‘I’ll never make that mistake again, love, I promise you. It’s what I did the first time around, I see that now. And I won’t do anything to put either of you at risk. You two mean more than anything to me.’
Thursday, 25th September
The Helm, Kendal, 9.45am
Andy Hall parked the car, then turned and looked behind him at Grace. She’d stopped crying within a minute of him driving away from the house, and was now fast asleep. So he got out slowly, and took his time getting her into the baby backpack, making every move in exaggerated slow-motion. Then he set off, at strolling speed, across the Helm. He’d take his time, because he wanted to think.
There was plenty of fair-weather cloud in the sky today, but it was still warm. He nodded at the other walkers he passed, and hoped that they wouldn’t want to stop and chat. None of them did. He thought, briefly, about the application form that he’d sent away just before he’d set off. He couldn’t see any reason why he wouldn't get his PI’s licence, unless his former bosses wanted to play silly buggers. That was always possible, of course, but unlikely. They’d want him to be constrained by rules and regulations, wouldn’t they? It was odd, but in Hall’s experience officers became increasingly fixated on the service’s own rules as they rose through the ranks, and quite forgot whatever they’d ever known about the criminal law.
He followed a path uphill, and didn’t even turn to get a view back across the town, as he usually did. He let his feet settle into a rhythm, as if his body were a middle-aged machine, and he felt the sun on the nape of his neck. It was like standing under a warm shower.
Slowly, and for at least the fiftieth time, he laid the facts out in his mind, face up, like cards on a table. Then he looked at each, put them into an order that almost suggested a narrative, and tried to visualise the ones that were missing. There was one, in particular, that he could almost see, hovering on the far edge of his vision, then vanishing like one of those mysterious sub-atomic particles that Jane watched documentaries about, while he dozed on the sofa with Grace asleep on his chest.
It was frustrating, annoying even, but Hall still enjoyed the feeling, in a slightly masochistic way. It was familiar, and it was real. He had so few cards to begin with, but that wasn’t the worst part. Because no matter how he arranged them he couldn’t see a story that made proper sense. Why on earth was Battersby watching Spedding now? There was no remotely credible reason, even if Battersby did know that Spedding was a former undercover copper, and that Donald had been the same, and even if Battersby had been responsible for Donald’s death. That was three huge assumptions, all in a row, but even if Hall made them he still couldn’t answer the central question. Why would Vinny start watching Spedding now? Why, after all these years, risk spooking the bloke?
And then Hall saw a brand new card, full face, and he knew. It was that moment, and the few hundred like it that he’d experienced over his twenty five and more years as a detective, that had kept him in the job all that time, and which had nurtured his soul through all those years. Just those few, occasional, exquisite seconds of knowing something that only one other living soul also knew, and which they’d have done absolutely anything to stop him from discovering.
And knowing that it was an act of imagination that had made the breakthrough, a triumph of something ineluctably human over the utilitarian universe of facts, that made it all the more pleasurable. It was, in its own way, an act of creation, and Hall saluted it as warmly as if it had come from somewhere, or someone, entirely beyond himself.
He moved the new card into position, and now he could read a story. He had no evidence that it was the truth, but he felt that it could be, maybe even had to be, and for now, at least, that was enough. Because it wasn’t Pete Spedding who was being watched, it was Alice. Of course it was. And now that he had seen that card Hall knew why, too. Or rather, he could now see a pattern that amounted to a story. A story that made sense. He had to discard one of his existing cards, but what was written on it was an assumption anyway, not a fact. Because when he removed the card that said that Donald died because he was a cop, it all made sense.
Hall laughed when he thought about what Jane would say, when he told her about his mistake. How he’d failed to give Alice Spedding any serious thought, even though she was, in many ways, a central player in all this. Jane would say that it was just typical casual sexism, to assume that violent crime was only ever about the blokes, and she was probably right. Why the hell hadn’t he thought of it before?
He found his phone, and called Pete Spedding. Both men spoke quietly, and neither had to ask the other why that was.
‘I’m on the Helm, can you come up here and meet me?’
‘Aye, sure. Kate will wake up in a minute, and we’ll get straight out. Have there been developments, Andy, or don’t you want to talk on the phone?’
‘Our phones aren’t bugged, Pete, for Christ’s sake. No, it’s just an idea I’ve had, nothing more than that, but I think it could explain what’s going on.’
‘Why Battersby has been having us watched?’
‘Yes, exactly that. Because it’s the central question, isn’t it?’
Hall was sitting on a bench, feeding Grace, when Spedding arrived, looking tired, and even more dishevelled than usual, although that could have been a fashion statement. He simply didn’t feel qualified to judge. Hall wasn’t surprised that Spedding looked drained, because Kate seemed angrier, and even more vocal, than usual. Her face was red, and her wailing was loud, long and utterly insistent. But Hall knew better than to make any suggestions in terms of child management. The child was as obviously a monster as Grace was indubitably an angel, anyway. Spedding sat next to Hall, and took the bottle of water that Hall offered him.
‘There’s vodka in this, I hope?’
‘Like that, is it?’
‘Worse. But at least I don’t have to suffer on my own for a bit now, do I?’
Hall smiled and thought, with a twinge of regret, that the phone would probably have been fine. He decided that he’d just get on with it, and then gauge Spedding’s response. Because there was still one card in Hall’s deck that had been there from day one, and which identified Spedding as the killer of Cam Donald: and Hall wasn’t ready to discard it just yet.
‘I spoke to the widow of the digger driver.’
‘And? Don’t tell me Battersby had him killed too? Makes sense though, I suppose. Just tying up the loose ends.’
‘No, it was suicide, all right. Although Brenda also told me that Stan Greig hated Vinny Battersby.’
‘That’s only natural, Andy. They were on opposite sides, you know.’
‘But they talked, one-one-one, and more than once. Did you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t. But it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Lots of us got to know the security guys. It just sort of happened, as time went on. I probably spoke to Greig too. More than once too, I dare say.’
Hall nodded. He was almost ready to discard that card now. But he looked straight at Spedding as he spoke again.
‘Of course Battersby, and you, and all the rest of the protestors, you weren’t bad for the village, were you? Just the opposite, in fact. Quite a lot of people did all right out of it financially, that whole year, as far as I can tell.’
‘Yeah, I suppose they did. But so what?’
‘Well, I think we’ve been looking at this the wrong way. I don’t believe that Battersby knows that Cam Donald was a cop, or at least he didn’t at the time of the killing. He must have tumbled it by now, I expect, given that the bloody ACC has been falling over backwards to help the bloke out, but I don’t think he knew it then.’
‘And how about me? Has the ACC just told him that I was an undercover cop too, back then? Is that what all this is about?’
‘No, I don’t think so. In fact I’m sure it’s not. He’d never tell Battersby anything that he didn’t have to, unless he’s corrupt, and he’s not that, I’m sure of it.’
/> ‘If you say so. But he wouldn’t be the first bent copper in this neck of the woods would he? It’s not five minutes since…’
‘I know, I know. The money was just resting in their accounts, I expect. But no, I’m pretty sure the ACC hasn’t told Battersby about you, Pete.’
‘So why are they watching me? I told you, Andy, it’s a recent thing. So why start now if they haven’t tumbled to me, eh?’
‘That’s just it. It’s not you who’s being watched, Pete.’
Hall was watching Spedding closely. That was genuine surprise on his face. Hall couldn’t have sworn to it, but then he didn’t have to. Not any more. It took another moment, but then Spedding made the next mental leap, and Hall was sure that he saw that on his face as well.
‘You mean they’re watching Alice, not me? No, mate, that’s not possible. Like I told you she doesn’t know a thing about Cam, about Mike, and she doesn’t know about me, neither. I swear it. I’ve never said a word, and she’s never shown even the slightest sign of knowing. Not in all these years.’
‘And I believe you. But what if Alice knows something else, something that’s still important to Battersby?’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. But let’s just say she does know something, maybe without being aware of its importance. And let’s just say that Battersby knows that she knows. Could that explain what’s happened lately?’
‘Maybe. But that’s an awful lot of just saying, Andy. And even if it were true, why put a PI on her? You’re not saying that he’s some sort of hit-man are you?’
‘No, of course not. Like I told you, he’s just a local PI, completely harmless, I’m sure of it. But, on the other hand, if I were going to have someone harmed I’d certainly want to build up an idea of their routine first.’
‘Jesus Christ. You’re not saying…’
‘Don’t worry, there’s no immediate danger. Probably no danger at all. But there’s only one way of finding out for sure if I’m right about all this, Pete.’
Hall gave it a moment. Spedding had been a cop, so he’d soon work it out for himself.
‘Oh no, Andy. You can’t be suggesting that you should tell her. No, you can’t. It would bloody kill her.’
‘I’m not suggesting that I do it, mate.’
‘What? Fuck off. No, absolutely not. I’m not telling her.’
‘We’ll never get to the bottom of this otherwise, I’m sure of it. Look, Pete, I wouldn’t suggest this if there was any other way.’
Spedding got up, and bent down to try to get Kate to stop yelling. She was older than Grace, and she probably understood what Spedding was saying by now. But if anything he was making things worse. He gave up, and turned back towards Hall.
‘All right, Andy, answer me this. What if we just drop the whole thing? Right here and now. Is Alice really at any risk?’
Hall nodded, and pursed his lips. He’d been thinking about that very question, before Spedding had arrived, and while it was still quiet enough to think.
‘For now, no. I have to be honest, I don’t think she’s in any immediate danger. We’ve just made too many waves for that already. But longer term, I’m not so sure. Battersby is quite the player these days, isn’t he? High profile, I mean. Philanthropist, and all round good guy. The bloke’s got a great deal to protect, and I get the feeling that he’s not too fussy about how he does it. He’s certainly got the means to do Alice harm, and maybe he’s got the motive too. If he is a killer that is, as you presumably still think he is. So I think you should tell her, Pete, I really do.’
Spedding shook his head. ‘Oh, no, Andy, I’m not having that. No way, mate. I know what this is all about, as far as you’re concerned. It’s just a puzzle, a game for you. You just want to get to the bottom of this because you need to prove that you still can, don’t you, eh?’
‘You’re probably right, to an extent.’ Hall’s manners were as mild as ever. ‘But I do believe that there is a possibility, perhaps a 30% chance, that Vinny Battersby really is a killer, and if you really think so too then you’ve got no choice, I’m afraid. So, Pete, just ask yourself one question: do you really believe that Vinny is a cold-blooded killer, or not?’
It was a minute or so before Spedding spoke, in which time Kate’s crying actually increased in volume. Hall wouldn’t have believed it possible, if his ears weren’t starting to hurt.
‘OK, Andy, so what would I need to do?’
‘Tell Alice everything. Everything you know, and what you suspect, too. You never know, she might have known about you and Mike all along. I’m sure you’ve considered that possibility in the past, Pete.’
‘Maybe. But, like I said….’
‘Well, then. You tell her, give her a bit of time to take it all in, and then she talks to me. And alone, Pete, it would need to be alone.’
‘And you’ll find out what’s going on? Get that bastard Battersby nicked, will you?’
‘I can’t promise that. You were a cop, so you know how things stand. So I’ll leave it with you to decide how to play this, OK? But two things to consider. First off, I genuinely don’t have any other ideas, not a one, so it’s this or nothing now, I’m afraid.’
‘OK, point taken. And what’s the other thing?’
‘Ah, yes. The other thing. It’s just this, Pete. I was a detective for a lot of years, you know that, and during all that time I only had a feeling like the one I’ve got now maybe ten or twelve times.’
‘And were you right? Were you always right?’
Hall smiled, and got up. ‘I’m going to sound like a proper boastful bastard when I say this but yes, I was. And I’m absolutely certain that I’m right about this too, Pete, I really am.’
It wasn’t as if Spedding hadn’t had the conversation in his head, many times, over the past fifteen summers, but he still didn’t know where to start. Alice was tired when she got home from work, their lad was out somewhere and not replying to texts, Kate was being even worse than usual, and the curry he’d made for their tea was too spicy, and that had been selfish of him. Alice pushed hers away almost untouched.
‘I saw Andy Hall today, love.’
‘Oh, aye? You’re what, best mates now? I’d have thought he’d be a bit posh for you, love.’
‘He’s all right.’
‘His wife, Jane, she’s still a copper, isn’t she?’
‘Aye, but they’re not married.’
‘That’s surprising. She looks a bit, you know, boring.’
‘Well Andy’s all right. We’ve actually got quite a bit in common, as a matter of fact.’
‘Like what? Oh, the fact that you’e the two oldest dads in the world, is that it?’
Spedding smiled, in a way that he vainly hoped was more sparkly then wrinkly.
‘More than that, love. Quite a bit more, actually.’
She glanced across at him, and it wasn’t sparkly or wrinkly that she saw in his face. It was serious.
‘I used to be a copper too, love.’
‘Bollocks. You worked in that tax office, before we met.’
‘No, I didn’t. That wasn’t true. It was just a cover story. I was an undercover cop. I infiltrated the group, love.’
Alice opened her mouth, then closed it again. Spedding watched the surprise, doubt and incomprehension sweep across her face.
‘You’re joking, right?’
‘I’m not, love. My real name is John Niven. I was a copper back in Kent for nearly four years before I came up here. I left the job after Cam was killed. I’m sorry, love, but it’s true.’
Alice got up, and pointed at Spedding with her knife, stabbing the air. She rarely raised her voice, but now she was screaming.
‘You fucking liar. How could you? I bet you’ve got another wife, more kids, haven’t you? I’ve heard about people like you. One life’s not enough for you, is it?’
‘No, no of course I haven’t got another family, I promise. But there is more, I’m afraid, and you’re
not going to like it.’
Alice put her hand to her mouth, and Spedding couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. So he’d better get on with it.
‘Cam was a cop too, love. His real name was Mike Spence. And he didn’t have a wife, or kids, or anything like that either, I promise.’
Alice looked as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She even exhaled as if she had been. Then she was crying, both furious and heartbroken.
‘No way. No way. That can’t be true. Why are you saying this, Pete? Is this some kind of sick joke, you bastard?’
‘It is true, I’m afraid, love.’
Spedding was on his feet, and moving towards his wife, but she withdrew, held up her hands, and he stopped. And then they both just stood, looking at each other, while Kate joined in with her mum over the baby monitor.
An hour later the Spedding household was down by two glasses and a plate. But at least Alice had calmed down enough to agree to come out with Spedding and the baby, as he pushed Kate round the darkening streets.
‘Why, Pete? Or should I call you John? Christ, which one are you, anyway?’
‘Pete, love, of course. John’s gone. Forget about him. Mike too, if you can. Remember Cam, that’s all you have to do. That’s who he was, in the end. We weren’t cops any more, either of us.’
‘But why tell me all this? What’s the point? Is it all down to that Andy Hall? Is he some sort of religious nut, or something? A one man bloody truth commission, is he?’
‘No, it’s not down to him, not directly, anyway. And I’ve wanted to tell you for years, but by the time I thought I could it was already too late, somehow. But you’re right, there’s a reason why I’m telling you all this now. We’re being watched, love, Andy has proved that, and Vinny Battersby is behind it.’
A Half Remembered Life (The Lakeland Murders Book 9) Page 11
