by Ellis, Tim
‘Yeah, this is all happening at the wrong time,’ Parish said.
‘When is there a right time?’ Kowalski mused. ‘I could go with them, and...’
‘No, it’s my problem, Ray. It’s always been my problem. I keep trying to offload it onto other people, but it keeps coming back like a bloody boomerang. I’ll speak to Angie, she’ll understand.’
Kowalski made a noise with his mouth. ‘Good luck with that one, Parish.’
‘So, what happened this afternoon, Catherine?’ Parish asked her.
‘I’d rather not talk about it. Just be glad that I’m here, and not lying dead somewhere.’ She wiped her eyes and looked at the Chief. ‘You’re suggesting that we travel up to London on Friday night, go down to this P2 Lodge, and stay down there until we find what we’re looking for?’
‘Yes, that’s about the size of it.’
‘Why don’t we just contact MI5, or another government department, and let them sort all this out?’
The Chief laughed. ‘You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you? P2 members are everywhere. In every political party, in the legal system, the secret services, the military, the police force, the media... everywhere. Before you even got off the phone, you’d probably be dead. P2 is a dirty nuclear bomb that no one wants to see explode – a lot of people would disappear from public life, and many more would be contaminated by the fallout. The only people you can trust are sitting around this table.’
‘It looks like it’s down to us,’ Kowalski said.
‘You don’t have to come, Ray,’ Parish said.
‘I know, but what type of friend would I be if I didn’t? Just so long as I’m back for Christmas Day. Apart from having four kids who want to see evidence that Santa has squirmed down our chimney and stashed presents under the tree, I’ve also made a promise to ho, ho, ho on the Children’s Ward at St Margaret’s Hospital.’
‘I’m seeing a different side to you, Sir,’ Richards said.
‘Hey, I’m more than just a sex machine on legs, Richards.’
She laughed. ‘If you say so.’
‘We have a plan then?’ Parish concluded. ‘After work on Friday we catch the train to London. Once there, the Chief takes us down to the P2 Lodge, and we stay down there until we’ve got all the evidence we need.’
‘And you find out who you are?’ Richards chipped in.
Kowalski grunted. ‘And we get out of there before Christmas Day.’
‘And...’ Parish hesitated. ‘Do mobiles work down there?’
The Chief shook her head. ‘No, it’s too far down.’
Parish sighed. ‘How am I going to find out about the baby?’
‘You won’t be able to.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, there’s nothing I can do about it.’
‘What are we going to do with all the evidence, once we’ve got it?’ Catherine asked. ‘I had the idea of sending it to all the media outlets, but now I suppose a lot of them could be P2 members.’
‘A lot of them could be, but I think that should still be the plan. If we include the complete list of members then everyone will know who they are.’
‘You’re on that list,’ Parish reminded her.
The Chief looked at her hands on the table. ‘I know. There will be consequences to what we’re going to do. I think we all know that.’
They all agreed to meet in the car park at Dirty Nellie’s on Friday evening at six-thirty. From there, they’d travel to Loughton station and catch the tube to London. With the exception of Catherine, everyone was responsible for bringing food and drink – they knew they might be in The Banqueting Hall until the early hours of Sunday morning.
Richards took Catherine and organised a room for her above the pub.
The Chief and Kowalski left.
Parish went and waited for Richards in the car.
When Richards eventually arrived he said, ‘I thought you’d booked yourself a room as well, and left me out here to freeze to death.’
‘Catherine was upset.’
‘What happened this afternoon?’
‘She wouldn’t say, but I think he did something to her. The light has gone from her eyes.’
‘Light! What light? Stop talking rubbish. What am I going to tell your mother?’
‘I think you need to be clear about whether she’s my mother, or the love of your life who’s carrying your unborn child before you answer that.’
Life never got any simpler. Angie would leave him if he put work before her and the birth of their child. Maybe he could take her with... no, that would never work. She might have the baby before Friday night, which would solve the problem very nicely, thank you. She and Parish junior would be in hospital, and he’d be underneath London finding out who he was. He’d really wanted a Christmas Day baby, but now he had his fingers and toes crossed that it happened before.
Not going to the P2 Lodge wasn’t an option – he had to go. In the end, it all came down to him. The only reason the others knew about P2 was because of him and his shadowy past. He wished he’d never heard of Frati Neri and P2, but he had. And as long he knew they were there, and what they did he had to do something about them. Sitting on his hands wasn’t something Jed Parish had ever been very good at.
Chapter Twelve
Digby loved the snow. The trouble was that as they walked, he collected snowballs round his mouth, on his ears, and on his legs. By the time they got back to the house, he could hardly walk with the weight of snow dragging him down.
And then to add insult to injury, Angie and Richards laughed their heads off at him when he got home.
Squatting at the back door, Digby barked and wagged his tail as Parish scraped the lumps of snow off him. ‘Take no notice of them, Digby. Daddy still loves you.’
‘That dog gets treated better than I do,’ Angie said.
‘And me,’ Richards joined in.
Later, at the dinner table Parish said, ‘Still no sign?’
‘I don’t want to talk about giving birth while I’m eating.’
Richards grinned. ‘A sign! You mean like a star in the sky, or a comet, or a winged horse appearing through the clouds, or...’
‘Stop being stupid, Richards. I mean like pains, the urge to push, the appearance of a motherly instinct, you know the type of thing?’
Angie’s eyes narrowed. ‘I do, but clearly you don’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, my water needs to break first.’
‘Is that like the parting of the Red Sea?’
‘You’re not helping, Richards. I’m slowly feeling the urge to send you to your room.’
‘As if.’
‘I’m just trying to get an idea of when the baby might be due, that’s all.’
‘Why, have you got somewhere else you’d rather be?’
He gave a laugh. ‘No... no...’
‘He’ll arrive when he’s good and ready, and not before. As for you, your role is very simple – I go into labour, you drop everything and come running. You sit by my bed, and I squeeze your hand until the bones break and it turns blue.’
‘And you have to say, “Breathe in through your nose... slowly... and breathe out slowly through your mouth,” and mum says...’
‘Isn’t there some serial killer documentary on the Crime Channel you’d rather be watching?’
‘I don’t think so. This is much more entertaining.’
‘And you have to sit there and witness the pain and suffering you’re subjecting me to, so that Jed Parish can have an heir’
‘I’m subjecting you to?’
‘You don’t think I did this to myself, do you?’
‘Not having a man myself I don’t really know about the gory details, but I would say it was definitely your fault because mum didn’t have that bump until you came along.’
He sighed. ‘I think I’ll go and see if there’s any football on the television.’
Thursday, 22nd December
‘I have a surprise for y
ou, Kowalski.’
The time was eight fifty. They were sitting in the squad room completing admin tasks.
‘No, thank you. As much as I like surprises, I find that they rarely live up to expectations.’
‘She’ll be here any minute.’
‘She?’
‘You’ll see. I fought the devil’s spawn to get her for you.’
‘Get her for me? What the hell are you talking about, Parish?’
‘Your new partner.’
‘Gawd! It’s a long way up dem stairs. Lola’s puffed.’ Lola entered the squad room carrying a cardboard box full of her personal possessions. ‘Where you want me to set myself down?’
‘Hi, Lola,’ Richards said and took her to Ed Gorman’s old desk. ‘This is where you’ll be sitting.’
Kowalski’s eyes resembled a tree frog’s. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘Nope.’
‘Lola, meet your new partner – Inspector Ray Kowalski.’
‘You havin’ old Lola on, ain’t you?’ she said putting her hands up to her face. ‘Lola ain’t no baby-making machine. I heard all about Mr Ko-wall-ski, and how he tryin’ to populate the world all by hisself. I probably be better off with devil’s spawn. At least I knows her moves by now.’
Parish put his hand on Lola’s shoulder. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘You ain’t given me cause not to yet, but remember I still got that poppet of you.’
‘Then trust me when I say that Inspector Kowalski is happily married, has only four children with his wife, and is one of the best detectives it has been my misfortune to meet.’
‘Will you stop it, Parish. I’m choking up inside.’
‘And you want old Lola to look after Mr Ko-wall-ski?’
‘Yes please.’
‘I’ll do it for you, because you been kind to old Lola, but I’ll be watchin’ where he be puttin’ his hands, that’s for sure.’
‘There you are then,’ Parish said. ‘My work here is done.’
‘This is how you repay me for everything I’ve done for you, Parish?’
‘A match made in...’
‘...Hell?’
‘Heaven, Kowalski. Lola has Part One of the NIE, and she needs your guidance to obtain Parts Two and Three.’
‘Old Lola gonna be a dee-tek-tive?’
‘You’ll be one of the best detectives in Essex once Inspector Kowalski gives you the benefit of his experience,’ Richards said.
‘How old are you Lola?’ Kowalski asked.
‘Why you wanna know?’
‘Because if I’m your partner, then I need to know. Partners know everything about each other.’
‘Everything?’
‘Everything.’
‘Oh gawd! Old Lola be twenty-nine and two quarters.’
‘That’s not old, Lola,’ Richards said with a laugh.
‘Old enough to know where babies come from, Mary Richards.’
‘Come on Richards,’ Parish said. ‘We’ve got places to go and people to see.’
***
As Parish had said earlier during their journey to work, ‘It’s like driving on an ice rink with tyres made of butter.’ The roads were treacherous.
‘You should have let me drive.’
‘Why? Do you think you’re a better driver than me?’
‘Every woman in the world is a better driver than you.’
‘What, even the ones on drugs?’
‘Even the drunk ones. Men can’t drive for toffee.’
‘Toffee makes my teeth hurt. Which reminds me, I need to book a dentist’s appointment.’
‘Who’s your dentist?’
He shrugged. ‘I haven’t been to the dentist for ages.’
She took out her Blackberry and searched for a dentist in Hoddesdon. ‘It’s no good having one in Chigwell because you’re never there during the day.’ She rang a number.
‘Are you taking on new patients? You are? Excellent. This is Detective Inspector Parish’s secretary, is it possible...’
‘Nothing before the 2nd January...’ She looked at him.
He pulled a non-committal face.
‘The 2nd January will be fine.’
‘Ten thirty on the 2nd. Thank you very much.’
‘There, it was that simple. In fact, women are much better than men at most things.’
‘You’re not going to wind me up, Richards.’
‘Me? I wouldn’t dream of it. Where are we going first?’
‘Buckhurst Hill.’
‘Kasia Plaziuk’s flat?’
‘Correct.’
‘Do you think the murders are something to do with illegal immigrants?’
‘A better question might be whether I think they’re something to do with women who have just given birth, because we only know that the second victim might be an illegal immigrant.’
‘And do you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think there’ll be more bodies.’
‘You always think that. And?’
‘Motive could be the babies, but why remove the victim’s head, hands and feet?’
‘To stop us identifying them. Don’t forget that the second victim had a piece of skin removed from her back as well.’
‘But it could still be about illegal immigrants.’
‘Nothing has been ruled out yet. We don’t know enough to discard valid ideas.’
‘So, it could be the killer is targeting female illegal immigrants who have recently given birth...’
‘Occam’s razor,’ Parish said.
‘I’ve heard you say that before.’
‘Yes, but what does it mean?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘The simplest answer is usually the right one.’
‘You think my suggestion is too complex?’
‘Yes.’
‘The killer could be targeting any woman who has recently given birth?’
‘That’s more like it.’
‘So, you don’t think it’s about illegal immigrants?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Where do you think the killer is disposing of the appendages?’
‘You’re making an assumption.’
‘Well, he’s disposed of the bodies.’
‘Another assumption. We don’t know the killer is a man. It could be a “she” or a “they”.’
‘Okay, where are the babies?’
‘A hat-trick of assumptions.’
‘That’s not...’
‘We know that Kasia Plaziuk’s baby is missing, but we don’t know anything about the first baby. Maybe the babies are irrelevant, and it’s just the new mothers he’s targeting.’
‘Okay, I’ll bow to your greater wisdom.’
‘And so you should.’
Richards smiled and then said, ‘Maybe the babies were stillborn, and there are no babies?’
‘No, you’re forgetting that Sally Enright saw little Ivan. She even had a picture of him in her purse.’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘We need more information, don’t we?’
‘Of course we do. We know absolutely nothing about the killer. Not only that, we’ve made an assumption based on the flimsiest of evidence that Kasia Plaziuk is our second victim. She may not be. After we’ve been here, we’ll go to see Doc Riley and see if she’s been able to identify what was underneath the patch of missing skin. Phone her, let her know we’ll meet her for lunch in the canteen – you’re paying.’
‘As if.’ Richards phoned Doc Riley. ‘Half twelve.’
‘Good.’
‘It didn’t go well with mum last night, did it?’
‘You didn’t help.’
‘I’m not siding with you against my mum.’
‘You’re meant to be my partner, to watch my back.’
She laughed. ‘You’re crazy. That only means in dangerous situations.’
‘And you don’t think last night was just such a situation?’
‘
No. You should just come right out and tell her what you’re planning to do.’
‘Now you’re being crazy. I just hope she’ll have the baby either today or tomorrow. Then they’ll both be in the hospital, and I can do what I need to.’
‘What if she doesn’t?’
‘How would you feel if your husband wasn’t there to support you through the birth of your child?’
‘I’d kill him and then divorce him in that order.’
‘No room for negotiation then?’
‘None at all.’
‘Oh well.’
They arrived outside 12 Back Lane in Buckhurst Hill at twenty to eleven. Because they didn’t have a key to the flat, they went into the shop beneath first. It was a Polish food store called the Patrycja Polski Sklep.
Richards showed her warrant card to the young woman behind the counter. ‘Do you speak English?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ She wore a pink scarf double knotted under her chin, a pair of glasses, and her nose was splayed.
‘You’re not Polish then?’
‘Do I look Polish?’
‘You work in a Polish food shop.’
‘But that doesn’t mean I have to be Polish.’
‘So, you’re not Polish?’
‘Even if I were Polish it wouldn’t mean I couldn’t speak English.’
‘That’s not what I said.’
Parish intervened. ‘You obviously speak English. What can you tell us about the woman who lives in the flat upstairs?’
‘Why would I tell you anything?’
He was getting tired of the woman’s belligerence. ‘Because if you don’t, I’ll arrest you and take you to Hoddesdon Police Station.’
‘You can’t do something like that without just cause.’
‘Do you want to test that hypothesis?’
‘I’ll contact my solicitor.’
‘Yes, but only after we’ve closed the shop and taken you to Hoddesdon.’
‘The police in this country have far too many powers.’
‘You could always go back to your own country,’ Richards said.
‘This is my country. I was born here. I’m third generation Polish, and proud of it.’
‘What, proud of being Polish or living in England?’
