Ibrahim smiles. ‘You do whatever you want. But looking forward, not back. And I’ll be here as you climb. That armchair is yours whenever you need it.’
Donna looks up, breathes out and blinks tears from the corners of her eyes.
‘Thank you, I’ve felt a bit stupid recently.’
‘Loneliness is hard, Donna. It’s one of the big ones.’
‘You should do this for a living, you know?’
‘You are simply a little lost, Donna. And if one is never lost in life, then clearly one has never travelled anywhere interesting.’
‘And you?’ asks Donna. ‘You seem sad.’
‘I’m a little sad, yes,’ agrees Ibrahim. ‘I’m frightened, and I can’t see a way through it.’
‘Up the next mountain would be my advice,’ says Donna.
‘I’m not sure I have the energy,’ says Ibrahim. His eyes start to fill with tears in turn. ‘My ribs hurt, and that makes me feel like my heart hurts.’
‘I’ll be here as you climb,’ says Donna, and takes Ibrahim’s hand. She has never seen Ibrahim cry before, and she never wants to again.
‘Don’t tell the others,’ says Ibrahim.
‘They already know,’ says Donna, and Ibrahim nods.
‘Even Ron,’ he agrees.
Donna squeezes his hand. ‘And if you ever breathe a word of this conversation, I will taser you.’
‘Quite right,’ says Ibrahim. ‘Now, shall we solve a murder?’
‘Yes, let’s,’ says Donna.
Ibrahim indicates the underneath of his eyes to Donna, and she goes into the bathroom to fix her make-up. When she returns, Ibrahim has loaded the footage she brought with her onto his computer. Who is the mystery person in the motorcycle leathers?
Donna sits on the edge of his chair, and Ibrahim presses play.
58
Elizabeth has read the letter again and again. What was Douglas trying to tell her? And if the clue wasn’t in the letter, then where was it? The locket? She’d checked again, and nothing.
‘And you checked the cottage in Rye?’ says Sue Reardon, the letter in front of her.
‘First thing I did,’ says Elizabeth. ‘And I wonder if you noticed the first two paragraphs?’
‘Nice try, dear,’ says Sue. ‘Very Douglas.’
It had taken Elizabeth a lot longer to spot that. Sue Reardon was quick. Which was why they were there, of course.
They are having an early lunch in Le Pont Noir. Elizabeth had come to a dead end, and thought it might be time to share the letter with Sue. Their minds were alike. Sue had grumbled a bit about Elizabeth keeping the letter to herself, but hadn’t taken it as badly as she might have. The lack of a big fuss had saved them both a bit of time. Sue filled her in a little. A mafia boss is about to fly over, either to claim his diamonds or to kill Lomax. All the fun of the fair. Elizabeth is glad to be back in this world. A last hurrah.
‘Any old haunts he might have hinted at?’ says Sue. ‘It’s clear he wants you to find the diamonds. The love of his life, and so on. So something only you and he would know?’
‘Nothing springs out. But I hadn’t seen the man in twenty years,’ says Elizabeth.
‘You lucky thing,’ says Sue.
‘Sounds like you’ve had a few run-ins with him?’
‘He’s of a certain generation, isn’t he?’ says Sue. ‘I’m glad you trusted me with this letter, Elizabeth. It would have been deeply unprofessional if you hadn’t, but I appreciate it all the same.’
‘Sometimes we have to stick together, don’t we?’ says Elizabeth. ‘I am learning to be more trustworthy as the years go by.’
‘Well, I hope that epiphany comes to me one day,’ says Sue. ‘But I trust you, for what that’s worth. I wouldn’t put it past us to find the diamonds together.’
‘We are peas in a pod,’ says Elizabeth.
Sue raises her glass. ‘Let’s drink to that.’
59
‘Ready for the show?’ asks Ibrahim.
‘Best seat in the house,’ says Donna, and puts her arm around the old man’s shoulders.
The recording starts a few minutes before the time the locker was opened. They can see the back of the young receptionist’s head, and a few people hurrying through the frame in front of her. A balding man in a Costa Coffee uniform saunters over wearing sunglasses. A few words are spoken, mainly by the receptionist, and he walks away again, a little less jauntily. Another twenty seconds or so, and then the biker walks into view. Same leathers, same helmet, same person who came looking for the diamonds.
There is no sound, but the sequence of events is clear. The figure walks out of shot, towards the lockers, and is summoned back by the receptionist. The figure then fishes around in a pocket and shows the receptionist something, and is then asked to take the helmet off. The face is as clear as a bell, and neither of them has the slightest doubt.
They have no ready explanation, either, but they have no doubt.
It is Siobhan.
It is Poppy’s mum, opening a locker, looking for diamonds, the day before her daughter is shot dead.
They even see Joyce’s friendship bracelet as Siobhan puts the helmet back on and walks towards the lockers.
‘I think perhaps we need to call Elizabeth,’ says Ibrahim.
60
Time is ticking on outside Maidstone Crown Court. Ron’s chips are long gone and Chris is starting to feel concerned. Why hasn’t the case been called yet?
His phone buzzes. A message from Donna. She was on a day off, but hadn’t wanted to come along. She’ll be doing a kick-boxing class or pressure-washing her patio.
He is about to open it when he sees Ryan Baird’s solicitor walking towards them. He is wearing a new suit, actually quite sharp. Donna’s fashion advice strikes again. As the solicitor reaches the table he shakes his head.
‘Sorry,’ says the solicitor.
‘Sorry, what?’ asks Chris, but he knows what’s coming.
‘Nowhere to be seen. Phone disconnected, your boys have been round to his flat. Nothing.’
‘He’s done a runner?’ asks Ron.
‘He has,’ replies Chris.
‘Or he may be lying injured somewhere,’ says the solicitor. Adding, after Chris’s dubious look, ‘I’m his solicitor, give me a break. Right, I’m going to follow your lead and have a McDonald’s.’
‘You let us know if he gets in touch,’ says Chris. ‘From the hospital?’
The solicitor shrugs apologetically and waddles off to eat chicken nuggets in his new suit.
‘Jesus Christ!’ says Chris. ‘What are we going to tell Ibrahim?’
‘We tell him nothing,’ says Ron. ‘Until you catch him.’
‘I don’t want to break your heart, Ron,’ says Chris. ‘But we won’t catch him. He’ll be up north, or in London. Somewhere he can stay quiet until this all gets forgotten.’
‘But this ain’t going to be forgotten,’ says Ron. ‘Is it? I’ve done my bit. Conning my way into someone’s flat, planting cocaine in their lavvy. Now you do your bit.’
‘I’ll do what I can, Ron. You know that.’
‘Chris will find him,’ says Bogdan to Ron. ‘And we will find a way to stop Connie Johnson for Chris. We are clever men.’
‘And if we can’t?’ asks Chris.
‘We will find a way,’ says Bogdan. ‘You have my guarantee.’
‘Right, who’s for a McDonald’s?’ says Ron.
‘You just had one,’ says Chris.
‘That was breakfast,’ says Ron.
Chris’s phone buzzes a reminder. The message from Donna.
Get over to Coopers Chase as soon as you can. Something very weird. Hope they’ve banged Ryan Baird up.
‘Anyone interested in something very weird at Coopers Chase?’ says Chris.
Yes. Everyone is.
61
There were two lakes at Coopers Chase. One was man made, dug by Tony Curran’s construction team during the first phase of building
work at the development. Ron loved this lake. It was manicured to within an inch of its life, and it had a beautiful paved path all the way around. The fish loved it, the swans loved it and Ron loved it. It was even sparkling blue, because of a chemical they mixed into it once a week. Exactly what a lake should look like.
You had to hand it to Tony Curran, God rest his soul. He was a terrible human being, and there were probably bales of cocaine buried somewhere under the water, but he knew how to dig a lake.
The other lake had been there for centuries; it was surrounded by reeds and wildflowers, and skimmed with lily pads and algae. At best it was a greeny-brown. The insects adored it and Ron didn’t see the point of it at all.
Colin Clemence from Ruskin Court used to swim across it every morning. Absolutely swore by it, until he caught Weil’s disease and they’d had to put up signs.
He can see one of the signs now. They really could be having this meeting indoors, but Ron had wanted Ibrahim to take a walk and to get some air. If he wasn’t going to leave Coopers Chase, at least he could leave his flat. So Ron had suggested they meet by the lake. He had meant the other lake, of course, but Ibrahim looked happy, and so he couldn’t really complain.
They took up two benches. Both looking out over the disappointingly untamed lake.
‘So beautiful,’ says Sue Reardon. She had been at lunch with Elizabeth. They’d kept that quiet.
‘Isn’t it?’ says Joyce. ‘So wild.’
Even Joyce likes this stupid real lake?
Ibrahim hands around a printout of the CCTV image. Siobhan, helmet off, hair down, sequined bracelet glinting off a strip light.
‘Siobhan!’ says Joyce.
‘Siobhan,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Well, now,’ says Sue Reardon.
Bloody typical, thinks Ron. The second I start fancying someone.
‘I know that now isn’t the time or place,’ says Joyce, ‘but how lovely she’s wearing the bracelet.’
They continue to stare in disbelief, trying to work out what has happened.
‘This is the woman who turned up at yours, Joyce,’ says Chris Hudson. Chris and Donna are on the third bench.
‘Poppy’s mum, yes,’ says Joyce. She squashes a tick on her neck. How do you like the lake now, Joycey?
‘And this footage is from the day before Poppy and Douglas were killed,’ says Donna.
‘The evening before,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Before the shootings, and before any of us knew where the diamonds were supposed to be hidden.’
‘So how did Siobhan know about the locker before we did?’ asks Joyce. ‘That doesn’t make any sense?’
Sue Reardon picks up the picture of Siobhan. ‘Elizabeth, I suspect you might be thinking what I’m thinking? That only one person could have told her?’
Elizabeth nods. ‘It could only have been Poppy.’
Sue nods. ‘Would Douglas really have told her though? I doubt that.’
‘I doubt that too,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Maybe they were in it together?’ says Ron. ‘They were both at the Lomax robbery, right?’
Donna nods. ‘Douglas knows he’s going to be locked up a while longer, so he tells Poppy about the locker. Poppy gets her mum to go and collect the diamonds for them.’
‘Can you spot the slight flaw in that, Donna?’ says Elizabeth.
‘Douglas hadn’t put the diamonds there in the first place,’ says Ibrahim. ‘If they were in it together, then why send Siobhan on a wild goose chase?’
‘But if Douglas didn’t tell Poppy about the locker, then how on earth did she find out?’ asks Sue. ‘The only place it was referred to was in the letter?’
There is silence all around and everybody tries to think of any possible solution. Donna notices that the only person not deep in thought is Joyce. Joyce is simply looking at Elizabeth, with a kind smile on her face. As if waiting for something. But Ron is the first into action.
‘OK,’ says Ron. ‘I got it. I read the mafia have got listening devices, and they can point them at lightbulbs, and there’s some science or other, don’t ask me, it’s on Google, and the glass vibrates, and they can hear what’s being said in any room. They had it on talkSPORT the other day. So the mafia show up here, in a hired car probably, and –’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ says Joyce.
Ron stops, and all eyes are on Joyce.
‘Two spies, and you can’t work it out? Two police officers and a psychiatrist? And none of you can work it out?’
‘What about me?’ says Ron.
‘Well, at least you tried,’ says Joyce.
‘And I suppose you have worked it out?’ says Elizabeth.
‘Elizabeth,’ says Joyce, shaking her head kindly. ‘For the cleverest person I know, you can be very dim sometimes.’
62
Ryan Baird is a genius, plain and simple. The court case was a stitch-up, that was obvious. Someone had it in for him. Who knew who? Who cared? All it proved was that Ryan was a face, that Ryan had enemies. And what was a villain without enemies? Nothing.
He is sitting in his cousin Steven’s flat. They are in Scotland. He forgets where exactly, some town near Glasgow. Begins with a C. He’d got the train up the day before the hearing. No ticket or nothing. If you were Ryan Baird, if you were a face, if you had enemies, you didn’t have to pay for train tickets. In the event he had actually been caught by a ticket inspector, hiding in the train toilet, and been thrown off at somewhere called Doncaster. He’d then got back on the next train, only to be thrown off at Newcastle, where he had had to sleep, because the last train had already gone. But he had made it up to Scotland eventually and his cousin had come and picked him up. Ryan Baird 1, LNER 0.
His mum had told him years ago that if you learn a trade you will never be out of work, and she was absolutely right. Within two hours he was dealing wraps of cocaine.
And now he’s sitting playing FIFA with Steven, nice big spliff on the go, KFC done and dusted. Genius.
Who would ever think of looking for him in Scotland? No one. It was miles away. They might look for him in London. Maybe they’d go as far as Luton, but he doubts it. Ryan has never been to Scotland before, and he sees no reason why the police would either.
To be safe, he’s calling himself Kirk, a name he has always fancied. Even if the police do make it all the way up here, and ask around, no one will have heard of Ryan Baird. It’s foolproof.
Admittedly he has called himself Ryan three or four times today, but only after a few drinks with Steven’s mates, and they all seem sound enough.
A bit earlier he had put on the local news to see if he was on it. Kent drug dealer on the run. ‘Police say Ryan Baird is dangerous and shouldn’t be approached.’ But the local news up here was all Scottish. Who gave a toss about all this Scottish stuff? Someone had burned down a leisure centre, but that was the only good bit.
He’d got a job, a roof over his head, and a new name, all in one day. He had watched a programme about Pablo Escobar on YouTube, and this was just what Pablo would have done. In fact, Pablo! That was a much better name. Forget Kirk, from tomorrow he’d be Steven’s cousin, Pablo.
Pablo Escobar got shot in the end, of course. But that’s because he’d got careless. That won’t happen to Ryan.
Scotland! You had to hand it to him.
63
All eyes are on Joyce. She is staying silent for a moment, like a presenter waiting to announce the results on X Factor. The silence is filled with the hum of insects strafing the reed beds. Donna can tell she’s enjoying the attention. Good for her.
‘Oh, stop milking it, Joyce,’ says Elizabeth. ‘For goodness’ sake.’
‘I was just giving you a few more seconds to try and work it out,’ says Joyce, and takes a sip of tea from her flask.
‘I’m loving this,’ says Ron.
‘What have you worked out, Joyce?’ asks Donna.
‘Only this,’ says Joyce. ‘Elizabeth, that walk you went on with Douglas, thr
ough the woods? The same walk we did the other night?’
‘Go on,’ says Elizabeth.
‘When Douglas told you he’d stolen the diamonds, and made a point of talking about the tree? The dead-letter drop?’
‘I feel like this is going to be Elizabeth’s fault,’ says Ron approvingly.
‘Well, Poppy was with you, wasn’t she?’
‘But with headphones on, Joyce.’
‘Well, who else have we met recently wearing headphones? The lovely girl at the station. And what was she listening to?’
‘Nothing,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Nothing. So who’s to say Poppy was listening to anything on her headphones? Who’s to say she couldn’t hear every word?’
‘Beautiful,’ says Ron.
‘So she heard Douglas confess, and she heard about the old dead-letter drop,’ says Ibrahim.
‘And then she put two and two together, just like you did,’ says Joyce.
‘Then came back up the hill, found the note, read it, and put it back,’ says Sue.
‘Then told her mum where to find the diamonds,’ says Ron.
Everyone is looking at Elizabeth now. Donna sees she is thinking hard. Eventually she looks up, and straight at Joyce.
‘Oh, Joyce. You really are annoyingly clever sometimes.’
Joyce beams.
‘It seems,’ says Elizabeth, ‘that Poppy might have been cleverer than she was letting on. A poet, my foot.’
‘So where does this leave us?’ asks Sue. ‘Poppy finds the letter and contacts her mother. Siobhan travels down and finds no diamonds.’
‘And the next day Poppy is shot dead,’ says Chris.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t actually know who you are?’ says Sue. Then looks at Donna. ‘Or you.’
‘DCI Chris Hudson, Kent Police,’ says Chris. ‘And this is PC Donna De Freitas.’
Sue nods, then looks at Elizabeth. ‘Do these two know how to keep their mouths shut?’
The Man Who Died Twice (The Thursday Murder Club) Page 23
