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‘The Jacksons think it might help to have a word with him.’
‘He went into the background of everyone involved with a toothcomb. What he doesn’t know about the Jackson killing isn’t worth knowing.’
‘I’ll look him up.’
‘All the best,’ Benson said flatly. ‘All you need to do is break Mahon’s alibi.’
Crane was to remember those words before very long with a wry smile.
TWO
The Standard’s library was both state-of-the-art and user friendly. There was a small room where people wanting to study back numbers could sit at a VDU undisturbed.
Crane was rapidly able to key to the relevant editions, scroll through the pages and bring up the reports on Do
A body was discovered in the lower of the Tanglewood reservoirs, a well-known local beauty spot, and has been identified as that of Do
There was a quarter-page photo of Do
The man he kept hearing about, Geoff Anderson, was bylined at the head of the report, and on the ones that followed. They became briefer as the search for the killer went on, and though a man was reported to be ‘helping the police with their enquiries’, no other reference was made to him.
Earlier reports, those published when Do
Crane sat back sceptically. It was all too anodyne. He’d been given the impression Anderson had his ear to the ground. The young woman he was writing about could have been any one of the bright kids you could see most nights in the city pubs and clubs. But there’d been a darker side to Do
‘I’d not read on. They never do get their man.’ Crane turned around. ‘Geoff Anderson, Mr Crane. I saw your name in the book. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.’
Crane gave a crooked smile. ‘None of it good, I daresay.’
‘Terry Jones always speaks very highly of you.’
‘Until my spot of trouble, yes, I know.’
Crane didn’t want to talk about it and Anderson could tell. He perched on the edge of a side table. He looked to be mid-twenties and had fair wavy hair, dark blue eyes, a bluntish nose and a full wide mouth. He was strongly built and near six foot but carried no extra weight. He wore a pale blue poplin shirt, open at the neck, fawn woollen trousers and brown loafers.
‘I don’t see a man in your line looking up the Do
‘I was aiming to contact you, Geoff. Co
‘About Bobby Mahon?’
‘Everyone’s keen to write his name on the charge sheet.’
He shrugged. ‘He’s not helped himself. If he’s i
‘You really have given it a lot of time,’ Crane said evenly, not wanting to give any hint of the frustration the case was already giving him.
‘The story had legs. A local cause célèbre. Just about everyone on the Willows knew her, because of those incredible looks. It was like someone had killed a rare butterfly. It got everyone worried about their own teenage daughters, in case the killer struck again.’
‘Knew her yourself?’
He shook his head. ‘I’d seen her around. I trawl the scene: the pubs, the clubs, the casinos. You couldn’t miss her, seemed to be everywhere. You should have seen her, strutting her stuff with the strobes flickering on her hair. Out of this world. Why do you ask?’
Crane gave him a steady look. ‘It seems to me you’ve written her up like the girl next door. I’ve already picked up that that wasn’t the case.’
He gave Crane a wry grin. ‘You’re right, it wasn’t. She had a taste for the wild side. Could have been doing flesh-market photos for Fletcher, if not worse, we’ll never know for sure. I’m pretty certain she was screwing around, probably for the loot, but no punter’s going to come forward and put his hand up. On top of that, she played her cards incredibly close, so close even her pals didn’t really know what she was up to, even if they had a bloody good idea.’
‘Why not write some of that up, or at least hint at it? She certainly wasn’t helping herself to stay out of trouble.’
Anderson watched him in a brief silence. ‘The wench was dead, Frank, and I’d spent a lot of time with Co
He said, ‘When did a seasoned reporter ever worry too much what anyone thought if he believed he was telling the truth?’