Trevor didn’t like the idea of having an indirect sort of conversation with Gaz. He said, “I know all about your arrangement, Gaz.”
Gaz went for a show of confusion. “What arrangement’s this?”
“The one Clover set up last autumn, to have you look in on Finn and report back to her. So is that why you’re ringing? Have you something to pass along about my son?”
“Oh.” Trevor heard the young man blow out a breath. It sounded like relief. “Not one hundred percent exactly. But truth to tell you, it’s good to hear that you know about what Clo asked me to do. I expect she told you last night? I could tell you knew something was going on.”
“That I could, Gaz. Want to explain what else is going on?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I reckon you understand well enough. I’m curious about why you’re ringing me instead of just leaving a message for my wife on her mobile. What’s that about? Seems to me that it’s about looking innocent.”
“Of what? What’re you on about, Trev?”
Trevor looked out of the window again. He saw that Boyd had now joined his middle-aged client on the bench for pressing weights. Both of them were straddling it, facing each other, legs spread. Christ. He needed to put a stop to what was going on inside Boyd’s head, but at the moment, he had something more important that he had to cope with. He said—his gaze still boring into Boyd’s skull in order to get his attention—“What I’m on about is ‘let’s speak later.’ What I’m on about is getting to the truth, which I intend to get to before I pass any messages along to my wife.”
“Trev.” Gaz sounded like someone making an appeal. “I swear to God I don’t know what you mean. I’m ringing because I reckoned Clo would want to know that Scotland Yard were here to talk to me about Druitt, since there was a relationship between Druitt and Finn.”
“What the hell? Gaz, do you want to tell me what’s actually going on?”
“It’s just that since Clo asked me to keep the eye on Finn, I thought . . . all things being equal . . .” He paused as if to gather courage or to collect his thoughts. When he went on, he did so in something of a rush. “Trev, listen. Druitt rang me about Finn a few times, and I let Clo know. I also told the two from Scotland Yard. I more or less had to because they had his mobile—Druitt’s—and they could see he rang me and, obviously, they wanted to know why. And now they’ve taken mine as well, which is another reason why I’m ringing you.”
“Your mobile? What do they want with it?”
“They’re checking everything.”
“And exactly what constitutes everything?”
“Turns out Clo was using your mobile on occasion when she rang me about Finn. Least that’s what I worked out when I saw how many calls came to me from your mobile, which I’d never noticed before. So what it is, is this.” There was another pause that did seem suspiciously like a working up of courage. “I ended up telling them—the Met detectives—that I’ve been keeping an eye on Finn and that you were the one who asked me to do it and you were ringing me from your mobile to see how things were going. So now they’ll be tracking you down since your number’ll be in my mobile’s records. I told ’em as much, but they’re going to want to confirm. It’s what they do. So what I’m hoping is you’ll say you were the one asking me to watch Finn. Otherwise, Clo gets put into the mix and what’s the point in that?”
Protection was what this was all about, Trevor realised, and he read that hidden agenda like an article above the fold in a broadsheet. Protection of Clover was on Gaz’s mind, and there was going to be a fascinating reason for that. But there was nothing to be gained by trying to delve for more information from the PCSO, so he gave lip service to going along with Gaz’s request. But he didn’t plan to do it without managing some kind of confrontation with his wife.
HINDLIP
HEREFORDSHIRE
Prior to setting off for Hindlip, Trevor took a look at his mobile’s history of calls made and calls received. He didn’t know how long these intimate conversations between Clover and Gaz had been going on—that complete history was not available to him—but what he could see with just a glance was that six had occurred during the first visit of the Metropolitan Police, either late at night or during the early hours of the morning. Of course, he thought. His mobile would have been unavailable to her at any other time unless he was charging it somewhere within her reach.
When he arrived at the main building of the police headquarters, Trevor learned that Clover was not in her office but rather at the training facility for the policing area’s PCSOs. She was leading a discussion on the topic of Options for Community Safety, her secretary told him. Did he want to walk over to the centre and catch the end of it or would he rather wait here?
Trevor said he’d listen in on the discussion Clover was leading. He knew where the training centre was. He set off at once.
His choice of bearding her at work was deliberate. Clover was far too adept at misdirecting him and he was far too weak when it came to the sort of misdirection she employed. Their discussion had to be on territory where she couldn’t rely on her ability to trigger his animal nature.
The training centre was beyond the chapel at the far end of the administration building. It was an institutional structure that offered an unappealing contrast to the older great house in which Clover, the chief constable, and the heads of various departments had their offices. Access to it required nothing more than opening the door. Once inside, it was a simple matter to find the hall in which the PCSOs in training were attending to the sage words of the officers on the panel at the front of the room.
Trevor took up a position at the back of the hall, standing at the closed double doors with his head cocked in interest as he watched his wife. When she glanced in his direction, she did not react other than to curve her lips in the smallest of smiles. She was surprised, however, and never a fool, she would immediately know that something was up. She just wouldn’t know what it was since her presence here in the training session indicated why she’d been unavailable to Gaz. Even had she been within his reach, though, Trevor doubted that Gaz would have rung her even from a landline, as he wouldn’t have wanted to risk further contact between them should he be intent upon protecting her.
The meeting’s conclusion released the PCSOs to depart for the day. Clover’s fellow panelists exchanged a few words as they gathered up folders and other materials. Then they, too, were leaving while Clover herself remained at the front of the room, stuffing her belongings into a briefcase.
Trevor joined her and went straight to it. “You’ve been using my mobile to ring Gaz. I wouldn’t’ve known, but he rang me. He’s had to hand his phone over to the London detectives.”
“Hello to you as well,” she said. “It was a surprise to look up and find my handsome husband listening. How long have you been here? The subject must have bored you to tears.”
“Gaz made a request I thought best to run by you. He’s asked me to confirm with the Met that I was the one who asked him to keep watch over Finn. He’d like me to say that the relevant phone calls to and from my phone dealt with my request and his subsequent reports as to Finn’s activities. In other words, in case I’m not being completely clear, he’s asking me to lie. For him and, apparently, for you, since if I tell the London coppers I haven’t a clue about a mass of phone calls to and from Gaz Ruddock on my mobile, they’re going to want to know who else uses it. You’re following me, Clover, aren’t you?”
She ran a manicured fingernail along one of the seams of her briefcase. He wanted to force some kind of response, but when it came, it wasn’t what he was looking for. “I can see what you think. ‘How clever she’s been to use my mobile to arrange their trysts’—or whatever you want to call them—‘since, really, when does someone check his own mobile to see what calls are going out from it? Or coming into it, for that matter.’ We’re he
ading to that, aren’t we, with the image of me running my fingers over Gaz’s lovely, toned pectorals, the two of us all hot and bothered and ready for it in God knows whatever location we’ve managed to find.”
He was meant to deny that, but he saw that the issue of “We’ll speak later,” which he’d intended to bring up with her, was going to end up becoming another way to avoid a different sort of conversation. Instead of what was actually going on—and this appeared to have Finn sitting directly at the centre of it—he was intended to snatch at the image she’d presented to him, his mind arrested by the image’s correlation to what he’d overheard. He was then intended to be led by the nose into making that the subject of an ensuing discussion. It was a vintage Clover Freeman move.
“If you share Gaz’s hope that I’ll lie to the police, should they show up again on our doorstep, Clover, then you’ll need to complete the picture of what’s going on, because that’s what it’s going to take.”
She was silent again as somewhere outside dogs began barking. Dinnertime, he reckoned. She finally said, “All right. Here it is. I’ll make it bald, as I presume you want the facts as plainly and simply stated as I can make them.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Fine. Ian Druitt had some concerns about Finnegan. They developed over time and he finally rang Gaz to talk them over as he knew Gaz and Finnegan were friendly.”
“What sort of concerns?”
“The kind that begin with ‘He’s a nice enough boy but I’m worried that I’m seeing something I ought not to be seeing.’ Gaz rang me once Druitt spoke to him. It was a question of what we were going to do about it.”
“About what? Stop dancing round this, Clover. You said you were going to make it bald, so do it.”
“Finnegan and drink, Finnegan and marijuana, Finnegan and his rather salty language, and Finnegan not behaving round the children quite as he ought to have been behaving.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you saying that Finn was . . . what? Supplying children with beer and wine? Selling them weed? Leading them astray by . . .” The implication took his breath away. “Wait. Was Finn supposedly doing something to those children? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I don’t know what I’m telling you. I’m giving you the information I was given. You wanted to know, so I’m letting you know.”
“I don’t bloody believe it.”
“Neither did I.”
“Did? Not do?”
“Stop playing with words. I’m telling you what Druitt was concerned about. I’m telling you why Gaz and I rang each other. He was tasked—by me—with keeping an eye on Finnegan and now here was this suggestion on the part of Druitt that Finnegan was misbehaving in a way that could get him into the kind of trouble that could haunt him for the rest of his life no matter what it was. Drink, drugs, sexual misconduct. I didn’t know. I still don’t know. But what I did know was that I couldn’t have that happen: Finnegan in trouble. And I especially couldn’t have that happen as I was the one who put Finnegan into the position of being round those children in the first place. As far as I was concerned—as far as I am concerned—what actually happened is that Finnegan witnessed something between Druitt and a child, that Druitt realised this and made a preemptive strike. He turned in Finnegan to Gaz before Finnegan could do the same to him.”
“And then what?”
“Then Gaz told me. I wanted Finnegan away from Druitt as quickly as possible, but bloody-minded as he’s ever been, Finnegan refused to leave the children. Can you see how that looks? He said he was helping them, he liked Druitt, he even got to show off his karate skills, and on and on. So he had to be told at least part of the truth, which—Finnegan being Finnegan—he did not for an instant believe.”
“Which ‘part of the truth’?”
“Just that Druitt had spoken to Gaz about having some concerns how Finnegan was interacting with the children. I kept it vague because it needed to be vague.”
“Why would that be, Clover? Why not tell him what was going on so that he could at least defend himself?”
“Listen to your own words, for heaven’s sake. Think about what goes for ‘defending himself’ when it comes to Finnegan. I was worried that he might lose his temper, he might act out in a way that could result in trouble for him.”
“So you must have been thinking—”
“I wasn’t thinking anything but getting our son away from Ian Druitt and his after-school club. But then, Druitt won some bloody award and a phone call was made anonymously accusing Druitt of child molestation and—”
“My God, you think Finn made that call, don’t you. Getting his own after Druitt spoke to Gaz.”
“I don’t think anything. I don’t know anything. But when I finally heard about that call to 999, it was something that couldn’t be ignored, so Druitt had to be brought in for questioning.”
Trevor took this last bit in with a growing sense of horror. Puzzle pieces began to fit together in ways he did not dream he would ever have to look upon. He forced himself to say, “So Druitt had to be eliminated.”
She grasped her throat. “What in God’s name do you take me for? Of course he didn’t need to ‘be eliminated.’ But whatever was going on in that club had to be looked at because if it wasn’t, Finnegan was going to be looked at. You know how he is and how he reacts and how simple it is to trigger his temper. When his temper goes, he’s nothing but reaction incarnate, completely devoid of the ability to think. I didn’t want to put him in that position then and I don’t want to put him in that position now. I can’t take that chance.” She lifted her briefcase from the table at which the panel had been sitting. He could see that as far as she was concerned, their conversation had reached its conclusion.
But not for him. He said, “Exactly what the hell does that mean, you ‘can’t take the chance’?”
“I don’t want the Met talking to him. I don’t want them even looking at him. Not because he’s done anything at all but because—”
“He’ll think you set them on him.” Trevor felt staggered by what she was saying about truth and lies and crime and its aftermath. “Christ, Clover. This isn’t about what Finn thinks of you. Don’t you see that? This is about a possible crime. If Finn did nothing to anyone, he has nothing to worry about.”
“You can’t possibly be that naïve.” She stalked up the aisle towards the doors to the hall. When she reached the exit, she spun back to him. “You haven’t the first idea how the police work, so let me enlighten you. If they speak with Finnegan and he says anything to pique their interest, they will not let up. They’ll move from Druitt’s ‘concerns’ about him directly to Druitt’s suicide and they’ll be on their way to deciding it wasn’t suicide at all. It was murder and here’s their suspect because he has motive and from there it’s a hop and skip to his having opportunity. Do you understand that, Trevor?”
“You believe he’s done that as well.” Trevor could scarcely get the words out, so aghast he was at Clover’s thinking. “You believe that Finn—”
“I don’t believe anything,” she said. “I don’t have all the facts. I never had them. All I know is what was said: the back and forth of it all. All I ever knew was that Finnegan spent time with those children. So will you just look at the larger implications here? I’m his mother—for the love of God—and my first job in life is to be his mother. Everything else falls into line but that line forms after Finnegan’s well-being. And nothing, Trev, takes precedence over that.”
He let that one weigh down the air for a bit. He strode up the aisle to join her by the exit. He removed his mobile from his pocket as he walked. He gestured with it as he said, “Just to be certain I’m on board with everything, you want me to lie to the police as well, should they come calling on me about Gaz’s mobile and my own. You and he expect me to tell those detectives that Gaz and I were spea
king about child-minding Finn, about my request that Finn be child-minded and his reports on how the child-minding was going. Would that be how it is, Clover?” She didn’t reply, although her face was fixed enough to give him her answer. He said, “You two must be thick as planks to think the Met are going to swallow that and walk away without having a word with Finn.”
“Then tell them what you wish,” she replied. “Tell them everything I’ve just told you. Tell them my objective: to keep Finnegan from ruining his life through his own bloody-mindedness. And then start praying that when they go to speak with him, he’ll be able to hold his own against them.”
19 MAY
LUDLOW
SHROPSHIRE
Ding had briefly considered skipping her appointment with the college counsellor because she couldn’t see that anything positive might come from it. The truth was she’d completely lost the will to haul herself to her lectures, and when it came to her tutorials, she’d been hit-and-miss for ages. Her tutor had tracked her down several times. The poor man had even attempted his version of reading her the riot act. So, really, it was no surprise that Greta Yates had now insisted on an intimate little chat. The only real surprise was that it had taken the counsellor so long to get round to giving Ding the order. Thus Ding made her way up to Castle Square campus at the appropriate time.
She hadn’t slept well, but that was how things were now. She did the job with Finn, shared a spliff afterwards, tossed him out of her room, locked her door against his “Hey! Don’t be that way!” when he expected a thanks-for-the-weed in the form of letting him spray her tonsils again, and then hoped for sleep. It finally arrived but on a train so slow it was after three A.M. before the voices in her head stopped shouting and allowed her a respite in the form of restless dreams.
The Punishment She Deserves Page 42
