Waking Broken

by Huw Thomas

  ‘No.’ Harrison shook his head. ‘If I’m right, and I think I am, it wouldn’t have made any difference in the long run. Whether it was now or in six months time, we’d still have come up against him.’

  ‘So how does this tie in with pushing up house prices?’

  It was the woman who replied. ‘Because at the moment, as a commercial site, the area along The Parade isn’t particularly valuable. That part of the city isn’t high rent because none of the multiples are interested in the area and there’s no market for the specialists. They want to be in the High Street, not some tacky street next to bedsit land.’

  ‘But,’ Harrison picked up the thread, ‘if Van Hulle’s got some regeneration master plan up his sleeve, that could all change. Create a buffer for the Barber Estate and that area is ripe for renewal. It might look a dump now but that just makes it all the more attractive if you can get the timing right. If he can get the yuppies to move in, that area along The Parade will be ripe for redevelopment too. In fact, a bit of money spent there in advance, getting in a few trendy cafés or something like that, might help move things along with the local housing market.’

  ‘Hmm,’ the older man looked thoughtful. ‘So, if you’re right and Van Hulle’s the mystery buyer, how does that affect our game plan? What’s our next move?’

  30. Crows Flying Home

  Thursday, 6.08pm:

  There was silence as the two men looked at each other; from outside came the rattle of rain driving hard against glass.

  ‘Stacey Cole?’ repeated Paul Cash.

  Harper nodded. ‘You knew her?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ the older man paused. ‘I certainly did. Lovely girl. Great fun, sharp too. I had a lot of respect for her.’ He frowned. ‘You’re sure about this?’

  Harper spread his hands. ‘Yes. As much as I’m sure about anything. Which means, no, I’m not sure. But I do know what happened to her in one… reality. That doesn’t mean the same thing has definitely happened here but on the other hand…’ He shook his head. ‘And those guys that interrogated me… They wanted to know where I was last Thursday. It’s obvious something has happened.’

  He looked at Cash and smiled awkwardly. ‘So… did you know her… socially or professionally?’

  ‘Ha!’ Cash gave a short laugh. ‘That’s a neat way of saying it. You mean was I aware that she was a ‘professional woman’ and pay for her services? Of course I did! She was bloody good at her job.’ He grinned briefly. ‘And always a pleasure to work with.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Harper raised an eyebrow. He glanced up as another fusillade of rain hammered at the window then turned back to the fire. Resting across a pair of original Elizabethan firedogs, an armful of logs crackled in a nest of glowing embers. Harper shuffled further to the front of his armchair and stretched his hands towards the flames.

  ‘That surprises me,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have thought someone like you would need to pay for women. I always had the impression you got your pick of them.’

  ‘Well…’ Cash shrugged. ‘I suppose it has been like that at times.’ The artist smiled. ‘Being a pillar of the anti-establishment can have its attractions. And I suppose I’ve made the most of it from time to time. After all, I did have a reputation to keep up and, at the risk of boasting, it’s fair to say that was fairly well deserved. I certainly worked hard enough to earn it in my younger days.’

  Cash sighed and gave a casual, dismissive wave: every inch the tired old stallion who had lost interest in his wilder, salad days. ‘But you know what? It’s one of those things that always seem more attractive in theory than in reality. Having women throw themselves at you can get tedious… eventually.’

  The artist stretched with cat-like grace and poured another tot of whisky into his glass, raising an eyebrow at Harper’s refusal. ‘You see,’ he continued, ‘although I’m older now, I still have no trouble attracting women. But I wouldn’t claim any of the credit anymore. It’s not me that they’re after. What attracts them is my reputation, the money, the house or the lifestyle. Sometimes it’s the challenge; they like the idea of taming Paul Cash. Sometimes it’s a combination of a number of those things. Often they’ve got no real idea what I’m like; they’ve fallen for their own idea of what they think I’m going to be like. Or they fancy being lady of the manor. And the problem is, with these women who turn up wanting to be seduced… to be honest it’s more trouble than it’s worth. The fun soon gets overshadowed by all the other baggage.’

  He sighed. ‘That’s why I prefer professional women like Stacey Cole. You understand where you are with girls like that. Sex, good fun and a simple invoice at the end of the day. Let me tell you, it’s a lot more straightforward and a damn sight cheaper than getting involved with some of these women who claim to be offering me love.’

  Cash rolled a sip of whisky around his mouth. ‘And don’t let anyone tell you that girls like Stacey are exploited. She does it… or did it, for good reasons. One is that she liked sex. Two is that she was first rate at making others feel good. Thirdly, she made lots of money.’ He sighed. ‘It’s a real loss if she is gone.’

  Harper shrugged. ‘Like I said, I can’t swear to what’s happened but I wouldn’t be hopeful.’ He stared back into the flames. ‘I’d like to know who that was quizzing me about her though. Something must have happened to her and they must have at least some idea of what.’

  Cash nodded. ‘Probably her brother. Did he have red hair?’

  Harper frowned. ‘I’m not sure. He was shining a torch in my eyes most of the time. I didn’t get a good look at him. Who’s her brother? And what’s his connection with that policeman?’

  ‘I’ve no idea about the policeman,’ said Cash. ‘But her brother’s Nelson Cole. I don’t know him well but we’ve met a few times.’ He smiled. ‘He comes across as a bit of a wide boy but I think there’s more to him than meets the eye. On the surface, he seems quite straightforward. Used to be a professional dancer, did a few big West End shows; I think he even toured with Rambert once. He’s gay and acts quite camp when he’s in public but he’s tough as nails underneath. I certainly wouldn’t underestimate him. Or cross him come to that.’ The artist took another sip of whisky and narrowed his eyes. ‘So, have you told Rebecca about all this?’

  Harper grimaced. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Oh… god.’ Harper gave an empty laugh. ‘Instinct? Fear? I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘To be honest, I’m not quite sure why. Either that or there’s a hundred reasons. When I look at her, I forget about Van Hulle. I don’t want to think about him. Until I spotted him last night, the only thing I cared about was getting Rebecca back. Now, it’s just… I don’t know.’

  He sighed. ‘She’s still the most important thing but I can’t ignore the truth about Van Hulle. I don’t want to tell Rebecca about it, though. I guess I’ve already dropped a big enough bombshell. I don’t want to now turn round and say “oh yeah, there’s also the serial killer I’ve been meaning to tell you about”.’

  Cash gave a wry smile. ‘I can see how it might kill the romance.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So when are you going to tell her about it?’

  Harper waved his hands in the air. ‘Maybe when I’ve worked out what the hell I’m supposed to do next.’

  ‘What are the options?’

  Harper sighed. ‘I’m not sure. Part of me wishes I’d never seen Van Hulle. But the trouble is, I did see him and I can’t just forget it. I want to sort out things with Rebecca more than anything. But if Van Hulle’s doing the same things here… I can’t just pretend it isn’t happening or that it’s nothing to do with me. Even if there are others who know something’s going on, I might be the only person who knows who’s responsible.’

  He gave a frustrated groan. ‘I’m just not sure what to do next. I’ve already tried a few things but they haven’t worked. The police aren’t going to do anything unless they’ve got evidence a crime has been committed. I mean, I can
hardly go and tell them what I know; at best the most they’ll do is tell me to get lost. And I can’t confront Van Hulle without any proof. Besides, if he knows someone suspects him he’ll probably just be more careful and it’ll be even harder to catch him.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Cash,’ perhaps you need to be a bit more subtle.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you don’t need to challenge him directly. Maybe you should try provoking him. Rattle his cage and see what happens.’ He smiled. ‘I don’t mind helping you.’

  31. Nobody’s Baby Now

  Thursday, 6.12pm:

  The silence in the room was starting to get uncomfortable. Brendan was concentrating firmly on his beer bottle. Rebecca’s gaze swept around the lounge but did not linger anywhere; she wanted a fight but still had not worked out how to argue her case. Sarah was plucking at a loose thread on a throw that was over her chair. Face flushed, the smaller woman was staring pointedly out of the window: anger still boiling just beneath the surface.

  They had not got very far with their deliberations before the discussion degenerated into acrimony. Sarah’s question about Harper’s character had failed to provoke the response from Tony she was expecting. While blithely describing Harper as a loser with drink and attitude problems, his immediate boss then surprised Sarah and Brendan by qualifying his remarks. Most of Harper’s troubles, said Tony, were due to the fact he was fundamentally unhappy.

  He shrugged as he gave his diagnosis: ‘I dunno what his problem is: bullied at school, fucked up by his parents or what. Maybe he’s secretly a queer. I dunno. Anyway, I don’t reckon he’s such a bastard as you might think. He’s not as shallow as me. He’s drinking himself to death and screwing his life up because he’s as miserable as fuck. Maybe he needs a decent woman. Or an indecent one. Anyway, I reckon if you can find out what his problem is, stop him drinking and cheer the fucker up, he’d be a decent bloke underneath. Piece of piss.’

  He grinned at Rebecca. ‘And if you can sort him out I’ll buy you a case of beer. Some people work better with a beer inside them but, way he’s going at the moment, he’s turning into a fucking liability. Help him get his head together and he’ll be much more use to me.’

  Sarah tried briefly to pursue the point but Tony refused to be drawn into condemning Harper or his lifestyle. ‘Oh sure,’ he had added, ‘the guy drinks more than is healthy and he’s had his share of fuck ups. But we’ve all gone through periods of going out getting trolleyed and living for today. I’ve drunk my share and I’ve seen you two girls get right royally pissed more than once.’

  Sarah looked indignant at this point but Tony talked on, riding over her attempt to interrupt. ‘I mean sure, Harper takes it too far and most people reckon he should ease off on the sauce a bit but on the other hand, why should he? He hasn’t got commitments. It’s not like he’s got a wife or kids, is it? Maybe that’s what he wants but it hasn’t worked out that way? Perhaps he just prefers going out and having a good time while the rest of us pretend to be grown-ups?’

  Tony shrugged. ‘Okay, I wouldn’t employ him as a baby-sitter and there’s always a bit of a risk factor when you send him out on a job. But, when he’s on form, he’s a fucking ace. I wouldn’t say it to his face but he’s a better fucking reporter than most of them put together. He understands how newspapers work. He’s good with people too when he makes the effort. I reckon if he spent a bit more time sober and was a bit more reliable he could do pretty well for himself.’

  By this stage, Sarah was starting to get more agitated. Her plan for an attack from all sides had so far not won any supporters and was proving a one-woman crusade. But she was determined to protect Rebecca from what she saw as an unsavoury and dangerous alliance.

  Rebecca, however, knew what would be coming next. Sarah got no further than connecting Harper with the word delusions before she counter-attacked. Desperate to shut her up, Rebecca threw caution to the wind and went in all guns blazing, accusing Sarah of having failed at so many of her own relationships that even the possibility of Rebecca meeting someone special made her jealous. From that point on, the conversation degenerated still further.

  A burst of electronica from Tony’s mobile phone stopped them both mid-sentence and he sprang up to answer it with obvious relief. Silenced by the sudden interruption, the two women sat and simmered in mutual resentment. But they were unable to avoid overhearing Tony’s side of the conversation and his obvious alarm helped pour further cold water on the pair’s anger.

  Now they could hear Tony just outside the lounge, pacing up and down the hall. Snatches of words followed intermittent pauses as he spoke into his mobile. Eventually, they heard a final ‘okay’ and a long sigh as he closed the phone.

  Tony strode back into Rebecca’s lounge. ‘Sorry about that. Had to take that call.’ He glanced around the room. ‘Look, sorry to break up your dating crisis conference or whatever the fuck this is supposed to be but I should be going.’

  Rebecca gave a faint smile as she got up and walked over to him. Tony did not look any sorrier to be leaving than she would have been in his position. ‘That’s okay,’ she said, ‘if it wasn’t my house I’d probably have left myself.’

  She gestured to the phone still in his hand. ‘What’s up? It sounded serious.’

  Tony scowled. ‘You all been sitting here listening to my private conversation?’

  ‘Sure.’ Rebecca nodded. ‘It sounded a bit more important than the conversation we’ve been having. I don’t think me and Sarah have got much more to say to each other at the moment… and I get the impression Brendan doesn’t want to be here any more than you do.’

  The photographer looked up briefly and gave a slow nod. ‘Well, no insult to you ladies but it’s certainly not the most fun I’ve ever had.’

  Sarah was silent, still staring out of the window and clutching the piece of material in her hand.

  Tony laughed. ‘What a sad bunch of fucks you all are.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, you know what I think of Harper. I’m not going to try and tell you how to run your life or who you should shag.’ He gave Rebecca a friendly pat on the cheek. ‘You do what you want. You can always come and get drunk with me if it goes horribly wrong. Buy me a few drinks and I’ll even get the bastard sacked for you.’

  Rebecca laughed as she followed him to the front door. ‘Thanks. It’s good to know I can always rely on your sophisticated approach to counselling, i.e. making sure I get well trolleyed when everything goes tits-up.’

  ‘Hey, everyone’s got to have some redeeming features.’ He grinned. ‘Remember the state I got you in after you broke up with that guy Rufus.’

  ‘Fergus.’

  ‘Whatever. You started off being so depressed and not wanting to go out. By the end of the night, though, you tried to snog all those firefighters. Then we all got chucked out of the club because you wouldn’t stop trying to dance on the bar.’

  Rebecca smiled ruefully. ‘Yeah. And that embarrassing little episode goes down in history as the first time I’ve ever had a two-day hangover.’ She squeezed his shoulder. ‘But for now, bugger off and go and see that lovely wife of yours.’

  He shrugged. ‘I will but I’ve got to nip in at the police station first.’

  Rebecca looked surprised. ‘Why, what’s up?’

  Tony waved his hands. ‘I’m not sure. Could be nothing, could be serious. I just said I’d pop in on the way home and see what I can tell them.’

  ‘Is this what that phone call was about?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s one of the reporters at The Post. Girl called Louise. She seems to have disappeared. The police don’t generally make much of a thing of missing persons but her boyfriend’s making a fuss. Without a body, it’s hard for the coppers to know whether someone’s actually come to harm or just got pissed off and done a bunk but her bloke seems to have managed to persuade them to take it seriously.’

  ‘Was that who you were talking to?’

  ‘Nah. Some DS down the nick. They�
�re talking to Oscar, that’s the boyfriend, at the moment. They want me to go along, help see if his story checks out, I guess.’

  ‘So what’s happened to her?’

  Tony snorted. ‘I’ve no fucking idea. I wouldn’t have pegged her as the victim type but on the other hand she’s never pissed me about either.’ He shrugged. ‘Last time I saw her was Tuesday. She left work normal time but never turned up the next day. I was really pissed off because I was already one reporter down what with your mate Harper getting knocked over and ending up in hospital. Louise never even rang in sick but I was so fucking busy that day I didn’t have time to worry about it. When she still didn’t turn up yesterday and today I was starting to wonder but I thought either she’d got some really bad bug, in which case she wasn’t going to be any use to me anyway, or she’d jacked the job in and run off somewhere else.’

  Rebecca frowned. ‘You’re a cynical old bastard.’

  Tony smiled. ‘Nah. Just realistic. There’s a job to be done; I just keep ’em on their toes. I haven’t got time to mollycoddle losers or lightweights and if I don’t get the paper together on time it’ll be my arse on the line, not theirs.’ He frowned. ‘But it seems like Louise wasn’t slacking and if her boyfriend’s telling the truth, it sounds like she hasn’t done a bunk either. He says she went out Tuesday night with some girlfriends but never came home.’

  Rebecca shrugged uneasily. ‘Perhaps things weren’t as good at home as the boyfriend thought. Or she’s gone off with someone else and hasn’t plucked up the courage to tell him yet.’

  Tony sighed. ‘Yeah, that would have been my guess. She’s a good looker and she plays hard too but Oscar reckons he’s spoken to the friends she was with and they say they were all together until nearly midnight. Plus, she rang Oscar about eleven to say she was having a good time but would be back soon.’ He scowled. ‘And if she was going to run out on him wouldn’t she have taken something with her? All her clothes and stuff are still at home. It’s not like she’s slipped a load of things into a suitcase and pretended to go on a night out with the girls. That would make more fucking sense. But she went out with her mates, told them she was going home and rang her bloke to tell him she was on the way.’