Choked dipb-4

by Tania Carver

  ‘Who’s Graham?’

  ‘Jiminy Cricket, who d’you think?’

  ‘Oh.’ Tyrell thought about the name. Decided he preferred Jiminy Cricket.

  Amy continued. ‘He was always quoting things. Old films and TV shows. That one’s a Dr Who story. The Doctor meets someone he knew at a different point in his timeline. Someone he’d grown up with. And he doesn’t recognise them.’ She looked at him. Quickly. Then away. ‘That’s all.’

  Tyrell said nothing. Just stared at her. Thought about her words. Thought about her eyes.

  Eyes he’d seen before …

  A different point in his timeline …

  He looked round, suddenly remembering Josephina. Saw her cowering behind a tree. He tried to smile at her. She didn’t return it. He didn’t blame her.

  He turned back to Amy. She had something else in her hand now.

  ‘What … what are you doing?’

  She put the phone to her ear. Her broken, patchwork face had a resigned look to it. She seemed tired.

  ‘Phoning the kid’s mother,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Getting this thing sorted once and for all … ’

  68

  ‘I just don’t know,’ said Marina. ‘Just don’t know anything any more … ’

  Sandro was sitting opposite her, the sofa bed folded away. He was still wearing his workout gear and had made her a mug of instant coffee. Marina hated instant, never drank it. But she had thanked him and taken it gratefully. The mug sat on the floor, half drunk and ignored.

  ‘Don’t know what?’ Sandro had forgone the coffee, was draining an energy drink can. He finished it, crushed it, threw it at the already overflowing rubbish bin in the galley kitchen. Missed. It clattered down the side to the floor but he didn’t seem unduly worried by that. ‘Sounds like this is enough to fuck anyone’s head up.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m … usually stronger than this. I’ve had to be.’ She looked up, directly at him. ‘Some of the things I’ve done, situations I’ve been in … ’ She shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t believe.’

  ‘Like what?’

  She almost smiled. ‘I’ll tell you sometime.’

  Sandro nodded, shrugged. ‘Tell me now.’

  Marina gave an almost-laugh to accompany the almost- smile. ‘I used to think that a client wanting to kill me was the worst thing that could happen. That was before I was captured when I was pregnant and held in an underground cage where some maniac wanted to breed from me.’

  ‘Jesus … ’

  ‘I know. That was after he’d put my old partner into a coma by smashing his head in with a hammer.’

  Sandro stared.

  ‘And then there was the time I tried to rescue a chained-up kid from a madman who wanted to sacrifice him. With sharpened gardening tools.’

  Sandro’s mouth was wide open.

  ‘And almost got killed by a bent police officer in the process.’

  ‘Ah, now that I can believe.’

  She sighed. ‘But now I just feel … I don’t know. Weak? Helpless? I don’t know … ’

  She sighed. Out of the corner of her eye she became aware of Sandro watching her. She looked up once more.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I had no idea.’ He shook his head, trying to let what she had just told him settle in his mind. ‘That you did … that you’d done … anythin’ like that.’

  She looked straight at him. ‘Why would you? You don’t know anything about my life.’

  ‘I just thought, you know. You did your hours, sorted people’s heads out, got well paid and … ’

  ‘Swanned off to some champagne bar?’

  ‘I was goin’ to say the theatre and some fancy restaurant. But yeah. Somethin’ like that.’

  Another almost-smile. Wistful, the kind given to a treasured memory or a fond fantasy. ‘I wish it was that easy. But when I’m called in to a case, especially the kind that Phil works, the major incidents, then it’s always something serious.’

  ‘And after all this, you feel weak. Why?’

  She looked directly at him. No smiles any more. ‘Because my husband’s gone. My daughter’s gone. Maybe for ever. I’ve lost everything.’ She stood up. ‘This is not like me. Not like me at all.’ She could feel the anger rising in her. Impotent, unchannelled rage.

  ‘Like Dad,’ said Sandro.

  Marina wheeled round, turned on him. ‘No I’m not. Don’t ever say that.’

  Sandro was taken aback by the vehemence of her words. ‘I only meant that Dad had passed the fightin’ gene down. That’s all. Calm down.’

  She stood over him. ‘Don’t tell me to calm down. And I’m not like Dad. Mum was the strong one.’

  Sandro frowned. ‘What? She did nothin’. Let him hit her. What’s so strong about that? She was soft.’

  ‘She was not soft, Sandro. She did what a mother’s supposed to do. Protected her children.’

  He still looked confused. ‘How? He used to smack her as well.’

  ‘She took the blows that were meant for us. As much as she could. She let him hit her rather than us. I’m not saying that was the best way to go about things, but she stood up to him in the only way she knew how. To go through that, to endure what he did to her, that’s what made her strong.’

  Sandro said nothing, thought for a while. ‘Yeah,’ he said eventually. ‘Yeah. I see what you mean.’

  ‘You’d know what I mean if you had kids.’ She looked at him. ‘Do you have kids?’

  He looked taken aback at the question. ‘Ah … don’t think so.’

  ‘But you’d know. Believe me.’

  He didn’t reply. Instead he stood up, went to the kitchen. Got himself another energy drink. Cracked it open.

  ‘You’re drinking a lot of those,’ said Marina.

  ‘Need the energy. Got a fight tonight.’

  Marina’s turn to frown. ‘A fight.’

  ‘Yeah. ‘’Swhat I do. One of the things.’

  ‘What kind of fight?’

  He looked away from her. ‘Bare-knuckle.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ah look, don’t start. I got in with these Irish travellers. Gypsies, y’know. They do it. Part of their culture, an’ that.’

  ‘Part of their culture? All of their culture. Sandro, they’re bred to fight. They’re born fighting.’

  He locked his eyes on hers. ‘And I wasn’t?’

  Marina couldn’t find the words to reply. Her eyes slid away from his.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Sandro, ‘I’ve always been handy with my fists. Just found a way to make a bit of money out of them, that’s all.’

  ‘And get yourself seriously injured in the process.’

  ‘That never happens.’

  ‘You mean it hasn’t happened yet.’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘What … how did you get into this?’

  He shrugged, tried to keep his explanation light and short on facts. ‘Did a bit of sparrin’ with them. Couple of bouts.’ He shrugged again, like he was carrying something large and uncomfortable on his back. ‘They’re mates. Good mates. An’ it’s how they settle their grievances.’

  ‘But you’re doing it … what, professionally?’

  ‘Ah, you know how it is, when there’s big blokes hittin’ each other, an’ one wins and one loses, there’s money to be made. Next thing you know, I’m in the ring.’

  She looked round the room. ‘I’m guessing you haven’t seen much of it. This money.’

  He looked away once more. ‘Yeah, well … ’ He rubbed his face with his hand. ‘Not all of us get to go to university, do we?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘The rest of us just have to … do what we can.’

  Marina looked at him. ‘Are you in trouble, Sandro?’

  He gave a bitter laugh. ‘I’m always in trouble. According to you.’

  ‘Do you owe money, is that it?’

  He didn’t seem to want to answer, but the words reluctantly left his mouth. ‘Bit. But t
here’s a bout tonight.’ He raised the energy drink to his lips. ‘That’s what this is for. Win that an’ I’ve paid more of it off.’

  ‘Oh, Sandro … ’

  His features hardened. ‘Don’t give me pity. Like I said, we weren’t all as lucky as you.’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean … ’

  ‘I’ll still help you. I said I would. But I have to do that first.’

  Whatever Marina was going to say next remained unsaid.

  Love Will Tear Us Apart.

  She grabbed her bag, snatched the phone out, put it straight to her ear. Heard a woman’s voice.

  ‘Listen … ’

  69

  Mickey and Anni had reached a dead end.

  ‘And this was the last reported sighting?’ said Anni.

  Mickey turned round. ‘Yeah. After this, she’s … in the wind.’

  They were following Marina’s trail on DCI Franks’s orders. After what they had discovered at the house, Mickey had expected to stay in charge of that, but Franks had different ideas.

  ‘I want you two out looking for Marina,’ he had said on the phone, directly after Mickey had received the call from Anni and they had realised who the child in the house had been. ‘The Birdies can deal with everything there. They can look for the missing girl. They’ll need to liaise with Suffolk since they’re already working on it. It’ll be a joint operation. I want you two trying to track down Marina. We find one of them, hopefully we find all of them.’

  Mickey had tried to argue, saying that it wasn’t a good idea — and in fact against police policy — to investigate someone in the same department.

  ‘But you’re not, are you?’ Franks had replied.‘Investigating. You’re just looking for her. Granted, you find her and everything else might fall into place, but at the moment you’re just two colleagues tracking down a missing person who just happens to be known to you. Which should give you more insight into her whereabouts.’

  Put like that, Mickey conceded, he could see the logic.

  So he had waited for Anni to arrive, then they had both taken off in Mickey’s car, following the last known sighting they had of Marina: a small yellow car on the way to Clacton, seen passing a housing development that seemed to reach a dead end on a cliff against the North Sea.

  Mickey stood there hearing the waves below, feeling the cold air all around.

  He also felt something else. Anni’s arm snaking round his waist, her hand stroking his side. He looked round. She was right next to him.

  ‘You OK?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied, still staring past the houses to the sea. ‘Just … trying to think where she could have gone.’

  Her grip tightened. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

  He turned to her. Eye to eye. She really was exceptionally beautiful, he thought. He turned his head away, wondering what she was thinking. Anni stayed where she was.

  ‘I loved last night.’

  Her voice sounded so small and warm against the cold air around him. He turned to her once more. Smiled.

  ‘So did I,’ he said. And laughed.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ She looked concerned.

  ‘It’s just … Nothing.’

  ‘No it’s not. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Oh … just stupid stuff. Worried that I’d messed everything up. That’s all.’

  ‘And why would you have done that?’

  ‘Because I have a tendency to. Everything that I want to go well, if I meet someone a bit special, it just … you know. You know what I mean.’

  ‘You haven’t messed everything up. Honestly.’ Her grip tightened.

  He responded. ‘Good.’

  She smiled. It gave way to a laugh. ‘So I’m a bit special, am I?’

  He reddened. ‘I didn’t mean it that way.’

  ‘Not special needs, you mean?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  His phone rang. He answered it. Milhouse.

  ‘You working today, then?’ Mickey asked.

  ‘We’re all on overtime for this one.’

  ‘Justice never sleeps,’ said Mickey. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Got some information for you. Emailing it over. The dead man’s been identified. Graham Watts.’

  Mickey thought. ‘The guy whose car it was. Anything on him?’

  ‘Used to work for the Sloane family.’

  ‘Now that rings a bell.’

  ‘It should,’ continued Milhouse. ‘Stuart Sloane, the adopted boy who went mad with a shotgun and killed his family, was released from prison yesterday. And he’s gone missing. Graham Watts used to work for the family. Didn’t part on good terms, apparently.’

  ‘Connection, you reckon?’

  ‘The universe doesn’t believe in coincidences,’ said Milhouse. ‘And neither do I. But I just provide the information; what you do with it’s up to you.’

  ‘Do my best.’

  ‘You should have the email now. Happy hunting.’

  He hung up.

  ‘Milhouse?’ asked Anni.

  ‘Tell you in the car.’

  They turned, made their way back to Mickey’s car. Anni hadn’t removed her hand.

  Mickey hadn’t removed his either.

  70

  ‘Your voice is different,’ said Marina. ‘I’m not talking to a Dalek any more.’ There was no reply. ‘And you’re a woman.’

  ‘Well done.’ The voice was trying to sound flippant. And failing. It just sounded tired.

  Marina felt there was a vacuum where the woman’s control should have been, and decided to fill it. ‘Look. It’s all gone wrong for you.’

  ‘Has it?’

  ‘I went to the house. I saw the body.’ No response, so she kept going. ‘Why don’t you give up, yeah? Just let me have my daughter back and we can leave it. It’s all gone wrong. Let’s salvage something. Give me my daughter and we can walk away. What d’you say?’

  ‘What a coincidence,’ said the woman’s voice. ‘I was just going to propose that myself.’

  Marina said nothing. Just felt her heart rise at the possibility of the whole ordeal being over. Tried not to get too excited.

  ‘But there’s a condition.’

  Her heart sank once more. She should have expected that. ‘OK, then,’ she said, as calm as she could manage. ‘Tell me what the condition is.’

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. Marina’s first thought was that the woman had hung up. She was gone, and with her the last chance of seeing Josephina alive. But she came back. Thinking, thought Marina. Planning what to say next.

  ‘You … you still have a job to do. I — we — want you to do the job still.’

  Marina’s mind whirled. She tried to think quickly, compartmentalise her maternal instincts, react once more not as a desperate mother but a trained psychologist. That last sentence had been rich in undisclosed meaning. Marina had to examine it, turn it round, use it against the speaker, make it a key to character, motivation. Force the woman to reveal herself.

  Still have a job to do. She still wants me to diagnose Stuart Sloane, Marina thought. She couldn’t let go of that idea. But the way she had said it, there had been no conviction in her voice. Like she knew the situation was reaching the end and she was preparing to salvage what she could out of it. A resignation, a sense of avoiding defeat.

  But that doesn’t mean she’s defeated, thought Marina. It just means she wants to avoid defeat. At any cost? Depending how unhinged she is, there’s no telling what she might do.

  I — we … Self-correction. Gave too much of herself away with the first word. She’s on her own. Her partner — in crime or whatever respect — is gone. Marina had seen the body. But the caller still wanted to give the impression that there was more than one of her. That she wasn’t doing this alone. Was that because she wanted to seem more powerful? Or did she just miss him?

  Want you to do the job still. Want you to do the job still … She ran the words in her head
. The phrase seemed simple enough on first hearing, but again it was revealing of itself. The phrasing was haphazard, the sentence structure poor. Indicative of a disordered mind.

  Marina tried to add everything up. She had a woman who was losing the stomach for her actions but who nevertheless wanted things to be finished the way she had planned. A woman who was missing her partner. A woman who wasn’t stable to begin with and whose mind was now slipping into dangerous territory. Something to work with.

  ‘Listen,’ said Marina, in her professional, compassionate voice. ‘We can end this now. You can end this now. Just give me Josephina back and that will be that.’

  A sigh from the other end of the phone, then silence.

  Marina pressed on. ‘Look. I know you’re finding this hard. Very hard. Especially on your own. Especially with what happened to … your partner. That must have been awful for you.’ No response. She weighed something up in her mind. Yes. Kept going. ‘I know what it’s like to lose a partner. Like a part of your heart has been taken away. Part of yourself. And you feel … like you’re never going to be whole again.’ She tried to keep her voice even. Tried not to think of Phil.

  She became aware of Sandro beside her, listening intently.

  ‘But you also feel you have to keep going. Because if you don’t, then … it’s all been for nothing.’ She waited, let the words sink in. ‘It’s a bad time. A hell of a bad time. But I can help you too. If you’d let me.’

  ‘How?’ The voice dead, monotone.

  ‘Because that’s what I do. That’s my job.’

  Silence returned to the other end of the line. In the background, Marina could make out a girl’s voice.

  ‘Is that Josephina? Is she there?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the woman, in a tone Marina couldn’t read.

  ‘Put her on. Let me talk to her.’

  More silence.

  ‘Please. I’m her mother. If you want this to end well, if you want me to help, put her on.’

  There were sounds from the other end that Marina couldn’t read. Scraping, movement. Then a small voice on the phone.

  ‘Hello.’

  Marina felt her defences begin to crumble. She tried to hold herself together. ‘Hello, darling. It’s Mummy. Are you OK?’