Cause of Death (16 page)

‘What trouble? She's a kid. A little girl.'

‘Who most probably killed Jenkins, don't forget that.'

‘Jenkins was thinking of getting his end away.' Jerry Mason laughed. ‘Jenkins was always—'

‘Probably,' Haines said, cutting him off. ‘We all know Jenkins has history with Parker and his family and, frankly, if this was a simple matter of revenge, I might well let it go. The girl showed skill and nerve and, remember, Tomas, she may be young but she's thorough and about as conscienceless as you are. Parker was trash, Jenkins not much above that. I allowed Parker to take his shot at his daughter; the way I figured it, I owed him the chance to get even. She tried to kill him, it was only fair he got the opportunity to return the compliment. Karen won that round and I've got to admit to a sneaking sympathy with her attitude towards Jenkins. So, as I said, had it been possible, I might just have let matters lie. However . . .'

‘However?'

‘I have friends who would like to see Karen Parker retired.'

Tomas laughed. ‘Vashinsky.'

‘Among others. But Vashinsky is, shall we say, a better payer than most. So, I thought we could let our friend Stan have first go, and then, when he fails, Tomas, you can take your best shot. Look,' he added, raising his voice for the first time, ‘Karen Parker is just a sideshow, an amusement. Yes, I'd like her out of the picture, and if that's a profitable course then it's worth looking at. What she isn't worth is time and effort we don't have to expend. Don't lose sight of why we're here, of the bigger picture.'

There was a brief silence and then, as it became clear that their audience was over, Tomas and Jerry Mason wandered out of the hotel suite and back towards their own rooms, adjoining those of their boss.

‘See the whole picture,' Tomas mimicked. ‘Don't lose sight of the main game. Maybe we'd keep a better eye on the game if he actually bothered to tell us what it was.'

Jerry laughed. ‘Like that will ever happen,' he said. ‘International man of mystery is our Haines.' He frowned. ‘What the hell do you reckon is going on?'

Tomas shrugged. ‘So long as he keeps paying me I'll keep not asking daft questions.' he said.

Jerry Mason sat alone in his room, television on, drink in hand, but he wasn't watching the screen and he'd barely touched his drink. He was a worried man. Six months, his handlers had told him. Just six months. That had been close on three years ago and here he was still playing paid thug to Haines's master criminal, using his connections to keep his current boss fed with the intelligence that was like meat and bread to him. Sending information back the other way.

It occurred to him that he was no longer sure which side he was on, which persona now dominated. Who he'd take note of if one side tried to set him against the other. It had been three weeks since he'd been able to make proper contact with his handler, if you didn't count that one brief phone call. Three weeks since that anchor point had been reinforced. Right now he felt like a participant in some bizarre S&M role play who had forgotten his safe word and wasn't convinced the other participants would care even if he managed to remember it.

And there was more. He had followed Dave Jenkins to the toilets at the back of the pub a few minutes after he had made the excuse and left the table. He too had recognized Karen Parker that night and had guessed something was going on when she had left and exchanged that look with Jenkins.

Jerry had been the one to raise the alarm, come back to the table and tell them Jenkins was not in the toilets, but by that time, of course, he was dead and Karen gone. Jerry Mason had made sure of that and he was still not certain why. He had followed Jenkins out into the yard, watched from the shadow of the wall as he had crossed the road to where Karen had been standing. Watched as she had stuck the knife between his ribs and then walked away. Watched until she had turned the corner and then disappeared from view; only then had he returned to the table and expressed surprise that Jenkins was still not back.

‘I could have stopped her.' He took a sip of his drink. The ice had melted and the spirit was dilute and insipid. ‘Could have, didn't.'

So what side of the law had that put him on? True, he didn't want to blow his cover – he was under no illusion as to what would happen to him should he do that – but he could, quite legitimately, have shouted a warning to Jenkins, have tackled Karen himself or drawn the attention of the others to the fact that she was there. So why hadn't he?

He had sanctioned Karen's execution of David Jenkins. Perhaps even aided it.

He sipped at his drink again and mentally added that to the list of other ambiguities, other times when he had well and truly crossed the line, and he acknowledged that it was not the fact of crossing that line that troubled him. Undercover, you didn't always have a choice of what rules to break. It was the fact that he no longer cared.

T
he meeting on Thursday afternoon with his probation officer, Tina Marsh, had not gone particularly well, but he had survived it, Stan thought. It seemed to have centred on the question of him getting a job, and as Tim Brandon had already spoken to the owners of the Palisades and they had agreed to give Stan a trial, he at least had something positive to offer in response.

The job didn't really have a title. They needed someone to do general maintenance and be an all round dogsbody. It would only be part time and it was subject to everyone getting on and them being reassured that Stan was not about to rob guests or murder anyone, but it was a start.

‘I went up and had a chat with the owners,' Stan reassured Tina Marsh. ‘Look, this is their phone number, they said to phone if you'd got questions.'

Tina Marsh pursed her lips and looked doubtful. ‘And how did that go? The conversation with the owners.'

‘Well,' Stan said. Able to answer that with some confidence. ‘Rina told them about me—'

‘Rina. Mrs Martin.'

‘Yes.'

The pursed lips thinned even further. ‘I'm not sure—'

‘Look, she's a friend of DI MacGregor, ask him for a character reference if you like. Fact is, she's helping me out with a place to stay and helping me to find work. I really don't see what you could have a beef with?'

Tina Marsh shuffled her papers and set them aside in a Manila file. ‘I have your interests at heart here, nothing more.'

‘And I appreciate that.'

‘Then you'll keep me informed. Same time next week?'

Stan nodded and made his escape, trying to figure out if Tina Marsh was actually trying to help or if her default setting was just disbelief in any kind of positive humanity.

His preoccupation was probably the cause of his lack of alertness, and that momentary absence of attention was enough. He had turned down the side road at the corner of the building when it happened. Someone grabbed him from behind. Another someone hit him hard and Stan sagged, stunned. He struggled, but dazed and confused could not break free. Another blow took even that consciousness away. The world went black and Stan was bundled, helpless, into a waiting car.

I
n the end it was without Mac, who'd been called away for a meeting with Kendall, that Andy finally caught up with Ted Eebry. Having not heard from him, Andy had taken a chance on knocking at his door on the Thursday afternoon. Ted had opened it and looked momentarily shocked, a not unusual reaction in Andy's experience.

‘Hi, Ted, how you doing? It's been a long time. How are the girls?'

Ted seemed to relax. ‘It has,' he said. ‘A very long time, our Andy. You'd best come in.'

He stood aside and Andy stepped into the once-familiar space. It had changed little from what he remembered, apart from a few extra photographs on the wall of the hallway and an absence of school bags and coats on the hooks just inside the door.

‘I'm making a brew,' Ted told him. ‘Mind if we go through to the kitchen?'

‘'Course I don't. How are you keeping? I saw the For Sale board. I never reckoned on you moving?'

‘Oh, there's a time for everything as our Stacey keeps telling me. I've put in an offer on a little bungalow just down the road from her and the babby. I've been doing a lot of work with her Sam just lately and it all makes sense, you know. Closer to family and all that. You see much of your mum?'

Andy sat down at the kitchen table. The same table, he noted, same chairs. Even the same canisters for tea and coffee, though the black writing had now worn so badly it was hard to make out which was which. ‘Oh, she's fine,' he said. ‘Kids are growing like weeds and she's doing more hours at the pub now and a bit of an early morning cleaning job.'

Ted poured boiling water on to the tea. ‘She always did work hard,' he agreed. ‘So what can I do for you? Neighbours said you called the other day and I found your note, I've just not got around to—'

‘Oh, that's all right. Tell the truth, Ted, it feels weird to be coming round here all official.'

‘I expect it does. Last time you sat at that there table you were stuffing your face with beans on toast.'

Andy laughed. ‘Probably,' he agreed.

‘You were always hungry.'

Ted set the pot and mugs on the table and sat down. ‘So what can I do for you?' he said.

Andy, who'd had his opening gambit all prepared, was suddenly at a loss. This was Ted Eebry, a man he'd known for most of his life, who . . . Andy put such thoughts aside and tried to get his professional head back on.

‘It's about those bones we found up at the dig site,' he said. ‘Ted, I know it might seem totally irrelevant, but we're opening up a lot of cold cases, missing persons and that sort of thing. It's just routine, you see, and—'

‘And you think those bones might be our Kathy?'

‘Well . . .' Andy wasn't sure what to say. ‘We're looking at a lot of possibilities. I just wanted to give you the heads up, you know, see if you'd had any more thoughts? I know it's a long time ago . . .' He trailed off and Ted poured the tea.

‘Look, son, I know you've got to look at these things, but that's not my Kath buried up there.' He set the pot back on the table and fixed Andy with a stare. ‘I hope you don't plan on bothering our Stacey with any of this?'

Andy shook his head vehemently. ‘Oh no. Nothing like that. This is just routine, part of a list, you know?'

Ted glared at him a moment longer and then nodded and pushed the sugar bowl in Andy's direction. ‘It hit the girls hard,' he said, ‘Kath going like that. They thought it was something they'd done, you know. But I told them, sometimes people just have to do what they have to do. Kath obviously felt she'd . . . well, if I'd known what she'd felt I may have been able to do something about it, but you get my drift. Andy, lad, she met some fella and went off with him. That's all there is to it. Sad but really simple.'

‘You know that for certain?'

‘No, I don't know it for certain, but it's a reasonable assumption, isn't it? I knew she was seeing someone. Never did know who, but when she went off you can bet it was with him, whoever he was.'

Andy added sugar to his tea and stirred. ‘I always had the impression you had no idea what had happened to her.'

Ted shrugged and stirred his own tea, even though he'd added no sugar. Rina did that too, Andy thought. ‘At the time I thought it was better if the girls didn't know. I thought it might be harder for them to think their mother had chosen some man over them. Maybe I was wrong. In fact, almost certainly I was wrong, but you know how it is, Andy. You do your best, do what seems to be the right thing at the time.'

‘I suppose,' Andy said. ‘It must be a very hard thing to deal with.'

They fell silent for a moment and then Ted asked, ‘So no clues left with these bones then? No clothing or anything like that?'

‘No,' Andy said. ‘Nothing useful like that. Just a collection of bones dumped in the trench. It's sad, you know?'

Ted nodded, but he looked puzzled.

‘This was a person who belonged somewhere,' Andy continued. ‘Chances are, like Kath they were reported missing, only whoever this was didn't just go off somewhere. They were taken away and killed and then, years later, dug back up again and dumped like rubbish. Even if we do find out who it is, the family won't be able to give them a proper burial. It's just a few bones.'

Ted stopped stirring his tea and stared at Andy. The spoon fell from between his fingers and clattered against the edge of the mug. It was Andy's turn to look puzzled and then contrite. ‘Sorry,' he said. ‘I shouldn't have said that. It's just been a long old week and I don't think I've even inched things forward.'

Ted smiled a little shakily. ‘We all have weeks like that, lad,' he sympathized. ‘Drink your tea and take a breather, you'll feel better for it.' He laughed, suddenly. ‘You know what I always thought about me and your mum?'

‘No, what?'

‘That we both did a bloody good job of raising our kids. One-parent families we might have been, but you and yours and me and mine, we did all right, didn't we?'

Andy nodded, not quite sure what he should say to that. ‘Yeah,' he said. ‘I think we're all turning out OK.'

Ten minutes or so later, Andy left Ted Eebry's house and drove away. Something was chafing at the back of his brain, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Whatever it was, he knew it would be rubbing him sore before the day was over. Best leave things alone when they feel like that, his mum had always told him. Let your mind sort it out and like as not you'll wake up with the answer at three in the morning.

Andy could attest to the truth of that.

In part what was bothering him was Ted's sudden certainty that his wife had gone off with a lover. Andy recalled Kath well, and the pictures he had seen of her reinforced the knowledge that Kath Eebry had been a very pretty woman. He could remember the gossip when she had disappeared, some of the more catty reflections being that Ted had, from the start, been the wrong man for her. Short and slightly tubby even as a young man, he'd not been the best looking or the richest or the most dynamic, but Andy could remember that he'd always been kind; he'd assumed that Kath had valued that fact. And she had loved the girls. Loved them passionately, Andy was sure of that. Would she really have just up and left?