He saw the barman look their way and then busy himself with the ice bucket when he caught Jerry’s eye. What did the staff here make of them all? he wondered. Haines might just have passed for a businessman, but what kind of businessman travelled with an entourage of eight armed thugs? Not that the staff knew about the guns, Jerry supposed, but one look at his associates was enough for most people to take avoiding action, and it was noticeable that only a half-dozen others now remained in the bar and they were packed into a corner at the furthest end.
‘Enjoy yourself today?’ Santos asked, drawing close to Jerry in a quiet moment.
‘Not as much as you did,’ Jerry said. ‘I don’t have quite your enthusiasm.’
Santos laughed. ‘Like I said –’ his voice was low so only Jerry caught the words – ‘not everybody makes the grade, do they?’
TWENTY-THREE
It had taken Stan three hours to cover two miles and he had staggered into the yard in front of the Fisherman’s Rest just on closing time.
‘He says he got hit by a car,’ the landlord told Rina as he met her at the door. ‘Hit and run, that’s what he said. That he was walking and someone hit him in their car. I wanted to call the police and an ambulance but he wouldn’t have any of it, said he had a sister near by and you’d come and get him.’
A sister, Rina thought. Somehow she didn’t think anyone would believe that she and Stan were related. He was sitting beside the bar in an easy chair that had been dragged over from the snug. He looked half dead, she thought. Bruises and blood all over his face and his clothes and skin grey as ash.
‘I should have called the ambulance,’ the landlord fretted.
Rina laid a hand on his arm. ‘I’ll take him home,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much for looking after him. Stupid bugger, I keep telling him about these late night walks, but he won’t listen.’
‘And the police? If it was a hit and run—’
‘Look,’ Rina said. ‘Call a friend of ours, will you? Detective Inspector MacGregor. Tell him what’s happened and that I’ve taken Stan home, ask him to meet us there. If you get a pen I’ll give you his number.’
The landlord went off to find a pen and paper and Rina bent down to examine Stan. ‘Lord, but you are a mess. I’d have called an ambulance and tied you to the chair if you’d argued.’
Stan managed a smile. ‘You’re not going to, though, are you?’
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m going to live to regret that, I think. Can you stand up?’
The landlord came back and Rina gave him the number for Mac’s mobile.
‘Right, let’s get you into the car.’
It took several minutes to get Stan installed in the passenger seat and covered with the blanket Rina had brought with her. The landlord came out and told her DI MacGregor would meet them back home. He seemed a little happier now that the forces of law and order had been called upon.
‘So,’ Rina asked as they drove away, ‘what actually happened to you?’
‘Haines,’ Stan said.
‘Haines? In that case my next question is: why aren’t you dead?’
‘Hell, thanks.’ Stan grimaced. ‘I’m not so sure I’m not.’
‘It’s supposed to be painless,’ Rina reminded him. ‘So, tell me. What’s going on, Stan? What have you been up to?’
Receiving no response, she glanced sideways. Stan had closed his eyes and exhaustion had won. Rina slowed down and took a better look, just to satisfy herself that he was in fact still breathing.
‘Don’t you dare die in my new car, Stan Holden. You turn my car into a crime scene and I’m not going to forgive you. Just remember that.’
Haines, she thought. She reached out and locked the doors. Lord, Rina Martin, when trouble comes knocking at your door you really are going to have to learn to tell it to bugger off.
Matthew and Stephen had helped Stan to get undressed and had washed away the worst of the blood before helping him into bed on the sofa. It was very obvious he wouldn’t be able to make it up the stairs. The Peters sisters fussed around, finding the smoothest sheets and the softest blankets, and Eliza produced butterfly sutures Rina had no idea they possessed from a first aid box she had no idea existed, and eased together the cuts on Stan’s face.
She saw Rina looking at the box. ‘We decided we should be prepared,’ she said. ‘There’s been a lot of drama since Mac came to Frantham, so we thought we should put some proper survival kits together.’
Rina decided that now was not a good time to ask more, especially when Eliza went on to produce some very powerful-looking painkillers and insisted on examining Stan’s ribs.
He accepted the painkillers and reassured her about the ribs. Broken, but nothing he’d not endured before. He could still breathe; he just needed to rest.
Gently, Mac ushered everyone away and then drew up a chair next to the couch. ‘You should see a doctor. There might be internal bleeding.’
‘Might be, but I don’t think so. I’m not dead yet. If Santos had damaged my liver I’d have bled out by now. If he’d punctured a lung I’d still be lying on the roadside and I doubt I’d still be breathing. I just need to rest. Pass me my shirt, will you? Look in the pocket.’
Mac did as he asked. Puzzled, he looked at the name and number.
‘Someone put that into my pocket. Mean anything to you?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Mac frowned. ‘Why would anyone do that?’
Stan shook his head and closed his eyes.
‘So, tell me,’ Mac said. ‘What happened and what did Haines want you for?’
‘He wants me to get rid of Karen for him,’ Stan said. ‘And when I told him to spin on it he threatened her brother, George. I told him he must be soft in the head but he meant it, said I’d be free and clear if I did what he wanted; when I said no he threatened the boy.’
Stan’s head lolled sideways and when Mac called his name he didn’t respond. Whatever Eliza had given him, it was powerful stuff.
‘What do we do?’ Rina asked as she walked Mac through to the hall and he told her what Stan had said. ‘And does that number mean anything?’
Mac hesitated. ‘I’m going to talk to Kendall,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll take care of George.’
‘And the number?’
‘I’m not sure yet, Rina. Kendall said they’d got someone on the inside of Haines’s operation. It’s just possible—’
‘That it might be from him?’
TWENTY-FOUR
Mac returned to visit Stan early the following morning, Friday. He was sitting at the breakfast table, but it was pretty clear that even that was an effort. They helped him into the living room and back on to the sofa, and Mac went through the events of the previous day.
‘What I don’t get,’ he said at last, ‘is why Haines would want you to go after Karen. He has the resources to take care of her himself.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Stan said. ‘I think there might be two reasons. One is that he might be intending to go back to sea. He doesn’t like leaving people onshore, not unless he can spare a group of four or more. He reckons singletons and even pairs can start getting ideas into their heads. Haines likes to keep close track of his people. You never know who you can trust and he makes sure it stays that way. But I think the real reason might be that he’s overstretched. When I first got out I followed some of his people around for a while. Some I knew, but on separate occasions I counted four in all that I’d not seen before.’
‘That doesn’t mean they’re new to the organization,’ Mac argued. ‘You’ve been gone for a while.’
‘True, but you get to know how people behave around those they don’t know yet, don’t really know if they can rely upon. It’s not just with a group like Haines runs. It’s in the army, it’s everywhere. People act different around people they know well enough to watch their backs.’
It was an interesting theory, Mac thought, and if it was true that Haines was adding to the size of his operation, it kind
of fitted with the idea that Haines and Vashinsky were looking to increase their influence.
‘That note you found. Any ideas?’
Stan shook his head and grimaced with pain. ‘No, but there’s only a couple of people had the opportunity to put it in my pocket. Santos and Jerry, and my money’s on Jerry.’
‘Any particular reason?’
‘Santos is Haines’s man through and through. Been with him ten years or more.’
‘And Jerry Mason?’
‘Longer than me. About three years, maybe a bit less. Don’t know a lot about him, though. He was the quiet type. What Haines said, he did. Thick as pudding. Liked to take pictures, though. Knew all about cameras.’
‘What kind of pictures?’
Stan laughed and then very obviously wished he hadn’t. ‘Oh nothing like that. Landscape, mostly. Architecture. It was a bit of a joke. Not that you’d say anything to his face. Not if you didn’t want a fist in yours.’
Mac thought about that and what Kendall had told him earlier about their being an undercover officer in Haines’s crew. Assuming this Jerry was their man on the inside, what made him so sure that Stan would find his message and pass it along? If he was any good at his job – and if he’d survived for three years, Mac had to assume he was – then presumably he’d know a bit about Stan Holden and where he was staying, and so guess there was a chance the message, whatever it was, would end up in the right hands. It seemed a little desperate, though.
‘There’s one thing I don’t get,’ he said.
Stan lay back against the arm of the sofa. He looked bone weary. ‘And what’s that?’
‘If Haines wanted you to be effective against Karen – I mean, even assuming that would be possible – then why leave you in such bad shape? My bet is you can barely make it to the front door, never mind go haring off after psychopathic young women.’
Stan smiled weakly. ‘I think you’ll find she’s a sociopath,’ he said. ‘Not that I like to split hairs, but it strikes me she’s too capable of love and passion and all that crap to qualify as a psychopath. And as to the shape I’m in? Santos thought he’d add a few more bruises of his own after the boss had finished with me. Santos and I never did get along and he’s not the sort to play nice.’
‘Even if his boss wants you out there working for him?’
Stan was clearly amused, but just as clearly too much in pain to laugh now. ‘Santos knows I don’t have a cat in hell’s against Karen,’ Stan said, ‘and Haines knows it too, he’s just amusing himself. It’s what he does.’
He closed his eyes and Mac recognized he wouldn’t get anything more out of him that morning.
Rina met him in the hall. ‘Anything useful?’
‘Oh, bits and bobs. It’s hard to know at this stage. When do you see Karen’s solicitor?’
‘Monday afternoon.’
‘Good. Look, I’ve got to get going. I’ll give you a call later on.’
‘And what arrangements have you made to look after George? If Haines goes after him—’
‘I think that was just leverage. But I’m looking out for him, I promise. Let me know what the solicitor says.’
Rina nodded and saw him out. She was a little disappointed, truth be told, that Mac did not appear to be taking the Karen situation and the threat to George more seriously.
She went through to where Stan was now dozing on the sofa and woke him up.
‘How seriously do you view this threat to George?’ she demanded.
Stan groaned. ‘Rina, I don’t know.’ He took one look at her expression and decided he needed to do better than that. Painfully, he eased himself up into a sitting position. ‘Like I just said to Mac, I don’t think Karen’s a high priority, more of a bonus, and George, well, my guess is that at the moment Haines will hold off. He’ll wait, see what I do, see what Karen does. If we do nothing then he might decide to use George as incentive, but to be truthful, Rina, I never knew how to read the man. He conforms to his own pattern.’
Rina sat down in the fireside chair close to the sofa and leaned forward earnestly. ‘Stan, I need advice here. What should we do?’
He sighed. ‘What I had planned was to find Karen. The way I see it she probably knows more about the game that’s being played here than either we or that policeman of yours do. Frankly, I think I’d then let her call the shots. I don’t care if she kills Haines or any bugger else associated with him. I don’t much care if he gets to her first, but I do care about the boy. It seems to me he’s been through enough grief.’
‘Mac seems unwilling to do much.’
Stan shook his head. ‘Rina, he’s not going to tell you what his plans are, not while I’m living here. Far as Mac’s concerned I’m still the enemy. Oh, he may not show it, maybe doesn’t even think it, but we’ve been on opposite sides for so long he’s bound to act like it. So he won’t tell you anything you might accidentally let slip and tell to me. Don’t judge him, that’s just the way things are and he cares about what happens to young George just the way you do.
Rina nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said. ‘I’m constantly putting him in an awkward position. The solicitor must have some means of getting in touch with Karen,’ she reasoned. ‘He’s got to be our best bet. I suppose I ought to be careful what I tell Mac about that too. He’s not going to like me being involved.’
‘You’ll have to figure that one out as you go along,’ Stan said. ‘And let’s hope the solicitor has a means of contacting Karen, because frankly, Rina, I think I’m bugger all use to anyone right now.’
TWENTY-FIVE
A couple of days later, Andy let himself into the tiny police station on Frantham promenade. At the height of the holiday season it was usual for the office to be manned on a Sunday; Frank Baker, Andy and a couple of community support officers shared the duty on a rota system, but by September there was very little need. Andy closed the door and slipped into the office he shared with Frank.
So, it was another Sunday; he could have gone to his mother’s place or out with friends, but Andy knew he’d not be able to settle until he’d dealt with the next step in the investigation.
He needed to talk to the people who had really known Kath Eebry at the time of her disappearance, and that meant sifting through all the statements and interviews and media publicity that had been generated back then.
There was a depressing amount; on the other hand it meant that many people had cared about Kath.
She had a sister, it seemed. Andy hadn’t known about her. He jotted down the phone number and address and wondered why Ted and the girls had never mentioned her, or at least not that he could remember. There were a couple of work colleagues that had come forward with concerns, and one, a Terry Birch, had actually been the one to report Kath Eebry missing, worried she’d not been to work for a few days and had not been answering calls.
Andy read the statement carefully. This Terry Birch had been concerned enough to actually go round to the Eebry house, only to find the family departed on what turned out to be an extended holiday.
Was he the man Kath had been seeing? Two other work colleagues had come forward with their worries and both said that Kath had seemed anxious in the days before she disappeared. Andy realized he didn’t really know what Kath Eebry did. It looked, from the statements, that it was some kind of administration at a private language college in Exeter. She’d been there long enough for the other staff to regard her as a valued friend, that much was clear. And with Ted being self-employed, a regular wage would have been a useful thing, Andy reckoned.
‘So, when you lost that, how did you pay the mortgage, Ted? You only worked school hours, far as I can remember,’ Andy murmured. And in the summer, although he had taken the girls along with him to auctions and they had accompanied him to the markets, it must have been difficult juggling earning with childcare.
Andy flicked through the statements again, recalling something one of them had said. Someone else had asked that exact same
question. And the investigating officer had asked Ted Eebry. The answer was a simple one. There hadn’t been a mortgage. Kath Eebry had paid for the house out of the sale of her parents’ place when they had died.
Andy went through the documents and added to his list of names and numbers and addresses. Recalling his misadventures doing house to house earlier that week, he groaned at the thought of working through this lot, but needs must. That was what he was going to have to do.
TWENTY-SIX
On late Monday morning, Andy contrived to ‘bump into’ Stacey on her way home from the local playgroup. He knew her schedule, because he had bumped into her for real on the odd occasion.
He bent down to make a fuss of the little girl strapped into her buggy. ‘Hello, Tammy. Ah, who’s this?’ he asked as she presented him with a rather lopsided teddy bear. The ears were soggy where she’d been chewing on them.
Tammy giggled.
‘He’s just called Ted,’ Stacey said. ‘Like her toy cat and her favourite cushion. Everything she really likes is named after her grandad.’
Andy winced. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. He got up and fell into step beside her.
‘I hear you saw him?’
‘Yes, we had a cup of tea.’
‘And you asked about Mum.’
‘Yes. Stacey, I—’
‘It’s all right. Dad said you were just doing your job. He said you were really embarrassed about it.’
That was one way of putting it. Andy managed a smile. ‘It seemed really odd,’ he admitted. ‘How come he’s moving?’
‘Oh, I guess the bullying paid off in the end.’ She smiled. ‘It’s for his own good. At least, I hope it is,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I know he wants to be closer, he dotes on Tammy and that place is far too big for him now. He’s just rattling around there in a house full of memories and not all of them good—’ She broke off and looked away from Andy. Then carried on, ‘Hardest thing was finding somewhere he could afford with a big enough garden. You know what he’s like with his garden.’
Cause of Death Page 14
