“For me, Mr Chauncey, it is becoming increasingly the perfect choice,” said Eva.
“Oh, you do say. Carry on. I do so love flattery.”
“Who do you know among Balfour’s friends who could have committed similar acts… or have been considered some kind of Mr Big?”
“Oh, it was a third of my life ago, Miss Roberts. How am I supposed to recall these things without checking files?”
“A quarter,” said Dan.
“What?” said Chauncey.
“Balfour’s court case was a quarter of your life ago at least, not a third,” said Dan.
“Thank you for the reminder. You’ll be old too one day.”
“Please, Mr Chauncey. Think. Two people have been killed…” said Eva.
The old solicitor nodded and rolled his eyes. “Ummm. Any one of his associates could have killed anyone. They are low lives, Miss Roberts, the lowest of the low. You’ve seen what sort of society they keep, I’m sure. Drug dealers, drunks, brawlers, scoundrels, and vagabonds of every creed. Give any of those sort of people a bad word or a five pound note and they are capable of anything. You must know that already.”
“I know the sort,” said Dan. “And some of them are good people. With morals and manners and principles. The kind of values that a solicitor like you should know all about.”
For the first time, Joss Chauncey looked annoyed. Dan’s comments had irked him.
“Then you keep strange company, Mr Bradley. Perhaps I should make Maisy frisk you for stolen office equipment on the way out. On second thoughts, I think she’d rather like that…” said Chauncey.
“So, you’re saying that you can’t help us with Balfour’s associates prior to sentencing?”
“I’m saying I don’t know off the top of my head.”
“But you can look through your files?”
“I could…”
“I’d appreciate that, Mr Chauncey.”
“Now… this other person. This Mr Big… what do you say about that,” said Dan.
The man sat back and waved his big wrinkled hand as if giving a brief royal wave. “Who can say? The man was a fantasist anyway. He lied to me so many times I had to decipher the truth whenever we spoke. He made my life very difficult. But we did our best for him all the same. No, I can’t think of a single important person who would have associated with John Balfour. Not by choice.”
“Oh, I can think of at least one…” said Dan.
Chauncey made eye contact with Dan for the briefest moment, then moved on, shifting in his chair.
“Well, he may have done small jobs for any kind of black marketeer. In their world they all believe they are important, until they get nicked, and then all they are is just hamsters in a cage. But they still wield a kind of influence, do they not? Gangsters are important men, and they paint themselves as Mr Big.”
“That wasn’t what Balfour was telling us. It had little to do with any kind of gang.”
“How do you know? Can you ask him? Can you be sure? You can’t, because he’s dead, Miss Roberts.”
There was silence. All three of them surveyed one another across the table.
“Please do your best to help us, Mr Chauncey. I think your assistance may prove pivotal to this case.”
“Really? I think it may prove utterly useless. But there we are, you’re the experts, supposedly…” said Chauncey.
“Oh, and we spoke to Eleanor,” said Eva.
Chauncey froze and his eyebrows drew down over his eyes.
“Why did you speak to her?”
“For background. We had a most stimulating conversation. Very interesting indeed.”
Chauncey stood up. “It’s time for you to leave. Maisy! I want these people to leave. Come and clear them out of my office.”
Eva stood, smiled and outstretched her hand for Chauncey to shake. He took it and held it for a fraction of time before he dropped it and looked away, grimacing as if there was an unpleasant taste in his mouth.
“Thanks for your time, Mr Chauncey. I’ll wait for your call.”
“You certainly will,” said Chauncey.
He said nothing but glowered at them both, flattening his wild grey hair as they left. Dan winked at Eva as he shut the door. They still had nothing to show for their work. But all the same, without speaking of it Eva and Dan both knew– that they finally had something…
Nineteen
It was evening. Eva needed a break. Rather than slog another night on her weary bones and risk burning out. Dan actually agreed to take a night off. He said it would help their concentration, and give them more wit to deal with smart cookies like Joss Chauncey. Dan still looked edgy. He needed to do something to get rid of that tension, and when he saw how tired Eva was he guessed at least one solution was off the menu. Instead he paced around the front room of Eva’s flat, reading the BBC news all the while, researching the latest on the Dobcek Russian mafia, and scanning the special email account he kept for his few remaining Russian friends.
There was chatter out there, Eva could tell from Dan’s nail chewing and tense face, but the chances were he wouldn’t tell her about it as she had made her feelings on the Russian situation so evident across the years. And there was the small matter of surviving a Russian sponsored hit. She knew he would protect her from what he thought would harm her state of mind. But Eva could read him all the same. She laid her pen down on the coffee table.
“So, Dan… What are you thinking about? If you don’t stop pacing soon you’ll drop through the floor down into the office.”
Dan made a grin but it slipped away too quickly. He gnawed around the stump of his little finger, realised what he was doing, then put his hand away by his side.
“Chauncey stinks. He stinks because he’s a bad liar and he’s forgotten everything about the case. He’s in his sixties not his nineties. He’s not got dementia, and if his sex drive is anything to go by, he’s more like in his twenties.”
“No, Dan. He’s a pervert, a pervert is a pervert at any age.”
“I don’t think he’s too different from Balfour… the way he looked at you half the time.”
“Yes I did notice. He looked at me like a hungry person looks at a sandwich. I think he’s hiding something too, but we don’t know for sure that we’re right. He made a reasonable effort of discrediting every assumption we’d made.”
“He cast doubt on everything. But that’s how he gets his clients off with murder. I’m not buying it Eva. Are you?”
She recalled Chauncey’s baggy face and his invasive flashing eyes. She was certain he was a bad apple, but just how bad she couldn’t be sure. “I’m not buying it, either, Dan.”
“It’s good to know we’re on the same page again,” he said, and then he looked away.
“We are, mostly, aren’t we?” she said. Dan looked back at her, the TV light glinting in her eyes.
“What do you mean, mostly?”
“Only that you’ve much more on your mind than you are telling me, Dan. It’s okay. No pressure. If you don’t want to share you don’t have to, but we’re partners again remember. Real partners. You can trust me.”
“I do trust you. I just don’t want to cause you more grief than you need. There’s a whole host of shitbags over at The Kingsmere estate getting away with all kinds of strokes because I’m caught up with this, and every joker involved is throwing a spanner in the works. Then there’s what you’ve been through in London. God knows you should be in the sanatorium, both of us should, with the keys thrown away, but here we are again, trying to make a buck and crossing swords with scumbags…”
“And then there’s the Russian situation.”
“Yes, Eva, I forgot you were telepathic.”
“Come over here, Dan. I’m telepathic, remember…”
“I didn’t know you were that telepathic,” Dan smiled.
Eva was sitting on the sofa in front of the TV with her legs up under her chin. She laid her legs out straight and beckoned Dan with o
pen arms. A glimmer of excitement appeared in Dan’s eyes and he slowly moved towards her, showing he was still cool. Who was he kidding?
He sat down on the edge of the sofa, and Eva’s slender hands drew his face towards her. Her fingers slid around the back of his head and pulled his unshaven face towards her. His old hair used to entwine around her fingers. His new cropped look felt tough, smooth and sexy to the touch. His lips found hers, and she caressed his cheek. He was hesitant. She breathed into the kiss and looked into his eyes.
“I thought you were tired, honey…”
“So why don’t you put me to sleep…” she smiled and arched an eyebrow. Dan didn’t need telling twice. He kissed her firmly, and Eva quietly whimpered in welcome acceptance of his force. His strong arms slid around her back, his hands plunging through her long sweet smelling hair. She felt the fire of his passion rising as they kissed and she began to undo his shirt buttons, causing his energy to go up another gear. When Dan’s shirt was undone, they both heard a noise downstairs. The front door. The door chime followed by rapping of knuckles. The whole cycle was repeated twice – the person at the front door was the persistent type.
“I’ve been here before. I learned that its bad news to open the door when you’re closed for the day,” she said as they held each other and waited for the interruption to pass. But the interruption didn’t pass and the door chimed and knocked again.
“I’ll fix this,” said Dan, rising from the chair.
“No,” said Eva, with new concerns crossing her mind. “I think I’d prefer to deal with this more peacefully. Why don’t you go and slip into something more comfortable,” she said with a smile and turned away. The smile slid from her face as she walked down into the office. In the darkness she saw a hulking silhouette behind the glass and knew who it was instantly. She walked straight up to the door and opened it just enough.
“What do you want?” she said into the cold, the evening breeze snatching at her lips which were still warm from kisses.
“Aside from the obvious…”
“Your lines are getting worse Gary. What is it?”
“The Balfour case. You must leave it alone now, all right? You’ve had your fun, but the time for dicking around in other people’s business is over. You weren’t hired for this, I know you weren’t. Who would hire a PI to rake over a whore killer case? It flies in the face of reason…”
“You’ve got such a way with words, Gary. Those were people, Gary, living breathing people.”
“Stop giving me moral lectures and pretending you’re such a bloody love-for-all earth mother. You’re about as liberal as me, Eva. I know who you are remember. I know the real you. You’re no better than me.”
“So you keep saying but you’ve got nothing on me, have you?”
He stayed quiet for a second, exploiting it to the full, making Eva wait while she listened to the sound of her own heart thudding against her ribcage. He shook his head. “Nothing I could use in court, but I know, Eva. I know about Maggie’s bodyguards. Both of them. That’s all I need say, right? Now you know I know.”
Eva gulped. “How the hell did..?”
Gary shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. But now I know it tells me so much. Don’t keep pushing this case, Eva. You don’t want to go there. Balfour is best off where he is and so are the rest of us.”
“But what about Laura?”
Gary shrugged. “We all die one day. She was going to die earlier than the average bear, doing what she was doing.”
“Why are you trying to cover this up, Gary? Who are you working for?”
“Piss off, Eva. It’s not a cover up. I’m tidying loose ends. I’m in the same boat, here. If I chase this one… I don’t know where it ends. But it won’t end well.”
“Who is Mr Big, Gary?”
Rowntree’s eyes went glassy, he blinked and the look was gone.
“No one. Leave it is all I’m saying. I’m sure the culprits will be prosecuted in due course. Now… how about we have that dinner some time. You’ve got to be nice to me, remember?”
“Intruding again, Gary, old bean…” said Dan. “You never know when to leave it alone, do you?” Eva turned and saw Dan standing in the middle of the shop. He walked towards them and Eva had no clue how long he’d been there. She suddenly felt guilty, ashamed, and caught in the act… all because of Gary Rowntree.
“You are a dirty copper, Gary. No woman in her right mind wants dinner with something as vile as that. A man with no morals, no north no south, a man who will do just about anything for an easy shekel… A cop sold to the highest bidder.”
“No, Bradley. You got me wrong again. I’m a free agent looking out for your interests.”
“Yeah, I can see that all right.”
“You are making some big mistakes, here, my friend and I’d rather you didn’t… for your sake.”
“A warning from a bent cop. Sounds to me like we’re getting closer…”
Eva stared at Rowntree. “Yes, it really does, doesn’t it?”
“I won’t keep you then boys and girls. But please, don’t be stupid. Leave this one to the law, will you?”
“Whose law, Gary?” said Dan.
“She knows the thin blue line, Bradley. Ask her…” Rowntree turned away and pulled his overcoat lapels up about his chin. Eva shut the door, bolted it and turned to face Dan, her body pressed back against the door.
“What was all that about, Eva?”
Her heart was beating fast. She busily read Dan’s face and at the same time proffered a sexy tilt of her head. “Oh, he’s trying to put the frighteners on us Dan. You heard him.”
“Yeah, mostly,” said Dan, looking at Eva. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Dan, please uncork that white wine. I really do need a drink now. And remind me to unplug that doorbell will you.”
“Too right, last one in bed goes on top!” he said, grinning and jogged up the steps to their flat.
Rowntree was getting dangerously close – Dan was right, it was because they were getting closer to the source of all this mess. But who was it? And if they found out, would Gary tell what he knew about her? He’d come so close, the risk was getting unbearable. The tension closed in. Drink was first and foremost on her mind… then she hoped making love to Dan would send them both into a peaceful sleep. It was a hope that looked increasingly remote.
Twenty
Back in his most casual duds, Dan reverted back into his alter-ego, Craig. Craig was a smart Alec down-and-out, living in a ramshackle bedsit right opposite the seaside, the kind of place most people in society wouldn’t want to call home, but in the levels frequented by Craig, having a bedsit was something of a boast. For a time it had been awkward creating his new persona. Some folks at The Refuge, the food bank and soup kitchen that helped the battered, broken, addicted and the wicked of the town, still faintly remembered him as Dan. When he first hit hard times he had only been himself – Dan Bradley, desperate having survived so much bad luck that he was permanently reeling, stuck on the ropes taking blow after blow without end. Back then it turned out that his bad luck was part of a plan that led him into combat with the villain of villains, Victor Marka. That was then. This was now. Dan didn’t want his psychology to be affected by walking the lowest line. He felt sorry for the people at The Refuge, but he never wanted to become one of them ever again… with the invention of Craig, he was able to compartmentalise his life. Craig was a functional creation existing only as a means to glean information from the bottom of the heap, and to help the weakest who were being preyed on by the strongest. But Dan had to accept his limitations. For every three good people who needed help, there were four idiots happy with their lot, and three villains trying to rob, steal and destroy from everyone else. All the same he couldn’t give up. It was eleven fifteen am, and Dan stood in the boisterous, winding queue to go into the building. He wore a black jacket with a rip at the elbow, padding slightly exposed. His jeans were baggy and unwashed. The jeans used t
o fit him back before his fall from grace, but he was stronger and more streetwise than he was back before 2013. A lot had changed – especially him.
He stood near the gossips to start with, nearest to the man known as Suitcase because of his extraordinarily big head atop a giant body with a big gut. Suitcase pretended he was stupid. He wasn’t. Suitcase pretended he had mental health issues. He might have done, once. Suitcase remembered Craig as Dan, and Dan knew it, but it nothing had been said about it because deep down Suitcase knew Dan was a tough customer, and unlike the rest of the poor fools Suitcase taunted in the queue, Dan would so something about it. Besides, a name change was no big deal at The Refuge. So many chaotic lives, so many reasons to run away from yourself, weird behaviour was commonplace. Suitcase was a gossip, a fountain of knowledge, and a grass. With the right prompts, Dan knew he could reap answers. Rowntree, Balfour and Chauncey had let slip that this situation was bigger and deeper than the murder of Laura Gosling, so Dan was dropping the net. He’d already laughed with those around him about the mouldy sandwiches they’d soon be served and the greedy volunteers who worked in The Refuge who stole the best food. The volunteers didn’t truly steal any food and the sandwiches weren’t mouldy, but the queue needed something to moan about and so Craig joined in. Now it was time to move to phase two.
“So they still haven’t found the dirty bastard who killed Laura, have they?” said Craig, snorting instead of wiping his nose in the cold. Nobody here much used handkerchiefs. Suitcase shook his head, along with one of the dullards who nodded. “Nah. I think they’ll give up soon, it’ll be one of those unsolved mysteries.”
“Yeah? Like one of those crap magazine thingy-bobs on television. It doesn’t have to be that way though, does it..?” said Craig, leaving that one hanging.
“It doesn’t have to, but it will be if they want it to,” said Suitcase. Suitcase was sweating heavily. He’d surely dropped something this morning, maybe ecstasy or maybe he’d been on the crack pipe. Nah, he was shifting around too much and was in too good a mood for crack. He was on E’s. What a place to drop some party pills… but in a suitably loved-up frame of mind, Suitcase might prove more helpful than usual. Craig smiled at Suitcase, reflecting the cheesy grin spread across the big man’s face. “What do you mean, if they want it to? You don’t think they’d cover that up. Why bother? Half of them are bent, but they still have to do some real cop work to balance it out. Nabbing a lady killer would balance out all the rotten stuff they do, wouldn’t it?”
The Dirty Game Page 13
