Paint It Black

by Mark Timlin

  ‘I believe that could be construed as a sexist remark. If I said, “You women” I’d get a clout from every politically correct arsehole in the room.’

  ‘This isn’t a room, it’s a car. And we’re all alone.’

  ‘I stand corrected.’

  I looked over and she was smiling. ‘Don’t change the subject,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a fan and you love it.’

  I smiled back. ‘Still got it, babe. That old magic something that knocks the women dead.’

  ‘Well keep it locked up, or I might get jealous and cut it off.’

  ‘Christ, Dawn. She’s only fourteen.’

  ‘A dangerous age, Holmes.’ Then she took my hand. ‘But I must say I’m quite proud of you. You did very well, finding them.’

  ‘We,’ I corrected her. ‘You’re not too bad yourself, the way you clouted that geezer in the belly at the camp.’

  ‘I enjoyed it.’

  I drove straight back to Charlie’s car lot. He was standing, leaning on the bonnet of a 7 Series BMW as I drove up. He took one look at the Range Rover and his face fell.

  ‘Morning, Charles,’ I said as I dismounted from the driver’s side.

  ‘Don’t “morning” me,’ he said, looking at the front of the motor. ‘What the fuck have you been doing?’

  ‘You haven’t seen the back,’ I said.

  When he walked round his face went bright red and when he spoke his voice was apoplectic. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Slight altercation with the landed . . . well, I won’t say gentry. But they were packing shooters.’

  ‘Do you know how much this is going to cost?’

  ‘Put it down to me.’

  ‘Put it down to you.’

  ‘Yes. I’d blame the wife’s driving, if she wasn’t here.’

  ‘Christ, Nick.’

  ‘Just a joke, Charles,’ I said. ‘Where’s your sense of humour gone?’

  ‘Same place as the profit on this motor,’ he moaned.

  ‘We got the girls back,’ said Dawn, who’d got out of the passenger side. ‘I knew you’d be delighted to hear that, Charlie.’ I think I might have mentioned that Dawn can get a little sarky from time to time.

  He looked up at her and then at me. ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yeah. Would you rather Judith had collected the rounds?’ That was Dawn again.

  ‘No,’ he replied.

  ‘Listen, mate. I’m sorry about the motor,’ I said quickly. I didn’t want World War Three on my hands over a car. ‘But it saved our necks. Get it fixed and I’ll stand for it, plus any reasonable amount for loss of business.’

  He nodded. ‘Are they all right?’ he asked. ‘The girls?’

  ‘As rain,’ I said.

  ‘Good. Sorry, Nick, sorry, Dawn. It’s only scrap iron after all.’

  ‘No, mate,’ I said. ‘It’s your living. I shouldn’t mess about with it.’

  ‘What the hell? It’ll be right as rain in a couple of days. And talking of scrap iron, I suppose you want your motor back?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Dave,’ he called.

  A voice replied from out back. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Bring round the Batmobile, will you? Bruce Wayne is back.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ the voice said, and within a minute the Chevy arrived dribbling grey smoke from its exhaust.

  ‘Hello, Mr Sharman, Mrs Sharman,’ said Dave. ‘Have a nice time in the country?’ Then he saw the state of the Vogue and he grinned. ‘I see that you did.’

  ‘Shut up, Dave,’ said Charlie. ‘Haven’t you got a car to clean?’

  Dawn and I drove back to the flat, and from there I rang Chas.

  ‘Not a word has been mentioned about you,’ he said when I’d told him what happened in Banbury, after I’d got his promise it would go no further. We go back far enough to know that our promises to each other are good.

  ‘Let’s keep it that way,’ I said.

  ‘If you want,’ he said back. ‘She’s not going to make a habit of it, I hope. Or her friend.’

  ‘Me too. But I think she might have learned her lesson. The other one I’m not so sure about.’

  ‘Well, if you need a missing persons story any time, just let me know.’

  ‘I hope I don’t,’ I said and hung up.

  So that just left Robber. I’d made him the last call because I knew that I was in for a bollocking and I wasn’t wrong. When I got him on the line, he said, ‘Where are you?’

  ‘At home.’

  ‘Get in here now.’ And he left me holding the dead dog.

  Dawn drove the car, and parked up in a block of flats opposite the police station where a notice on the wall threatened the clamp for any car left unattended without a permit. I fancied I was in for the rack myself, kissed her on the mouth, and went over to the red-brick building where Old Bill did their business.

  The desk sergeant called Robber up on the phone, then buzzed me through the security door, and the inspector met me at the foot of the stairs that led up to the canteen and the CID offices.

  ‘You prat,’ he said as he led the way up. ‘You silly, stupid prat.’

  ‘What did I do that was so bad?’ I asked when we were sitting down on opposite sides of his paper-strewn desk.

  ‘You did what you always do,’ he said. And the way that he said it, tiredly, made me suddenly feel sorry for the man in late middle age, dressed in a bad suit, sitting in front of me. ‘You got involved in something that was none of your business.’

  ‘It was my daughter,’ I protested.

  ‘OK, Sharman,’ he said. ‘It was your daughter, and from what I hear you could’ve got her killed up there in Banbury, yesterday.’

  ‘What did you hear?’ I asked.

  ‘I hear that the gunfight at the OK Corral was replayed in a field just outside of town last night.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘It’s my job.’

  I shrugged. ‘You win,’ I said. ‘I almost blew it, but I got them out.’

  ‘More by luck than judgement, from what I could ascertain from the local CID.’

  ‘But I did it.’

  ‘Yes, you did. And you know that I should charge you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Let me name the many and various ways: obstructing the police in the course of their duties, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, ABH, dangerous driving, destruction of private property. Do you want me to go on?’

  I held up my arms, fists clenched, wrists together, as if waiting to be handcuffed. ‘Book ’m, Danno,’ I said.

  He almost smiled, but not quite. ‘But I had a word with an old pal of mine who’s a chief super up there.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And they’re prepared to forget the charges. Apparently you prevented quite a nasty incident taking place. The hijacking of a band of travellers by some armed vigilantes.’

  ‘Who told them that?’

  ‘A couple of the travellers and one very frightened vigilante who couldn’t wait to make a clean breast of it at the nearest police station.’

  ‘I bet he was wearing a Barbour,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. So am I forgiven?’ I asked.

  He almost smiled for a second time. Once again, not quite, but almost. ‘Get out of here,’ he said.

  So I went.

  So that was that. As far as I was concerned it was the end of the case of the detective’s missing daughter. But, as so often in my life, I was wrong. Probably more wrong than I’d ever been before.

  part two

  pills

  By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.

  Macbeth

  So that was that.

  The next six weeks or so were quiet. I spoke to Judith a lot, and Laura too. Judith seemed to be getting on better with her mother, which was good. She seemed to be getting on not so well with Louis. Deep in my heart of hearts, where dark things stir, I thought that was good too. I had never like
d the man who’d taken my wife and daughter away from me and I never would. Not that I shared that information with anyone. Not even Dawn. Especially Dawn. I just kept it locked away where it could do no one any harm. Except maybe me.

  Judith was still seeing Paula. But not as much as previously. Laura had said that it was all right for them to be friends, and as was inevitable, as soon as it was OK with mum, Judith didn’t want to do it so much any more. Kids! I ask you.

  But they were still mates. Still met on Saturday afternoons in the shopping mall. But as Judith told me several times, she was busy studying and she just didn’t have enough time for a social life.

  Then, on another quiet Sunday night at the end of September I got a phone call from my daughter and things would never be the same again.

  Never.

  Not in this world, or the next if there is one.

  Dawn and I had spent another of a series of lazy days together as the late summer turned to autumn and the leaves started to fall in the street outside our flat. It was eight-thirty. I think about it often now and there was a silly cop show on TV.

  I picked up the phone and I heard Judith’s voice. But she sounded different. Older. And all the times I’ve spoken to her since, she’s never been the child I once knew. She was learning, you see. The bitter truth that living is losing. She was learning early. But there’s never a good time.

  ‘Daddy,’ she said, and started to cry.

  ‘What, darling?’ I said. ‘What’s the matter?’ Dawn looked over at me and I pulled my face into a mystified expression.

  ‘It’s Paula.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s in hospital. She’s very ill.’

  ‘How ill?’

  ‘Very ill. She took something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘An E.’

  ‘Did you take one?’

  ‘No. I told you I won’t take them again. She was with her friend Clare.’

  ‘Clare. The girl I met when I was up in Aberdeen?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Is Clare in hospital too?’ I remembered her face when we’d talked and how young and pretty she’d been.

  ‘No, Daddy.’ Judith started to sob again.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘Dead.’

  Dawn got up and came over to stand beside me.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, love. Is Paula bad?’

  ‘Not so bad. But she’s in a coma.’

  ‘Christ. Is your mother there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With you?’

  ‘In the kitchen.’

  ‘Get her, will you?’

  The phone went down with a clonk and I told Dawn what Judith had told me.

  ‘Clare,’ she said. ‘Wasn’t that the girl who told you about the travellers, and where Judith and Paula were going to be?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Then Laura came on the line.

  ‘Nick. Judith had to speak to you.’

  ‘Of course. Is she all right?’

  ‘Not really. It’s been a shock.’

  ‘She hasn’t been taking anything?’

  ‘No. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Me too. When did all this happen?’

  ‘Last night. There was a party on the estate. A rave they called it, in an empty flat. Judith was here all evening.’

  ‘Good. Listen, let me know what happens, will you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Can I speak to Judith again?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And Laura.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Take care of her.’

  ‘Of course I will. Here she is.’

  My daughter came back on the line. ‘Do you want me there?’ I asked.

  ‘No. There’s nothing you can do.’

  She was right of course. ‘Well you know I’m just a phone call away.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Any time. Night or day.’

  ‘I know, Daddy.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And Daddy?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Nothing. Just thanks.’ And we made our farewells and hung up.

  I poured myself and Dawn a vodka each, sat down and lit a cigarette. ‘That could have been Judith you know.’

  Dawn nodded.

  ‘Dead, or in a coma like Paula.’

  She nodded again.

  ‘This stuff that’s coming in. These new drugs. They’re shit.’

  A third nod.

  ‘I think someone needs teaching a lesson.’

  A fourth.

  ‘Wanna help?’

  A fifth. And so the die was cast.

  Clare’s death made eight lines in the ‘In Brief’ column in the Telegraph the next morning, under the headline DRUG GIRL DIES. The report simply read:

  Clare Stewart (14) died in hospital yesterday afternoon after taking what were assumed to be tablets of Ecstasy at a party near her home in Aberdeen on Saturday night.

  A police spokesman said that there was one other casualty who was recovering in hospital.

  Not much of an obituary for a kid with all her life in front of her.

  After breakfast I phoned Inspector Todd in Aberdeen.

  ‘Nick Sharman,’ I said when he came on the line. ‘Remember me?’

  ‘How could I forget?’

  ‘No hard feelings?’ I said.

  ‘You found the kids. But you could have let me know.’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t want to get all tied up in bureaucratic red tape.’

  ‘I take it you’re calling about Clare Stewart and Paula McGann.’

  ‘Yeah. Judith called me last night and told me what had happened. How is Paula?’

  ‘She woke this morning.’

  ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Seems to be.’

  ‘What the hell did she take?’

  ‘The same as Clare, but not as many.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘From what we can gather, Paula took three tabs, Clare took five.’

  ‘Jesus. What was in them?’

  ‘You really want to know?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘MDMA, LSD, heroin, rat poison, and are you ready for this? Ground glass, probably from old light bulbs.’

  ‘You are joking?’

  ‘I don’t joke about little girls dying.’

  ‘Course you don’t. Sorry. But ground glass.’

  ‘Nice little cocktail.’

  ‘Did she overdose on the smack?’

  ‘That and a haemorrhage in her stomach.’

  ‘Can’t anything be done about this stuff?’ I realised I was being naïve as soon as I said it.

  ‘Don’t make me laugh, Sharman. Didn’t you work on the drug squad yourself down in the Met? As long as there’s a demand for anything, someone will make sure there’s a supply. And at anything up to twenty-five quid for a tab, it’s a very lucrative supply, believe me.’

  ‘Where did those kids get that sort of money?’

  ‘There’s ways.’

  Of course there were. After I hung up the phone I decided to go and see Robber again.

  I drove myself to the police station and took the copy of Monday’s paper with me. It was about eleven when I arrived and Robber was in his lair.

  ‘What do you want now?’ he asked when I’d been led through security and found an empty space on the edge of the chair in his office to perch myself.

  ‘Did you see this?’ I asked and tossed the paper on to his desk where it dislodged a pile of reports he obviously hadn’t read.

  He scanned the item that I’d marked with a felt-tip pen. ‘Friends of yours?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ And I explained.

  ‘So?’

  ‘You know that Judith took some of that crap in Banbury. It could’ve been
her lying dead.’

  He nodded. ‘These kids,’ he said.

  ‘We all like to experiment.’

  ‘Nowadays it can kill you. But what’s it got to do with me? Aberdeen’s a long way away.’

  ‘And a lot of drugs come through this part of the world.’

  ‘Every part of the world.’

  ‘I’d like to put a spanner into someone’s works.’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘I don’t care, frankly.’

  ‘Let’s get this straight,’ he said. ‘Because your daughter took some ecstasy in Banbury a few weeks ago, and now some kid you met for half an hour in Aberdeen is dead, and your daughter’s mate who, from what you told me, is on the slippery slope anyway, ends up in hospital, you want to run a one-man war against the drug trade?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I said.

  ‘And you want my help?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You just want me to pluck a name out of the air, give it to you and set you loose?’

  I nodded again.

  ‘Sharman. I’m a copper. Have been for thirty years. It doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘And you’re retiring soon,’ I said. ‘Time marches on. There must be some villain that you’ve never been able to put away. Some slag you’d like to see come a serious cropper one way or another. Don’t tell me there isn’t, because there always is.’

  ‘And you don’t care who it is?’

  ‘I’d like it to be someone you suspect of bringing in E. Someone who’s right dirty. Come on, Inspector, there must be one.’

  ‘And what do you intend to do?’

  ‘Hurt him. Find out what he’s up to and screw him.’

  ‘Physically?’

  ‘No. Well maybe a bit. But it’s his business I really want to fuck with.’

  Robber smiled, showing dirty teeth. ‘I couldn’t do it,’ he said. Then he punched the keyboard of the computer that stood on the side of his desk. The machine bleeped at him and he said, ‘Soddin’ technology. Whatever happened to pencil and paper?’ and tried again. He squinted at the screen then looked at his watch. ‘Elevenses,’ he said. ‘Fancy a cuppa?’

  I nodded, and he got up from his seat. ‘I’ll be five minutes. Bacon sarnie?’

  ‘No thanks,’ I replied, and he walked out of the room closing the door firmly behind him, and I went round to his side of the desk and looked at the computer myself.