Abattoir Blues (19 page)

When the mobile jangled like the old black telephones used to do, she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was the first time it had rung, and she had had no idea what ringtone was set. She didn’t recognise the number and was in two minds about answering it. It could be Meadows. Then she decided she would. It was only a mobile phone; what harm could it do her?

After she spoke her name, there was a silence punctuated by some crackling in the background. Finally, his voice came through: ‘Alex. It’s me, love. Michael.’

Alex almost dropped the phone with the surge of relief that flooded through her. ‘Michael! You’re all right.’

‘Yeah. I’m just peachy.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I wouldn’t know where to begin.’

‘Are you in trouble?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Trouble with the police?’

‘They’re the least of my worries.’

‘What is it? Tell me, Michael. I’ve been frantic with worry here.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t . . . I didn’t want . . . Oh, shit, it’s hopeless.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think they’re after me, Alex. Some very bad people.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I didn’t do anything. I just saw them, that’s all. I witnessed something I shouldn’t have.’

‘When you went out on Sunday?’

‘Yes. I went to meet Morgan. He said he had a job. He didn’t say what it was, just that he needed my help. I drove out to that old deserted airfield out Hallerby way.’

‘What happened?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Why not?’

‘I just can’t, that’s all. Except it was awful.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘I can’t tell you that, either.’

‘Why not? You mean you don’t know?’

‘I mean it wouldn’t be safe for
you
to know. If you don’t know where I am, then you can’t tell anyone, can you?’

Alex bit her lip. She wasn’t so foolish as not to realise that if Meadows decided to torture her, she would have nothing to give up, nothing with which to save herself. People usually broke in the end when they were tortured, and Alex didn’t think she could stand much pain – physical or emotional. But if you really didn’t have the information the torturer wanted, what happened then? Not that she would ever betray Michael, but such were the chaotic thoughts that spun around in her mind. She was on the verge of telling him about last night’s visit and her broken finger, but she held off. What good would it do? It would only add to his burden of worries, and he didn’t sound as if he needed that right now. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. I just wanted you to know that I’m all right. At least, I’m not hurt or anything.’

‘Why didn’t you call sooner?’

‘I couldn’t. I didn’t dare use my mobile. People can trace those things. They leave records of calls and stuff. And I’ve been lying low. I couldn’t get to a payphone.’

He sounded far from all right to Alex. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘I have to keep out of the way until it all blows over. I just wanted you to know I’m all right, that’s all. I saw the news this evening for the first time since it happened. I was in a pub and they had a big screen. I know they’re looking for me and Morgan, and I know that something happened at Belderfell Pass. A car crash. Animal parts. Perhaps a human body. It was all very vague, but I’m sure it’s all connected, Alex. I just wanted you to know that I’m OK. I thought you might be worried, that’s all.’

‘Of course I’m worried, you idiot. The police have been round. How could I
not
be worried? What do you think this is doing to us?’

‘Don’t be angry with me, love. I couldn’t stand that. Not now. I’m sorry. What did you tell them?’

‘Nothing. I don’t know anything. And I’m not angry. I’m upset. I just wish you’d tell me what’s going on.’

‘I can’t, love. Not yet. It doesn’t matter what you tell the police. Tell them what you want.’

‘When are you coming back?’

‘I don’t know. When it’s all over. They’ll have to get to the bottom of it without me, then it’ll be safe to come home. How’s Ian?’

‘He’s fine. We’re both fine.’

‘Give him my love. And be careful, Alex.’

‘Why?’

‘Just be careful, that’s all. I’ve got to go now.’

‘Michael, don’t! Please. Tell me where you are. Let me come to you.’

‘No. Stay there. Stay with Ian.’

‘But when will I see you?’

‘When it’s over. Remember I love you, Alex. Goodbye.’

‘Will you ring again?’

‘I’ll do my best.’

Alex held on to the phone, tears in her eyes, but the other end went dead. She sat still for a while holding the phone, staring at but not seeing the meaningless images moving around on the TV screen, her heart pounding in her chest, stomach churning, head aching. This was worse than when Lenny had hit her. There was no end in sight. Just when she thought she had found something worthwhile, something she could hold on to, it had been snatched from her.

Alex threw the phone on to the sofa, where it bounced to the floor, downed the rest of her wine and poured another full glass. She knew that alcohol wouldn’t help, but she could think of nothing else to dull the edges of her pain except perhaps a couple of those pills the doctor had prescribed. What the hell was Michael playing at, gambling with their future like this? She knew he must be in serious trouble or he wouldn’t have left her and Ian the way he had. He loved them. She had to cling on to that. It was all she had.

Finally, she could think of nothing else to do, and she could no longer stand doing nothing, or feeling so alone, so she picked up the phone, took out the policewoman’s card, and called the number DI Cabbot had written on the back.

‘The office’ meant the Queen’s Arms. If Banks had meant his office at the station, he would have said ‘
my
office’. It was going on for eight o’clock, and the pub was starting to fill up, which no doubt brought cheer to the heart of Cyril the landlord. The usual oldies selection was a bit loud, so they had to raise their voices to talk. Still, Banks thought it was pleasant enough to hear occasional fragments of ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice’ or ‘She’s Not You’ in the background. A lot of pubs used themed satellite radio feeds, but not the Queen’s Arms. Cyril was an intrepid pop fan, still stuck in the late fifties and early sixties, and he played his iPod through the pub’s music system. If anyone didn’t like it, they were welcome to drink elsewhere.

Banks noticed that Lisa Gray was working that night. She had short hair now, and most of the facial metal was gone. He knew that Winsome had developed a close relationship with Lisa during their previous case, and that they kept in touch. She smiled from behind the bar and he gave her a quick wave. Annie came back with the drinks.

Annie sipped some of her beer. ‘I still can’t see Michael Lane as the villain,’ she said. ‘All he ever did before was take a joyride because he was mixed up and upset after his mother left. Since then, he’s found a serious relationship. He has a kid to think about, too.’

‘Maybe all that was too much for him?’ Banks argued. ‘Maybe he felt stifled and had to get out? Or maybe he just cracked under the responsibility? You said they don’t have much money, that they’re struggling.’

‘Yeah, but at least they’re trying. They weren’t doing so badly. And if that was the case, if Michael suddenly couldn’t take the pressure any more, then Alex Preston wasn’t aware of it.’

‘I never expected Sandra to walk out on me for another bloke,’ said Banks. ‘But she did. These things happen, Annie.’

In the silence that followed that remark, Lisa Gray approached the table with two plates. ‘Who wanted the salad and who wanted burger and chips?’

Banks and Annie exchanged a few moments’ small talk with Lisa until she returned to her position behind the bar. Once they had settled down to their food, Banks went on. ‘I know you’re emotionally involved and you don’t want to think ill of Alex Preston or Michael Lane,’ he said, ‘and I’m sure they are trying their best to make a go of it, but we’re not in the business of rehabilitation.’ He nodded towards Lisa. ‘Sure, Winsome took a damaged young woman under her wing and worked miracles, but let’s not get carried away with the social work. Don’t you think Alex might be just a little naive, especially when it comes to Michael Lane? Don’t they say love is blind? Let’s not allow it to blinker your judgement.’

‘I’m not.’

‘All I’m saying, Annie, is that we can’t always save their souls, and we shouldn’t expect to. Half the time we can’t even save their bodies. Believe me, I’ve met plenty of deserving cases in my time, and sometimes I’ve even helped them, but sometimes I haven’t. Sometimes it worked. Often it didn’t, and they went on to commit more serious crimes. We’re not psychologists or miracle workers.’

‘I’m not blinkered,’ said Annie. ‘I fully accept that Michael Lane might have made a mistake, that he was probably involved at some level. I realise that being perpetually short of cash might have pushed him into doing something illegal, no doubt with Morgan Spencer’s encouragement. He may even have seen the tractor as just a one-off to get him back on his feet, and to cock a snook at John Beddoes. I’m not dismissing those possibilities. But I’d also like to point out that right now he’s a missing person, possibly in danger, or already come to harm, not a suspect.’

‘But he is a suspect as well,’ said Banks.

‘In what? The bloody tractor theft?’

‘In that, yes, and in Morgan Spencer’s murder, until we prove otherwise.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Annie.

‘Maybe so. All I’m asking is that you keep an open mind.’

Annie returned to her salad for a moment. ‘It’s open,’ she muttered, when she looked him directly in the eye again. ‘She’s got a broken finger,’ she said. ‘Alex Preston has. All right?’

‘You never mentioned this before. What happened?’

‘She said she trapped it in the door.’

‘You don’t believe her?’

Annie paused before answering. ‘No,’ she said, then washed a mouthful of salad down with her beer. ‘Something’s going on. I could tell by the way she was behaving. She was lying. You asked me if I thought Alex was being a bit naive. Well, maybe she is. Or was. I think she’s getting a few quick lessons in the harsh realities of life right now. She’s frightened as well as worried.’

Banks sighed. ‘All right. I want you to keep on top of Alex Preston,’ he said. ‘Short of shadowing her. You think she’s holding something back. It’s no good thinking you’re protecting her by keeping it to yourself.’

‘She might have let slip to Michael about Beddoes being on holiday,’ Annie said. ‘She did know he was going. She booked the trip for him. And we know there’s no love lost between Michael Lane and John Beddoes. Also, if Michael found out that Morgan Spencer had made a pass at his mother, that might have given him a motive for Spencer’s murder, too. How’s that for an open mind?’

‘But you said that was what, three years ago? Why would he find out just now?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not saying he did. I’m keeping an open mind. Maybe it’s so open the dust’s blowing in. I’m just saying it’s another thing to consider when you look at Michael Lane as a suspect. Or his father for that matter.’

‘Frank Lane?’

‘Yes. Have we checked his alibis? Do we know for sure he’s telling us the truth about everything? He’s certainly not rolling in money, and he’s no great love for Beddoes. What if the father had something to do with the tractor theft? Have we forgotten about that possibility?’

‘Hmm, not entirely,’ said Banks. ‘We’ll keep it on the back burner. What do
you
think happened to Alex?’

‘Dunno. I suppose someone might have been warning her to keep quiet, if she knew anything, or perhaps they think she knows where Lane is and tried to get it out of her. Maybe they saw me and Doug call by her flat the other day.’

‘You don’t believe she does know where Lane is, do you?’

‘No, Alan, I don’t. The poor woman’s beside herself. That much I accept as true. You can’t fake that, not unless you’re an exceptional actress. Tears, yes, but it’s much more than that.’

‘OK.’ Banks held his hands up in surrender. ‘Let’s assume she
doesn’t
know where he is. Someone thinks she does and comes to ask her? Breaks a finger when she won’t, or can’t, tell?’

‘Which raises another important question,’ said Annie.

‘Oh?’

‘How did whoever did it know who she was and where she lived?’

‘Through Michael Lane, I’d guess.’

‘That’s right. Meaning that Lane probably is involved with whatever’s been going on. Involved enough that the people he works for know where he lives and who with.’

‘There is another possibility,’ said Banks.

‘What’s that?’

‘That it’s Alex they know, Alex who’s working with them. And she’s spinning you a line.’

‘No way,’ said Annie, looking down into her dish.

‘The question is,’ said Banks, ‘do we put someone on her twenty-four seven?’

Annie looked up again. ‘Do you think Madame Gervaise would authorise that?’

‘Hell, we got to use the new helicopter today, didn’t we? It seems since we got our new home secretary and police commissioner, we only have to ask. Enjoy it while you can. It won’t last. What I’m saying is that if you think Alex Preston is in danger, then we obviously need to keep an eye on her.’

‘It was probably just a low-level thug, not the boss himself.’

‘Even so. And there’s something in it for us. He could lead us to the boss.’

‘OK,’ said Annie. ‘I’ll see what I can get organised. It’s stretching things a bit thin, I know, but four officers should be able to manage a twenty-four-hour watch between them. I mean, we don’t need anything too elaborate here. It’s not exactly
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.
’

‘OK,’ Banks said. ‘And in the meantime, after the post-mortem, why don’t we go pay Alex a visit before we check out Venture in Leeds. Winsome can take Gerry or Doug and have a chat with someone at Vaughn’s about Caleb Ross’s pickup schedule and who might have had access to it. Ross probably drove a circuitous route. How long had he had this particular load in his van? How long did his round take him? Once we have the list, we’ll have to check every farm he called at, and even then there’s no guarantee anyone will know anything. I don’t know, but I imagine it’s easy to sneak another black bin bag or two among the pile if you know where it’s kept. Ross is also bound to have left the van unattended here and there, and it wouldn’t have taken long for someone to add a few bags to his load.’