by Roberta Kray
But Adam’s mind had been focused less on the washing-up and more on his mother’s sudden departure. What was Delia doing ringing at this time of the morning? Something was up and he wanted to know what. He’d waited two minutes and then followed her down in the lift. By the time he reached the foyer, the red MG had already disappeared. But that hadn’t mattered, because he knew where she was going. Delia Shields worked at the cemetery, and come rain or shine, that was where she’d be on a weekday morning.
The traffic was heavy and it had been another ten minutes before Adam had arrived at the main entrance. He’d pulled up by the gates but hadn’t driven in. His mother’s car – empty – was parked up twenty yards to the right on the main thoroughfare. He had let the BMW idle for a while as he checked out the office – Delia was there, but no sign of his mother.
Not wanting to be spotted, he’d swung back into the traffic and circled round to the other entrance on the far side of the cemetery. He’d pulled the car in just inside these gates, where he had a clear view of the length of the thoroughfare and of the red MG. He hoped he’d be far enough away for her not to clock him when she came back.
Adam had opened the window, sat back and waited. What the fuck was she doing here? Had she found out something? No, she couldn’t have. That was impossible. But she sure as hell wasn’t paying respects to his father; she hadn’t been near the grave for years. The bitch was up to something, and it was something she didn’t want him to know about.
The minutes had ticked by, long, slow minutes that seemed to go on for ever. Eli Glass had wandered past, throwing him a dirty look, as if he didn’t have the right to be there. Adam had glared back at him. The man was nuts, creepy. Rumour had it that he’d killed a girl and got away with it.
When his mother had finally appeared, it had given him a shock to see the direction she was coming from. The path led to the old, neglected part of the cemetery, and she was stomping along it with a face like thunder. He’d ducked down, although he needn’t have bothered. She was clearly in a rage and the only thing she was seeing was red.
Thirty seconds later, she was gone, the car roaring off down the thoroughfare and out through the gates. He had driven to the willow trees, parked again and got out. By this point his anxiety had reached monumental proportions. She had to be on to him. She must. Why else would she be here? He had half walked, half run along the path until he’d reached the even narrower one that was flanked by long grass and weeds. By now he was convinced that somehow the bitch had sniffed out his stash.
‘Fuck it! Fuck it!’
And he’d been so caught up in his own thoughts, his own rage, that he’d almost run straight into the girl. She’d been crouching down by one of the graves with her back to him, rapidly gathering up stuff and shoving it into a rucksack. Quickly he’d turned away, veering across the grass and ducking down behind one of the old grey headstones.
She hadn’t seen him, he was sure of that. But he’d managed to get a good look at her as she’d walked off. And been able to guess that the meeting with his mother hadn’t been an amiable one. The girl was pale, her expression one of shock and fear. He’d recognised her instantly – she was the girl in the photographs, the girl in the file. She was Greta’s sister, Maddie Layne.
He’d stayed hidden for a couple of minutes until he was sure that she wasn’t coming back and then ventured over to the grave. Lucy Rivers. The name didn’t mean anything to him. Some old relative, he presumed. The headstone had been polished, and there were fresh flowers in the urn. But none of that explained what his mother had been doing here. What the hell was she playing at?
Still, he’d been relieved about one thing. At least this was nothing to do with his stash. He’d taken a good look round, making sure nobody was in the vicinity before striding down to the Belvedere tomb. He’d checked the door, made sure it was locked and looked for signs of anyone trying to force an entry. Nothing. Good. But still he’d felt uneasy. His mother had been too close for comfort. Maybe he should move the gear, put it somewhere else. But where was better than here? The last place the law would look was in a brick box full of dead people.
Adam raised the mug to his lips and drank some more of his tea. Connolly’s was still busy, the staff dealing with the tail end of the breakfast trade. The smell of fried bacon, of eggs and coffee hung in the air. In the small hours of the morning, the whores would gather here, taking a break and exchanging gossip, but for now it was occupied by a different kind of worker. They were office sorts mainly, men dressed in the boring uniform of suit and tie. There were a few cops too from the Cowan Road police station. All in plain clothes, but you could smell them a mile off.
He gazed surreptitiously at the young black man behind the counter. The lad had a look of Bo Vale about him, the same build, the same high cheekbones, but he lacked the charisma. Bo had been special, one of a kind. Even after six years, Adam still thought about him more often than he liked.
There was a stirring in his guts as the past slithered into his mind again. You always hurt the one you love. That was a song, wasn’t it? But he couldn’t remember who it was by. His hand tightened around the mug. Bo would still be alive now if it wasn’t for him; he’d still be strutting around in that cocksure way of his, grinning from ear to ear, knowing that he had that special something, that God-given something that made him irresistible.
You always hurt the one you love. Except Adam didn’t believe in love. It made people weak and vulnerable. It was like an infection that got into your bloodstream, disabling your reason, making the muscles of your heart contract. And sometimes, in order to be well again, the only thing you could do was to cut away the badness, to get rid of it once and for all.
He didn’t want to think about Bo Vale. He’d been sure it was over, finished with, but now it was all being stirred up again. Greta’s sister. It had to be. Some people just couldn’t let things lie. His eyes narrowed with anger. No one could be trusted. Even his bitch of a mother was sneaking around behind his back, keeping secrets like she always did.
He looked at his watch, scowled and picked up his phone. It took seven rings before Louise finally deigned to answer.
‘Yeah?’
‘You’re late. Where the fuck are you?’
‘I’m coming. Five minutes. I’ll be there in five minutes.’
‘Two minutes,’ he said. ‘Shift your bloody arse or you can find somewhere else to live.’ He hung up and threw the phone back on the table. Why should he have to wait around for that stupid cow? It was about time she started earning her keep, and he had just the job for her.
22
The morning dragged by at Marigolds, every minute feeling like an hour. Although Maddie had the phone in her back pocket, set to vibrate, she still feared missing that vital call. Occasionally, when the manager wasn’t around, she pulled it out, staring at the blank screen as if she could make it ring with the sheer force of her will.
Today, thankfully, she was on the plant section rather than garden furniture. The centre was quiet, but that only added to the sense of time creeping by. At least when it was busy, there was less time to think. And she was doing a lot of that as she marked down the prices on the roses, placing ‘Summer Sale’ stickers across the previous prices.
The exchange with Lena Gissing kept spinning round in her head as she reviewed every word, every nuance of every word. Why hadn’t she just told her that she wouldn’t be tending the grave any more? Because she didn’t like being pushed around, that’s why. Powerful women like Lena thought they could walk all over you, that they only had to snap their fingers and you’d do whatever they demanded.
But Maddie knew that wasn’t the only reason. Once Greta had been mentioned, everything had changed. It was no longer about whether she should be working for a convicted murderer or not. Now it was personal. If there was a chance, any chance at all of finding out what had happened, then she couldn’t back away from it. This wasn’t to say that the prospect didn’t frighten her; she’d already he
ard from Solomon how the Gissings conducted their business and the knowledge wasn’t conducive to a good night’s sleep.
Maddie slapped another sticker on a pot. As she withdrew her hand, a thorn pierced the skin, drawing blood. ‘Damn!’ she exclaimed, quickly lifting her thumb to her mouth. As she sucked on the wound, she wondered just how much worse things could get. A touch of blood poisoning would round the morning off nicely.
She glared down at the rose as if it had deliberately injured her. Now, of course, she was simply feeling sorry for herself, and that was never a good thing. What she needed was to talk to someone, to get some advice, to get a different perspective. She ran through the options, trying to decide on the best person for the job.
The first to be dismissed was the cops. She was too scared to go to them after what Lena had said. Shauna was out too – she had a gob the size of the Blackwell Tunnel and couldn’t keep anything to herself for more than five minutes. And definitely not Alisha and Winston. Although she could chat to them about most things, she couldn’t burden them with this. She set aside her mum and dad too: having already lost one child, they’d be none too keen on the other one going to war with the apparently infamous Gissings.
Having exhausted most of the obvious choices, Maddie was left with only two: Rick or Solomon. But Rick was a big no-no. She barely knew the man. He’d probably run a mile – and understandably so – if she offloaded all her problems on to him. So, by a matter of elimination, she was left with Solomon.
This, however, didn’t appeal that much either. Although she wasn’t sure exactly what Solomon’s job was, she knew that he worked for the Streets and that meant being on the wrong side of the law. What if he decided to take matters into his own hands and go after Lena Gissing? After all, this wasn’t just about Greta’s death; it was about Bo’s too. Even though she was sure that Solomon was more than capable of taking care of himself, there wasn’t much any man could do when a bullet was careering towards his brain. With this unpleasant thought in mind, she decided that, on balance, it might be better if she just kept quiet for a while.
Maddie took her thumb away from her mouth and examined the tiny puncture wound. Amazing how something so small could be so painful. She was still contemplating this when her phone started vibrating. She had a quick look round to make sure the manager wasn’t in sight and then pulled the mobile out of her pocket. The name Cato had flashed up on the screen.
She took a deep breath before pressing the button. ‘Hello?’
But the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t male. ‘Oh, hello. This is Hayley Whittaker.’
Maddie moved behind a tall palm and frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘You left a message for me earlier? You are Maddie Layne, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back. I’ve been in court all morning. So, how can I help you?’
Maddie rubbed at her forehead with her free hand. ‘Er… I’m not sure if you can. I was actually trying to get in touch with Jay Cato.’
‘Ah,’ Hayley said. ‘I see.’
‘You do know him, then?’
‘Yes, I’m his solicitor. You’re the lady who tends the grave, aren’t you? The photos come through to my phone and I show them to him when I go on visits.’
Maddie heaved out a sigh. So this wasn’t his number at all. He must have borrowed Hayley’s mobile on that one occasion when he’d rung her. ‘Right. Only the thing is, I really need to speak to him.’
‘You are aware that he’s in jail?’
‘Yes, I know. But they have phones in there, don’t they? Is there any way you could get him to ring me?’
‘Well, I can try. I can’t promise it’ll be today, though. I’ll leave a message with the staff, but there’s no telling when they’ll pass it on. Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with?’
‘No,’ Maddie said. ‘Thanks, but it’s kind of personal.’
‘Okay. Well, if that’s all…’
‘Actually, there is one other thing before you go. I was just… I was wondering if you knew what Mr Cato’s connection was to Lucy Rivers.’
There was a short silence. ‘Sorry, I can’t help you with that.’
‘You don’t know, or you can’t tell me?’
‘If you have any questions, I think it would be better if you asked him yourself.’
‘All right. I’ll do that.’ Maddie said goodbye and hung up. A wave of frustration flowed over her. Just for a second, when she’d seen Cato’s name appear, she’d imagined herself closer to getting some answers. But now she was back to playing the waiting game.
As she went to return the phone to her pocket, she noticed that her hand had started to bleed again. A thin stream of red slid down her thumb, pooling briefly at her wrist before dripping on to the ground. She gave an involuntary shiver. The tiny drops of crimson seemed like a warning, a portent, a chilling sign of things to come.
23
By the time Maddie finished work, she still hadn’t heard from Jay Cato. Impatience snapped at her heels as she strode down the High Street. How long was she going to have to wait? The suspense was killing her. You’ve waited six years, she told herself, a few hours isn’t going to make any difference. But still she couldn’t contain her frustration.
With Winston at the hospital for one of his check-ups, Shauna was looking after Zac. All Maddie wanted to do was to pick him up and take him home. She had the kind of tiredness that comes from going over the same things over and over again without reaching any new conclusions. A dull headache hammered at her temples.
She quickened her pace, took a right turn into Morton Grove and a minute later came to number 62. Shauna answered the door dressed in denim shorts, a white skinny vest and a pair of flip-flops. There was a heavy gold link chain round her neck and two big gold hoops in her ears. The faint smell of suntan lotion drifted from her skin.
‘Hi there.’
‘Hi,’ Maddie said. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Sure it is. Why wouldn’t it be?’
But the reasons were so manifold that Maddie wouldn’t have known where to start even if she had been prepared to share them. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ve just had one of those days. Is Zac ready? I won’t hang about. Thanks for taking care of him.’
‘Zac!’ Shauna yelled. ‘Shift yourself. Maddie’s here.’
Zac came running to the door, his eyes pleading. ‘Hi, Maddie. Can I just stay and watch the end? Please can I?’
‘SpongeBob,’ Shauna explained, her eyebrows shifting up as if she’d had enough of the character’s maritime adventures to last her a lifetime.
Maddie hesitated. All she wanted was to go home, make dinner and put her feet up. ‘How long is it going to be?’
‘Five minutes, that’s all.’ Zac jumped up and down, tugging on Maddie’s arm. ‘Can I? Please can I?’
‘Why don’t you come in?’ Shauna said. ‘Come and have a drink. I haven’t seen you properly since Friday.’
‘Okay.’ Maddie looked at Zac. ‘But only five minutes, right? Then we have to go.’
‘Thank you! Thank you!’ And he went rushing back to join Kyle.
Maddie followed Shauna through the living room, where the two boys were curled up on the sofa glued to the TV, and on into the kitchen.
‘You want a Coke?’ Shauna went to the fridge and took out a can. ‘It’s a cold one.’
‘Ta.’
They sat down at the kitchen table. ‘So?’ Shauna asked. ‘How’s the big romance going? How was the date? Are you seeing him again?’
‘I might.’
‘Which means you are. Come on, spill. I want all the juicy gossip!’
Maddie took a swig of Coke and put the can back on the table. ‘There’s nothing to tell, not really. Early days and all that. But we’re going for dinner on Saturday.’
‘Where’s he taking you?’
‘Adriano’s.’
‘Cool,’ Shauna said. She put her chin
on her hands and stared at Maddie. ‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘Well, you don’t seem all that excited. Was he a bit of a let-down… you know… in the bedroom department?’
Maddie widened her eyes in mock astonishment. ‘Excuse me, but we haven’t been anywhere near that department.’ A kiss on the cheek was the closest they’d come to any kind of carnality, and even that had been a somewhat awkward affair, with their faces veering off in different directions. ‘I don’t want to rush into anything. He’s nice, but…’
‘But?’
‘I just want to get to know him better first. If he’s only going to hang around for five minutes, then what’s the point? I don’t need some unreliable drifter in my life – even for a bit of fun.’
‘Maybe he’ll stick around.’
‘And maybe he won’t.’ Maddie drank some more Coke, not sure if it was helping her headache or making it worse. She rubbed at her temples with the tips of her fingers. ‘I don’t know, perhaps it’s not the right time for me to get involved with someone.’
Shauna pulled a face. ‘God, if you wait for the right time, you’ll be drawing your bleedin’ pension. Sometimes, girl, you’ve just got to go for it.’
Maddie, though, had more important things than romance on her mind. She glanced towards the living room, lowering her voice even though the boys couldn’t hear her above the sound of the TV. ‘Can I ask you something? You’ve heard of the Gissings, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘How did Greta know Lena Gissing?’
Shauna was clearly surprised, even shocked by the question. She hesitated before answering, her gaze roaming around the kitchen before eventually coming back to rest on Maddie. Her voice had a sudden sharpness to it. ‘What makes you think she knew her? Who told you that?’
Maddie, picking up on her agitation, wondered what was at the root of it. ‘You don’t think she did?’
Shauna gave a shrug. ‘How would I know? She might have done.’ She paused again before adding, ‘She and Bo used to hang out with Adam sometimes.’
