Ashes by Now

by Mark Timlin

  Obviously Tracey had talents even I hadn’t seen.

  ‘Go on then,’ I said. ‘And be careful.’

  She grabbed her handbag and left, pausing just long enough to rub her crotch against mine, and stick her tongue in my mouth.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ she said.

  ‘Count on it.’

  She went downstairs, and I heard the engine of her car start with a sound like pebbles being rattled in a cocoa tin. When the noise had faded, I rang Jacqueline Harvey. She answered on the tenth ring, just when I was beginning to get worried.

  ‘Jackie,’ I said, ‘are you OK?’

  ‘I was until you called at this ridiculous hour,’ she complained.

  I explained what had happened to Chas.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘It’s starting again, isn’t it?’

  I didn’t bother saying that it already had.

  ‘The poor man,’ she went on. ‘All because of me. I hope he’ll be all right.’

  ‘So do I,’ I said.

  ‘Who did it?’

  ‘Collier.’

  ‘The policeman?’

  ‘The same.’

  ‘Can’t you tell someone?’

  ‘Who? The police? Don’t make me laugh, Jackie. It doesn’t work like that in the real world. They stand by their own. I’ve got no proof, at least until Chas comes to, and even then it’s just his word against theirs.’

  ‘This is a nightmare.’

  ‘Tell me about it. Now I want you out of sight. Somewhere away from home. Is there anywhere you can go?’

  ‘Not really. Anyway, why should I go anywhere? I haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘I know that,’ I said patiently. ‘But I still think you’d be better off away. Haven’t you got any friends you could visit for a few days?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How about your father?’

  ‘I haven’t seen him for ages. I told you that.’

  ‘I think it might be time for a tearful reunion. I believe he’s living near Lewes these days.’

  ‘That’s right. Did I tell you that?’

  ‘Someone did. Please. I’d feel much happier if you were down there with him, rather than up here on your own.’

  ‘I’m not going there.’

  ‘You’d be safer.’

  ‘Is that right? I haven’t felt safe around the male members of my family for a long time. My father did nothing to protect my sister and myself all those years ago. Why would I be safe with him now?’

  ‘Your father didn’t know what was going on,’ I said.

  ‘He should have made it his business to know.’

  Which was fair enough.

  ‘I could stay with you,’ she said.

  The silence hung heavy over the line.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  I heard her exhale breath. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not after your manly body.’

  ‘That’s not the problem, Jackie,’ I replied. ‘The problem is that here you’re as much a hostage to fortune as you are at your own place. I’d love for you to stay, believe me. I wish it was that simple. But I want you somewhere out of the way. Not in the main combat zone, which it looks like this flat is fast becoming.’ I thought for a moment. ‘How about a hotel?’ I said.

  There was another, longer pause.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll get something fixed up. I’ll talk to the news editor on the paper. Maybe they’ll help. Otherwise I’ll book you something myself. Could you go this morning?’

  ‘No. I have to go to work. I can’t just vanish. I need to give them a little notice.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘If I go in today, maybe I could take some time off, starting tomorrow.’

  ‘That sounds good. Do it as soon as you go in. I’ll call you later.’

  ‘All right.’

  And with that we made our farewells.

  Straight away I called the offices of the paper Chas was writing the story for. It was still not six-thirty, but the switchboard was open, and the woman who answered told me that Tom Slade wouldn’t be in until eight. I said I’d ring back.

  Then I made some tea, lit a cigarette, and sat down to have a good think.

  I was still sitting there an hour later with an ashtray full of cigarette ends, a cup half full of cold PG Tips with a skin on the top, and a mouth that tasted like an open sewer, when the doorbell rang.

  I stayed where I was and it rang once more. Shit, I thought, not again.

  I went over to the window, pulled back the edge of the curtain and squinted through the gap. There was a dark blue Sierra that I didn’t recognise parked behind my Vauxhall. It had an RT aerial stuck to the back window and screamed Old Bill.

  I went downstairs as the doorbell rang for the third time. I took the sawn-off pool cue I keep in the kitchen in case of mice with me.

  I decided that if it was Collier, I was going to hit him first and ask questions later. Maybe not the wisest thing to do under the circumstances, but certainly the most satisfying. I flung open the door and Detective Inspector Robber was standing inside the porch gnawing on an apple.

  ‘Elevenses?’ I said.

  He tossed the core into the front garden and pushed past me. ‘You took your bleeding time,’ he said. ‘I’m dying for a piss. And put that thing down. It’s an offensive weapon, and I could nick you for carrying it.’ He lumbered up the stairs to my flat.

  I followed him up, and walked through the door behind him, put the pool cue back where it belonged and cleared away the cup and ashtray as I heard him relieving himself into my toilet.

  When he came out, I said, ‘You didn’t wash your hands.’

  He didn’t reply, just took one of my cigarettes from the open packet and lit it with one of my matches, then sat down.

  ‘Make yourself at home,’ I said.

  Still no reply.

  ‘I suppose you want tea?’ I said.

  He nodded.

  ‘Have you got this place mixed up with a café and public convenience?’ I said.

  He snorted.

  ‘Is this official?’ I always seemed to be asking him that.

  ‘What do you think? You turn up at King’s in the middle of the night with a reporter who looks like he’s gone six rounds with the Terminator. Then I come round, and I’m greeted with you wielding a bloody club like a caveman out to catch his lunch, and you ask me if it’s official. Course it’s bloody official. And you’re lucky it’s me that’s doing the asking, otherwise you’d be down at the station, not making tea here. And talking of that, get it brewed, will you, I’m gasping.’

  I went into the kitchen and pushed the button on the back of the electric kettle, pulled out two mugs, and put in tea bags, milk and sugar.

  Robber stubbed out the cigarette and lit another.

  ‘So what’s the story?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me.’

  I shrugged, as the kettle boiled, and I filled the mugs and stirred them.

  ‘Don’t fuck about for Christ’s sake,’ said Robber. ‘I’ve only got so much patience.’

  I told him what had happened: Chas arriving on the doorstep and me getting him to the hospital. That was all I was going to tell him.

  ‘And what do you think brought it all on?’ asked Robber.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I lied.

  ‘It’s just coincidence I suppose,’ he said with heavy irony. ‘You’re beaten up a few weeks ago, and now your mate gets the same treatment. A reporter who everyone knows is as thick as thieves with you.’

  ‘It’s a tough town,’ I said. ‘These things happen.’

  I took his mug over to him and he looked up at me. ‘Don’t take the piss, Sharman. What do you think I’ve got for brains
here? Cold rice pudding? I’ve got a feeling you’re obstructing my investigation, and I don’t like that one little bit.’

  ‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ I replied.

  ‘Just tell me who’s behind all this, that’s all. And why it’s happening.’

  ‘I wish I could,’ I said.

  And I did, sincerely. In fact, just for one second, I was tempted to tell Robber what was happening, but I knew that coppers’ loyalty was thicker than water, so I didn’t.

  Robber snorted and gave me a right how’s-your-father look.

  ‘It wasn’t me, you know,’ I said. ‘Who done it, I mean. I don’t know why you’re sitting here wasting time and taxpayers’ money, and using my place like the staff canteen. Why aren’t you out finding the real villains?’

  I could tell Robber wasn’t impressed by my earnest show of innocence. In his place neither would I have been.

  I shut up then, for a minute.

  ‘How is Chas?’ I asked, after the minute was up. All the time I’d been sitting alone in my flat since Dawn had left, I’d been meaning to call the hospital, but I didn’t have the nerve. Just in case the news was all bad.

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ said Robber. ‘He’ll survive. Just about. He’s been badly beaten. By experts, the doctor says. His car’s still outside where he lives. So whoever did it must have dumped him here. I wonder why that was?’

  I shrugged again. What else could I do? But I knew each shrug was putting me on to thinner ice.

  Robber slurped at his tea and lit a third cigarette. Come to think of it, I’d never ever seen him with a packet of his own.

  When he’d drained the mug, he stood up and said, ‘If you think of anything, give me a call. I’m not hard to find.’

  Just hard to get shot of, I thought.

  As if to ram home the point, he said, ‘I’ll be back. I know you’re not giving me the full SP. You’ll never bloody learn, Sharman, will you? You and your little one-man band. Why don’t you just get into the real world and tell me what the fuck’s going on, and save yourself and your mates any more grief?’

  ‘If I could, I would,’ I said. And once again I wasn’t lying.

  But Robber just shook his head sadly and left.

  By then, it was past eight, and I rang the paper back. ‘Tom Slade,’ I said when the switchboard answered.

  This time I got put through to his secretary who didn’t like it when I refused to tell her who I was. Eventually a voice barked in my ear, ‘What?’

  ‘I’m a friend of Chas Singleton’s,’ I said. ‘Have you heard?’

  The bark dropped a decibel or ten and said, ‘Yes. What kind of friend?’

  ‘The friend who put him on to the story that might have put him where he is now.’

  ‘The detective?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Was it you that took him up to the hospital?’

  ‘Right again.’

  ‘Well I’m glad you did. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Are you still investigating the story?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Chas was going to interview the young woman who broke it to me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I take it someone still is.’

  ‘You take it right.’

  ‘She’s vulnerable. I need to get her somewhere safe. I’m worried she’s going to end up where Chas is. She can’t stay at her place, or mine, and she won’t go to her father’s. Apparently there’s nowhere else. I want to put her into a hotel or a safe house. I thought you might know somewhere. You must be used to this sort of thing.’

  ‘I am,’ said Slade. ‘Whereabouts is she?’

  ‘London. She lives in Vauxhall, works in Gray’s Inn.’

  ‘Give me your number, and five minutes, and I’ll come back to you.’

  I gave him my phone number, put down the receiver and lit a cigarette. Before it was finished the phone rang again. It was Slade.

  ‘The Fortescue in Bayswater,’ he said. ‘It’s not bad. Three star. She’s booked in as Miss Clancey from any time today. Stay indefinite. We pick up the tab. Does that suit?’

  ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘I’ll get her there this evening. And I think you and I should meet.’

  ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Wait one, I need to check my diary.’ He was gone for less than half a minute. ‘I can’t meet you before tomorrow noon. Is that all right?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s fine with me.’

  ‘Do you know the Crown & Sceptre in Titchfield Street?’

  ‘Great or Little?’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘I’ll find it.’

  ‘Tomorrow at twelve then. Ask for me behind the bar.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ I said, and pressed down the cut-off button on the phone and called Jacqueline Harvey straight off. I caught her as she was leaving for work.

  ‘I’ve got you a place to stay,’ I said. ‘The paper’s fixed it up. They’re still checking out the story.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Where is it?’ She didn’t sound that bothered, and it rather pissed me off.

  ‘I’d rather not say,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, Nick, aren’t you rather over-dramatising all this?’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ I said. ‘You didn’t see Chas last night or, for that matter, me a couple of months ago. And remember what happened to Carol?’

  I could have bitten my tongue out. That was taking things a little too far.

  ‘Jackie,’ I said quickly, ‘I’m sorry. Really sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just terribly concerned.’

  Her voice was quieter when she answered. ‘I understand, Nick. But I would like to know. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.’

  So, against my better judgement, I told her.

  ‘I’ll pick you up from your office tonight,’ I said. ‘I’ll run you home, wait while you pack a bag, and get you to the hotel. I’ll see you snug in there, then I have an errand of my own to run.’

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you at five-thirty, outside the office.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said, and hung up.

  Now all I needed was a gun and a burglar.

  31

  First the burglar. And I needed a good one. I knew just the man. Or the Mann as it happened. ‘Monkey’ Mann to be precise. Cat burglar of this or any parish if not currently doing bird at Her Majesty’s pleasure. A real pro. A peterman of the old school, who’d earned his nickname by climbing walls like a chimp on speed. I’d felt his collar a few times in the past, and now I used him if I ever needed a little second-storey work. He hung out at any one of twenty or so boozers in Beckenham, and I found him in the saloon bar of the Three Tuns, off the high street, just after opening, enjoying a large Irish whiskey and furrowing his forehead over the Sun crossword.

  ‘Don’t strain your brain, Monkey,’ I said as I arrived at his table.

  He looked up, startled. ‘Blimey, Mr S,’ he said. ‘You gave me quite a fright.’

  ‘You’re getting old, Monkey,’ I remarked, ‘if that’s all it takes these days.’

  He grinned. He was getting old. His dark hair was thinning over his scalp and there were deep crevices in his skin where once there had only been the suggestion of worry lines. ‘It comes to us all, don’t it? You’re looking a bit pale yourself. Been ill?’

  ‘Something like that. How’s business?’

  ‘Not what it was. But what is?’

  ‘I might have something for you. Want a drink?’

  ‘Have I ever refused? Large Irish.’

  I went to the bar and got Monkey his drink and a pint for myself. I took them back to the table and sat in the hard chair opposite his.

  He sipped at the drink I’d bought him and asked, ‘So what’s
the deal?’

  I explained that I wanted to break into a bent copper’s gaff. I told him that I didn’t know what I was looking for exactly, and that it might not even exist. But if it did exist, and it wasn’t in a safe-deposit box in a bank somewhere, then it was in the house.

  ‘A safe, Mr S,’ said Monkey wisely. ‘That’s what we’re looking for.’

  I also told him that Collier mustn’t know he’d been paid a visit, which didn’t worry Monkey one iota. He didn’t even ask why, which was good. Because I didn’t want to tell him that Collier would kill us if he ever found out.

  ‘A bent copper’s house,’ he said. ‘That sounds like a lark. Serves him right. Bastard.’ Monkey thought all coppers were bent. It went with his territory. ‘All belled up is it? The drum?’

  I described Collier’s little end-of-terrace house, and what I’d seen when I’d checked out the place on one of my visits. A Telecom alarm box over the door, complete with blue light.

  ‘Ground-floor entry,’ he said. ‘That’s good. But I’ll have to go and have a squint meself, Mr S. I’ll use the old window-cleaner trick. I expect the alarm will go through to the local nick, if it’s Telecom like you said. His nick is it?’

  I nodded.

  ‘He’ll be popular with the woodentops. They’ll be missing their tea, having to go out to his gaff and answer a false alarm.’

  ‘You’re going to set it off?’

  ‘Best thing. Alarms are notorious for being faulty. And the more hi-tech they are, the more faulty they tend to be.’

  ‘But it won’t be faulty, will it?’

  ‘They’ll think it is. Leave it to me, Mr S.’

  I almost expected him to tell me not to worry my pretty little head about it, but he didn’t dare. ‘So we can get in and out, and no one any the wiser? Not even the engineer who comes to look for the non-existent fault?’ I said, to be sure.

  ‘Mr S.’ He sounded offended that I might question his expertise.

  ‘Sorry, Monkey,’ I said. ‘I was forgetting how good you are.’

  ‘So what’s in it for me?’

  ‘A grand for a night’s work.’

  He didn’t argue. He knew me better. ‘Sounds all right. Any chance of a sub?’