‘I’m Jason,’ Jason was saying. ‘I’m like you. You’re not alone.’
Lydia felt her throat close up as she heard the emotion in Jason’s voice.
‘It’s all right, mate,’ Jason was saying, now. ‘I just wanted to meet you. I just want to talk.’
Lydia kept her mouth shut. It seemed as if Marty’s form was shaking a little bit less, perhaps even seeming more solid than it had done. It was hard to say in the dim light and with the Fox scent thick in her mouth and nose and the weakness she felt after carrying Jason.
Jason took a step toward Marty and then froze. Marty’s mouth was opening wider than before there was a dry rasping sound, just on the edges of hearing.
‘I know it’s hard,’ Jason said. ‘I was bloody terrified. But it gets better. I promise.’
Marty was still staring in Jason’s direction, his mouth gaping, but something seemed to shift behind his eyes. A flicker of life. Of understanding. His mouth closed, transforming his face into something more recognisably human. He took a shimmering step forward, floating still, but looking like he was trying to walk.
Jason hadn’t stopped speaking, he was keeping up the stream of comforting phrases, so gentle and kind and patient that it made Lydia want to hug him.
Marty raised his arms, as if reaching for something. He made the strange rasping sound again, and it eventually morphed into a recognisable word. ‘Katy.’ The word was drawn out, spoken like a caress. It was quiet, whispered really, but so filled with longing that it raised every hair on Lydia’s body.
‘It’s all right,’ Jason said. ‘You’re all right. We just want to know what happened to you.’
Marty shook his head very slowly and deliberately. He rasped ‘Katy’ again, more clearly this time, and then floated into the side of the tunnel and disappeared.
‘Bugger,’ Jason said, turning around in a circle. ‘Has he gone? I think he’s gone. Should I follow him?’ He moved toward the place Marty had gone.
Lydia felt a spurt of panic. ‘Don’t!’
‘What?’ Jason stopped and looked at her, still translucent like something superimposed on the scene.
‘You might get lost. You might not be able to get back. What if you just disappear?’
Jason’s expression softened. ‘You really do care, don’t you?’ His form appeared instantly more solid. Although that might have been the effect his satisfaction had on his features. Annoying.
‘Shut up,’ Lydia said.
They agreed to wait for a few minutes, calling for Marty in quiet, non-threatening tones, to see if he would come back.
‘I’m going to find him,’ Jason said.
‘No,’ Lydia said. ‘It’s too risky.’
‘We’ve come this far,’ Jason was already moving away from her, in the direction Marty had disappeared. ‘It’s our best chance to find out how he died. And I want him to know he’s not alone.’
‘Don’t,’ Lydia said, panicking now. But Jason had reached the side of the tunnel and then moved into it. His solid form dissolving into the shadowy space between the curved girders.
‘Jason!’ Lydia’s voice was thin and frightened in the dead air.
She waited, the minutes crawling by, but Jason didn’t return.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lydia had her phone out, staring at the clock until her vision went blurry. She set the timer for five minutes and told herself that if Jason didn’t come back in that time she would do something. She didn’t know what that ‘something’ was going to be and couldn’t follow the train of thought without feeling sick, but the small decision made her feel a little better. Come on, Jason, she willed. Come back. Please come back.
As the digital clock counted down the final minute, Lydia felt a wave of ‘Fox’. Out of the shadows, Marty appeared, his shape coalescing against the curved metal girders which formed the sides of the ventilation tunnel. It took Lydia a moment to realise what was wrong with his face. It was something she hadn’t seen before and Lydia didn’t recognise it at first. Marty was smiling. His mouth was open wide and, somehow, the dark holes of his eyes seemed slightly less sad than usual. It was creepy as hell.
‘Jason,’ Lydia said, keeping her voice calm and low. As if she could will him to appear with the strength of her conviction.
For a moment she thought she had succeeded, as behind Marty, confusingly visible through his translucent form was another figure. Then Lydia realised it wasn’t Jason. The figure was smaller and female, with a long dress and apron and large dark eyes which held an intelligence and comprehension which was at odds with her ethereal appearance.
‘It’s all right,’ Jason said quietly, right next to Lydia’s ear, making her jump. He must have come through the tunnel behind her. Lydia was overwhelmed with relief but didn’t have time to process it properly, as two ghosts were hovering in front of them.
‘He’s not alone after all,’ Jason’s voice was barely above a whisper and Lydia found she was shivering. She clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from clattering together.
The female figure inclined her head to Marty who turned and smiled beatifically. ‘Katy,’ he said, his voice rasping, but unmistakably joyful. The female ghost took Marty’s hand and the two figures drifted away down the tunnel.
Lydia turned to Jason. ‘Did that look like Katy to you?’
‘Nope,’ Jason said. ‘As far as I could gather, Marty spent weeks looking for her after he died. And now he’s found her, he’s much happier.’
‘But it’s not Katy?’ Lydia whispered, keeping her eyes on the figures, which were turned away from them. ‘Who is it?’
‘No clue, but her clothes suggest she died a long time ago.’
‘Should we do something?’ Lydia spoke without thinking. She had absolutely no idea what she would be able to do. Marty and what looked like a ghost from Victorian-era London were drifting off into the sunset together. Abandoned ventilation shaft. Whatever.
‘I think that might be our lot,’ Jason said, as the figures disappeared.
‘Where did you go?’ Lydia’s fear at losing Jason was coming back.
‘There are loads of spirits down here and they were all talking. We were in the wall, I think, or the ground. It was very dark and I didn’t like it. Couldn’t really concentrate. Pretty sure she’s the one who frightened him to death, though. Don’t suppose she meant to.’
Jason sounded strained.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Happy I tried,’ Jason’s voice was even quieter than before. ‘Nice to be out of The Fork, even if we are underground.’
‘But?’ Lydia could sense something else.
‘Bloody knackered,’ Jason said. ‘And kind of in pain. Which is weird, when you think about it. I guess I must just really remember what pain feels like and be able to recreate it, even though my body is like this.’ He swept a hand down, indicating himself. Which made Lydia notice something - he was almost entirely translucent, now. She had to really concentrate to pick him out against the darkness of the tunnel.
‘I think we should get you home,’ Lydia said. ‘Hop on board.’ She tried to keep her eyes open this time, so that she could see what happened, but it was the same as earlier. The moment Jason touched her, the cold forced the breath from her body and she closed her eyes reflexively.
Getting home was harder than the journey out. Lydia took a cab, again, but it felt like it took longer. There was a creeping feeling of despair alongside the coldness. She felt sick and exhausted and wanted to close her eyes, but also had the fear that if she fell asleep she might not be able to wake up. She put her headphones in and blasted loud rock music as a distraction and gripped her coin.
As soon as she walked through the door to the café, she felt Jason leave. It was unmistakable as the sensation came alongside a wave of sickness which had her doubled over and retching. Lydia ran, hunched, to the kitchen, holding a hand over her mouth and just made it to the sink before throwing up the contents of her stomach.
/> She rinsed her mouth with water from the tap and then slid down the cabinets to sit on the floor, sweaty and shaking. Once the nausea had passed and her fingers were no longer trembling, Lydia called Paul. Whatever else she might think about him, Marty was his blood, his kin, he deserved to know the truth.
Too tired to be cautious, she told Paul that she had reason to believe that Marty had been frightened to death by what he believed to be the ghost of his ex-girlfriend.
‘Katy?’
‘The very same,’ Lydia said. ‘The guilt he was carrying, combined with the depression and paranoia, plus his heart condition. Poor guy thought he saw Katy and it was all over for him.’
There was a short pause as Paul digested this. ‘You think he was hallucinating?’
‘Or he saw something.’ Lydia just wanted the conversation over with. ‘He could have seen a ghost. A load of graves were dug up when that part of the tunnel was built. Perfect conditions for an unquiet spirit, if you believe in that kind thing.’
‘Makes sense,’ Paul said. ‘Luke got drunk and was talking about seeing a girl down there. Said she was dressed funny. I was concerned about his mental faculties, so this is better. Thank you.’
Lydia was surprised at how quickly he accepted her outlandish explanation, but she wasn’t about to kick a gift horse in the mouth. ‘So, we’re done?’
‘I’m not done,’ Paul said. ‘I have made progress on the other matter and will let you know when I’ve got more.’
It took Lydia a moment to realise that he was talking about the attack. ‘It’s over,’ Lydia said. ‘I just don’t want any more trouble from your family.’
‘It was Tristan.’
‘What?’ Lydia was stunned. Paul was turning on his own father in public. To a Crow, no less.
‘It seems that the boys hadn’t just been urban exploring in the tunnels. They had been meeting up with some Russian and needed somewhere they wouldn’t be observed or disturbed.’
Lydia immediately thought about Dmitry, the courier she had tailed from Maria’s to JRB’s office. ‘A courier?’
‘An employee of some kind, I would guess,’ Paul said. ‘He claimed to have information on some secret Crow plan to attack our family. I don’t know who he was working for, but Tristan lapped it up, apparently. He wasn’t too pleased that we had started up our old acquaintance.’
Lydia didn’t know what to say. There was a block of ice in her stomach, fear at the thought of Tristan Fox gunning for her.
‘You’ve got nothing to worry about,’ Paul said, reading her mind. ‘I’m sorting it.’
Lydia found her voice. ‘Let’s just stay out of each other’s way. Deal?’
‘If that’s what you want,’ Paul said. ‘I thought we made a good team, though.’
‘I work alone,’ Lydia said. ‘You know that.’
‘So you keep saying, Little Bird.’
Lydia slept heavily that night, no whisky required. Acting as transport for a ghost turned out to be really tiring. When she woke up, late the next day, she felt vaguely sick and her head was pounding. There was nothing to eat in the kitchen so once she had showered and the paracetamol had taken the edge off her headache, she went downstairs to sweet talk Angel.
Angel was behind the counter ringing up a takeaway order for a customer. Lydia waited until they had walked away, before saying. ‘Anything going spare?’
‘Menu is on the board,’ Angel said.
‘I was thinking more along the freebie line,’ Lydia said. She wasn’t entirely serious, but it was fun to annoy Angel. Angel narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. ‘Glass of water? Smack in the mouth?’
Lydia held up her hands. ‘Kidding. I’ll take a croissant. And a bacon roll. And one of those custard tart things.’
Angel raised an eyebrow. ‘Anything else?’
‘Coffee.’ Lydia had brought her own mug and she held it out. Angel gestured to the machine, so Lydia ducked behind the counter and helped herself.
‘You keeping busy?’ Angel said, as she placed the tart onto a plate with a pair of tongs.
‘Moderately,’ Lydia said. She wanted to say ‘I just solved my first ‘ghost murderer’ case’ but wasn’t sure whether that would even be accurate. The unknown female ghost might not have intended to kill Marty. So it would be manslaughter at most. Unless you could prove malice aforethought. Lydia’s mind was wandering. She needed to eat.
Angel had already left, heading out to the kitchen.
Lydia hoped Marty’s ghost and the woman would be happy. He thought she was Katy and maybe that was enough to release his spirit to wherever they went.
Angel returned with a bacon roll.
‘You got cash? Charlie says your line of credit has been revoked. Something about you not doing your part?’ She raised a perfectly defined eyebrow.
‘Yeah,’ Lydia muttered. ‘I’m not flavour of the month. How much?’
Lydia already had her credit card ready to pay for breakfast when Angel shoved the roll at her and inclined her head. ‘Take it. I’m feeling generous.’
After eating, Lydia intended to find Jason and see how he was doing after their adventure. Instead, she fell asleep and woke up with her head on her desk, a damp patch under her cheek where she had dribbled. Sitting up and wiping her mouth, Lydia felt the bones in her spine and neck crack. There was a noise and it took Lydia a moment to realise that it was her phone.
‘There’s been a development,’ Fleet said. ‘Can you meet me?’
Lydia splashed water on her face and headed to Burgess Park and the Bridge To Nowhere. It was their old meeting spot, back when they were still very unsure of each other and it made Lydia feel both nostalgic and vulnerable.
Fleet was in his suit and there were shadows under his eyes. ‘I spoke to the lead detective and she said they’re treating Marty Benson’s death as suspicious. It’s been moved from the Transport Police to the Met.’
‘It was a heart attack,’ Lydia said. ‘Pre-existing condition.’ Lydia thought about explaining to Fleet that she had met the murderer the day before and she wasn’t going to be easy to cross-examine, but there was no point. It wasn’t information he could take back to his colleagues.
‘A witness came forward and said that you were seen in the tunnels around the time of death.’
‘Well that’s not a surprise, I found him.’
‘No, earlier than your statement. And alone. No Faisal.’
‘And what am I supposed to have done? Shouted ‘boo’?’
‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but there’s another statement. A Mr Jack Fox has come forward and given a witness statement. He spoke to the flo and said that he saw you and Marty Benson arguing.’
‘Flow?’
‘F.L.O.’ Fleet said. ‘Family Liaison Officer. Once they had an identification for Marty, it’s standard practice to check in with his next of kin. By all accounts, they weren’t easy to track down, but Deshan is very thorough. Very diligent.’
‘Great,’ Lydia said flatly, unable in the moment to appreciate the work ethic of one of Fleet’s colleagues.
‘Anyway, he said that you seemed very angry. He says he heard you shout ‘you’re dead’. Jack is Paul Fox’s brother, one of them. You probably know him?’
Lydia ignored the dig. ‘I never met Marty Benson,’ she said instead. Just his ghost . And that had been brief. ‘You know that.’
‘It’s his word against yours, and the lead thinks it’s enough circumstantial to open it as a suspicious death.’
‘It’s being passed to MIT?’
Fleet nodded and Lydia’s heart sank. The Murder Investigation Team would swing into action, now, going back over the existing evidence and making their assessment.
Fleet’s next words came wrapped in an apologetic tone. ‘There are staff shortages so they’re cobbling together a team from wherever possible.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’ve been seconded to it.’
‘Well that
’s just perfect,’ Lydia said. Uncle Charlie was going to have a coronary from shouting ‘I told you so’.
‘Won’t it be considered a conflict of interest. With our relationship?’
‘I love it when you say “relationship”,’ Fleet said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. ‘But, no. They can’t afford to be precious. Average number of open murder cases for each SIO is sitting at twenty. Besides, it’s not like I’ve been broadcasting our personal connection. I thought you would prefer it was kept private.’
‘Hell Hawk,’ Lydia said.
Fleet reached for her. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he said, dipping his head to kiss her mouth.
Lydia’s body responded, as always, but it didn’t quiet the clamour in her mind.
Once Fleet had left, heading back to the office and the team of people intent on proving she was involved in the death of Marty Benson, Lydia walked back to The Fork. She still felt zombie-like and unable to process things properly. If this was what carrying a ghost around did, she wasn’t keen to repeat the experience. In her office, she ate some toast at her desk and looked for a distraction. She was trying, very hard, not to take Fleet’s actions as a personal betrayal. It was his job, after all, and he could hardly refuse to join the MIT on her case when Lydia had told him not to advertise their connection. She couldn’t have it both ways. Which was annoying.
Still, as far as she was concerned, the case for Paul Fox was over and that meant she could turn her attention back to the rest of her business. Her sadly-neglected business. She opened her desk drawer which held the photograph of the bruised and beaten Fox family. A group, which now she looked at it again, clearly included Jack Fox, Paul’s brother. No wonder he was pissed off.
There was also the money Paul had sent, still bundled neatly. Lydia might not like where the cash had come from and why, but she was a realist. She always had a list of equipment she needed for Crow Investigations, not to mention the need for a new car. She had reported the Volvo as stolen and would have to wait for the insurance money to come through. When it did, it would need supplementing in order to get anything halfway serviceable, so she peeled off a few large notes and put them back in the drawer for that purpose. Then she took herself to her favourite security shop and bought a replacement for the binoculars she had lost along with her car, and some surveillance items like a nifty audio-recorder which was hidden inside a plug socket, and an expensive car tracking device which promised to magnetically adhere to the underside of a vehicle and provide real-time tracking.
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