The Ladykiller

by Martina Cole

  Caitlin was in the incident room, thick grey cigar smoke curling around his weather-beaten face. He took one glance at Kate’s expression and hurriedly bundled her from the room, much to the chagrin of the other officers present, who could smell a rat before it was stinking.

  Spencer glanced at Amanda Dawkins. ‘She looked fit to do murder. I wonder what’s going on?’

  Amanda shrugged. ‘How the hell should I know?’

  Caitlin had taken Kate to an empty interview room. Now she stood facing him. It was all as clear as day. Even Caitlin had known what was going on. She could have cried with temper.

  ‘You know, don’t you?’

  He was nonchalant. ‘Know what, Katie?’

  ‘Don’t you bloody “Katie” me, Kenneth Caitlin. You know what I’m going to say, don’t you? By Christ, I must be some kind of dunce. I should change my name to Detective Inspector Thicko.’

  Caitlin sat down at the table and puffed on his cigar. ‘Sit down, woman, and tell me what’s on your mind.’

  Kate placed both hands on the table and looked into Caitlin’s face.

  ‘Last night I was at Kelly’s when he had a call from the States. This morning I find out that that’s where George Markham has gone. Now I don’t know about you, but that tells me that George Markham is a dead man.’

  ‘It could be a coincidence.’

  ‘Coincidence my arse! When I think of all the work that’s gone into this case. The blood testing, the man hours . . . And all the time we were working for Patrick fucking Kelly!’

  Caitlin’s eyes widened to their utmost. Two swear words in one sentence from Kate Burrows told him just how annoyed she was. ‘Well, he won’t get away with it, matey. I’m going to see Flowers. I want some answers, and I want them now!’

  She slammed out of the interview room and Caitlin followed her as fast as he could. He finally caught up with her in the car park where he banged on the window of her car and motioned for her to unlock the passenger side.

  ‘Bugger off!’

  Caitlin watched the small car drive away, and sighed. Then he went to his own car and began following her. She’d need all the help she could get when she saw Frederick Flowers.

  The episode in the car park had been witnessed by the occupants of the incident room.

  Spencer shook his head.

  ‘That’s why women should never have been allowed in the police force. They’re too emotional. Look at the way she was carrying on.’

  The others allowed their eyes to peruse the ceiling.

  Frederick Flowers was sitting in his office nursing a hangover when his secretary’s chirpy tones informed him that Detective Inspector Kate Burrows was demanding to see him. He winced. That bloody woman got on his nerves. Before he could put her off, Kate herself stood in front of him, sending his office door crashing against the wall. The noise whiplashed in his aching head. The door opened again and Flowers relaxed slightly at the sight of Caitlin.

  Kate was firing on all cylinders.

  ‘You listen to me now! George Markham, whatever he’s done, is in mortal danger and we must do something about it. Patrick Kelly has sworn he’s going to kill him and I know he will. He is aware of George Markham’s whereabouts, and we have a duty to protect that man so he can stand trial.’

  Her chest was heaving and Flowers took a crafty peek at it before answering. Like this, with two red temper marks on her cheeks and her face glowing, he could see what Kelly saw in her. Her dark silky hair had been hastily pinned up in a French pleat and shone in the weak February sun.

  ‘You have no proof of this, Burrows, it’s all conjecture on your part. From information I have received, Markham is on a fly drive holiday to his sister’s. The finding of his wife’s body will not be in the newspapers and Markham will fly back to England none the wiser that we have tumbled him. As he steps off the plane on to British soil he will be arrested.’

  ‘But that’s just it! He’ll be coming back to England in a bloody coffin.’ Kate clenched her fists. ‘I have every reason to believe that Patrick Kelly has put a price on his head.’

  Caitlin closed his eyes. Oh, Katie, he thought, you stupid woman.

  ‘Look, Burrows, I think you’re overwrought. I think you should go home and have a good think about all you’ve just said. They’re very serious allegations and unless you have concrete evidence I would advise you to keep your thoughts to yourself. Patrick Kelly is not above suing us for defamation of character. I might add that after listening to your hysterical ramblings, I wouldn’t blame him.’

  Kate opened her mouth to speak. Flowers held up his hand for silence, but she ignored him.

  ‘You’re all in on it, aren’t you?’ Her voice was low and bitter. ‘Oh, I know that no one could actually put your faces in the frame, no more than they’ll be able to put Kelly’s. But you all know the score, don’t you? You’re all quite willing to let him collect his debt, aren’t you?’

  Her voice was disgusted and Caitlin at least had the grace to look away.

  ‘I must have been living in some kind of fools’ paradise. I honestly believed in my work. You must all think I’m a cretin.’ She poked a finger at Flowers and he flinched as it came within an inch of his face. ‘Well, I’ll settle you lot if it’s the last thing I do.’

  Flowers found his voice.

  ‘Are you threatening me? Because if you are, you listen to me and listen good, Burrows. I know that you, a Detective Inspector, have been seen with Patrick Kelly on more than one occasion. Now I’d say that constitutes a slur on your integrity, don’t you?’

  She was dumbstruck.

  ‘You’ve known him a lot longer than I have, Flowers,’ she said at last.

  Flowers grinned.

  ‘Sure I know Kelly, he’s a well-known figure, but think about this very carefully, Burrows. I’m not sleeping with him, am I? My husband has not made a statement to the CIB to that effect.’

  Kate felt an anger born of futility engulf her. ‘You dirty stinking bastard!’

  ‘As from now, Burrows, you’re off this case and suspended from duties. Caitlin, take her away, for goodness’ sake.’

  He flapped his hand in a gesture of dismissal and Kate found her eyes filled with tears of frustration.

  ‘Shall I tell you something, Flowers? For the first time in my life I realise just what you are. You’re quite willing to let a man be murdered in cold blood, aren’t you? It means nothing to you, does it? You’re even willing to sacrifice my career so your friend Kelly can get even with Markham.’

  Caitlin pulled her by the arm. He had stood silently all through the exchange, but now he realised he had to get her home and talk some sense into her. He owed her that at least.

  ‘Come on, Katie, before you say some more things you’ll regret.’

  ‘Regret?’ She laughed out loud. ‘The only regret I have is getting mixed up with you lot.’

  Caitlin’s voice was firmer now.

  ‘Shut your bloody mouth up and give me your keys. I’ll drive.

  In the car, neither of them spoke until Caitlin turned off the dual carriageway and down a country lane, stopping at a small public house.

  ‘Come on, Kate, we’re going to have something to eat and drink, and a talk.’

  She followed him, her shoulders slumped inside her jacket. She knew she was beaten. Nothing in all her experience had prepared her for something like this.

  Sitting in the comfortable bar, Caitlin ordered two roast dinners and a bottle of Chianti. Then he added two large Scotches.

  Absentmindedly Kate said, ‘We’ll be over the limit.’

  ‘Let me worry about that.’

  Finally, with her drink untouched in front of her, Caitlin began to talk to her.

  ‘Look, I know how you’re feeling, believe me. I’ve experienced the same thing myself. What you seem to have forgotten is that George Markham was a murderer of the worst kind. He took seven lives, Katie, and God Himself only knows how many more he would have taken. He r
aped and murdered innocent girls and women. He was a sadist.’

  She interrupted him.

  ‘You just said he was a murderer. You used the past tense, Kenny. Is he already dead then?’

  ‘Oh, that was just a slip of the tongue, Kate. What I’m trying to say is that, noble as your sentiments are, they’re wasted on him.’

  ‘Flowers has sewn me up nice and tightly, hasn’t he? You all have. You, Flowers, and let’s not forget Kelly, shall we?’

  ‘Kelly’s daughter was brutally murdered, Kate. Even if he does have Markham taken out, think of the alternative. All the money it would cost to keep him locked up for the rest of his life, because that’s what would happen.

  ‘You disappoint me, Kate. I always thought you were a sensible woman. You’re putting your career on the line for a piece of filth. If he was put in prison in the morning all he could look forward to is years of abuse from prisoners and staff alike. Years ago he attacked a young girl on a train and beat the frigging crap out of her. His wife gave birth to a dead child over it. We’re not dealing with a blagger here now, Kate, we’re dealing with a sadistic rapist.’

  ‘That’s just it, though. I know what we’re dealing with, and no matter how you, Flowers, Kelly or bloody King Street Charlie dress it up, it’s still condoning murder!’

  Caitlin shook his shaggy head. His hair was sticking up in all directions where he had run his hands through it. ‘Kelly was the one who paid for the blood testing, Kate. It was him who got it okayed. He tried hard to help find the killer.’

  ‘I know he paid for the blood testing.’ Her voice was bitter. ‘How good of him. Just so he could find out who did it for his own ends!’

  ‘You still don’t know for certain if he has put a price on the man’s head. Like Flowers said, it’s all conjecture on your part.’

  She sneered, ‘Oh, grow up, Kenny, for Christ’s sake. You know as well as I do that Markham’s a dead man. But just to be on the safe side, I’m going to see the Golden Boy myself.’

  Kate stood up. Snatching her keys off the table, she stormed from the pub. Caitlin did not attempt to follow her this time. Instead he poured her drink into his glass and cancelled one of the dinners.

  He had done his bit. Now it was up to her.

  Kelly was like a cat on hot bricks. He had arranged the payment of the fifty thousand dollars, a minuscule amount for what he wanted done. Now all he wanted was confirmation of the hit. Every time the telephone rang he rushed to answer it, a feeling of excitement in his breast.

  He couldn’t relax until that piece of scum was dead. His eyes went automatically to Mandy’s photograph. The familiar lump came to his throat.

  He saw her as she had been when she was eleven. Her hair a mass of blonde around a tiny heart-shaped face.

  ‘Mummy won’t be coming home any more, Princess.’ The feel of her little skinny sobbing body had helped to allay his own grief. He had had to pick himself up and brush himself down for Mandy’s sake. He had comforted her through the inevitable nightmares and depressions. He had tried his hardest to be a good father to her. To be there for her always. To protect her.

  And for what? For that ponce to batter her brains out on a filthy floor while he raped her. It would have been better if she had been in the car with his wife. At least that way she would have died without all the shame and fear. It would all have been over in seconds.

  Willy knocked softly on the door and stepped into the room. ‘Any news yet, Pat?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Never mind, no news is good news. Can I get you a coffee or anything?’

  Kelly looked at Willy’s big moon face and felt a surge of affection.

  ‘I love you, Willy, you know that?’ The words were quietly spoken and the minder knew their significance. Together they had been through the worst life has to offer.

  Willy smiled. ‘I never had you down as a shirtlifter, Pat.’

  Kelly laughed painfully.

  ‘Oh, Willy, only you could get away with that.’

  ‘Have a nice cup of coffee, Pat, it’ll settle your nerves.’

  ‘All right. Shove a drop of brandy in it, would you?’

  Willy opened the door. Looking back over his shoulder, he said in his best man-to-man voice. ‘I recipcreat your sentiments entirely.’

  ‘It’s reciprocate, Willy.’

  ‘Oh, who gives a toss, Pat? You know what I mean.’

  Kelly smiled to himself. Kate had been right: Willy was the best friend he had. Sometimes he thought he was the only friend he had. The only genuine one anyway.

  As if his thoughts had conjured her up, Kate’s car screeched to a halt outside.

  One look at her dark expression told him everything and he braced himself for the onslaught he knew was to come. A brief of his had once told him: ‘Deny, deny, and deny again.’ Well, he’d need to use that tack now.

  Kate pushed past Willy and into the entrance hall of Patrick’s house.

  ‘Where is he?’

  Willy was so shocked he just pointed to the library door. She stormed in there to see Patrick sitting behind his desk, casually smoking a cigarette.

  ‘Hello, Kate.’ He stood up, smiling at her widely.

  ‘Don’t you bloody “hello” me! I’ve just had the Third World War with Frederick Flowers over you. I’ve sussed you out, Patrick Kelly.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you? Well, let me enlighten you then. When I was here yesterday you had a call from the States. And George Markham, the man we want for our inquiries into the Grantley Ripper murders, is in the States. Florida to be exact.’

  He butted in, ‘What’s this got to do with me?’

  Kate pushed her face towards his.

  ‘You swore to me that you would get him for what he did to Mandy.’

  ‘Can you blame me? Well, can you? How would you feel if it had happened to Lizzy?

  ‘All that aside, Kate, I have many business dealings in America and Europe. Don’t you come round here reading the riot act to me over a fucking phone call!’

  ‘You’re just like Dan, do you know that? Attack as the best form of defence. Well, the minute I hear that George Markham has been hurt, I’m going to the newspapers, Pat. I mean it. I’ll scream it from the bloody roof tops.’

  He shook his head sadly.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kate.’ His soft voice belied his eyes, which were like granite.

  ‘You’re disgusting, do you know that? What did I ever see in you? Maybe it was pity because of your daughter, I don’t know. But one thing I do know - the thought of you touching me now makes me sick to my stomach.’

  She spoke through clenched teeth and the vehemence of her voice cut Patrick to the bone.

  ‘I think you’d better go, Kate. Before we both say things we’ll regret.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m going. The sight of you makes me want to spew. But remember what I said, Pat. As soon as I hear Markham’s dead, I open my mouth. You can tell Flowers that and all, when you speak to him. I’ll go as high as the DPP or the Chief Justice. I’ll even go to the blasted Queen.’

  The phone on his desk rang shrilly and he looked at it for a second before answering. O’Grady’s American twang wafted over the distance.

  ‘One moment, please.’ Putting his hand over the mouthpiece he looked into Kate’s eyes.

  ‘I think you had better go, before I throw you out.’

  Giving him one last look she walked from the room. Patrick waited until she had slammed the door before he spoke to the man on the other end of the phone.

  ‘Sorry about the delay. What’s the score?’

  He watched through the window as Kate got into her car and drove away. He felt as if a crucial part of himself had gone with her.

  ‘It’s all set up for tomorrow morning. As soon as the deed is done I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Can’t it be done today?’

  ‘No can do
, Pat. Stop worrying. The man will be well out of the ball game tomorrow. A professional job like this takes planning. That’s what you pay for.’

  ‘Tomorrow it is then.’

  He replaced the receiver and Willy walked in with the tray of coffee.

  ‘It’s tomorrow, Willy.’

  He nodded and poured, adding a liberal amount of brandy. Then, sighing, he said, ‘I take it you’re not seeing Kate any more then?’

  Kate drove home and let herself into her house. It was quiet. Too quiet. She went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. She sat at the table drinking it, still with her coat on. She could not take in the events of the last few hours. Everything had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

  Her job was on the line, she was finished with Patrick, everything she believed in was being trampled underfoot. She put her arms on the kitchen table and cried.

  Last night she had slept with a murderer. A man who could pay money for the ending of another man’s life. The logical part of her brain told her that Patrick was settling the score for his daughter’s death in the only way he knew how. To him there was only black and white. You destroy something of mine, I destroy something of yours.

  But inside herself, Kate knew this thinking went against the grain of her profession, her beliefs. Patrick Kelly still lived by the old adage: ‘An eye for an eye’. And that was wrong. It had to be wrong. Otherwise all she had instilled in her own child, all she had lived and worked for, counted for nothing.

  Yet still a tiny nagging doubt burned into her. Supposing he was right?

  If her child was murdered could she honestly say she could forgive? Would she be happy knowing the perpetrator of the deed was alive, locked up maybe but alive, while her child was dead? She remembered reading somewhere that the mother of one of Myra Hindley’s victims had even found out when Hindley’s mother had died and had turned up at the funeral to berate her.

  As a mother herself, she could understand that feeling of hatred.

  But murder?

  She licked away the salt tears from her mouth.

  Flowers was quite willing to use her association with Patrick Kelly for his own ends. He had dropped her from the case, and despite all her shouting about the DPP and the Lord Chief Justice she knew that she was finished. If she went to the papers it would cause a stink for a few days, but that would be all. Because Patrick Kelly would look like a hero to everyone. A vigilante who had taken the law into his own hands. Were there many men who would not sympathise with him?