The Edge

by Jessie Keane

  Romilly shoved the papers aside and sat back. ‘About your mother.’

  ‘You what?’ Of all the things he had expected, it certainly wasn’t that.

  ‘Uniform found a black individual, dreadlocks and gold teeth, wandering the streets in Hackney,’ she said. ‘They thought he was drunk at first, put him in the lock-up to sober up. He was rambling on about a mixed-race woman leaning over him, injecting him with something. Sounds crazy, yes?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘In the morning he was found passed out cold, so it was thought best to move him on to hospital. Where they took some bloods which showed something in his system called sodium thiopental. Which is a truth drug, apparently.’

  Kit stared at her. ‘What makes you think this has anything to do with my mother? There are a hell of a lot of half-caste women in London.’

  ‘Yeah, but not ones who are involved in a murder enquiry. Not ones who are trying to track people down, and who might choose those means to do it.’ Kit looked at her steadily. She returned his gaze.

  ‘Prove it,’ he said.

  Romilly shrugged but her eyes didn’t drop. ‘I can’t. Not unless I could get him to identify your mother in a line-up.’

  ‘Did you try for that?’

  ‘Yep. He got hysterical when I even suggested it. Said he didn’t want to press any charges, and now he’s checked himself out of hospital and vanished.’

  ‘So what would you like me to do about it?’ asked Kit.

  ‘She’s quite a girl, your mother. Important part of the firm, yes?’

  ‘We run a legitimate business, detective,’ said Kit.

  ‘The bits that can be seen, anyway.’

  ‘No idea what you’re talking about,’ said Kit.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Romilly, eyeing him steadily. ‘This is a warning. A shot across the bows, OK? I don’t want to hear about anything like this happening on my patch again.’

  ‘Not that it’s anything to do with me,’ said Kit.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Or my mother.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Noted,’ said Kit.

  He left the building. Once he was gone, Romilly got on to ballistics. They told her that the calibre of the bullets used in the wedding-day shooting exactly matched the one she’d dug out of the tree near Crystal Rose’s shallow grave in the woods. And they were fired from the same gun.

  ‘As we said, it’s the type of bullet used by gun clubs all around the country,’ said Colin Walker in ballistics.

  ‘Right,’ said Romilly. ‘Thank you.’ She and her team had already been working their way through the gun clubs. So far, nothing. They had to step it up a gear.

  She put the phone down and called Harman in. Looked at him. Decided maybe it was better to have him inside the tent pissing out, than outside pissing in. And she could doctor any information he passed on to Kit Miller. It could, actually, turn out to be quite useful that Harman was bent. ‘Have we missed any gun clubs off the list?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Check it. Let’s make sure.’

  72

  Ruby was having breakfast in the sitting room at the front of the house when Kit rolled up in a fury.

  ‘Problem?’ she asked, eating toast. ‘You want some? There’s coffee here . . .’

  ‘I’ve just been called in to the nick,’ said Kit, pacing around. ‘DI Kane’s got a stick up her arse about some bloke wandering around Hackney talking about you.’

  Ruby’s eyes opened wide. ‘Me?’

  ‘He was on the streets talking about a woman injecting him with something. Turned out it was a truth drug.’

  Ruby finished her toast and sipped her coffee. She looked icy calm. ‘He didn’t say anything to the police about me though, did he? I was very clear about that when I last spoke to him. I told him there would be consequences. Dire ones.’

  ‘He was scared shitless, if that’s what you mean. Checked himself out of hospital and disappeared. Said he didn’t want to press charges, wouldn’t look at a line-up, fuck you very much and goodbye.’ Kit stopped pacing and stared down at her. ‘What is this? You think I can’t handle this situation?’

  Ruby shook her head. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘Rob was your closest friend and it’s hit you hard. And that business with the robbery. It’s all piled in on you, I know it has. But, Kit – we want facts, we want answers.’

  ‘You think I mishandled the other bloke.’

  Ruby said nothing.

  ‘I told you: it was that stupid fucker Leon who finished it too soon. Not me.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘So, did you get anything?’

  Ruby set down her cup. ‘Not that much, as it goes. All he kept saying was “No Knox”. Which is good news. It proves beyond all doubt that Thomas hasn’t stepped on our toes. But he was frightened of someone else more than Thomas and me. He kept saying that “they” would kill him. That they had a mad bastard who could shoot you dead from a quarter of a mile away.’

  Her eyes met Kit’s. They were both thinking of the shooter at the wedding.

  Kit paced around a bit. ‘So the shooter ties into the warehouse job and the wedding, and your murdered burlesque girl.’ He stopped in front of Ruby. ‘And Knox is sound. We agreed on that?’

  ‘He’s sound.’

  ‘What about that upwardly mobile slag wife of his?’

  ‘What, Big Tits? She’s nothing. Don’t worry about her.’

  Kit stared at his mother. ‘Oh, wait up. You and him . . . that hasn’t started up again, has it?’

  Before Ruby could answer, there was the sound of running feet and Leon burst into the room.

  ‘Boss? You’d better come,’ he gasped out. ‘It’s Daisy . . .’

  73

  The second Daisy’s head went under the water, Daniel started to move. He snatched up and yanked on his jeans and flew out of his flat door and down the side stairs, hardly noticing what he was doing, he was so panicked.

  She’s killing herself.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Wasn’t it tragic enough that they’d lost Rob, without having to cope with more grief?

  He ran flat out, barefoot, over the dewy grass, slipping twice and righting himself, thinking how long could she survive under the water . . . He didn’t know. All he could do was be quick.

  As soon as he came to the side of the pool and saw her right in the middle of it, he dived in and swam faster than he’d ever swum before.

  Oh Christ, Daisy, please don’t do it . . .

  She was submerged, right out there in the middle.

  He took in a gasping breath of the cold air and dived, plunging through the water, desperation making him fast. Three hard downward strokes and his hand brushed against her hair. He grabbed a handful and she twisted sideways. He lost his grip.

  No, no!

  He scrabbled around, the chlorine stinging his eyes, and found her again. Grabbed a hank of hair and this time he held on tight. Then he pushed hard upward, dragging her with him.

  Daniel broke the surface and gulped down more air and yanked Daisy by her hair to the surface too.

  She came up. She was spluttering, cursing, alive.

  Oh, thank Christ.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she yelled at him. ‘Why the hell don’t you just fuck off, Daniel, and leave me alone?’

  She lashed out, furious, sobbing, distressed.

  He caught a hefty blow on his cheek, his shoulder. He didn’t care, barely felt a damned thing. She was alive.

  ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ he demanded, treading water, not letting go of her hair, not caring if he pulled it out by the roots. She wasn’t going to do it, he wasn’t going to let her.

  ‘I want to die,’ she shouted into his face.

  ‘Well you fucking well can’t,’ shouted Daniel right back at her. ‘You selfish cow. You got kids. You got a mother and a brother. You can’t lay all this shit on them, it ain’t fair.’

  ‘Let go of my fucking hair, you bast
ard,’ she yelled.

  ‘No. Come on.’ And he dragged her to the edge of the pool, up the steps, and threw her dress at her. She stood there naked, shivering, crying her eyes out.

  Daniel looked away, and spotted Leon, coming down the steps from the flats over the garage. Leon, clocking them down by the pool. And then Leon was running for the main house. Raising the alarm.

  ‘Christ’s sake, Daise, put your damned dress on,’ he told her urgently. ‘Leon’s seen us and all hell’s about to break loose. Get dressed.’

  Shaking like an old woman, Daisy fumbled her way into the tea dress, which stuck against her wet skin.

  ‘Help me,’ she moaned, and Daniel had to turn back to her then, yank the damned thing down over her body, try not to look at her body, try not to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t drawn back his curtains and seen her coming down here.

  Fact was, if he hadn’t seen her, Daisy would be dead, floating in the pool, a horror for her mother to find and grieve over. A fresh nightmare. He was shivering himself now, his soaked jeans stuck clammily to his body, the cold morning air puckering the skin on his chest and arms to goosebumps. The shock of it all setting in.

  Daisy was covered now. Still crying. But clothed and alive. Not bothering about her sandals, he put his arm around her and started walking, dragging her with him, back up the garden toward the house. Ahead, he could see Leon falling out of the back door, bringing Ruby with him, and Kit. They all started running down toward the sodden pair, and he was glad to see them, relieved.

  Halfway up the garden, Daisy collapsed shivering onto the grass and couldn’t go any further, and Daniel sat down too, out of gas, out of air, out of everything; swamped by the disaster he’d just lived through, so nearly a reality but avoided because of an accidental peek out of the curtains.

  Daisy was alive.

  74

  Ruby couldn’t take it in. She was wrung out with sympathy for Daisy’s plight, of course she was, but also – oh for fuck’s sake, how could Daisy have even contemplated doing that?

  They had sent Daniel back to his flat over the garage to get changed into some dry clothes, then Ruby had put Daisy to bed while Kit summoned the doctor. He came within the hour, and they told him she was in a bad way after her fiancé’s death. Not that she had tried to top herself. But that she was very low.

  ‘I’ve given her something to calm her down,’ he said as he was leaving. He handed a bottle of stronger pills and a prescription to Ruby. ‘It can take a couple of weeks for full effect, but she will soon start to feel a little better.’

  After that, Leon sat out in the hall on door duty and Ruby and Kit went into the sitting room. Ruby collapsed into an armchair. Silent, brooding, Kit sat down opposite and looked at her.

  ‘The funeral’s tomorrow,’ said Ruby.

  ‘She can’t go,’ said Kit.

  ‘No. She ain’t up to it.’

  Kit let out a sigh. ‘Christ, if Daniel hadn’t seen her . . .’

  ‘Yeah, but he did. And she’s going to be OK.’

  ‘You believe that? Seriously?’

  ‘At the moment? After that? No, I don’t. But somehow we have to stay positive, don’t we. Get tomorrow out of the way and maybe the fog’ll start to clear. The Lewises are going through this too. Clive Lewis’s funeral is coming up soon. You heard anything else about the drugs?’ asked Ruby. ‘And the stash of money?’

  ‘Nothing yet.’

  ‘I can’t believe Rob was doing that.’

  ‘Lots of people live a secret life,’ said Kit. ‘I just didn’t ever think that Rob was one of them.’

  ‘Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.’

  ‘You could be right.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘It’s going to be hard to get through,’ said Ruby. ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Fats will stay here with Daisy,’ said Kit. All he wanted now was to get the thing done. Yes, it was going to be hard. But everything in his life had been hard, up to this point. What was a little more shit, after all he’d been through already?

  75

  Tuesday was a day Kit had hoped never to have to endure. The day of his best friend’s funeral. Obscenely, the sun came out and it was hot, almost summery. Bright and cheery. Rob should be on his honeymoon, not lying in an oak casket, ready to be shovelled into the cold earth.

  The funeral cortège left from Rob’s mum’s house and Kit and Ruby were waiting at the church, along with all Rob’s extended family and many friends and workmates. He’d been a popular guy, a person anyone could turn to, and the crowds massed outside the church reflected that. There were big, elaborate wreaths from all the other gangs, respect was being paid, but all Kit could think when he saw the other major faces there was, Did you do it? Was it you who killed the best friend I ever had? Was it for that thing Rob wanted to talk to me about? Was it the drugs? Or something else, something worse?

  Thomas Knox was there. Kit stared at him and he stared straight back.

  Was it you, Knox? Ruby says you’re OK, but is it you, playing games?

  It was the same church. Rob had died here. Much as he tried not to, Kit couldn’t help but glance back at that Georgian building over the road, its thick Virginia creeper bursting with vivid green leaf. He looked at that window, the one where the shooter had been. Such an easy hit. He thought of Daisy, at home in bed, and what had happened yesterday. That bastard had wrecked his sister’s life.

  Also at the church, Kit was angered to see, was DI Kane. No Harman. Just her, dressed in a black trouser suit and white top, watching everyone like a hawk. While Ruby was speaking to another of the mourners, he went over to the policewoman.

  ‘Looking for suspects?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s what I do,’ she said, staring him straight in the eye.

  ‘Yeah? Well, it wouldn’t hurt to show a little respect. Maybe be more discreet about it.’

  ‘Mr Miller,’ said Romilly carefully, ‘I am here on duty. It isn’t my intention to offend anyone. Not even you.’

  ‘You making any progress with this?’ he asked, a muscle working hard in his jaw.

  God, he hated this. Standing here, waiting for Rob’s dead body to roll up in a hearse. He hated it. The whole thing tormented him. The horror of Rob’s death, and this peculiar shit they were uncovering about him.

  ‘Yes. Our enquiries are ongoing.’

  ‘What does that mean? That you’re here doing fuck-all when you ought to be chasing down whoever did this?’

  ‘You want someone to vent your anger on,’ said Romilly. ‘I understand that. So go do it on someone else, Mr Miller. As I said – I’m working. That means I’m too busy to listen to your bullshit.’

  With that, DI Romilly Kane turned sharply on her heel and walked away.

  Bitch!

  He almost grabbed her arm, yanked her back. But he stopped himself. No, not today. This was Rob’s funeral and it was going to be done right. No fights. No disputes.

  And at that moment, Rob arrived.

  76

  It was as bad as he’d thought it would be. Eunice was in bits. Daniel and her partner Patrick were like bookends on either side of her, propping her up. Leon was there too, along with Rob’s married sisters and their husbands. The church was packed. And although the vicar droned on about ‘a celebration of Robert’s life’, it was all horseshit as far as Kit was concerned.

  He’d wanted the best for Rob. A happy life with Daisy and a peaceful death in bed, at an old age. Not this, never this. The ceremony dragged on, eulogy after eulogy being read out, mouthy Leon getting up on his hind legs and saying something nice – his voice half-breaking with sorrow, tears streaming unchecked down his face. Afterwards Kit couldn’t remember a word of it. Not a word. There were hymns being sung. Prayers read. And then . . .

  The big oak double doors at the back of the church creaked open while the vicar was reading a prayer for the dead. People turned and looked. Ruby was crying, but Kit
was dry-eyed, thinking only of vengeance. He turned and . . .

  Holy shit!

  It was Daisy. Fats was at the door behind her. He saw Kit’s look and shrugged.

  Couldn’t stop her, the gesture said. Sorry, boss.

  Alone, Daisy walked up the aisle toward Rob’s flower-laden coffin in front of the high altar. Now everyone, Ruby included, was turning, looking. The vicar’s voice stammered to a halt. The sudden stillness in the building was stunning.

  All anyone could hear now was Daisy’s echoing high-heeled footsteps. Head erect, she walked on, wearing the tightly cut back skirt suit she had chosen for this occasion, with a red rose corsage on her jacket lapel. She wore the small black hat, her face half-shrouded by its black veil, and her hands were clothed in black leather gloves. Her golden hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips were painted scarlet, her cheeks were pale.

  She walked past all the silent mourners, past her own family and Rob’s too. The vicar stood, not speaking, waiting to see what she would do. The echo of her footsteps died away as she reached Rob’s coffin. In the heavy, waiting silence of the church she removed her black leather gloves, finger by finger. Slowly, trembling slightly, she reached out one bare hand and laid it upon the gleaming oak of the casket, just in front of a framed picture of Rob that Eunice had placed there.

  Daisy stood there for a moment, unmoving as a statue. Then she reached up to her lapel and unpinned the single red rose of her corsage, and laid it on the coffin. She touched the wood again, resting her hand there as if she might feel Rob’s still-beating heart beneath it. Then she stepped back, tears pouring down her face, and sat down beside Kit and Ruby.

  The ceremony went on.

  And finally, out in the sun, when all should have been bright and cheerful and good, Rob Hinton was laid to rest.