Maybe five hundred kids always smelled like this.
‘Susan Best was a teacher who loved what she did,’ the headmaster said. ‘She had a gift for making learning fun, for making all her students keen to learn. Those of you lucky enough to have been in one of Miss Best’s classes will always remember her, and not just because of today. Not because of what’s happened. You’ll remember her because of the effect she had on you and because she was the kind of teacher that all pupils remember.’
Thorne glanced to his left. He wasn’t sure whether Nicola Tanner was staring at the headmaster or the picture on the screen behind him. Her hands were clasped together in her lap.
‘She was the teacher we all wish we’d had.’ The headmaster smiled and gathered up his notes. ‘One of those that stays with you.’
When he had finished, the head boy came up to talk about a charity they were setting up in Miss Best’s name. He urged his fellow students to put some of their pocket money into the buckets that would be going around afterwards. He was followed by the head girl, who told a funny story which made the younger kids laugh, then said, ‘She was called Miss Best and she was the best,’ which started a few of the older girls crying at the back of the hall. When the music teacher began playing the piano they got to their feet and hugged one another, then sobbed their way through a hymn and an old Pete Seeger song.
‘How Great Thou Art’.
‘Turn, Turn, Turn’.
Thorne mumbled, as self-conscious as singing always made him – unless he was drunk or howling along with Hank Williams in the car – while Tanner sang loudly next to him; her voice high and tuneful, both hands clutching the single sheet of paper that had been laid on every chair. The lyrics to the songs and the same photograph of Susan Best that was being displayed on the screen. Thorne guessed that Tanner had provided it, and he wondered if she had chosen the music, too.
Her favourites, or Susan’s.
He wondered why she didn’t reach for the tissues that he knew were in her handbag. Or use a sleeve. Why she didn’t let go of that piece of paper, not even for a second, to wipe away the tears that were pooling and threatening to spill.
Instead, she faced forward and sang, unaware that next to her, Thorne was almost tempted to lean across and wipe them away himself.
Afterwards, the headmaster led them to Susan’s classroom, where some of the kids she’d been teaching at the time of her death were waiting to make a small presentation.
Walking a few paces behind the headmaster, Tanner said, ‘Thanks again for doing this.’
‘Not a problem,’ Thorne said.
‘I’m grateful, really.’
She had asked him only three days earlier; the same day they had interviewed Sarah Webster and Danny Mirza. The day that Sarah had dropped the bombshell about Kamal.
‘There’s this thing,’ Tanner had said.
‘Thing?’
‘Susan’s school. A memorial kind of thing. A bit weird I know, considering we haven’t even had a funeral yet, but they’re keen to do something, so…’
Thorne had nodded. The funeral could not take place until the body was released and that was unlikely to happen while the official investigation into Susan Best’s murder was still ongoing. He and Tanner both knew that while those investigating remained unaware of the existence of a particular pair of hired killers, it would be ongoing for a good while yet.
That was something he and Tanner needed to talk about.
‘So, when is it?’
‘A couple of days,’ Tanner had said. ‘I’m not really sure how I feel about it, to tell you the truth.’
‘Oh.’ Thorne did not yet know Tanner quite well enough to be surprised at how she felt about anything, but he thought what the school was planning sounded nice. Then he began to wonder why Tanner was telling him about it.
‘Thing is, it’s a long way for Susan’s mum and dad to come. So, at the moment, it’s just me.’
Thorne looked at her.
‘How would you feel about going with me?’ She did not give him time to hesitate. ‘Susan wasn’t… out, you see. I mean obviously the other members of staff knew, well most of them, but not the kids. No point giving some of those little buggers a stick to beat you with, is there?’
‘I suppose not.’ Thorne remembered a chemistry teacher he and his classmates had decided was gay. He remembered the nicknames and the stupid rhymes, the stammering and the red face. It wasn’t a memory he was proud of, or that he’d ever shared with Phil Hendricks.
‘I’d just feel a bit happier going with somebody else,’ Tanner had told him. ‘That’s all. It avoids… questions, you know? Awkwardness.’
‘So, who are they going to think I am? Or you, come to that?’
Tanner had shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about Thorne’s worries now that she had his tacit agreement to accompany her. ‘Well, we’re… friends, and we’re there because we’re Susan’s friends.’
‘Friends?’
‘Yes.’ She had smiled then, and quickly turned away to do something else, but not before Thorne had seen the mask slip a little.
Inside the classroom, the headmaster said a few words to the dozen or so fourteen-year-olds who were waiting in silence, reminding them about the prearranged procedure and the fact that a counsellor was on hand in the nurse’s office for a day or two, in case any of them were still upset and wanted to talk about how they were feeling. Then, having been introduced as a ‘close friend of Miss Best’, Tanner sat down at what had been Susan’s desk. She inched her chair carefully forward and her knees underneath. Standing behind her, Thorne watched as she moved her hands slowly across the surface of the desk, careful to cover each scratch or indentation in the wood.
Her hands where her lover’s might once have been.
She didn’t look up until the headmaster gave a signal and the first child stepped forward.
There were poems and cards and small bunches of flowers. A collage of leaves and seashells signed by everyone in the class. One by one, the children approached, said ‘Sorry’ and handed something across the desk. Tanner took the gifts and arranged them neatly, nodding her thanks and passing a tissue to any child who needed one.
There were several packs in her handbag.
Towards the end, a tall, blond-haired boy stepped forward and handed over a picture he had painted. A woman with a shock of dark curly hair and a crooked smile. The gap in her teeth a little bigger perhaps than it had been, a few too many freckles against livid pink skin.
Tanner looked up from the picture and saw that the boy was studying her. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That’s really nice.’
The boy nodded, as if he knew how nice it was. ‘She was your girlfriend, wasn’t she? Miss Best.’
Thorne saw Tanner stiffen a little. Clearly, Susan had not been quite as discreet as they had thought. The headmaster must have seen it too, because he leaned across to Thorne and whispered, ‘Ryan Smedley. He’s a very bright boy.’
Tanner tried to smooth out the wrinkles on the picture where the paint had hardened, then laid it down gently next to all the other offerings. She looked up at the boy who was waiting patiently; several other children restless in the queue behind him.
‘Yes,’ Tanner said. ‘She was.’
TWENTY
They ordered a takeaway from a curry house near to Helen’s flat. It had been her idea to invite Nicola Tanner, then Thorne’s to ask Phil Hendricks along. Hendricks had tried to tempt them all across the river, so that they could order from his and Tom’s favourite restaurant in Kentish Town, but Helen had pointed out that it wasn’t worth organising a babysitter on the off-chance they might get a couple of pappadoms on the house.
‘It’s OK, I suppose,’ Hendricks said, when they began to eat. He looked at Thorne. ‘Not the Bengal Lancer, though.’
Thorne shook his head sadly, mouth full.
Helen rolled her eyes. ‘Let it go.’
‘Nicola doesn’t know what she’s missing,
that’s all.’
‘Tastes great to me,’ Tanner said. ‘I’ve been more or less living on cheese on toast for weeks.’ She looked at Helen. ‘I wasn’t really the one that did the cooking.’
Helen took the reference to Susan as an opportunity to ask how things had gone at the school. She had watched Thorne get ready that morning, pulling out the suit he had last worn at the Heather Finlay murder trial. She had laughed as he had flopped on to the bed, complaining about being Nicola Tanner’s ‘beard’. She had told him that, if anything, he should be flattered to be asked.
‘Hasn’t she got any friends she could ask?’ Thorne had pulled a face at the unbearable agony of fastening the top button of his shirt. ‘I know she’s got brothers.’
Helen had handed him his tie on the way out of the bedroom. ‘Maybe they were all busy.’
‘It was fine,’ Tanner said now, helping herself to rice. ‘The kids were nice.’
‘Great that they wanted to do that.’ Helen said.
‘Yes, it was.’
‘To remember her, you know?’
Tanner took another spoonful and it seemed clear that, for the time being at least, she had said as much as she wanted about the memorial for her late partner. Instead she asked Helen about work and soon the four of them were swapping tales of colleagues they had in common or had once crossed paths with.
A custody sergeant who had smoked some ‘evidence’ and driven his car through the front window of Vision Express.
A DC who was into rubber.
A DCI who had hanged himself in his garage.
When the leftovers had been put into the fridge and the four of them were at the table with beer or coffee, Tanner said, ‘Makes sense, him being gay.’
‘I think it makes sense that everyone’s gay,’ Hendricks said.
Thorne laughed, but Tanner didn’t look at either of them. ‘Kamal.’
‘Oh, right.’ Hendricks grinned and winked at Thorne.
‘They were saving each other,’ Tanner said. ‘Amaya and Kamal. I wouldn’t lay money against Amaya’s parents’ having someone lined up for her and we know Kamal was promised to this family in Bangladesh. God knows how much trouble he’d have been in if they’d found out the real reason he didn’t want to marry the girl back home. I’ve seen honour killings where the victim was murdered simply because they were gay.’ Now, she looked at Hendricks.
He stared down at his beer can, every trace of mischief gone from his expression.
‘So, they marry each other,’ Thorne said. ‘Once it’s done and they’re settled, they’re free to lead the lives they want.’
‘Right, but the families get wind of it. So the word goes out.’
‘Isn’t it possible though that Kamal’s family didn’t know about him being gay?’ Thorne looked to the others, then back to Tanner. ‘Everything you’ve told me about this stuff, it’s likely that Kamal would be targeted by the Shahs anyway, just because he’s run away with their daughter.’
Tanner shook her head. ‘I think there’s every chance that both families are in it together.’
‘Really?’
‘Why not? The relationship is unacceptable to the Shahs and the Azims, so they join forces. Come up with the money together.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Helen said. ‘This is horrible.’
They all turned to look at her. Helen’s own job on a Child Protection Unit meant that she came across crimes that were deeply disturbing on an almost daily basis, so the fact that even she was appalled at what she was hearing was enough to give everyone pause.
‘We need to go at them,’ Tanner said. ‘Be a bit more proactive. I think Amaya’s brother is a good place to start.’
Thorne put down his drink. ‘Hang on —’
‘You heard what Sarah Webster said.’
‘I know.’
‘He was the one Amaya was really scared of.’
‘I’m not arguing with you.’ Thorne took a moment once he had everyone’s attention. ‘I just think everything’s getting a bit messed up here. We’ve got a team in Hammersmith looking into Susan’s murder, right? They’re busy checking out people you might have put away, anyone who might have a grudge against you, whatever, and we know they’re looking in the wrong places —’
‘That can’t be helped —’
‘They’re wasting their time, which apart from anything else is pissing away time and money for no good reason.’
‘Like I said —’
‘Then we’ve got my investigation into Amaya Shah’s murder, which nobody knows is connected and which my boss thinks is all about tracking down Kamal Azim, who is still technically our prime suspect.’
‘Technically.’
‘Yeah, but whichever way you look at it, we’re withholding crucial information which could help catch the men we know are responsible for killing Susan.’
‘So, tell your boss.’ Tanner’s voice dropped. She sounded sulky. ‘If you really think you need to.’
‘Isn’t that what you want?’ Thorne leaned towards her. ‘To catch them?’
‘Obviously.’
‘I mean, I don’t want to sound stupid, but I thought that was the whole point.’
Tanner sat back and studied him. When she spoke again there was something close to a challenge in her tone. A dare. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble.’
‘Why don’t I talk to the Honour Crimes Unit, at least?’ Thorne looked to Helen and Hendricks for support, but both were looking elsewhere, seemingly content to let Thorne and Tanner argue this one out.
‘Good luck with that,’ Tanner said.
‘I might be able to get them on board without rattling too many cages.’
‘No chance.’
‘Worth a try though.’
Tanner shook her head. ‘I went to them with all this before what happened to Susan. Remember what I told you? Those “delicate sensibilities”?’
It was Hendricks that broke the silence. He nudged Thorne and said, ‘Listen to you. Since when were you bothered about wasting anyone’s time or money? Keeping the brass up to speed?’ He smiled, happy as always to be the one with the smartarse remarks when things threatened to darken. ‘It’s like me sleeping with Kylie Minogue.’ He cocked his head theatrically. ‘Having said that, I probably would sleep with Kylie Minogue. I bet she’s awesome at spooning.’
Helen smiled. ‘Better than Liam?’
‘Liam needs to cut his bloody toenails.’
‘Do whatever you think is best.’ Tanner had not taken her eyes off Thorne. ‘But I’m going to talk to Amaya’s brother.’
For the remaining few minutes they were at the table, the jokey exchange between Helen and Hendricks nudged Thorne’s somewhat testy conversation with Tanner to one side. Helen got up to clear the plates away and Tanner moved quickly to help. They loaded the dishwasher together, then stood for a few minutes talking about Alfie, who had helpfully stayed asleep since Helen had put him to bed a couple of hours before.
From there, Tanner walked into the hall to get her coat and Hendricks announced that he too had better be heading home. Thorne seemed keen for his friend to stay a while longer, perhaps to talk about what Tanner had said, but Hendricks told him there were several corpses who would need his best endeavours first thing the following morning.
At the door, Tanner thanked Helen, and said, ‘He was great in that school today. Your old man.’
‘Yeah.’ Helen glanced at Thorne, who was still sitting at the table, nursing a can of beer. ‘Miserable old sod usually comes through when he has to.’
‘The singing needs a bit of work though.’
Hendricks said, ‘You should see him dance.’
When they had gone, Helen said, ‘I get what she’s doing.’
‘I’m glad somebody does.’
‘She doesn’t really care about the official investigation into Susan’s death because she’s excluded from it.’ She took a bottle of water from the fridge and poured herself a glass. ‘I had the
same thing with Paul, which is why I had to find out how he was killed myself. Tanner needs to feel like she’s part of what’s happening.’
‘I understand that,’ Thorne said. ‘It’s the “what’s happening” bit I’m trying to sort out, that’s all. That’s what I was trying to tell her.’
‘It’s a way of putting off the grief, as well.’ Helen drank, leaning back against the worktop. ‘Throwing yourself into something. You can kid yourself you’ve dealt with it, you know? Until it comes back later on to bite you in the arse.’
‘Yeah.’ Thorne saw the look on Helen’s face and understood that, once again, she knew exactly what she was talking about. He watched her rinse out the glass, then walk out into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. A last check on Alfie before bedtime. When she reappeared, she said, ‘So, are you going to talk to the Honour Crimes lot?’
Thorne got up and walked into the kitchen. He drained his beer can and dropped it into the bin. ‘I don’t know.’
Helen sighed, fished the can out and threw it into the recycling box under the sink.
‘Sorry,’ Thorne said.
The truth was that only twenty minutes after suggesting they talk to the Honour Crimes Unit he was already having doubts of his own. He understood Tanner’s lack of enthusiasm better than she thought he did, because there was at least one part of the investigation he himself was reluctant to hand over.
One victim.
He might well pay the HCU a visit, but not yet.
There was someone else he wanted to talk to first.
Outside, standing by Tanner’s car, Hendricks said, ‘You sounded like you were disappointed in there.’
‘Did I?’
‘Disappointed in him.’
Tanner keyed the remote and unlocked her car. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘Not living up to your expectations?’
‘Presuming I had any.’
Hendricks nodded, fingered his own car keys. ‘I’m guessing that you checked up on him before you asked him to help you with all this. Decided he ticks all the right boxes. Cutting corners when he needs to, doing whatever it takes to get the right result, all that. Bolshie, with a nice fat file at the Directorate of Professional Standards. Right up your street.’
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