by Ellis, Tim
‘I don’t know.’
‘We’re on his team. Shouldn’t he stick with us through thick and thin?’
‘The public wants results.’
‘Or somebody’s head. So, the ends justify the means?’
‘You’re giving me a headache. I have a date tonight, and all you want to do is talk about morality. How can I think about what to wear if you’re giving me a headache?’
‘Do you own a dress?’
‘Who said I was wearing a dress?’
***
‘Are you sure you should be checking up on her?’
‘I’m not checking up on her, I’m protecting her back. You know what she’s like picking men. If there were only two men in a room, and the good guy had a sign hanging round his neck saying “I’m the good guy”, she’d still pick the wrong one every time. I’m just going to go into the pub, and have half a pint. I’ll make sure she’s okay, and then come home.’
‘You’re not going to get involved, are you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, what if you don’t like the look of him?’
He laughed. ‘I don’t care what he looks like. She knows I’m going in there for a drink, and we’ve worked out signals.’
‘Maybe I should come with you?’
‘I’m all for that, but everywhere is icy. I don’t want you falling and... Well, I just don’t want you falling.’
‘Maybe you’re right, but don’t make a scene in the pub.’
‘I’ll be like an undercover SAS operative. I’ll breeze in like a gust of wind, assess the situation, and breeze out again. No one will ever know I was there.’
She looked sceptical ‘I hope so.’
‘Trust me.’
‘Isn’t it time you had a bath?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Even Digby won’t come near you.’
‘Is the baby not knocking on the door yet?’
‘Not a peep.’
‘I have to tell you something.’
‘Oh?’
‘They tried to kill Catherine the other day.’
‘You mean P2?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh God! Is she all right?’
‘Yes. We’ve hidden her now. But that’s not what I need to tell you.’
‘Go on, I’m listening?’
‘Richards discovered that the Chief is a member of P2.’
‘That’s awful.’
‘But she’s decided to give them up.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘That’s what she said. The P2 Lodge in London is closed for the holidays from tomorrow night, and she’s going to take us down there. All their records are...’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘Don’t you “darling” me. You think you’re going to London tomorrow night, don’t you?’
‘Noooo. I’ll be here with you.’
‘You’re so transparent, Jed Parish. That means if I don’t have the baby between now and tomorrow night you won’t be here, and more importantly you won’t be with me at the birth of our first child together, will you?’
‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘I think you have a choice to make.’ She stood up and went into the living room.’
She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He was hoping that by telling her she’d say, “Oh, you must go. Never mind about me, I’ll be all right”, but she hadn’t.
He went upstairs, stripped off his clothes, turned the shower on as hot as he could stand, and climbed in.
What to do? He knew the choice he had to make. He’d just have to let Richards and Catherine go with the Chief. There was absolutely no way he could leave Angie to give birth to his child on her own. No way he could choose solving the mystery of who he was over being with his wife when she most needed him.
‘I suppose you need someone to scrub your back?’ Angie said as she stepped into the shower.
It was a bit of a tight squeeze with Angie’s bump, but he was sure they’d manage.
‘I thought you’d never volunteer.’
‘Will this be it? Will you find out the truth about your childhood?’
‘The Chief says that all their records are down there. If that’s true then – yes, this will end it. Catherine will have her story, I will have the truth, and P2 will be destroyed.’
‘And there’s no other time you can go?’
‘No, it’s now or never.’
‘Then you have to go. I can ask Jerry to come and be with me. She can take a video, so that you can be there after the event.’
‘I really can stay if you want me to?’
‘No. You’ve been searching for over a year now. It’s time to find out the answer, and put an end to it all.’
He kissed her. ‘You’re amazing.’
‘That’s why you married me.’ She turned round. ‘Now, let’s see if we can’t encourage this alien one last time to make an appearance before you go.’
‘I thought there might be an ulterior motive to you volunteering to scrub my back.’
***
At the bar in the Plume of Feathers he ordered half a Guinness. He wasn’t planning on staying longer than fifteen minutes. It was quarter to nine, and Angie had persuaded him that it would be in his best interests to hurry back. She wanted to try forcing the alien out again – the last time hadn’t worked. In fact, nothing she’d tried had worked. The alien simply didn’t want to burst forth.
He saw Richards in a booth facing him. She looked stunning in a sleeveless red dress, red shoes, and red lipstick. Her shiny black hair fell onto her porcelain shoulders. God, he would be proud to walk her down the isle and give her away to the right man. But uh oh, she didn’t look happy.
Her date – Pete Jones – was sitting at an angle, and he couldn’t see the man’s face. He took his drink and sat at a table near the fire, then surreptitiously glanced in their direction. He’d been right, the Jones – if that was his name – was probably older than he was, had thinning hair, and a droopy moustache. He wondered if Richards wanted him to do something.
Then he saw her stand up and walk towards the toilets. Every head turned to watch her. He wondered what he should do. Maybe he should go and loiter outside the female toilets. He decided against that and moved back to the bar, which was between the toilets and the booth Jones was sitting at.
She came back out.
‘You look fantastic, Richards.’
‘Are you trying to chat me up?’
‘If I was ten years younger and not married to your mother you’d be the girl of my dreams. So, are you okay?’
‘Do I look okay?’
‘He’s not really Mr Right is he?’
‘Nothing like it.’
‘Do you...?’
‘Hey fella, the lady’s with me.’
Parish noticed that Jones had fading tattoos on his forearms. He also saw the red flag being waved in his bull’s face, stepped forward, and shoved Jones in the chest. The man fell backwards over a table occupied by a young couple and fell on the floor.
Parish stood over him with his fists clenched. He put one foot between Jones’ legs and pressed down on his genitals. ‘This is my beautiful step-daughter.’ He flashed his warrant card. ‘You’re twice her age, and I’m wondering if you’re a paedophile. Show me your ID.’
Jones looked worried.
Parish pushed his foot down slightly.
‘Okay, okay.’ Jones took his wallet out and threw it up to Parish.
‘If you’re Peter Jones, who’s this Mark Hackney?’
He pushed down again.
‘All right. Peter Jones isn’t my real name, it’s Mark Hackney.’
Parish threw the wallet back at him. ‘I’m going to put your name into the police database tomorrow and see what comes out. If I don’t like what I see a few of my mates and me are going to come calling. Now I suggest you sod off while I’m still in two minds whether to arrest you or not.
Hackney scramb
led up, grabbed his coat from the booth, and hurried out of the pub.
‘Thanks for that,’ Richards said.
‘What do you mean? I saved you.’
‘Oh, and you think I needed saving?’
‘Well, that’s the thanks I get. Do you want a lift home?’
‘I’ll get a taxi.’
‘Don’t be too late.’
‘Huh!’
Chapter Seventeen
Friday, 23rd December
‘Have you heard about the midwife?’ Angie said.
‘Don’t tell me. She’s been dragged down to hell to fill in for one of the three-headed dogs that’s feeling a bit off colour?’
‘Staff Nurse Hollingsworth is a very nice person. You’re just saying that because she caught you groping me when you should have been acting like a grown-up.’
‘He doesn’t know how to act like a grown-up,’ Richards said as she came into the kitchen in her Paddington Bear pyjamas.
‘What do you mean?’ Angie said.
‘He hasn’t told you what happened last night?’
Angie stared at him. ‘You said everything was fine.’
‘Everything was fine. It’s just your daughter getting over-excited.’
‘My daughter?’
‘Over-excited?’ Richards said, her voice rising a couple of octaves.
‘You know she’s a bit of a drama queen.’
‘Should I tell you what he did, mum?’
‘Go on love. Sit here and tell me what the nasty man did. I’ll make us some herbal tea.’
‘I’m going for my shower,’ he said, and headed for the hallway.
‘Yeah, that’s right, you run away and hide,’ Richards shouted after him. ‘You don’t want to be reminded of how you embarrassed me in front of all those people.’
‘Drama queen,’ he threw back at her as he bounded up the stairs.
He shaved and showered. Another successful mission last night – in the pub, not when he got home though. Sex again, and still nothing to show for it. He was beginning to wonder if she’d got her dates wrong. Maybe she was a month out and the baby wasn’t actually due until January 25th. Well, whatever! There was nothing he could do about it. At least he was in the clear about going to London. But given the opportunity, he’d much rather not go. He’d rather be at the birth of his first child.
It occurred to him that if Jerry was going to be with Angie, then Kowalski was needed to look after the kids. Jerry could probably get her mum to do the honours, but it wasn’t fair to dump everything on Jerry. Kowalski didn’t need to come to the P2 Lodge anyway. There was nothing he could do. He’d be staring into space while everyone else rifled through the P2 records. It would be best if he stayed behind.
In fact, Kowalski would be more useful taking up the slack on his case. If the Chief Constable was going to substitute him by the middle of next week, then Kowalski could keep the balls in the air for him. A fresh pair of eyes might help to solve the case. He’d ring Kowalski later, and sound him out.
He dried himself and dressed quickly. Digby was under the quilt with his nose and eyes peeping out watching him. What a life! Maybe he should give up everything and become a dog. Under a quilt was certainly the place to be on a day like today. More snow had been forecast and the temperature had dropped another notch to minus six centigrade.
Downstairs, he made himself a coffee. ‘What were you saying about face ache?’
‘Don’t call her that. She’s gone missing.’
‘Missing as in...?’
‘As in... missing. She left the hospital to go home, but her car is still in the car park.’
‘She couldn’t start it, so she walked, caught a taxi, a bus, the tube or walked.’
‘Except she never made it home. Someone has had to look after her cat.’
‘I hate cats. Digby hates cats.’
‘And they found her keys on the ground next to her car.’
‘Why would someone want to snatch Staff Nurse Hollingsworth?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s odd, isn’t it?’
‘It’s probably an old boyfriend.’
‘What, Staff Nurse Hollingsworth with a boyfriend! Don’t be disgusting.’
They both laughed.
He swallowed the last of his coffee. ‘I expect they’ll find her being mistaken for a beached whale in Bali or some place.’
‘It’s a good job she can’t hear you.’
He walked through into the hallway and shouted up the stairs. ‘Are you ready yet, Richards?’
‘I’m thinking of moving out,’ she announced as she flounced down towards him.
‘Do you want me to carry your bags?’
‘I forgot how mean you can be.’
‘You mean you’ve forgotten how wonderful I am.’
‘How can I forget that when you keep reminding me every five minutes.’
He kissed Angie goodbye. ‘Keep your phone close. Ring me if anything happens, and I’ll ring you when I get to London if I’ve heard nothing from you by then.’
‘Okay, and be kind to Mary, she’s feeling a bit vulnerable after last night.’
‘Kindness comes in different shapes and sizes.’
Digby barked and wagged his tail. He rubbed the dog’s ears and said, ‘You look after mummy, you hear.’
***
‘How’s it going with PC Laveque?’
Kowalski was sitting in the Chief’s office briefing her on the case. ‘She’s a lot easier to work with than Nash. But you know yourself that it takes time to click, to get the banter going, to... Well, to become proper partners. At the moment we’re just two people trying to find a groove.’
‘Yes, you have to give these things time.’
‘Don’t get me wrong. Yesterday was a good start. Lola pulled her weight, and I’m pleased with the way it’s going.’
‘Good. And the case?’
‘I’m not pleased with the way that’s going. I keep walking into brick walls with no way around them, over them, or under them. Each time I think we’re getting somewhere, it peters out into nothing.’
‘At least you know who your victims are, and you have a suspect. Parish and Richards have neither.’
‘Good, I’d hate it if Parish solved his case before I solved mine.’
‘It’s not a race.’
‘I know, but a bit of friendly competition never hurt anyone.’
‘Come on then. I have a mass of paperwork to get through and a queue of people to see before the holidays.’
‘Jeremy Kincaid is our killer. We have a mountain of evidence that places him in the vicinity of each murder when they were committed.’
‘But you can’t find him?’
‘Disappeared off the face of the earth. We can’t find his Range Rover, and we can’t find his wife either. I’ve put out an alert for the vehicle. I’ve asked for help from the press in finding Kincaid by publishing a photograph, and this morning I’m going to ask Jenny to get his wife’s photograph out there.’
‘You think the wife is involved?’
He shrugged. ‘I’d feel a lot happier if I could find her. They both appear to have disappeared at the same time.’
‘What now then?’
‘It’s a waiting game. We’ve exhausted all the leads. I’m hoping someone will recognise one of the photographs and give us a call.’
‘Maybe it’s time to contact the detectives from the other police forces and ask them to share what they’ve got.’
‘I’ll think about it, but what I’m worried about is that they’ll create a cross-county task force with a DCI in charge, and I’ll be shoved out into the cold and forgotten.’
‘You’re paranoid.’
‘I’ve seen it happen.’
‘It also doesn’t help that we’ll be out of circulation from tonight.’
‘No.’ He was beginning to regret saying he’d go with them all to London. What the hell was he going to do? They’d all be searching for whatever it was tha
t they wanted, and he’d be doing what? Oh well, there was bugger all he could do about it now.
Lola was sitting at her desk when he returned to the squad room.
‘Morning Ko-wall-ski.’
‘Good morning, Lola.’
‘I just come back from seeing that Weber press lady. I gave her Karen Kincaid’s photograph and said we’d like her to find her if’n she don’t mind.’
‘Okay good. That saves me a job.’
‘What we gonna be doing now?’
‘Wait for something to happen. You could ring operations and check...’
Lola crossed herself. ‘Lola ain’t speaking to no devil’s spawn about nothing neverways.’
‘Of course, Maureen Threadneedle used to be your boss. Yes, she is a bit scary, isn’t she?’
‘Scary ain’t the right word for her. She be the spawn of the devil hisself. Spends all day doing the devil’s work, and frightenin’ poor folks to death. I ain’t never going down there again. Lola pleased to be up here with you Ko-wall-ski.’
‘And I’m pleased to have you, Lola.’
‘You mean that?’
‘I sure do. In fact, what are doing on Christmas day?’
Lola’s forehead creased up. ‘Why? You ain’t got designs on old Lola, have you?’
‘Why don’t you come and spend Christmas with me and my family?’ He’d spoken to Jerry, and she’d said, “Why not? The more the merrier.” God he loved that woman. Nothing seemed to phase her.
‘You got poltergeists?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘People only ask Lola to come round their houses if they got poltergeists. Lola got special voudoo skills to drive out the spirits. That why you askin’ me?’
‘I’m asking you because it’s Christmas Day. We have no poltergeists. Come and be part of the family.’
‘I don’t want you feeling sorry for old Lola ‘cause of what I told you yesterday.’
‘Well, if you don’t want to come and eat with us, and...’
‘I gotta bring Lola’s special Christmas sauce for de turkey if’n I’m coming then?’
