Page 17

11.25 A.M.

Penn already knew that trying to establish if there was a missing person amongst the local homeless community was a gargantuan task. The whole lifestyle meant freedom to move around and remain unaccounted for. The anonymity rendered many vagrants invisible, and that’s how some of them wanted to stay.

He held no judgement about any person living on the streets. He knew that many had been forced onto that path through substance abuse, but there were other stories too: broken homes, sudden financial loss, mental illness. He’d also learned through another major case that for a small minority it was a conscious choice, a chosen and preferred way to live without the constraints of a job, a home, family, bills.

He supposed in one way he could understand it, but he’d happily cope with all those things in return for knowing where he was going to lay his head each night.

Another myth that had been busted during that previous investigation was of a brotherhood. A community that took care of its own. The only thing that mattered was survival, and if you had to play dirty to get the best spot, that’s what you did.

And that was why he guessed that the man he was about to approach might have more answers than most.

The bearded guy sitting at the entrance to Stourbridge’s Ryemarket Shopping Centre had secured himself the prime spot for this time of day.

‘Yo, buddy, shift yer carcass,’ the guy shouted as Penn stopped in front of him.

Penn bent down and introduced himself.

‘Couldn’t give less of a shit, mate. You’re blocking the view of poor little me from all these lovely, generous shoppers.’

‘Can I ask you a few questions?’ Penn asked, moving to the side as a young guy tossed a coin in the man’s tin.

‘Thanks, fella,’ he called before scowling in Penn’s direction. ‘You don’t think Sundays are hard enough?’

‘How so?’ Penn asked.

‘Shorter trading day. Only got a few hours to make some coin. Thanks, fella,’ he called again as another coin landed. Penn had no idea of the coin denomination, but every contribution elicited the same depth of gratitude.

‘You’re on prime time now. Better to catch ’em going in while they ain’t carrying bags. More likely to go to the trouble of reaching for their wallets,’ he said as a few people passed without any offerings.

‘Man, you’re bad for business. Naff off.’

‘Well, you must be doing okay to have secured this spot at prime time with no one else around. How’d you manage that?’

‘Told WhatsApp there were some breakfasts on the byfers at the coffee shop.’

Penn didn’t need telling that byfers were drinks and meals pre-paid by customers to help the homeless.

‘You got a WhatsApp group?’ he asked.

The man laughed, showing a toothless grin. ‘Yeah, man, I’ve got everything installed on my brand-new iPhone. Jeez you’re way too gullible to be a copper. WhatsApp has just been around the longest and knows everybody’s business.’

Of course. Penn had forgotten that many of the homeless went by nicknames.

‘And what’s your name?’ Penn asked, taking a seat on the ground beside him.

‘Aww, mate, sod off, eh, or at least leave me be until business hours are over. You ain’t helping my lonely, vulnerable image.’

Penn took a coin from his pocket and chucked it in the tin.

‘Seeing as you asked nicely, you can call me Stig.’

‘Okay, Stig, any of your buddies gone missing recently?’

‘Yer havin’ a laugh?’

Penn shrugged and waited.

‘Fella, I don’t know if I’m gonna see folks from one day to another. You get the meaning of the word transient? We move around. If I don’t see someone for weeks, I don’t think about it, I don’t worry and I don’t expect anyone to worry about me. I’ll assume they’ve moved town or that they’re dead,’ he said, shrugging to indicate that either possibility was all the same to him.

‘So, you wouldn’t know if someone had been taken against their will?’

Stig laughed again, louder this time. ‘What makes you think it would be against their will? They ain’t really gonna be taken anywhere worse than this.’

‘Even if they end up dead?’

‘Hot meal and a safe, warm bed first and they might not be too fussed when it’s minus four out.’

Penn’s disbelief showed on his face.

‘Not everybody,’ Stig said, waving his hand in acknowledgement.

Realising that he was indeed bad for Stig’s business, Penn reached into his pocket and threw another coin into the tin. Stig’s generous benefactors had dried up since he’d sat down beside the guy. And Penn understood it. The homeless guy was someone else’s problem now. Someone else was going to take care of him, take him to a shelter or for a warm meal. They no longer had to search their conscience or their wallets.

‘You gotta understand, fella, that I can sit here and talk to you for hours, but the minute you’re gone, I won’t think of you again. Cheers, mate,’ Stig called out again as another coin rattled down.

Penn probably found that the saddest of all. There were people in his life that he was bonded to. Like Jasper, his brother, who, despite Down’s syndrome, was achieving a level of independence that Penn could never have dreamed of for him.

He had always known that taking care of Jasper would fall to him, and that had been okay. He’d arranged his life accordingly. He’d transferred from West Mercia to West Mids to move back to the family home. He’d avoided serious long-term relationships, not wishing to let himself go all in with someone who couldn’t accept his commitment to his brother. But then there was Lynne, a one-time friend and colleague. He’d been surprised to learn she’d been harbouring feelings for him for a while and even more surprised that he had feelings for her too. In addition, there were old friends and colleagues, all of whom he was in some way bound to. He couldn’t imagine not having those attachments in his life.

‘Don’t you miss being connected to someone?’ he asked.

‘You miss going to the moon?’

Penn understood the meaning of the question. You couldn’t miss what you’d never had.

Penn had a hundred more questions. He wanted to know about Stig’s life. His long-term hopes, his story. He wanted to be able to help.

‘I ain’t for saving, fella,’ Stig said as if he could read Penn’s mind.

The throng of shoppers had slowed down, and his mug hadn’t clattered in minutes.

‘Fella, no offence, but I’m gonna do one and try my chances elsewhere.’

Penn felt bad for affecting trade. He reached past the small change in his pocket and took out his wallet. He popped a fiver into the tin before getting to his feet.

Stig regarded him for a few seconds. ‘Thanks, fella, and lucky for you my ears are bigger than my mouth. Might be nothing but WhatsApp mentioned something about some new guy handing out blankets in Dudley yesterday.’

‘And where might I find WhatsApp now?’

‘Heading to the Subway in Dudley. It’s Sunday. Bins will be full.’

Penn thanked him and went on his way.