‘Who do you think is the one in the balaclava?’ Dylan asked.
‘I don’t know, but it wasn’t Derek.’
It was one thing I knew for sure. The attempted arson was the perfect opportunity to pin blame on Derek and actually get him nailed for something, but our night time excursion only served to provide him with the alibi he needed. Derek had been busy moving Hancock’s cars. It was a kick in the guts.
Derek must have turned to one of his crew. Morgan and Strickland had helped him unload the cars, so that put a spotlight on someone else. Whoever it was, he’d be nursing cracked ribs. That might give me the opening I needed.
‘It could have been our friendly, shotgun-toting tractor driver.’
‘Could be. We’ll have to ask Steve.’
‘Did you see the petrol can the firebug brought with him?’ Dylan asked.
‘No. Where is it?’
‘The plod took it as evidence.’
‘What about it?’
‘It was a red five gallon can.’
I recognized the significance straight away. Everybody used the army-style surplus five gallon, steel petrol cans to refuel their cars. Motorsport suppliers sold them. They painted them to match their corporate colours.
‘Was it Chicane’s red?’
‘Yes,’ Dylan said. ‘I even saw the Chicane’s label on the bottom. Mr Balaclava is definitely a Stowe Park regular.’
At some point, we drifted off to sleep and awoke to the ringing of my mobile. The clock on the phone said it was after ten a.m. It was the hospital calling to say Steve was ready to be discharged.
I stretched and looked around me. The walls were draped in history. Each picture, poster and wreath was a reminder of a great feat in motorsport. Each image or memento was of someone I admired and loved, but all of whom were dead. The attack on Steve made me see the dead as victims, not heroes. This office had once been my favourite place in the world, but it was tarnished now. Goddamn Derek for ruining this place for me.
Lap Seventeen
O
n Monday, I went straight from work to Archway to finish the set-up on the new car. I’d booked a testing session at Brands Hatch on Wednesday to shake the car down. I was looking forward to it despite all that was going on.
Steve was hard at work on the Mygale. He’d bounced back from Saturday’s attack after taking Sunday off. The old man was tough.
When he saw me walk in, Steve grabbed a couriered package and handed it to me. ‘You’d better take a look at those. They came from Hancock this afternoon.’
He’d already opened the large envelope and I slid out the contents. It contained the decals to put on the car. It was the usual thing, the corporate logo and the firm’s name to go on the sides of the car as well as the nose. Sorting through the decals, I found the problem. Hancock had included two additional decals that proudly proclaimed, ‘Hancock Salvage salutes Alex Fanning, RIP, please support the Alex Fanning Memorial Fund.’ They were hardly sensitive under the circumstances.
‘Is he serious?’ I asked.
‘He’s just getting the bang for his publicity buck.’
‘And milking it for every penny. Do you think he’s told Alison or the Fannings?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘I’ll call them.’
‘Laura Fanning beat you to the punch. She left a message earlier. She wants you to drop by and pick up Alex’s tools and equipment. She’d like you to have them.’
Great. Dead man’s hand-me-downs. My feelings must have shown.
‘Do this, please. It’ll mean a lot to her.’
‘OK. I’ll go ‘round.’
‘Good lad. You want me to put the decals on?’
‘Yeah. Do it. You going to stick around here tonight?’
‘Yeah.’
Seeing Mrs Fanning created a dilemma. It left both Steve and me on our own. I felt safe visiting Mrs Fanning on my own, but I didn’t like leaving Steve alone, not after the attack. We still had Alex’s car, which meant I had something Derek wanted. Steve was no match for Derek’s crew.
‘If I go, I want Dylan here with you tonight.’
‘Good idea,’ Steve said.
I nodded and went upstairs to the office. I called Dylan to get him to come over then called Alison on her mobile. She sounded happy to hear from me.
‘Something’s cropped up that I need to talk to you about,’ I said.
‘It sounds serious.’
‘Not really, but it’s important. Can we meet up tonight?’
‘Sure.’
‘Is there a convenient place I can meet you?’
‘I’ll come over to your place.’
After the incident with Mr Balaclava, I didn’t feel safe with Alison being here. She might get caught up in a second attempt. ‘No, I’ll come to you.’
We agreed to meet at a pub called the Frog and Whistle at nine.
I took Steve’s van and drove home to change out of my work clothes before setting off to see Mrs Fanning. I cut across the evening traffic to Guildford and parked on the familiar street.
She welcomed me in like a long lost friend. I liked the night and day difference in her since the last time we’d met. She looked as if she was coming to terms with her son’s death and possessed the strength to weather the storm of grief striking her. She sat me down in the kitchen after she’d made us coffee.
‘I just wanted to thank you for what you’re doing for Alex. I think the safety fund is a fitting tribute to him. I also want to apologize to you.’
‘There’s nothing to apologize for.’
‘Yes, there is. I wasn’t very friendly to you when you came over last week and I didn’t even thank any of the drivers at the funeral. That was rude. None of you were to blame for my son’s death.’
That was debatable. ‘Apology accepted,’ I said.
Mrs Fanning smiled and we clinked cups.
‘I just wish it never happened,’ she said.
‘We all do.’
‘Eric told me about your parents. It must have been tough on you.’
I didn’t want to go down this road and I shrugged the comment away. ‘It was a long time ago. I was really too young to understand.’
Mrs Fanning seemed to realize I didn’t want to talk about my parents and nodded.
‘I wanted to let you know that I’ll be taking Alex’s place in the Formula Ford Festival. It’s part of the tribute Vic Hancock is putting together for Alex.’
‘That’s wonderful. I’ll let Eric know. He’s away on business at the moment. I’m sure he’ll want to attend.’
I hoped they’d think it was just as wonderful after they saw Hancock’s tactless decals.
Mrs Fanning finished up her coffee. ‘Would you like to see Alex’s things?’
I nodded and she led me to the garage. Amongst the usual clutter was Alex’s racing gear, equipment and tools. He had a comprehensive collection of everything someone embarking on racing needed from setting-up equipment and specialist tools to essential replacement parts.
‘Eric, Jo-Jo, Alison and her father emptied out Alex’s rented garage. Is any of this of use to you? You don’t have to keep it, but I’d like it if you’d take it.’
Obviously, she had a need to be rid of these final reminders of her son’s death. I smiled. ‘If I can’t use it, I know someone who can. Thank you.’
‘Please keep some of it for yourself. You deserve something for your time.’
She opened the garage door and helped me load the stuff into the van. I earmarked items I’d keep for myself. The wheels and tires were a must. Alex’s camber/caster gauge was a more professional one than I owned. The collection of bearings and CV joints would also come in handy.
Just as we finished loading up the van and I’d divided what I’d keep and give away, something occurred to me. ‘Where’s Alex’s petrol can?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mrs Fanning said. ‘I don’t see it. Are you sure we didn’t load it already?’
Another thought struck me, one that unnerved me. ‘What colour was his petrol can?’
‘Red, I think.’
The Frog and Whistle was a gastro pub not far from Alison’s home in Richmond. I arrived at nine p.m. as arranged and she was already waiting outside for me when I pulled up in the van. She smiled and waved. I liked seeing her happy and being responsible for it.
‘You didn’t have to wait outside. It’s freezing.’
‘I wanted to. C’mon.’
The Frog and Whistle was busy and loud inside, which made it easy for me to speak freely. The barman handed us menus. Alison went for the chicken pasta. They had chilli con carne, so I jumped on that. I’d developed a thing for Mexican food when Dad had flown us out to Mexico City for an invitational race the year before he and mum died. We’d gone out there as a family and I’d taken to the food like a burro to hard work. We grabbed a table next to the fireplace from a departing couple. The pub instantly melted the chill I’d gotten from driving the inadequately heated van.
‘Why so serious?’ she asked.
‘Confession time.’
This failed to dampen her good mood. She just eyed me with a you’d-better-tell-me look. I liked this about her. She was simple and straightforward. It made a welcome change from all the confusion that surrounded me.
‘Vic Hancock has asked me to replace Alex at the Formula Ford Festival and I’ve accepted.’
Alison’s expression wobbled, but didn’t fall. ‘Why are you telling me?’
‘The decals he wants on the car mention that the car is in memoriam of Alex.’
She said nothing.
‘His gesture came over as a little insensitive.’
Alison sighed. ‘Vic Hancock isn’t exactly Mr Sensitivity.’
‘So he hasn’t been in contact?’
She shook her head. ‘So you want my approval to go ahead?’
‘I just wanted you to know. If you don’t like it, I’ll tell Hancock.’
‘It’s OK, Aidy. I’m fine with it. You don’t have to ask. Look, you’re a nice guy trying to do the decent thing. That means a lot to me.’ Alison placed a hand on mine. ‘You don’t have to feel guilty about what’s happening. You didn’t kill Alex. Derek did. I’m happy to see something good come out of this.’
Our food arrived. I hadn’t eaten all day and I tucked in. The chilli wasn’t half-bad. Then again, I was half-starved. As I ate, the strange relationship between Hancock and Alex played over in my head and I wondered how far it stretched.
‘Alison, was there anything going on between Hancock and Alex?’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. A rift? An argument? Something like that.’
‘Not as far as I know. Why?’
‘I met with Hancock last week. He thought Alex had told me something about him or his company, like Alex had given away some secret.’
‘Alex never mentioned anything. I know he didn’t particularly like Hancock.’
I could see that. They were very different people. Alex was very self-contained. It hardly matched Hancock’s brash nature. ‘Did anything specific set this feeling off?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but I think something must have happened in the last few months.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘In the past, Alex played nice with him, but since the beginning of the season, he seemed tense around him. It wasn’t anything most people would pick up on, but I knew Alex. I tried asking why, but he wouldn’t say. He knew I didn’t like the racing world and he didn’t want to bother me with things I didn’t care about.’
‘How did Alex and Hancock hook up?’
‘Through Alex’s dad. Eric and Hancock know each other.’
Mr Fanning and Vic Hancock came over as unusual bedfellows too.
‘You should talk to Jo-Jo.’
‘Alex’s mechanic?’
‘Yeah. He’d know better than I would. He’ll be at the banquet on Friday.’
Suddenly, Alison lost interest in her meal, choosing to chase her food around the plate.
‘Anything wrong?’ I asked.
‘Why didn’t you want me to come over tonight?’
I hesitated too long before deciding on my answer.
‘Has something happened?’
‘It’s probably better that you don’t know.’
‘I’ll make my own decisions, thank you.’
As much as I didn’t want to tell her, she was right. ‘Someone tried to burn down our workshop Saturday night. Whoever it was wanted to destroy Alex’s car.’
The colour drained from Alison’s face. ‘Was it Derek?’
‘No, he sent someone on his behalf. The bastard was wearing a balaclava.’
‘Was anything damaged?’
‘No. Steve was there to stop it, but he took a beating.’
She shot a hand to her mouth. ‘God, is he OK?’
‘He’ll be OK, but he gave as good as he got. Steve thinks he broke the guy’s ribs.’
She shook her head in dismay. ‘This has to stop.’
‘It will when we prove Derek killed Alex.’
‘No. I mean you. You have to stop. You can’t get yourself killed over Alex.’
I expected this. It was the reason why I hadn’t wanted to tell her. ‘I think it’s a little late for all that. People know what we’re doing. They’re going to keep coming after us now.’
‘You keep saying
they
. Are there others involved besides Derek?’
‘Derek has a lot of friends helping him. Look, I don’t want to tell you more because I don’t want to put you in danger. Let’s talk about something else.’
And we did. We slipped into an easy conversation covering topics from music to movies and everything in between. It put distance between me and my problems, but it didn’t make me feel any better for being with her. I was enjoying her company, but I felt I was not only taking over Alex’s ride, but his girl too. After a second round of drinks, we called it a night.
‘I can drive you home,’ I said when we were in the van. ‘It’s late and it’s going to take you forever to get home by train.’
She hesitated for a second before agreeing.
Again, we fell into a comfortable conversation. I made her laugh from time to time as she directed me to her flat. We were laughing so much that I overshot the turn for her street.
‘Stop here,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk back.’