by James Green
Jimmy didn’t care if she was sorry. He cared that Philomena was dead.
‘Do you think the hit-and-run was an accident?’
‘I have no idea.’ Jimmy believed her. She wouldn’t play any of her devious games with this. ‘Why would anyone want to kill her?’
Jimmy had the answer to that.
‘For the same reason someone strangled the Gray woman.’
The phone went silent for a second.
‘When?’
‘Last night, early this morning.’
‘Get out, Mr Costello. Leave tomorrow morning and come back to Rome at once.’
‘No.’
‘Mr. Costello, three people are dead and they’re all connected. We now know Sr Gray was definitely murdered so the death of Marvin Brinkmeyer, whatever the apparent circumstances, may very well turn out to be murder as well.’
‘And Philomena?’
‘Hit-and-run is not a certain way of killing,’ there was a pause, ‘but after what you have just told me I think it may well have been deliberate.’ She waited but Jimmy said nothing. She knew he was thinking and she was worried by what he might be thinking. ‘Get out and come back to Rome. Whatever is going on will be dealt with by others. All you can do on your own is put yourself in danger. This thing is not going at all as I had hoped. There have been developments I had not anticipated.’
As Jimmy listened he realised that she knew something, something new that she wasn’t telling him. That meant the letter.
‘What did the letter say?’
‘It was about some young woman who had recently come to the refuge. She claimed to know Sr Gray. Here’s the bit I think you need to hear.
I didn’t like her, there is something wrong about her. But you remember how bad a judge I can be, I thought Janine was such a wonderful girl. Her name is Laura and she is from Vancouver, she is at the university doing some sort of research. But she really does know Sr Gray and she said she knew Marvin Brinkmeyer. In fact I got the impression she is trying to find out what I know. I didn’t tell her much but I think she has guessed I know more than I told her. She’s been here three days, a willing worker and strong, but I’ll be glad when she leaves tomorrow. Maybe it’s nothing but please be careful, Jimmy. Remember, young women can be just as dangerous as anybody else. She’s late twenties, short black hair, glasses, rather a plain girl. As I say, it is probably me being over-imaginative but as I was the one who got you involved I thought I should…
Is that enough?’
‘It’s enough.’
‘Have you met her, this Laura?’
‘Yes, today. She was one of the three that Gray lined up to see me. The police were at the chaplaincy when I went there so I didn’t expect to see anybody but she’d made a point of waiting for me. We went for a coffee and talked. I thought I was questioning her but now I think about it she did a pretty good job of questioning me.’
‘That settles it. You have to leave.’
‘Not yet.’
‘Mr Costello, please understand…’
‘Get me a meeting as soon as you can with the diocesan bloke.’
‘Felton Crosby?’
‘Yes. Try to make it tomorrow or the next day at the latest.’
‘I think this whole thing has gone beyond any…’
But Jimmy cut off the call and switched off the phone. After a couple of minutes his room phone rang, he ignored it and it stopped. After a few minutes he picked it up and dialled reception.
‘How do I get in touch with the police?’
‘An enquiry or an emergency?’
‘An enquiry.’
Reception explained.
‘Thanks.’
He dialled the number he had been given.
‘My name is Costello, James Costello. Two officers interviewed me this morning in connection with the murder of a Sr Gray at the chaplaincy attached to St Nicodemus church. Would it be possible to get a message to one of them, a Detective Constable Liu? Yes I’ll wait.’ When he got a voice he gave it the same message, and once again waited while once again he was transferred. The third voice was more helpful, it could take the message. ‘I have no idea if it’s important but I have some information which I forgot to give him this morning. It may be nothing but I’d like to tell him anyway. No, I think I’d rather give him the information personally, it’s a little complicated. My name is Costello, James Costello, and I’m staying at the Rosedale on Robson. Thank you.’
He put the phone down and went to the kitchen area, and looked at the broken glass and the remains of the vomit in the sink. He pulled some sheets off the kitchen roll and carefully began to collect up the broken glass. He was glad to have something to do. As he collected the shards of broken glass he thought about Philomena and suddenly he found the words of his childhood - and of most of his adult life - automatically coming into his head: May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God -
But there he stopped them. He thought of his wife. She had believed in God, but God hadn’t been merciful to her. Jimmy had sat at her hospital bedside while she died of cancer. And their son Michael had believed, believed enough to become a missionary priest. But God had let him die as well, in some God-forsaken part of Africa. And Sanchez, did she believe in God? If she did he hadn’t helped her. God hadn’t done anything to stop Harry Mercer putting two bullets in her. Now Philomena, who’d given her life to God, was dead.
No, God didn’t protect, and God didn’t punish. Jimmy dropped the rolled-up parcel of broken glass into the waste basket then rinsed out the sink. Well, if it was too late to protect it wasn’t too late to punish, especially as now he knew who it was that should be punished. Laura. Lesbian bloody Laura. She was in the right place for two murders and for Jimmy that was enough, he didn’t need any more evidence. It was Laura alright.
He looked at the whiskey bottle standing next to the sink. He didn’t like whiskey but there was one more drink in it. He picked up the bottle and poured what was in it into the sink then dropped the bottle into the bin. There was nothing he could do now except wait until the police contacted him. If Liu’s crack about Chinatown meant anything the call would come as soon as he got the message, but there was no way of knowing how long that would be. Jimmy looked at his watch, it was nine twenty and he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t eaten. But he didn’t feel hungry, he felt tired. If Liu got the message it wouldn’t be until tomorrow.
He took another glass from the cupboard, filled it with water and washed out his mouth a couple of times to get rid of the taste of the vomit from his mouth, then he went into the bedroom, got undressed and got into bed. Lying in the dark, in the silence of his head, he formed the words he had been unable to finish before. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Then he said it out loud to the empty bedroom.
‘Amen.’
It wasn’t much but Philomena would expect it. She would also expect a Mass and some candles. She’d get them. Jimmy let his mind wander, but it didn’t wander far.
Who was left to say the prayers for his eternal rest when the time came? Who would light the candles or have a Mass said? The answer was as simple as the question. No one, no one at all.
Chapter Twenty
Jimmy was getting ready to go down to breakfast when the phone rang.
‘Costello speaking.’
‘This is Detective Liu. I got a message that you had some information for me concerning the death of Sr Lucy Gray.’
‘That’s right. Are you in your office?’
‘Where I am is not your concern, Mr Costello.’
‘It’s OK to talk?’
‘I have contacted you as you asked. If you have information for me I strongly urge you to give it. Obstructing the police, as you are well aware, is a serious offence.’
Liu was doing it by the book, which was just how Jimmy would have done it in his place. He still made one more try.
‘Can we meet bu
t keep it unofficial for the time being, keep it just to you and me?’
‘I can meet you if you have information material to the case of Sr Gray’s death. How I treat our meeting and anything you tell me will depend on what you say when we meet.’
‘OK, we’ll do it any way you say.’
‘I’ll be free at eleven fifteen. I’ll come to the bar at the Rosedale.’
‘Thanks, I’ll see you then. I’ll wait in the bar.’
Jimmy went down to reception. The young man behind the desk smiled at him.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Where’s the nearest Catholic church?’
‘I don’t know but I’m sure I could find out.’
‘Thanks. I’m going to have breakfast now. I’ll pick up the information when I’m finished.’
‘Certainly. Enjoy your breakfast.’
‘Thanks.’
Jimmy didn’t feel like any breakfast but he ordered coffee so he could sit by himself and think. Philomena’s death had changed things. It meant he couldn’t leave it alone, now he wanted to get a result and the result he wanted was to nail Laura Lawrence. If she had killed Philomena and Sr Gray it meant that somehow, God knew how, she might have killed Marvin Brinkmeyer. That had to be kept open as a possibility. Another possibility, more likely, was that they were both involved in something and it was so serious that, rather than face the consequences, he’d chosen to kill himself. She, on the other hand, had chosen to kill other people. If the police and a jail sentence were the consequences, Brinkmeyer might have topped himself rather than doing a long stretch. Topping yourself even before you got arrested wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t as common as it happening on remand or while waiting for sentencing. The last possibility, and it was a long shot, was that whatever they were up to was nasty and that his conscience had caught up with him. But it was a very long, long shot.
So, what sort of thing fitted the bill? Drugs would do, and sex might be enough if it was blackmail and the mark was important enough. But from what Gray had told him neither seemed likely. Then again, had she known him that well? Probably not. She only knew the Marvin who came to the chaplaincy, and even then only what he told her. Jimmy dismissed the idea of getting in touch again with the father. He knew nothing.
And then there was Laura Lawrence. She knew Marvin Brinkmeyer, she knew Gray, and she’d pumped Philomena about the suicide and what the Gray woman thought, and as soon as she’d got what she wanted, Philomena got hit by the car. God, she must be an ice-cold bastard, with two killings under her belt and maybe Brinkmeyer as well, she hangs about at the murder scene so she can pump me and see where I fitted in. That must have taken some nerve. But if Laura was the killer and she was tied up with Brinkmeyer in something, where did the chaplaincy come into things? Why did she take Brinkmeyer there in the first place? He didn’t see how it could be a cover for them - and if it wasn’t a cover and Marvin Brinkmeyer had been serious about the Catholic thing and becoming a priest, then he didn’t fit as somebody who was into serious crime, and certainly not someone who was about to kill himself.
Which brought Jimmy back to where he’d started, the possibility that it was murder not suicide. He pushed his cup away. When you found you’ve gone round in a complete circle it’s time to do something different.
He looked at his watch. It was ten past ten. Time to get going, but before he could get up his phone rang.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you coming back to Rome?’
‘No.’
‘You know there is nothing I can do to help you there. I can offer you no support of any kind.’
‘I know.’
‘Would it do any good to talk about this?’
‘When I know what this is all about I’ll be in touch and you can talk then if you like. Did you get in touch with the bloke at the diocese?’
‘Yes, he’s expecting your call.’
‘There something else I’d like you to do for me.’
‘I can’t help you, Mr Costello, I’ve told you my hands are -’
‘Get a Mass said for Philomena.’
‘I see. Certainly.’
‘Thanks.’
Jimmy put his phone away and headed for the reception. There was no one on the desk, so he waited and after a few minutes the young man came out and smiled at him.
‘I have what you want, Mr Costello. He reached under the desk and pulled out a street map. He unfolded it and pointed. ‘That’s us, the Robson, you go along here and turn…’
Jimmy saw that a church had been marked.
‘That’s fine, I’ll sort it out myself. I feel like a walk.’
‘Of course.’
Jimmy took the map and folded it so he could see the streets he wanted and left the hotel. He took a look at the map and headed off.
The church, when he arrived, was pretty much the same as most other Catholic churches, a big main altar at the far end from the doors with pillars separating the side aisles from the rows of pews which filled the main body of the place. Jimmy went to one of pillars, where there was a statue and below it the inevitable stand for candles. There were only two women in the church, sitting quietly well away from each other and looking straight at the main altar. The church might have been almost empty, but there were several candles already lit. Always plenty of candles alight in a Catholic church, always people asking for something. Jimmy pulled out his wallet and put a note into the slot of the box below the candles. He picked up a bunch of candles and began to light them one by one. The number of candles didn’t matter, nor how much money you put in, what mattered was that you believed. But he didn’t believe - at least, he wasn’t sure, maybe he did, sometimes. Or maybe that was him hoping he could believe, one day, one day before…
He’d put in a high-denomination note so he took another handful of candles and began to light them. Believing was what mattered, but in the absence of belief use a big bill and plenty of candles. When he was finished he looked up at the sightless eyes of the statue. It was a woman, Our Lady, the Mother of Jesus.
‘Now it’s your job to look after her. Get it done.’
Jimmy turned away and left the church. He walked back to the hotel, went into the bar and sat down. Liu had played it by the book over the phone and that might be the way he wanted it to stay. But he’d made a point of telling Jimmy not to miss Chinatown, so maybe he’d just wanted it to sound that way if he’d had company when he made the call.
At ten to eleven a man came in with a newspaper, sat down and began to read. At eleven prompt, the shutter of the bar went up and the barman began to do whatever it is bar staff do when they open. Two women came in, one went to the bar and the other sat down. The one at the bar finished ordering and joined her friend. Jimmy waited. After a few minutes the barman came to the women’s table with coffee.
At eleven thirty-five Liu walked in and came across to Jimmy’s table.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jimmy stood up.
‘Thank you for coming, Detective. We can talk here or we could go up to my suite.’
‘Come with me, Mr Costello. I’ll take us somewhere we can talk.’
‘The police station?’
‘No.’
‘OK, wherever you say, it’s your town.’
They left the hotel and got into Liu’s car.
‘I’m taking you to Chinatown. I told you to make sure to see it, remember?’
‘I remember. Was that supposed to mean anything?’
‘Did you think it meant anything?’
‘I thought it might.’
‘Then it might have meant something.’
Was that him being inscrutable again? Jimmy couldn’t tell.
‘Anywhere special?’
‘Just a small bar-restaurant. We could eat or have a drink or just talk.’
‘Won’t we stick out a bit if we just sit and talk?’
‘No. I often go there to just sit and talk.’
‘If you say so, it’s still
your town.’
They drove on in silence until they were in Chinatown. Liu had been right, it was something special. The buildings, except where some modern skyscraper shot up, gave the impression of a chaotic, permanent fun-fair. From the second storey up you could see that the majority looked Victorian, but at street level it was all brightly coloured shop awnings, electric signs, flags and posters, and everywhere signs in large Chinese characters - spelling out nothing to Jimmy, but obviously much more than mere decoration. Above the streets, along them and across them, power-lines criss-crossed the roadways. It was as if the whole place had been run up in a hurry and had become a fixture by accident more than design. But despite the impression it all gave to Jimmy of something from a film or a stage set he could see that no one here was playing at being Chinese. It might be a big pull with the tourists but that didn’t stop it being the real thing.
The traffic moved slowly through the crowded, bustling main streets and eventually Liu turned the car into one of the many even more crowded side streets, where pedestrians seemed to have right of way by sheer force of numbers. He drove even more slowly and finally pulled in outside a small bar-restaurant.
‘This is it.’
‘Can you just park here?’
But Liu ignored the question and got out so Jimmy followed. He noticed Liu hadn’t bothered to lock the car. Either he was very careless or very confident.
On one side of the restaurant entrance there were about eight tables where people were already sitting and eating. On the other side was a bar with about the same number of tables, where people were talking and drinking. It wasn’t full but it was quite busy. Jimmy noticed that all of the customers were Oriental and the voices he heard weren’t speaking English.
Liu turned to him.
‘Eat, drink or just talk?’
‘Eat. I didn’t have any breakfast and I could do with something now.’
Liu went across to a table in the dining side and they sat down. Out of nowhere a waitress was suddenly by their side. She had a big smile on her face and said something in Chinese to Liu. Liu smiled back and answered in Chinese, then looked at Jimmy.
