His eyes are red but dry. The rest of his face is white, almost grey.
“What happened?” I know it’s ambiguous, but I want him to answer the bigger question if he can.
“Tripped over your bloody clothes. Do you have to leave everything in such a mess?” Okay. So he went for the lesser option.
“Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“It’s always like this.”
“I suppose.” The state of my room is not the issue here, and I’m sure he knows it as well as I do. I take a deep breath then say in a gentle voice, “Dan, what happened last night? When you were in his room? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I want to help you, and I can’t do that if I don’t know anything.”
He gives me a twisted smile. My stomach lurches. That smile always gets to me. It’s full of affection, and common sense tells me that’s all I’ll ever get from him.
“You’re a nosy cow, aren’t you, Becks? I love you, but seriously?”
Those three words might be the words I’ve always wanted to hear from him, but not in that context. Anyway, he says it to all his female friends. He’s an affectionate soul. But I’m not happy with the adjective. The size of my nose is a sore point.
“Yes, seriously.” I give him an anxious glance. I don’t reckon he’s thought this through, but he needs to be aware. “If it turns out that Rick…” I see Daniel wince at the name. “Sorry, but if it wasn’t an accident…”
“He didn’t do drugs. He wasn’t into it. And he’d have told me if he was depressed or worried enough to do something like… you know, like an overdose. Someone must have killed him.” A strange look crosses Dan’s face, but I put it down to grief.
“That’s my point. If he was killed, you were the last one known to see him alive.”
The door slams behind him. I don’t think he’s angry with me, only with the situation. At least, I hope it’s not with me. But I have to find out whether Rick killed himself, or if he was murdered. If only to save Dan. If he’s right about Rick’s refusal to do drugs, it rules out the possibility of accident. And I’m sure he’s too young for it to be natural causes.
I get out a spiral-bound notebook. It hasn’t been used before. It’s got a picture of me and Dan at the Jewish Society winter ball taped to the inside front cover.
He looks incredible in black dinner jacket, red bow tie and cummerbund. It really suits him. But then, to be honest, most of the guys looked pretty hot that night. I reckon I scrubbed up okay too. The red dress was probably a bit flouncy for me, with the tight bodice, and skirt flowing out from the waist. It made me look a bit like a Barbie doll. But quite a pretty one. At least it hid the bulge of my stomach that I can never quite get rid of. And because the photo is full length and front-facing, it’s hard to tell that my nose is too big.
I was so happy that night. Dan had agreed to come to the ball with me, maybe because Rick couldn’t go. As it was a J-Soc event, and Rick’s not Jewish, I had Dan all to myself for the evening, except when he got chatting to that Kabballah guy. There were a crowd of us hanging
out there, to be fair, but Dan stayed at my side most of the time. It was only at the end of the night, when he delivered me to my room with a peck on the cheek, a hug and a whispered “Happy Chanukah”, that I realised he hadn’t seen it as a date.
I shake myself. Enough of the reminiscing. There’s a job to do. I turn the front cover back on itself so I can only see the first page. Distractions are not helpful.
I start writing…
24/1/89.
Rick was found dead this morning. Police are checking his room for evidence and don’t yet know if it was suicide, accident or murder. They suspect drugs. Dan was the last known person to see him. Dan has ruled out drugs.
Bloody hell. Is that all I know? I’m going to have to find out more about Rick. I don’t think Dan will tell me. I need to do some proper detecting. Perhaps I can dig out some information from our house tutor, Martin Fielding.
Chapter Four Tuesday 24/1/19
Daniel
After leaving Becky’s room, I go down to the ground floor. The lift’s empty, thank God. I don’t think I could bear to make small talk right now. I go outside and am greeted by an icy blast. Shit. I came out without a coat. Going back inside is not an option right now. I do not want to see anyone. I shove my hands into my sweatshirt pockets and walk quickly, heading south, away from Halls. There’s a tightness in my chest that has nothing to do with the weather.
After a few minutes, I start running. It warms me up and stops me feeling too much. The tightness eases a bit as I focus on running, and trying not to get run over at the zillions of busy junctions between Fallowfield and Withington. By the time I get as far as the cinema, I’m quite warm, but snowflakes are dancing lazily to the ground around me. I’ve got a choice of roads to go down, or I can go back to Halls, and back to a reality I can’t handle.
I turn and look back up Wilmslow Road. On my right is Chicago Diner – home of the best hot chocolate fudge cake in Manchester. I gaze in at the window. Rick and I were here two days ago. Like, Sunday, seriously! Sodding hell.
A black cloud closes in over me.
