NO AGE TO DIE: The release of a dangerous prisoner leads to murder (DCI John Blizzard Book 9)

‘It was less than six months ago,’ said the old man. The hurt in his voice was clear.
Blizzard cursed himself silently. He had instantly regretted the comment. It sounded uncaring. Thoughtless. He thought hard and, after a few moments, was able to recall the incident. Like so many cases of missing people, it had been news for a day or so but had faded into the background when the elderly woman was not found and more pressing matters took precedence.
‘Yes, I remember,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure how I can help, Mr Raine.’
‘Call me Tom, please,’ said Raine. ‘And as to how you can help, I want you to find her.’
‘I’m not quite sure what more we can do, Tom. I can ask back at the station but–’
‘It’s no age to die,’ said Raine.
Blizzard stared at him.
‘What makes you say that?’ he asked.
The old man gestured towards the police vehicles parked in front of the church.
‘When it’s a young person, everyone jumps to it,’ he said. ‘You’ll not give up until you have got to the bottom of what happened to that poor boy, but it’s different when you’re old. It’s like everyone has forgotten that you exist, as if you’ve outgrown your usefulness.’
He looked disdainfully towards the church.
‘And they don’t care,’ he said.
‘You attend the church then?’ said Blizzard.
‘I used to. Not any more. Not since the new people arrived. They didn’t want us oldies. It didn’t seem to count for much that we saved it from being demolished.’
Blizzard thought for a few moments.
‘I’ll tell you what, Mr Raine,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something I must do just now but how about you come to see me at Abbey Road this afternoon? Say two o’clock? See if we can’t have a cup of tea and a chat about your Martha?’
‘I’ll be there,’ said the old man. His face told a story of relief and gratitude. ‘Thank you, Chief Inspector. You don’t know what it means.’
‘No problem,’ said Blizzard.
The detectives got into the car and Colley watched as the elderly man walked down the path towards the street.
‘I’m not really sure that we’ve got time for this, have we?’ asked the sergeant.
‘Then we’ll make time, David.’ Blizzard looked towards the church. ‘Someone round here needs to start showing some common human decency.’

Chapter nine
Blizzard and Colley tried to conceal their amazement as they sat in the Holdsworths’ living room in their terraced house. The room was packed with religious items, crucifixes on the mantelpiece, plastic models of Jesus on the sideboard and on the walls numerous pictures – Jesus giving the sermon on the mount, Jesus at the Last Supper, Jesus on the Cross. Then there was the couple sitting next to each other on the sofa: Marian, small, mousy, dressed in a yellow housecoat and a plain brown skirt; Steve a good ten years younger than his wife, large, muscular, a bodybuilder’s physique, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt which showed off the well-defined pectorals.
What was most remarkable to the detectives were the different ways in which husband and wife seemed to have reacted to the death of their child: she hardly able to speak, voice barely audible and trembling, her body seeming to crumple from time to time; he suggesting a lack of concern, the manner confident, confrontational. Blizzard disliked him immediately.
‘Have you got the toerag that killed my son?’ asked Holdsworth. ‘I’d string the bastard up.’
‘Not yet,’ said Blizzard. ‘Can you tell me why your son might have been down on the canal-side?’
‘Shouldn’t have been,’ said Steve as his wife opened her mouth to reply. It had been like this throughout the early exchanges, husband cutting across wife, answering for her.
‘Nevertheless, he was there.’ Blizzard looked at Marian. ‘Perhaps he used it as a shortcut home?’
She opened her mouth.
‘I kept telling him to steer clear of there,’ said Steve. ‘Too many bloody weirdos.’
‘It would help if you let your wife answer some of the questions,’ said the inspector.
Steve Holdsworth exhibited surprise at the idea that his wife be allowed to voice an opinion but said nothing.
‘Mrs Holdsworth?’ prompted Blizzard again. ‘Do you know why Jamie was down by the canal?’
‘No,’ she said. The officers had to strain to hear her voice. ‘Jamie was a lovely boy. He never gave us any bother.’
‘Did he know a man called Albert Macklin?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Did that bastard kill my son?’ Steve jumped to his feet, his fist bunched. ‘Because if he did, I’ll tear him limb from–’
‘We have no evidence to prove that Albert Macklin was responsible, and might I suggest for all of us that we do not jump to conclusions?’
‘Bob says he did it,’ said Holdsworth.
‘And when did you talk to Bob Lennox about it?’ asked Blizzard.
‘At the club. We had a pint.’
‘When?’ asked the inspector.
‘An hour or so ago.’
Blizzard glanced at Colley and raised an eyebrow.
‘Before coming home?’ asked Colley. He was not sure he could believe what he was hearing.
‘Yeah,’ said Holdsworth. ‘Needed someone to talk to.’
‘What about your wife?’ exclaimed the sergeant. ‘What about what she was going through? Don’t you think she wanted someone to talk to?’
‘She don’t talk to me no more,’ said Holdsworth. He gestured at the ornaments and the paintings. ‘Talks to Jesus bloody Christ instead.’
‘My faith sustains me,’ said Marian. She sat up straight for the first time in the interview, her voice infused with strength, filled with purpose. ‘If He has taken Jamie, it is for a purpose.’
Holdsworth snorted his derision.
‘I think you attend St John’s?’ said Blizzard.
‘Yes, I do.’ The smile lit up her face. ‘They are wonderful people. They talk with the voice of God. Jamie loved going there…’
‘Rubbish!’ said her husband. ‘He liked the Scouts,