The Kidney Donor (Dave Slater Mystery Novels Book 8)

by P. F. Ford

  ‘I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t,’ she said, nervously turning to look up and down the road again. ‘Can I come in?’

  Slater didn’t think she posed any sort of threat, and she seemed genuinely concerned about something or someone that might be out there in the dark, so he stepped back and swung the door open for her.

  ‘Come on in,’ he said.

  As she walked past him into the house, he had a bizarre feeling that he could only describe as deja vu, and it crossed his mind that this situation was getting weirder by the minute. But he was intrigued now, and all thoughts of watching a football match on TV were long gone.

  She took just a couple of paces into the house and then turned to face him.

  ‘Who’s after you?’ he asked. ‘Only you looked as if you were expecting a pack of hounds to come swarming around the corner at any moment.’

  ‘What? No, I didn’t,’ she said.

  He decided not to argue with her. ‘D’you really need to keep the hood up? And it’s not exactly brilliant sunshine in here, so you could probably lose the shades too.’

  ‘I’d rather not,’ she said, and again he felt he knew the voice, which seemed to be much more well-educated than he would have expected from someone living on the street.

  ‘Why, what have you got to hide? I’m not in the police force any more. I’m not going to arrest you.’

  ‘Yes, I heard about that,’ she said. ‘Did you get kicked out?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to talk to me, not question me. What difference does it make why I left the police force?’

  ‘I’m just curious,’ she said. ‘You were like me, quite good at ruffling feathers. I wondered if maybe you ruffled too many and they turned on you, too.’

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘And how come you know so much about me?’

  She didn’t answer, and he got the feeling she was waiting for him to make the next move. He took a step forward, and as he gently reached forward to remove her sunglasses, she reached up and slipped the hood back from her head. She was much thinner than he remembered, and her fine, red hair, which used to flow down over her shoulders, had been cropped short and dyed black, but even so, now he could see her face properly, there was no doubt who she was.

  The last time he had seen her was at the end of a case she had urged him to take a couple of years ago. It had involved finding out what had happened to Ruth Thornhill, a supposedly God-fearing young woman who had turned out to have been living a double life. Jenny Radstock, the scruffy young woman before him, had been instrumental in persuading him to take the case. Back then she had been a high-flying young barrister. He stared at her in stunned silence, more and more questions filling his head. It was a good few seconds before he spoke.

  ‘Jenny Radstock? Good God! What’s happened to you?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she said, embarrassed.

  ‘But you were doing so well,’ said Slater. He indicated her clothes, ‘It wasn’t even a couple of years ago. How can you have been reduced to this so quickly?’

  ‘What happened to me isn’t important,’ she said. ‘And, anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about me. I’ve got some information about Ryan, and you need to do something about it before it’s too late.’

  ‘How can what happened to you not be important? Look at you!’ he said.

  ‘Never mind about me,’ she said, urgently. ‘Ryan’s planning something and you need to stop him.’

  ‘What’s he planning?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I think he’s going after whoever killed Morgan and Doddsy.’

  ‘You mean he knows who it is?’ asked Slater.

  ‘He thinks he does,’ she said. ‘He’s talking like he’s going off to war. I’m worried he’ll be the next one to get killed. The thing is, he’s got the training to make him think he can take on anyone. If he doesn’t get killed, he might just kill the other man.’

  ‘Jesus, Jenny, who is he going after? Who did he say it was?’

  ‘He didn’t say. He just said there was something he had to do and that it was risky, but if all goes well he’d be back in a few days. He said he wanted to make sure no one else dies.’

  ‘So he knows why people are dying? Why the bloody hell didn’t he tell me and Norm?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She was becoming increasingly agitated. ‘He said he was the only one who could stop it. Perhaps he didn’t want you to get involved.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Slater. ‘Did he tell you what he was planning, or where he was going?’

  ‘He said he was going in the morning, that’s why I sneaked out to tell you. He thinks I’ve gone to the church hall for dinner.’

  ‘Has he ever told you anything about his time in the SAS?’ asked Slater. ‘We know something happened involving him and Morgan, the guy who died in the skip, and another guy called Bobby Coulter. Has he ever mentioned anything about that?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t even know he had been in the SAS until I saw the tattoos on his arms one day. He’s got a regimental crest on one and this weird thing on the other arm, up here.’ She tapped her biceps to indicate where the tattoos had been.

  ‘What sort of weird thing?’

  ‘Well, it’s not really weird. Once he told me what it was it made perfect sense.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘His blood group. Apparently lots of them have it tattooed on their arms. Just in case they lose their tags.’

  ‘His blood group?’ echoed Slater. ‘They have their blood group tattooed on their arms?’

  ‘That’s what he told me,’ she said.

  Slater rushed across to his mobile phone, found Norman’s number, and hit the call button.

  ‘Yo,’ said the familiar voice in his ear.

  ‘Norm?’ Slater was rushing his words. ‘How soon can you get away? I know where Ryan is. We need to get to him tonight. He’s going after Coulter tomorrow.’

  ‘Wait, wait, slow down,’ said Norman, patiently. ‘How do you know where he is, and why d’you think he’s going after Coulter?’

  ‘Ginger came round to my house–’

  ‘Ginger?’ cried Norman. ‘How does Ginger know where you live?’

  ‘Never mind that now,’ said Slater. ‘The thing is, he has his blood group tattooed on his upper arm. Now, didn’t he say he was so close to Bobby Coulter they even had the same blood group?’

  ‘That’s right,’ agreed Norman. ‘He said they were like brothers. You think Coulter knows that?’

  ‘It makes sense,’ said Slater. ‘Remember Doddsy had his sleeves cut off? Maybe someone was looking to see if he had a blood group tattoo. I can think of one very good reason why you’d want to know that, can’t you?’

  ‘Shit!’ said Norman. ‘You think Coulter’s looking to take someone’s kidneys for his son, and he’s trying to make sure it’s the right one?’

  ‘It all adds up, doesn’t it?’

  ‘We’d better find him quick,’ said Norman. ‘Maybe Coulter’s plan was to bump people off and draw Ryan to him.’

  ‘If he did, it’s worked a treat.’

  ‘Did Ginger say where he is?’

  Slater looked around to make sure she was still there, but he needn’t have worried. She was watching anxiously as he made the call.

  ‘I’ll ask her,’ he said. ‘How soon can you get away?’

  ‘You find out where he is. I’ll explain to Chris and Diane and then come and pick you up. I’ll be no more than twenty minutes.’

  ‘Right,’ said Slater, but Norman had already cut the call. He put the phone down and turned to Ginger.

  ‘So where’s Ryan now, Jenny? You have a squat, don’t you? Is he there?’

  She grimaced. ‘My “squat” is what you would remember as my old house. It’s been repossessed, but at the moment it’s empty, so I’m living there under cover of darkness. There’s no electricity or any of the normal mod cons, but at least it’s dry.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Slater. ‘Ho
w the hell–’

  ‘Please don’t ask me to explain it all now,’ she said, sadly. ‘Just go and stop Ryan before he does something really stupid and gets himself killed.’

  ‘How do we get in?’

  ‘The board over the window by the back door. There’s a spring clip holds the board in place. You’ll see a hole. Just put your finger through and pull.’

  ‘Are you and he–’

  ‘No, we are not,’ she said, firmly. ‘It’s a survival thing. We just look out for each other. That’s all there is to it.’

  He looked her up and down. She certainly looked as though a good bath wouldn’t do her any harm.

  ‘When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep? Or at least had somewhere warm to sleep, without lying awake wondering if someone was going to come along and evict you?’ he asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘What about a hot bath and a hot meal?’

  She shrugged again. Back at the time of the Ruth Thornhill case, he had felt she had manipulated and outmanoeuvred him but, at the same time, she had helped him resurrect his career and, if he was being honest, he had liked her from the first time he had met her despite any misgivings he might have had.

  ‘Right, here’s what I think you should do,’ he said. ‘Norm’s going to pick me up in about fifteen minutes, and then we’re going to find Ryan.’

  ‘He won’t be happy about me telling you where to find him,’ she said.

  ‘Then it’s probably best if you stay here. I’m sure you can remember your way around, and even if you can’t, it’s not exactly a big house. There’s food in the fridge, and there are plenty of towels in the bathroom. I suggest you cook yourself a decent meal and then go and soak in a hot bath. After that, if you want to, you can stay the night and sleep in my spare room. The bed is made up.’

  She looked at him, enquiringly, seemingly undecided about the offer. Slater guessed she was probably expecting there had to be a trade-off.

  ‘And no,’ he said. ‘There are no strings attached. I don’t expect anything in return. Look upon it as a favour from an old friend.’

  She still didn’t seem to be able to make her mind up.

  ‘Or,’ he continued, ‘you could walk all the way back to your cold, dark house with no running water and nothing to eat and sleep there on your own. It’s your choice.’

  This seemed to be enough to sway her decision. ‘I’ll take you up on the food and the bath, if that’s okay,’ she said. ‘But I’m not sure I’ll still be here when you get back.’

  There was the toot of a car horn outside.

  ‘That’s Norm’ Slater said. ‘I’ve got to go. Look, Jenny, I just want to help, and whatever you decide is okay with me, but if you do go before we get back, can you make sure you lock the door on your way out?’

  He grabbed a jacket and let himself out of the house. As he began to walk away, he was sure he heard her making sure the door was locked, and he wondered what she was running and hiding from. But he didn’t really have time to worry about that right now.

  ‘So how the hell do we get in?’ asked Norman, peering into the gloom.

  They had just pulled up outside Jenny Radstock’s former house and were sitting in the car waiting for their eyes to adjust to the darkness outside. The downstairs windows had been boarded up to prevent entry although, ironically, this also made it easier for anyone who did gain entry to remain unseen from the outside. Jenny, in her guise as Ginger, and Ryan, had obviously used this to their advantage to live in the house and remain hidden during the day.

  The rain that had been threatening all day had finally begun to fall.

  ‘Apparently the board over the kitchen window is held closed by spring clips. Ginger says it can easily be opened from the outside and then pulled back into place once you’ve gone through the window,’ explained Slater.

  ‘You want me to climb through a window?’ asked Norman, appalled at the idea. ‘Are you kidding?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t think I was kidding,’ said Slater, ‘but obviously when I was thinking, I wasn’t thinking, if you see what I mean.’

  Norman was confused. ‘Is that a yes or a no?’ he asked.

  Slater sighed. ‘Alright, I’ll climb through the bloody window on my own,’ he said.

  ‘You can open a door for me from the inside,’ suggested Norman.

  ‘They changed all the locks, and we don’t have a key,’ said Slater, sounding irritated. ‘And in any case, all the doors are boarded up. How the hell am I going to open one for you?’

  ‘Good point,’ conceded Norman. ‘You know, when you put it like that, I might as well sit here and wait.’

  ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Slater. ‘What if Ryan’s in there, takes exception to my arrival, and beats the crap out of me? No, you can come and wait by the window, just in case he gets past me and does a runner. It’s his only way out, so you can stop him. And if I am going to need an ambulance, I want to make sure you know when to call for it.’

  ‘But I don’t have a coat.’

  A wicked grin split Slater’s face. ‘So you’ll get wet,’ he said, gleefully.

  ‘But I might catch a cold.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, will you stop bitching?’ said Slater. ‘If it makes you happy, I’m willing to risk catching a cold, but that means you will have to squeeze through the window and perhaps get your head kicked in by a trained assassin. Do you want to do that?’

  It didn’t take Norman long to evaluate this proposition, which seemed to involve far more risk than he was willing to face.

  ‘No, you’re right,’ he agreed. ‘It makes much more sense that I catch the cold. I probably wouldn’t fit through the window anyway.’

  Slater shook his head and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, making sure Norman saw him turning his phone off. ‘Make sure your phone’s off. I don’t want to get caught out by an unexpected ringtone.’

  Norman found his own mobile phone and made sure Slater watched as he did the same.

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ said Slater. ‘And remember, no noise and no torchlight. We only talk in whispers, right?’

  Got it,’ whispered Norman.

  They slipped quietly from the car and made their way through the side gate and round to the back of the house. The kitchen window was next to the back door, and just as Ginger had described, there was a hole in one corner just large enough to slip a finger through. Slater pushed a finger through and pulled at the board. With a quiet, satisfying click, he eased it free from the spring clips that held it closed and swung it open. The window behind it was open, and it took just a few seconds for him to climb inside. He went to pull the board closed behind him.

  ‘Hey wait,’ hissed Norman. ‘If you close that, how will I know when to call the ambulance?’

  Slater had actually been joking when he’d mentioned this to Norman in the car, but now he was actually inside the house, enveloped in its deathly quiet stillness, he did feel rather vulnerable, and with good reason. If Ryan was inside, he had all the advantages of the ambusher, as well as all that special forces training in what to do to disable him. He thought maybe Norm was right about leaving the board open.

  ‘Here,’ whispered Norman again, reaching his hand through the window. ‘Take these.’

  Slater took the offering. It was Norm’s night vision goggles, a possession he was particularly proud of and rarely let anyone even look at.

  ‘Oh wow! Good thinking, Norm, thanks mate.’

  He slipped the goggles on and peered around. Now he felt a little less uneasy, at least he would be able to see Ryan attacking him.

  ‘I’ll scream if he jumps on me,’ he whispered to Norman, and set off across the kitchen.

  Norman stood close to the window, looking into the kitchen. He couldn’t see a thing, of course, as it was much darker inside the boarded-up house than it was outside, but he felt if he focused on his ears to try and hear better, then
he just might be able to detect if anything went wrong. It wasn’t long before he began to worry. It seemed as if Slater had been gone for hours, but when he glanced at the luminous hands of his wristwatch, he found it hadn’t even been five minutes. He stared at the watch, sure it must have stopped, but the second hand was definitely moving.

  He wondered should he go inside? Maybe something had happened and he hadn’t heard it. After all, Ryan was a trained specialist; he would probably find it quite easy to ambush and overpower someone without making any noise. He looked at the window again, and then turned his back on it while he considered his options.

  If he was being honest about the prospect of getting through that window, who was he kidding? Really, there was just no way, was there? He’d joked about it earlier, but the truth was, he probably would get stuck halfway through. He closed his eyes for a moment, and in his head he could see a vision where he had become wedged in the window and they had needed to call the fire service to cut him free. And then the police were alerted and Goodnews and Biddeford arrived to pour scorn on his situation and then charge him with breaking and entering, criminal damage, and wasting police time . . .

  No, perhaps it would be best if he just waited a bit longer.

  Then he felt a hand grab his shoulder, and he was so startled he jumped high enough for his feet to actually leave the ground. He was sure his heart had missed several beats. Oh, God, it must be Ryan! He had done in Slater, and now he was going to do the same to him. He let out an involuntary yell.

  ‘Pipe down, you idiot,’ hissed Slater, angrily. ‘We don’t want all the bloody neighbours to hear us.’

  But it was too late. An upstairs light was suddenly turned on in the house opposite, then a voice could be heard calling out nearby, and now a dog was barking in another garden.

  ‘Who is that? Is there anyone there?’ called a voice from the darkness.

  ‘Quick, let’s get out of here,’ said Slater, climbing through the window as fast as he could.

  He jumped down to the ground, turned, and pushed the board back into place. Whoever had put the hinge and clips in place had done an excellent job, and as it swung quietly into place, he felt a click as the clips did their job. Then he fled from the back garden, down the side path, and out to the front of the house. Norman had managed to find a surprising turn of speed for such a large man who claimed he didn’t do running, and he was already in the driver’s seat starting the car as Slater jumped into the passenger seat. In truth, Norman had actually started running from the fright he’d had well before the neighbours had shown signs of having been alerted, but he didn’t see any reason to explain that to Slater.