She had risked a direct approach to his house, a cover story about an attack on one of Robert’s colleagues at the supermarket up her sleeve, but there was no one at home. So she’d visited the Red Lion, the Railway Tavern and a clutch of other Aldershot drinking holes. Striking out, she’d visited their preferred off licences before finally getting lucky at the arcade. They were playing the slots – no doubt spending the proceeds of their recent crime.
After a while they lost interest and left, heading their separate ways after an excess of fist bumping. Helen followed Robert cautiously, waiting for the right moment to approach him. The streets were busy with shoppers, but when Robert diverted into the park, Helen seized her chance.
‘Robert Stonehill?’
He spun round, suspicion writ large on his face.
‘I’m a police officer,’ she continued, flashing her warrant card. ‘Can I have a word?’
But he’d already turned to go.
‘It’s about Peter Thomas. The man you and Davey beat half to death.’
Now he paused.
‘And don’t even think about running. I’ve caught faster guys than you, believe me.’
‘I’m not here to arrest you, but I want you to tell me the truth.’
They were seated on a park bench.
‘I want you to tell me what happened.’
A long pause as Robert debated what to say, then:
‘It was Davey’s idea. It’s always bloody Davey’s idea.’
He sounded bitter and depressed.
‘The old boy was a teacher of his. S’posed to be minted.’
‘And Davey thought it would be easy pickings?’
Robert shrugged.
‘Davey said he’d be out. He’s always out on Thursday nights. Plays cards at the Green Man. He said we’d be in and out in twenty minutes.’
‘But…’
‘But the old boy walked in. Had a bloody great poker in his hand.’
‘And?’
Robert hesitated.
‘And we ran. Legged it back to the window, but the old boy came after us. Gave me a bloody great whack on the leg.’
Robert peeled down the top of his trousers to reveal a huge, purple bruise on his hip.
‘After that Davey just went for him. Kicking, punching, whatever.’
‘And you just stood by?’ Helen replied, incredulous.
‘I gave him a kick and that, but it was Davey who… He stamped on his head, for fuck’s sake. I bloody pulled him off. He would’ve killed him.’
‘He might have already killed him. He’s in a coma, Robert.’
‘I know, I can read, all right?’
His retort was full of defiance, but Helen could see the boy was scared and upset.
‘Have the police spoken to you? Or Davey?’
‘No,’ he said, turning to her, confused. ‘You going to arrest me?’
