Miss No One

by Mark Ayre

  Returning to the table, Abbie placed the pint in front of Christine and took a sip of lemonade. On the way, she had decided she would have to give a little to get a little. She wouldn't tell the whole truth but would offer a decent dose in an attempt to wheedle information from Christine which might prove useful.

  "I am a contractor," she lied, putting her lemonade on a coaster. "I'm a consultant, and as a consultant, I get paid too much to do not very much. I have far too much time on my hands. When I was a teenager, I suffered some personal tragedies which I won't go into, but what matters is I felt the police and justice system let me down."

  Although Abbie wasn't going to discuss these tragedies, she couldn't help but remember them. She saw Paul, her big brother, standing in front of a jury of his peers. Heard the gavel as he was sentenced to eighteen years in prison for assault and battery against the boys who had drugged and raped Abbie, none of whom, flanked by their fancy lawyers, backed by their wealthy parents, would see the inside of a cell. This came before Abbie was almost killed. Her unborn baby stolen to certainly suffer the fate Abbie barely escaped. Before her sister was butchered like cattle in a warehouse. And how many of the perpetrators of these two hideous crimes had ended up in prison? None, so far as Abbie knew.

  Christine was staring at Abbie, and Abbie realised she had allowed the memories to overwhelm her. Wiping her eyes, she forced herself on.

  "Because of what happened in my past, I aim to help others avoid similar suffering in the future. My financial situation, and contacts I’ve built up over the years, allow me to learn about upcoming events affecting innocents. When I receive such information, I act as a matter of priority."

  This was vague because it was untrue. Still, in this modern world, with the technology available, most people believed any information could be found if you had the skill to uncover it. Therefore any information could be acquired if you had the money to grease the right palms. In this case, Abbie's lie made for a much more convincing narrative than would her truth.

  "So you pay someone or someones to find for you information indicating when people might be in danger?” said Christine, doing Abbie's job of lying for her. "Then you seek to save that person."

  Abbie nodded.

  "You're a vigilante."

  Abbie smiled. "That's a loaded word. I know you police officers aren't particularly fond of it. I don't much like it either because people tend to associate it with hippies acting against banks and other major corporations. People unhappy with the status quo and engaged in pathetic attempts to redress the balance. That isn't me. Of course, the actual definition of vigilante is a member of a self-appointed group of citizens who undertake law enforcement in their community without legal authority, typically because the legal agencies are thought to be inadequate."

  "You memorise that from the dictionary?" asked Christine.

  Abbie shook her head. "Google."

  "Ah, yes, and does that definition apply to you?"

  "It's much closer."

  "Then what you do is illegal. I could arrest you."

  "You could," said Abbie. “Though, it would be a waste of time, given you have no evidence I've performed any illegal acts nor that I'm planning to perform any illegal acts. Beyond, that is, this off the record conversation. I doubt that'll do you much good."

  "Which means you can be candid."

  "It means we can. And let me note: I've saved numerous lives. Innocent lives, none of whom would have lived had I had left the matter to the proverbial long arm of the law."

  "Ah, yes," said Christine. "Because we're incompetent."

  Abbie smiled a sad smile and shook her head. "You've not been a cop long enough to have acquired such a chip on your shoulder about the way people perceive you boys and girls in blue. Come on, try to hold off becoming so jaded until you're at least thirty."

  "Are you saying you don't see the police that way?"

  "I think, for the most part, the police do fantastic work,” said Abbie without hesitation and without lying. "You're heroes. You're also confined by the laws you aim to uphold, which is as it should be. A profession that could act with impunity against anyone it believed had acted wrongfully would attract the wrong kind of people. That kind of power is intoxicating. Innocents would suffer far more under such a system than they do under the present, restrictive one. It has to be the way it is."

  "Given those restrictions," said Christine. "It's lucky we have someone like you out there to pick up our slack."

  Abbie sighed. "I don't think you're taking this the right way."

  Christine frowned but didn't respond. She had her hand around her glass and was sipping from it periodically. Abbie thought the detective was trying to restrict herself by taking less alcohol each time she lifted the glass to her lips. Intentionally or not, Christine didn't seem to have noticed she was taking these sips more frequently than before and was therefore negating the impact of her smaller sip strategy.

  "You're not going to arrest me," Abbie reiterated, "and I'm not interested in a debate. What matters is my intention to keep Isabella alive, whatever it takes, and that we don't have to be on opposing sides of this. We could work together."

  But Christine shook her head. "I told you I'm not here to open a dialogue. You have information I need.”

  “For example?”

  “For example, what happened after I escaped the dealership last night?”

  Abbie shook her head. “Give a little to get a little,” she said. “You’ve not told Kilman anything that happened last night, but why doesn’t he know about Davesh? What happened when the dealership opened this morning?”

  “Nothing,” said Christine. “Why do you think I’m so keen to know what you did? I went by this morning, and it was business as usual. I saw dealers showing around customers. I saw a punter shaking a salesman by the hand.” She shrugged.

  “Maybe the staff are just dedicated,” said Abbie. “They turned up, popped Davesh in a cupboard, and got on with selling. It’s what the boss would have wanted.”

  Christine glared. “What happened to giving a little to get a little?”

  With a sigh, Abbie said, “Fine. Theory: the reason Kilman didn’t question me about Davesh’s death is because no one knows Davesh is dead. Which means, when his staff opened up this morning, there was no body to find.”

  “That was my thought,” said Christine. “Someone moved him.”

  Her stare was pointed, her gaze piercing.

  "More than one someone," Abbie mused. She wasn't paying much attention to Christine, instead thinking of the damage she and Smoker had left in their wake. It wasn't only Davesh, but the woman on the stairs, the man with the broken jaw on the sales floor, and the man around the side of the building. That was three or four bodies to remove, depending on the status of Broken Jaw. And a hell of a lot of blood to expunge from carpets, from stairwells, from grass, plus shell casings and DNA and bullet holes in walls.

  "Smoker got away," Abbie continued, still more to herself than Christine. "He must have phoned his boss immediately. Arranged for a team to come in and sort it. That’s quite a job to do in a few hours. Something big is going down."

  "What do you mean Smoker got away? Did the rest of them not get away? What did you do?"

  Abbie realised she'd made a mistake. It was unlike her to be so lax, so revealing, and she tried to brush past it.

  "Something big is happening," she repeated. “There’s every chance this is all connected. Davesh's murder, Isabella’s kidnap, Ndidi’s attack on Gary.” Abbie stopped. She'd learned long ago that when it came to her prophetic dreams and her arrival in new towns, most of what she heard in those early hours knitted together like an intricate and often bloodstained quilt. Ignoring any information could be disastrous. Possibly fatal.

  "Who were you sent to investigate?" she asked Christine.

  Christine still had her hand on her rapidly diminishing pint. She was trying to keep up with everything Abbie was saying.

&n
bsp; "I already told you, I'm not here to answer your questions. No chance. Especially not when you're ignoring mine. You said Smoker got away. You're talking about the leader, right? The one with the rough voice? That suggests the other three didn't escape. What did you do?”

  Abbie considered the question. She believed Christine was keen to keep her presence at Davesh's dealership a secret from her colleagues. Hauling Abbie into the station would jeopardise this aim. Still, confessing to taking lives was a significant risk. Christine's self-preservation protocol might go out the window when she realised she was sitting opposite a killer.

  Then again, Christine had fled the dealership with bullets all but whizzing over her shoulder. She should believe Abbie had acted in self-defence. Further, there were no bodies, so no evidence. Would Christine risk revealing her secrets and drawing the wrath of her colleagues to arrest Abbie for a crime that could not be proven?

  Abbie didn't know. Abbie couldn't decide.

  She pushed on.

  "Maybe you're investigating DCI Kilman," she said.

  "I've not investigating anyone," Christine said. Like Abbie, she had to make quick decisions. She did so now. “You were right about the personal vendetta. Davesh is responsible for someone I love dying.”

  “No,” said Abbie, brushing this away in an instant. “If this was personal you’d be more specific and emotive. ‘Davesh murdered my mother.’ That sort of thing. Plus you didn’t want me to know the truth about who you were so offering that information makes me think you’re trying to lead me away from reality. Finally, Kilman said you were new. Makes sense, if you were placed relatively recently and, before you start denying again, answer me this: if I start asking around, will I learn that your family and friends live nearby, or will it become clear you’ve moved into town in the last few months? Because the latter would make it extremely unlikely Davesh was responsible for the death of one of your non-specific loved ones, wouldn’t it?”

  Her face burning red, Christine scrunched her palms in her lap, but said nothing.

  "Or it could be Ndidi," said Abbie, moving back to musing on who Christine might be investigating. "From what I've seen, he needs investigating. Beating up innocent men at the park, organising for colleagues and witnesses to falsify statements. Makes sense for it to be him."

  "If you don't tell me what happened at the dealership, I'm taking you into the station. I'll confess everything to Kilman and let him deal with you."

  Abbie paused, but seconds were all she needed to decide to put everything on the line.

  "Smoker's team tried to murder us. You got away, but they trapped me before I could. They were killers, monsters. They'd ruined many lives before and would have ruined many more, given a chance."

  Abbie finished her second lemonade and put the glass back on the table.

  "In self-defence, I ensured three of our enemies would never harm another living soul," said Abbie. "The fourth got away, and I don't believe you're investigating Ndidi or Kilman."

  Christine was still trying to process Abbie's indirect confession to murder, trying to work out what she was supposed to say as Abbie leaned in and went again.

  "I think the subject of your investigation is a man much loved by your colleagues and the community as a whole. I think you were taking on the top dog around these parts, and no wonder you're afraid of anyone finding out."

  Christine took her drink, drained it in self-defence.

  Abbie said, "You were investigating dead police officer and all round hero: DCI Alan Hammond."

  Thirteen

  Abbie had no way of knowing who Christine was investigating. Christine hadn't even confirmed she was an undercover anti-corruption detective. Hammond had been a shot in the dark, based on previous experience and intuition. Had she realised this, Christine could have brushed the accusation away. Could have deterred Abbie's belief.

  You would think an undercover police officer would make a good liar. Christine proved this was not always the case. Finishing her drink and slamming it to the table, she took deep, heavy breaths, as though instead of drinking to avoid Abbie's words, she'd been running, fleeing the pub. Her face was ridden with guilt; her eyes told Abbie the shot in the dark had been a bullseye. Hammond had been the subject of Christine's investigation.

  Detective Lakes had lasted as an undercover agent presumably because no one had thought to challenge her on her statements' veracity. Everyone assumed she was an honest woman. No one suspected the truth. If Kilman or Ndidi got wind of what she was doing, they could learn the whole truth by confronting the subject of their suspicion. Abbie had no doubt Christine would crumble under an interrogation based on harsh words. Thumbscrews would not be necessary.

  Christine's eyes flicked to the bar, then back. Her hands were tight on the cool glass of her empty drink.

  "Another?" asked Abbie.

  She regretted the offer immediately. Having noted some of the signs of addiction, it was unacceptable for Abbie to encourage further boozing. At least according to her moral code.

  Luckily, Christine shook her head. Her mind was racing. Abbie saw the detective trying to think of a way around what Abbie had said, or at least to change the subject.

  "I need to arrest you," she said. "You murdered three men last night. I can't cover that up."

  "A few things," Abbie went on. "Firstly, if I was responsible for any deaths in the car lot, it would not be murder. Not to get all Google definition on you again, but murder is the unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another. What I did would not have been unlawful because I would have acted in self-defence, and I certainly wouldn't have premeditated anything. Secondly, I've made no confessions, and you have no evidence to support an arrest, no reason to drag me into the station. Thirdly, it wasn't three men but two men and a woman.”

  As though Abbie's last few words were a dog beneath the table, snapping at Christine's thighs, the detective jumped up. She was staring at Abbie, and the landlady spun to stare at the detective.

  The younger woman seemed lost for words.

  "Please," said Abbie. "Don't do anything rash."

  Christine shook her head. She looked at her glass then back to the bar. Working undercover, compounded by the sight of Davesh’s dead body, had frayed this relatively inexperienced detective's nerves, leaving her on the verge of collapse. Abbie pitied her. Again had to remind herself Isabella came first.

  "Last night," Christine said at last. "I know what happened. I believe you came into the dealership because you saw me and could not resist finding out what I was doing. I don't believe you were up to anything illegal."

  "Except breaking and entering," noted Abbie. "Although actually, you did the breaking, so I guess I was just entering, which doesn't sound like a proper crime."

  Wisely, in Abbie's opinion, Christine ignored this.

  "The four people who came after us were the criminals. I believe they would have killed us. If three of them died at your hands, I believe those killings were made in self-defence."

  Abbie nodded. Although was that true? Could not Abbie have fled with Christine? Could they not have escaped over the fence, into the darkness together? Best not to think about that. Not right now, anyway.

  "I won't arrest you," said Christine, "but you must come with me to the station. There are bad people on the loose. Something is going on, and we need to be open with my superiors about it."

  Christine was still standing, the landlady still staring. Abbie glanced at the large lady at the bar. Lowered her voice as she responded to the detective.

  "You're not thinking," she said. "Whoever we're dealing with, this Orion, he sent a team to remove the bodies and clear up the evidence. There will be nothing for the police to find. Despite that, Kilman might use our confession to lock me up, leaving me unable to save Isabella. Unacceptable. Furthermore, it's going to raise plenty of questions about you. What will you say when Kilman starts pushing you on why you were at the dealership? How will you hold up under his qu
estioning? No offence, Chris, but it's clear you've not had much experience on the other side of an interrogation, and from what I've seen today, you won't hold up well."

  Christine was still standing. She shook her head.

  "People like you," she said, "only ever consider how you can lie your way out of a situation. Has it not occurred to you I might want to be honest?”

  "What, and tell Kilman and the rest you were investigating Hammond?"

  The words seemed to spark something in Christine. Even though Abbie was only parroting Christine’s implied plan, the detective nodded madly as though Abbie who devised the course of action.

  "That's it. It's time to stop living a lie."

  Christine glanced again at her empty pint and up at the bar. For once, resolve to do the right thing overpowered the need for another drink. Taking the glass, she went to the bar, placed it on the wooden counter, and thanked the landlady.

  As Christine made her way to the door, Abbie rose, leaving her own glass, and followed the detective outside.

  "Where are you going?"

  Christine was striding with purpose. Abbie had to jog to catch up. With another boost of speed, she overtook the detective and blocked her way.

  "You know where I'm going," said Christine. "A little girl is missing. The police are looking for her, but they don't have all the information. If you truly think the cases might be linked, I can't allow them to work with one hand tied behind their backs. They need to know everything."

  She tried to get past Abbie, but Abbie moved to keep blocking her path.

  "You've gone mad," Abbie said.

  "I can't force you to come with me," responded Christine, "but neither can you stop me going. I suggest you come along, but if you won't, prepare for a knock on your door because I'll be telling Kilman everything about last night and about what you've revealed this afternoon."