Exposure (38 page)

‘I didn't forget,' she said tersely. ‘It's an invitation to break in if you're away. I was staying with my parents.'

‘Good on you,' he chuckled down the line. ‘You weren't the loving daughter when I knew you.'

‘What do you want?' Julia asked.

He had a skin like a rhino. He said, ‘I heard on the office grapevine that you'd been given the shove. Sorry to hear it.'

‘Thanks,' she said. ‘I'm not worried. I'm relieved.'

‘All that lovely money—' She had a mental picture of him grinning in disbelief, and just stopped herself ringing off. ‘What happened? You were the old man's blue-eyed baby …? Fall out with him?'

‘Felix, why do you want to know? Why should you care? It's not your province. There's no mileage in it for you.'

‘God, you do think I'm a shit,' he protested. ‘I was just sorry to hear it, that's all. I was even going to ask if you and Ben would like to meet me for a drink.'

‘Ben's not here,' she said. She felt guilty because she'd been so hostile. He was brash and tactless and she'd overreacted. ‘He's up in Birmingham, family business.'

‘Didn't know he had a family,' Felix said. ‘Why don't you come out then?'

‘I don't think so,' Julia said. ‘I've got a lot to sort out—'

‘Oh come on,' Felix urged. ‘Just for old times. I might even buy you dinner if you stop biting my head off. Look, I'll come and pick you up in half an hour. I'm in a pub now. It's that lovely lad Joe Patrick's water hole. Full of gorgeous tarts. See you. Bye!'

She didn't want to go. But it was typical of Felix to steamroller when he wanted something. A drink with him wouldn't hurt. Joe Patrick … King's contact man. The photographs and tapes supplied to ruin Leo Derwent. Yes, she'd meet Felix. It might clear her own mind to talk to someone who wasn't so closely involved. She bribed the cat with a dish of milk, changed out of her leggings and sloppy sweater into trousers and a top, and brushed vigorously at the fiery untamed hair.

Then she recorded a message for Ben in case he phoned while she was out. ‘Gone for a drink with Felix. I hope you're jealous. Back around nine. I'll call you then. Love, darling.'

Felix, inevitably, was twenty minutes late. When he buzzed from the street, she said, ‘I'll come down,' and hurried out, double locking the front door. The man with the street map idling by the corner, turned his head and watched her leave.

10

‘He just said he was going out?' Detective Chief Inspector Roy Bingham was being calm and patient. The girl who'd been beaten up was cowed and compliant. The other dyke was a much tougher proposition. Intelligent and wary, still trying to protect the girlfriend and herself at the expense of bringing a murderer to justice. Roy Bingham considered both of them to be the scum of the earth, but he went on with careful questioning, leading, not bullying. Everything was going down on tape and his detective sergeant and a CID woman police officer were present. They'd given the two women coffee and ordered sandwiches. He went on, ‘He was going out. That's all he said?'

‘That's right,' Tina agreed sullenly. ‘“I'm going out.”' She remembered the glib insult that went with it. ‘You two tar babies wait up for me … I'll want something special tonight …' And Tracey's apprehensive whisper as he left them … ‘What's up? Where's he off to …' And her answer, ‘Some poor bugger's going to get done over … Joe always gets a hard on afterwards …' The widow at Midhurst had been done over good and proper. And raped.

‘And when he came back,' Roy Bingham prompted, ‘then what happened?'

Tina glared at him. ‘I told you. We went into our double act … you want to know the dirty details?'

‘No,' he said. ‘I'm not interested. What I'm asking is did he say where he'd been, give any indication what he was doing while he was out?'

‘Nothing,' Tracey muttered. ‘He never did.'

‘And you never asked?' That was the detective sergeant, taking the lead for a moment.

She looked at him. ‘You must be joking. He'd have knocked the shit out of us. He didn't like questions.'

‘He often beat you up, then?' He was concentrating on the weaker one, leaving his boss to wear down Tina.

‘Not often,' Tracey admitted. ‘If he felt like it.'

‘Didn't you resent it?'

She shrugged slightly. ‘He was good to us in other ways. He fancied Tina more than me. That's what got up his nose, her lending me the bracelet …'

‘And when did he give you the bracelet?' It was the boss, taking it up with Tina.

‘I told you. Next day. We'd given him a good time.'

‘When you were with him the night before, did you notice any marks … bruising, skinned knuckles … anything at all?'

‘No,' Tracey turned her head. ‘If he did a job he always wore gloves. He never marked himself.'

Tina glared at her in warning, but it was too late.

‘What do you mean by a job?'

Roy Bingham sensed a breakthrough. He abandoned Tina. He moved his chair a little closer to Tracey. It seemed to her as if they had all moved in on her, crowding her. She stared from one to the other and round to the policewoman sitting in silent witness of the scene.

‘When he did someone over. He used a knife on the girls. He never cut us. He only used his fists.'

‘And his feet,' Roy reminded her. ‘He kicked you, didn't he? Kicked you in the ribs so hard he fractured three of them. Kicked you in the back. The old lady who owned that bracelet was kicked too. And punched. I've got some photographs. I'd like to show you what was done to her.'

‘I don't want to see,' Tracey said, and started to cry.

Tina got up and came over to her. ‘You bastards!' she snarled. ‘Leave her alone …'

‘If you'll sign a statement,' the sergeant suggested. ‘You can both go home.'

‘Yeah?' Tina turned on him. ‘And wait for a visit from his mates when he finds out we've been talking to you … Get lost. We're not signing anything.'

The Detective Chief Inspector got up. He addressed the tape recorder. ‘Termination of interview at seventeen twenty hours, Thursday 9 December.' He snapped the machine off. His tone changed. ‘Right,' he said, ‘let's separate these two. Joan, take Osborne to another interview room. Mervyn stays here.' He barked at Tina, ‘Come on, Osborne. Move your ass.'

‘I'm not going,' she said loudly. ‘I'm not leaving Tracey. I won't and you can't make me!'

Her voice rose. He heard the panic in it and he mocked her.

‘You want to bet? Joan call up another WPC and get this one out of here. I want a few quiet words with her friend.'

Tina stood rigid. She heard the mutter from the policewoman into her mike, ‘Send someone up to Interview Room Five, will you? We've got a recalcitrant.'

They'd manhandle her out and Tracey would be left to fend off that ugly white bastard on her own. She was still weak and shaky from the ordeal. Her jaw was set, but it was a mess and it would have to be re-broken and done again. Then surgery on her nose and cheekbones. She slept badly and panicked if Tina went out for long. She was scared to be alone. Joe Patrick hadn't killed her, but he'd marked her inside and outside for life.

Tracey clinched it. ‘Tina,' she wailed. ‘Tina … don't leave me …'

Roy Bingham knew he had won when the body language changed. Tina slumped as the fight went out of her.

She said, ‘All right, all right. I'll make a statement. Just don't get heavy, will you?'

Bingham nodded to the policewoman who cancelled her request. He switched on the tape recorder and started the interview again.

‘Interview recommenced at seventeen twenty-eight, 9 December. Detective Sergeant Fitch and Detective Constable Joan Lewis present, interviewees, Tina Osborne and Tracey Mervyn, conducted by DCI Roy Bingham. Now, Tina, let's get the story right from the beginning, shall we? The bracelet identified as the property of Mrs Jean Adams, who was murdered in the course of a robbery at her home address …'

The monotonous tone went on, repeating the details. Then the real questions began.

‘You can positively identify this bracelet as the one given you by Joe Patrick on the twenty-seventh of September?'

Tina said, ‘Yes.'

‘And the night before, Joe Patrick left you both in his apartment at approximately what time?'

‘Around nine,' Tina said. There was no turning back.

‘Did he say where he was going?'

She hesitated. Then she took a breath. ‘He said he was going on a job.'

Bingham stared at her. ‘He said that? He said he was going on a job?'

She was lying and he knew it. He spoke to the other girl. ‘Did he say that to you, too?'

‘No, he didn't.'

Tina interrupted. ‘He said it to me. She didn't hear him.'

Bingham nodded. ‘I see.' He switched off the recorder. ‘You've decided to nail him, have you?'

Tina looked at him. ‘That's what you want, isn't it?'

He didn't answer for a moment. He took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. He'd tried and failed to give up smoking. He couldn't afford frazzled nerves in his job.

‘Right then,' he said briskly. ‘Let's have some more coffee and get down to business.'

They dropped Tina and Tracey back in an unmarked police car. The flat was empty. The friend and her man spent a lot of time out picking up punters and pushing drugs. Tracey looked at her. ‘You've done it now,' she muttered.

‘We'll be all right,' Tina told her. ‘We'll be moved out of here tomorrow and we'll have protection. I'm glad I did it, Trace. After what that piece of dirt did to you, I'm glad. I always said I'd pay him back one day. Come on, let's get to bed. We'll be fine. So long as we've got each other.'

Felix took Julia to a wine bar in Jermyn Street. It was discreet and expensive. They settled into a corner banquette. ‘This is like old times,' he said.

‘Except that I'd be paying,' Julia cut that approach off at the start. ‘You must be doing well if you come to places like this.'

Unabashed, Felix grinned. ‘I told you I like the good life. And I am doing well as it happens. I'm the Warbler's assistant now. You wouldn't believe how many important politicians I know.'

Julia said, ‘Go on, impress me then.'

It was silly to rise to him; nothing would change Felix. He had always rather enjoyed needling her. She might as well relax and enjoy her drink. He named several MPs, including one ambitious Cabinet Minister. ‘I get asked to lunch and taken aside for off-the-record chats … It's fascinating. They all talk such a load of cobblers really, doesn't matter which side they're on.' He drank his gin and tonic and ordered another. ‘What are you going to do now?' In sheer mischief he added, ‘Some people'd change sides. Trot along to King and offer to work for him. Bringing a few titbits about the noble Lord along with you …'

Julia said angrily, ‘Don't be so bloody stupid, Felix. As if I would!'

‘I only said some people, not you,' he pointed out. ‘You've got too many principles, that's your trouble.'

‘And you've got none,' she countered.

‘Never pretended I had,' he said. ‘Have another vodka and let's stop scoring off each other. What
are
you going to do? You'll have to drop the King investigation for a start.'

‘I'm not going to,' she said.

He glanced sideways at her. ‘That's a bit rash,' he said. ‘Without back-up. What does Harris think?'

‘I haven't told him, he's had to go to look after his daughter … He's got enough to worry about. But he'll go along with me. Felix, can I try a few things on you? Would you mind? It might help me to see my way clearer.'

‘Mind? I'm flattered. Go on, try me.'

Julia didn't notice the time. At the end Felix said, ‘That's quite a story. A riddle inside an enigma. If Western's wife was telling the truth, you're back to square one. An unsubstantiated allegation that King shot British prisoners, somewhere in the Western Desert. Did you believe her?'

‘I believed
her
, but not what she was saying,' Julia answered slowly. ‘I know that four men were killed and Western was wounded, and I know Harold King was responsible. But how do I prove it? What have I missed?'

‘God knows,' he shrugged. ‘Unless you can get King drunk!'

She stared at him. ‘Felix … Felix,' Julia said slowly. ‘Can you drop me home?'

‘Why don't I buy you dinner?' he suggested. ‘Pizza on the Park's great … What's the matter? You look funny.'

‘Nothing's the matter,' she said. She picked up her bag. ‘I won't eat, thanks anyway. Can you drop me back?'

‘Yeah. I'm not doing anything else. I'll get the bill. You're a Liberal Democrat, by the way. Goes on expenses.'

They came out into the crisp winter night and Julia shivered. Not with cold but with a growing sense of excitement. Felix, flippant as always, had said something more momentous than he would ever realize. She saw a cruising taxi, its orange light gleaming up front, and on an impulse she turned to Felix.

‘Don't worry, I'll take this cab. Thanks for the drinks. Thanks for letting me talk it out.'

‘OK.' Felix didn't mind not driving out of his way back to Chelsea Green. There'd been a dishy little redhead in Joe Patrick's favourite pub who'd been eyeing him earlier. She might still be hanging around there. Being with Julia had turned his thoughts to more than pizza. ‘Sorry I couldn't help,' he said.

‘I think you have.' To his surprise Julia reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. The cab had drawn into the kerb, and she got inside. Felix stood looking after her for a moment. Definitely the little redhead, he decided. She wasn't Julia, but she'd do.