Body 13 (Quigg Book 2)

by Tim Ellis

  ‘It’s about time you brought your daughter to see her grandmother one last time before I’m knocking on those pearly gates.’

  ‘I didn’t realise they had pearly gates down there, as well, Mum’

  ‘That’s where you’ll be going, Quigg, talking to your poor old mother like that.’

  ‘Morning, Mum - nice to see you.’

  Phoebe ran to grandma’s open arms, and sat on her knee. They hugged, kissed and chattered.

  ‘Did you have something to do with that awful business on the news, Quigg?’

  ‘If you mean the children, yes. Duffy and I were responsible for finding them and letting them go.’

  ‘You did a good thing, Quigg. I’m proud of you.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  ‘How have you managed to prise my granddaughter away from that bitch of a mother?’

  ‘Criminals took Phoebe yesterday afternoon in the hope of stopping me identifying them.’

  ‘That job of yours will get us all killed, Quigg. First, it was my house, then you, and now your own daughter. Where’s it going to end? That’s what I want to know - where’s it all going to end?’

  He didn’t answer. What could he say? She was right.

  ‘Lovely to see you again, Mavourneen. Are you two a couple yet?

  ‘We’re a couple, Mum.’

  ‘Hallelujah,’ Beryl said. ‘Did you hear that Maggie? They’re a couple.’

  ‘About time,’ Maggie commented. ‘About time.’

  Quigg was sitting drinking his coffee and watching the three women spoiling Phoebe. All too soon, though, it was time to go. The few hours they had shared were merely stolen, unauthorised moments.

  On the way to Caitlin’s house, he crossed Tower Bridge, stopped at the Macdonald’s on the Old Kent Road, and they had lunch – a few more stolen moments. Quigg had a triple quarter pounder with everything; Phoebe had a Happy Meal with a colouring book and pencils. Macdonald’s didn’t sell leaves, so Duffy watched them.

  ***

  He knocked at number 77, Old Jamaica Road in Bermondsey - the three-bedroom semi-detached house that used to be his. As if in sympathy, small flakes of snow seesawed down around him. Obviously, Duffy had been curious about the woman that he had been married to before, and asked to come with him up to the door instead of waiting in the car. He had shrugged. Why not? She held Phoebe’s hand.

  Caitlin opened the door. Richie the builder was standing behind her in the shadows. She knelt down and Phoebe ran to her.

  ‘Was she involved in what’s been on the news?’ They had both reached for the same lettuce at the local market in Upton Park. He had been shopping for Beryl; she for herself. He asked her out; she accepted. They fell in love, got married, and had Phoebe. She wanted him to work nine-to-five; he didn’t. The roller coaster reached its zenith, and started to plummet. Before he realised what was happening, he no longer lived here.

  ‘The periphery only,’ he said defensively. ‘It was an attempt to get at me. It won’t happen again.’ He didn’t want to tell her too much; he knew how she would react. The sensationalist reporting in the papers by Ruth – God, she knew how to milk a story – and on the television was bad enough. He was sure the story had doubled Ruth’s fortune and paid for the Mercedes many times over. Her exclusivity to the words, the photographs and the video recording she had made had, no doubt, been syndicated across the world.

  ‘You’re damned right it won’t. We’re emigrating to Canada.’

  ‘That’s a bit extreme, Caitlin.’

  The door slammed in his face.

  He knocked again.

  Richie the builder opened it. ‘Sorry about that, Quigg. She’s a bit upset. Come in.’

  ‘Aren’t we all,’ he said, squeezing past the balding man.

  ‘Go in - you know where.’

  Duffy came in as well.

  He noticed that Caitlin had put on some weight, or maybe she was pregnant. At thirty-two she was a bit old, but maybe they wanted their own children. Phoebe would be pushed to one side, an unwanted keepsake from a previous life.

  ‘We have to talk, Caitlin.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Don’t make this more difficult than it already is. You know I can’t afford a solicitor. Let me see Phoebe every other weekend.'

  She was crying. ‘You put her in danger, Quigg. You have no right to see her anymore.’

  ‘I know you’re angry, but it’ll never happen again. Duffy and I will look after her.’

  For the first time she seemed to notice Duffy. ‘Got a younger model, I see.’

  He ignored her catty comment. ‘Yes - this is Duffy, Caitlin.’

  Duffy half-smiled at Caitlin.

  ‘You’re not really going to Canada, are you?’

  ‘Yes. I was going to tell you before, but time just goes - you know how it is.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘January 5th.’

  He was stunned. ‘Shit, Caitlin. What the hell are you playing at?’

  ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘We could have discussed it.’

  ‘What difference would it have made?’

  ‘I want her over Christmas. If you’re taking her away from me forever, I’d like to spend some time with her. My mum will be devastated.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Quigg, but I can’t let you stand between us and a new future. You can have Phoebe over Christmas, but you must promise to look after her.’

  ‘She’s my daughter, Caitlin. Of course I’ll look after her.’

  ‘Pick her up on Christmas Eve; I’ll have her ready for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ***

  At the Montcalm Hotel Nikko, Duffy climbed into the driving seat of the Ford Fiesta and drove it back to Wandsworth, but not before appreciating Quigg’s new silver Mercedes SLK 55 AMG.

  The two sumo wrestlers were still guarding the corridor, but one of them recognised him and allowed him to knock on Ruth’s door.

  ‘Quigg, you have come,’ she said, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips.

  His response was lukewarm. She was standing at arm’s length. ‘Ah, yes. It is the other girl I saw last night. She has given you an ultimatum.’

  ‘I have made a choice, Ruth. You are rich; why would you want a penniless copper like me? You can have any man you want.’

  ‘It is all right, Quigg.’ She drew him into the room and shut the door. ‘It is not the end of us, merely an interlude. When our child is born, we will be together.’

  He staggered, putting his hand against the door. ‘What?’

  ‘My time of the month will come and go. I feel different.’

  ‘But it’s only been two days.’

  ‘A woman knows these things.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘When we met, I knew you were the one to father my children.’

  ‘Children?’

  ‘This is only the first of many you will give me.’

  Moving further into the room, he sat down in an easy chair. He felt the threads of his life slipping through his numb fingers. How could all this happen? He was simply a marionette with knotted string through his hands and feet, being pulled every which way.

  She ran her fingers through his hair.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said.

  Speaking to an imaginary foetus, she took his hand and put it on her stomach. ‘Your father is a hero, my child. He saves children from bad men.’

  He couldn’t help smiling. ‘A bit premature, aren’t you?’

  ‘It is never too early for a child to learn of his father’s bravery.’

  He didn’t often blush, but he felt his face heat up. ‘I was hardly brave. Stupid more like. If it hadn’t have been for Duffy, I would be dead.’

  ‘Yes, we owe Duffy a debt of gratitude. And because of this, I am willing to share you with her. I think you will also father Duffy’s children, and together we will be a large happy family.’

  ‘My God, Ruth - wha
t are you saying?’

  ‘I am saying that you belong to two women, Quigg. We have equal shares, and you must love both of us.’

  He shook his head to wake up from the dream, but it was not a dream. Changing the subject seemed to be an appropriate strategy that generally worked.

  ‘The Apostles won’t be connected to that house in Surrey,’ he said. ‘They’ll get away with everything they’ve done. We have to find evidence against them.’

  ‘They are dangerous men - you know that, Quigg. Remember, your child needs a father.’

  ‘We have to do it so that they do not find out. When we have everything we need to put them behind bars, I will arrest them.’

  ‘I will get the evidence, Quigg. I have connections. I know people who can do this thing. The Apostles will think you have given up and forgotten them, but we will be as clever as they are.’

  He kissed her. ‘I like it. We’ll be an undercover team with secret operatives.’

  ‘And it will protect the father of my children.’

  ‘I must go,’ he said, getting up.

  ‘I will let you go this time, because of Duffy. But next time you will make love to me. You must tell Duffy what I have told you, and come to me on the evening of the 29th of this month. I will be going to Cuba for three weeks on Monday, and then I will return to my flat and wait for you to come to me.’

  He nodded. She made it seem so inevitable. He wasn’t sure whether he would tell Duffy, or just arrive at her flat on the 29th and make love to her; being shared by two women sounded a bit weird. It was like bigamy. Well, at least Ruth wouldn’t be chasing him for maintenance payments like Caitlin.

  She kissed him and let him leave.

  ***

  He drove the Mercedes like an excited child, but only on a short stretch of road. Most of the journey to the hospital he spent within the speed limit.

  After he’d parked in the hospital car park and paid an extortionate £4.00 for an hour, he walked through the reception and caught the lift up to the ward. It was twenty past seven as he stepped out on to the third floor. He could hear laughter coming from Debbie’s room as he walked along the corridor.

  Debbie was awake. Two nurses walked out laughing as he walked in. The television had been switched on, but was muted.

  ‘I hope you’re not laughing at me?’ he said, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. ‘It’s good to see you awake.’ A red satin chemise that emphasised the natural swell of her breasts had replaced the hospital gown. She wore a hint of make-up and a spray of perfume. She looked lovely, even with the bandage round her head, and it reminded him why he’d asked her out on a date – was it only a week ago?

  ‘I see on the news and in the papers you’re a hero. Ché Guevara’s granddaughter has done wonders for your image. You should employ her as your PR consultant.’

  He couldn’t stop grinning. ‘When did you wake up?’

  ‘About two o’clock this afternoon. I remember everything you said to me, you know.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘So, which one are you with?’

  ‘Ah!’

  ‘I don’t hold you to anything, you know, Quigg. It’s not as if we were betrothed or anything. I’m just glad to be alive, and I wish you all the best.’

  ‘It started out as just you and me, but then it got complicated, and now it’s even more complicated. I don’t know about a PR consultant - I could do with a relationship guru.’

  ‘Apart from your good looks, women find you attractive because you have a wonderful sense of humour and an easy manner.’

  ‘You’re no ogre yourself, Debbie. That was why I asked you out.’

  ‘Thanks, Quigg, but we’ve missed the window of opportunity, haven’t we?’

  ‘Unless you want to share me with two other women?’

  ‘I’m not into sharing.’

  ‘We can still be friends, though, can’t we?’

  ‘Yes we can, Quigg, but I’m going home to Bodmin in Cornwall to stay with my dad for a while. I need time to repair and to decide what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, and my dad is struggling on his own since my mum died.’

  ‘You’re not staying at the hospital?’

  ‘Do I want to spend the best part of my life in a basement with dead bodies? I don’t know Quigg. That’s something I will have to give serious thought to.’

  He saw Debbie’s father hovering outside the room and stood up. ‘I’ll let your dad come in.’ Leaning down, he was going to kiss her on the cheek, but she took his head in her hands and kissed him on the lips.

  ‘Remember what might have been, Quigg.’

  ‘I wish you a long and happy life, Debbie Poulson.’ He headed towards the door.

  ‘One last thing before you go, Quigg.’

  ‘Yes?’ He moved back to the bed.

  ‘Tell me your first name.’

  ‘If I do, you must never divulge it to another living soul. And if we meet again, you have to promise to forget it.’

  ‘I promise.’

  He leaned down and whispered in her ear.

  As he stepped into the lift, he could still hear her laughing. Laughter would make her better, he thought.

  ***

  Bartholomew and James were walking along the Climate Change Wall in the Darwin Centre at the Natural History Museum. As they moved past each section of the wall, there was a dramatic transformation of colour, light and sound. They watched the devastating impact of human habitation on the Earth. They saw the ice melt, vegetation thrive, oceans surge, then the land dry out, forests flame red, and animals disappear.

  ‘The future is bleak, James,’ Bartholomew said.

  ‘We have to make the very best of the time we have left, my friend.’

  They managed to squeeze into the Attenborough Studio and watch the multi-screen spectacular of wildscapes.

  ‘I enjoyed watching the polar bears.’

  ‘You’ve withdrawn your charges against Quigg, Bartholomew?’

  ‘Yes. There seemed little point in continuing with the charade when the whole purpose of doing it had passed. I would have had to appear in court. It would have given Quigg a platform to say certain things, and the opportunity for the press to report them. No, we must keep a low profile as always, James.’

  ‘A wise decision, Bartholomew. I have instructed our agents to sell off the company’s assets and to make Palessot disappear. A new company has been established under the name of Pastesol.’

  ‘You and your little anagrams. What about the packages?’

  ‘We have purchased a new building in Sevenoaks, Kent. Modernisation work to create an underground leisure complex has already begun. I estimate that we can start moving new packages in there by June of next year.’

  ‘That is not too long to wait.’

  ‘I will arrange a Last Supper for the end of June.’

  A centre technician was bringing round a snake for people to touch. Bartholomew pulled a face and waved them away.

  ‘A bit too close to nature for my liking, James.’

  ‘Should we move to somewhere there are no live animals, Bartholomew?’

  ‘Exactly, James.’

  ‘I see Quigg’s a hero.’

  ‘A temporary state, James. I haven’t finished with him yet.’

  ####

  The Graves at Angel Brook

  Tim Ellis

  Chapter One

  ‘Shit, Duffy. Don’t you take contraceptives like normal twenty-one year olds?’ They were lying in bed drenched in each other’s sweat after an hour of sex. She’d decided to tell him that her period was late. He still hadn’t told her about Ruth yet, but he knew he would have to before tonight. He’d put it off for so long he could have got a job on lastminute.com.

  ‘I’m Catholic, Sir.’ Even though he’d told her to call him Quigg, she couldn’t break the habit of calling him ‘Sir,’ which he found strangely erotic.

  After the Body 13 case, the Chief had authorised three weeks leave for
them both. Sir Peter Langham dropped the assault complaint against him, and DI Raven from Surrey vice accepted that he’d got all he was going to get from Quigg about how he knew of the house in Cobham. Caitlin allowed him to have Phoebe for five days over Christmas - before she and Richie the builder took his daughter to Canada forever on the 5th January - and his mum had come to stay. It had been a happy, but exhausting Christmas.

  Now he was hoping for some peace and quiet, but bombshells being dropped next to his ear wasn’t what he had in mind when he thought of peace and quiet.

  ‘And…? We don’t live in the dark ages for God’s sake, Duffy. You have free will, independence and freedom of choice. What the hell did all those women burn their bras for?’

  She was breathing hard, her hands were behind her head and her naked breasts moved up and down, distracting him. ‘Which women, Sir?’

  ‘The feminists in the 70s.’

  ‘Why did they burn their bras?’

  ‘So you could have free will, independence and freedom of choice, Duffy. But it was obviously a waste of bloody time, and it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters now is that you might be pregnant. You could have told me you weren't taking the pill.’ Inside he was secretly pleased. But he was in debt up to his ears, and it would get even worse with a child on the way. Although his mum had told him he wouldn’t be paying maintenance for Phoebe if Caitlin took her to Canada. He’d have to check that with a solicitor to see if it was true. If it were true, financially it would certainly make his life a lot better, but the absence of Phoebe would tear him apart.

  She didn’t say anything.

  He pushed himself up on his left elbow. ‘You did it on purpose, didn’t you, Duffy?’

  She turned her head and looked in his eyes. ‘When I first saw you at Hammersmith, I knew I wanted to be with you and have your babies.’

  ‘I feel used, Duffy.’

  She laughed.

  He couldn’t be angry with her for long, and the idea that she might be pregnant made him want her more.