Liars All

by Jo Bannister

  ‘If I’d never met Hester Dale.’

  Deacon considered. ‘You mean, we prayed for a miracle, and God sent us Terry Walsh?’

  Brodie laughed out loud, then swallowed it as if someone might be listening. ‘But if this works it will be a miracle. You weren’t there – in all those consulting rooms. They put it different ways, but what all the best doctors in the business were saying was, “If your baby survives, Mrs Farrell, it’ll be a miracle.” Maybe this is how it works. Maybe it’s never a flash of light and a guy with feathers and a trumpet. Maybe it’s always a subtle shifting of realities, so that someone turns out to be less ill than he thought, or someone else comes along with a cure in the nick of time. And everyone says, “We’ve been incredibly lucky.” Maybe it wasn’t luck.’

  ‘Terry Walsh as the agent of the Almighty?’ Deacon shook his head bemusedly. ‘Anyway, why us? Every sick kid’s parents must pray for a miracle. Why should we get special treatment?’

  She looked at him sideways. ‘Maybe we earned it.’

  ‘By the exemplary manner in which we’ve conducted our lives?’ snorted Deacon. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Don’t sell yourself short,’ Brodie said softly. ‘You’ve done a lot of good in this world, Jack, and you haven’t always got the credit for it. Mostly that’s your own fault – if you tell people you’re a nasty bastard you can’t complain when they believe you. I know you’re a good man – not just a good policeman but a good man. And Charlie Voss knows it. I’m not sure anyone else does.

  ‘But Dimmock, and a lot of people in Dimmock, owe you more than they realise. Some of them owe you their lives. Maybe this is how the balance gets redressed.’

  But Deacon shook his head again, stubbornly. ‘That’s my job. What you’re suggesting would be like getting a knighthood for something you’ve already been well paid for.’

  In the adjacent kitchen the kettle boiled. Brodie returned with mugs of coffee, just different enough to what they got at home to taste foreign. ‘And then,’ she murmured, sitting down again, ‘there’s Daniel.’

  Deacon cocked an eyebrow. ‘You think Daniel’s owed a miracle?’

  ‘You don’t?’

  They both considered that. Deacon said, ‘Daniel thinks you’re his miracle. Brodie, why—?’

  But she cut him off. ‘We both know he’s wrong about that. I’ve done him much more harm than good.’

  ‘He never held that against you. You couldn’t have known you were going to get him hurt.’

  ‘I could have guessed. At least that it was a possibility. But that’s not what I mean.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve stood in his way for too long. He’s thirty years old, and me and Paddy and Jonathan are the closest thing he has to a family. I shouldn’t have let that happen. As soon as I realised he wanted more than I could give him, I should have made him look elsewhere. But I liked having him around. I used him. Maybe…’ She didn’t finish the sentence.

  Deacon heard it just the same. His voice came out a shocked whisper. ‘You think…what happened to Jonathan is because of how you treated Daniel?’

  ‘No,’ she said, unconvincingly. ‘Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. Only, if someone is keeping a tally, balancing the scales…’

  But Deacon wouldn’t have it, and not just because he didn’t want her to blame herself for what he might have called an act of God but actually believed was nothing more than vicissitude. ‘And right there is where you get into difficulties with the whole faith business,’ he said gruffly. ‘If there is a God, and He gives babies cancer because their mothers behave badly, we shouldn’t be worshipping Him. We should be finding a way to bring Him down..’

  Brodie’s horrified look, as if even now his lack of reverence could cost them everything, wasn’t enough to silence him. ‘I believe in balancing the scales. I believe in the marble lady holding them on top of the Old Bailey. Because what she measures out is as close to justice as honest people can make it. She looks at the facts – not rumour, not hearsay, not belief or opinion but fact – makes a small allowance for human nature and gives a fair and decent reckoning. She makes us pay for our shortcomings. She doesn’t put our children on the altar.’

  Brodie swallowed. The problem was, she’d never been religious either. She didn’t know how much you were allowed to question before the vats of judgement were upended on you. ‘Jack, please be careful…’

  In deference to her anxiety he managed not to sneer. ‘In case Someone Up There changes His mind?’

  She managed a watery smile. ‘Am I being stupid?’

  Deacon sighed. ‘No. You’re still just trying to do the best you can for Jonathan, same as you always have.’

  There had been times when she’d wondered if he blamed her for Jonathan’s illness. Not consciously, perhaps, but in the long lonely reaches of the night. His kindness brought a tear to her eye.

  But Brodie didn’t admit to crying. She cleared her throat. ‘For a moment there you almost sounded like Daniel.’

  ‘I don’t need Daniel Hood to point out the flaws in someone’s case,’ sniffed Deacon. He saw that something was still troubling her. ‘What is it?’

  Travel doesn’t just broaden the mind – it makes it easier to unburden it. Brodie would never have spoken to Deacon this freely in her living room, or his bed. The rented apartment was neutral territory. They could say things here that wouldn’t be witnessed by the fabric of their ordinary lives and brought up later to reproach them.

  Her voice was sombre. ‘It mattered to him, you know. His lack of faith.’ But the words were wrong. It wasn’t a lack of anything: Daniel’s atheism was as strong as any creed. She tried again. ‘The fact that his own conscience was the highest authority he acknowledged. It really mattered to him. I spoilt that for him. I can’t seem to stop hurting him.’

  Deacon was sceptical. ‘I doubt it’s something we can much affect in someone else, one way or the other. Either you believe or you don’t. The arguments for make more sense to you than those against, or vice versa. You can’t make someone believe, and you can’t stop them believing.’

  ‘No. But I made him go against his beliefs. I made him put my needs above his ethics and choose between a lie and an apostasy – pretend to pray when he believed there was no one to listen, or abandon a conviction he’d lived his life by. It was a terrible thing to do to someone I care about.’

  Deacon feigned a negligent shrug. This friendship between the mother of his child and another man made him as uneasy today as it always had. He’d got past feeling it was an immediate threat to his relationship with Brodie. But he was a conventional man, and the fact that he could never find a pigeonhole for it left him not knowing what to do with the thing. He knew it was real. He knew it had been of enormous importance to both of them. He was pretty sure that, Brodie’s recent behaviour notwithstanding, it still was.

  ‘It’s not as bad as that,’ he said, clumsily reassuring. ‘Daniel had gone home by the time Hester Dale arrived. Maybe you were ready to sacrifice his beliefs for Jonathan, but it never came to that.’

  Brodie was staring as if he’d said something extraordinary. ‘Jack …how long have you known Daniel?’

  ‘As long as you have. Four years.’

  ‘And you think that, because there was no one there to watch, he broke his promise?’

  Put like that… ‘You think he went home alone and prayed to a God whose very name offends him, because he told you he would?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I think.’

  Deacon was nonplussed. ‘But Brodie…by then you’d insulted him, mocked him and all but thrown him out! He left your house bleeding every way but visibly. You can’t treat people like that and still have them want to please you. Even Daniel.’

  She didn’t look at him. She said in a small, quiet voice, ‘I didn’t say I expected it. I said it’s what he did.’

  ‘You asked him?!’

  She shook her head, the cloud of dark hair tossing. ‘I didn’t need to. I know him, Jack.
Nothing would have stopped him keeping his promise. He wouldn’t even wonder if he needed to. He raised his objections when I asked him to do it. After he’d agreed, nothing would have stopped him.’

  And Deacon knew she was right. ‘Why?’ he asked softly. ‘Why did it matter so much to you to involve Daniel in something you knew was anathema to him? You must have known that, even though he’d do it, he’d never forgive you.’

  ‘That was my sacrifice,’ she whispered.

  She’d lost him. ‘What do you mean?’

  She stumbled to put it into words. ‘What we were asking – for Jonathan – it wasn’t like a charm to cure a verruca. He was dying of the sort of illness that shows up on X-rays. Reordering reality enough to get round that wasn’t going to be easy. A miracle that big I expected to have to pay for. I offered up my best friend to save my son. I offered up his conscience, his soul, his dignity. Every way but actually, I crucified him. Daniel’s friendship was the only thing of real value to me that I could give up, and that was the only way I could think of doing it.

  ‘And I nearly didn’t, Jack. I nearly decided it was too much. Even for my baby. I nearly decided the sacrifice was too great.’ The tears were running down her face openly now, spilling either side of her mouth.

  Deacon felt he’d been sideswiped by a wrecking ball. Finally he understood. The things she’d done, the things she’d said, that had made no sense to him at the time – finally they did. She’d given up almost the biggest thing in her life for the one thing that mattered more. For the tiny chance that someone was listening who might appreciate the gift enough to save her son. His voice was weak, hollow. ‘When I asked why you were treating Daniel like that, you said he deserved it.’

  Brodie managed a broken smile. ‘It’s true, Jack. He deserves much better than me. And I think now he has a chance of something better. But I didn’t think he’d take it unless I pushed him away.’

  ‘Jane,’ realised Deacon, the surprise in his eyes like a sunrise. ‘You think… Daniel and Jane…? Daniel? And Jane?’

  She shrugged helplessly. ‘Who knows? But it’s a chance. The way he talks about her – the things he’s done for her – there’s something there. I don’t know if he knows it yet. I don’t know if she feels the same way. But sometimes you just have to see half a chance of happiness and jump at it. And you can’t do that if someone’s holding you back.’

  Deacon said softly, ‘It wasn’t your fault. That friendship – even the kind of friendship you and Daniel had – wasn’t enough for him.’

  ‘I could have tried harder,’ she said sadly.

  ‘You mean, you could have lied. You know better than that, Brodie. You know that would have broken his heart faster and surer than anything else you could have done.’

  Knowing he was right didn’t help much. The last few years had been the most extraordinary time of her life. She’d got a business, a lover and a child out of them, and though she couldn’t be sure what the future held for any of them, at heart she felt a certain cautious optimism.

  And then there was Daniel. Knowing him had been key to her growth from an embittered, embattled ex-wife to the woman she was today. It was a journey she couldn’t have made without him. Her only regret was the nagging worry that he’d been a much more positive influence on her life than she had been on his.

  ‘The worst of it is,’ she admitted, ‘I do love him. Still. I always will. Just, not in a way that’s any good for him.’

  If she’d been telling him something he didn’t know, Deacon might have objected. ‘You did what you had to do. What you honestly felt was best for all concerned. I think you were probably right. I’ll tell you something else. When the dust’s settled and Daniel thinks about what’s happened, he’ll know exactly what you did and why you did it. He’ll forgive you.’

  ‘Even lying to him? I told him I didn’t care if I hurt him!’

  Deacon shrugged. ‘Love makes liars of us all. You had to do the best you could for Jonathan. You wanted the best for Daniel. You found a way of reconciling what should have been impossible opposites. I’m pretty sure Daniel’s going to understand that.’

  Her eyes were mournful. ‘I doubt if I’ll ever know. I don’t think I’ll see him again. I think that was part of the payment. Like giving up chocolate for Lent.’

  One of Deacon’s eyebrows rocketed. ‘You think Daniel’s gone for good? That the angry words of a desperate woman were enough to make him want to put the last four years behind him?’ He passed a weary hand in front of his eyes. ‘Brodie, sometimes I think that – in spite of everything – you hardly know him at all. Maybe he and Jane will get something together. I hope they do. But if they do, or if they look like they’re going to, the first one he’s going to want to tell is you. If they don’t, the shoulder he’ll want to cry on is yours. Even if they faff around for the next six months wondering if they will or not, he’s going to want to know how Jonathan’s doing. You’re not rid of Daniel yet. I promise you.’

  He went into the bedroom to check on the baby.

  Brodie so wanted to believe him. It just seemed too much like having your cake and eating it – winning this precious chance for Jonathan, and getting a refund on the only thing she’d possessed that was valuable enough to pay for it.

  After a minute it struck her that Deacon hadn’t come back. Her stomach knotted hard, her weary legs launching her towards the bedroom. ‘Jack…?’

  Jonathan was asleep, cradled against his father’s chest. Deacon was looking at the twin beds. ‘I suppose what I’m wondering,’ he said without much preamble, ‘is, do we push them together or leave them where they are?’

  For a moment Brodie had thought something terrible had happened. That you can’t have your cake and eat it, and you shouldn’t even try. But she’d been wrong. She slumped on the nearest bed as all the strength went out of her. ‘Oh Jack…’

  Predictably, he misunderstood. If she’d been watching she’d have seen a faint flush creep up his stubbly cheek, but he feigned unconcern. ‘Fair enough. You’re probably right. Too much water under the bridge.’

  She’d managed to hurt him again. Inadvertently, but that didn’t make the hurt any less. She reached out a long-fingered hand, resting it on his arm where Jonathan’s head lay sleeping. ‘Sorry. I thought…’

  She nodded at the baby, and Deacon’s eyes flared with understanding. She was jumping at shadows, but that wasn’t her fault. Not with all she’d been through, all that lay ahead. He was going to have to be gentle with her. He could do that. It was what he wanted, what he’d always wanted. He still didn’t know if it was what she wanted.

  ‘Or,’ he said carefully, essaying a compromise, ‘we could leave them where they are for the moment.’

  She looked at him, holding their baby, and it was like seeing him for the first time. There was a lot that was wrong with him as a partner. But then, there was a lot wrong with her too. She’d let him down, not the other way round. She’d never expected him to forgive her that, but she knew now that he had. She didn’t know what the future held for any of them. But perhaps you didn’t need to know. You had to jump. To make a leap of faith.

  ‘Water under the bridge?’ she said impatiently. ‘That’s what bridges are for! Jack, I don’t know how far we can go with this. We’ve made mistakes, God knows we’ve made mistakes, but we’ve survived them. We’re neither of us lovesick teenagers – we’ve been around the block a few times, each on our own and both together. We know not to expect too much – of one another, of other people, of life. And knowing that gives us a better chance of surviving the new mistakes we’ll make.

  ‘I don’t know if we can grow old together, Jack, or if we’ll break one another’s hearts and bones trying. But I do know everything worth having is worth fighting for. Give me the baby.’ She put him back in his cot. ‘You take the headboard, I’ll take the footboard. Now…shove…!’

  ALSO BY JO BANNISTER

  Closer Still

  Flawed


  Requiem for a Dealer

  Breaking Faith

  The Depths of Solitude

  Reflections

  True Witness

  Echoes of Lies

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  LIARS ALL. Copyright © 2009 by Jo Bannister. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.minotaurbooks.com

  First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby Limited

  eISBN 9781429934558

  First eBook Edition : February 2011

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bannister, Jo.

  Liars all / Jo Bannister.—1st U.S. ed.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-0-312-61239-9

  1. Farrell, Brodie (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Women private investigators—Fiction. 3. Mugging—Fiction. 4. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 5. Mugging victims—Fiction. 6. Jewelry theft—Fiction. 7. Guilt—Fiction. 8. Detective and mystery stories. I. Title.

  PR6052.A497L53 2010

  823’.914—dc22

  2009041525

  First U.S. Edition: April 2010