I was waiting by my car when Laura arrived. When she came towards me, I greeted her with a kiss. ‘What’s the game?’
She stepped back in mock surprise. ‘Jack, how could you?’
I smiled at her. ‘You make it hard for me to say no, but that’s the answer until you say we’re working together, sharing information.’
Laura came forward and kissed me this time. ‘You’re too suspicious.’ When I didn’t respond, she said, ‘Okay, like you said, quid pro quo.’ She put her hands on her hips and then said, ‘Egan won’t look at the dream club as a line of inquiry. Not officially, anyway.’
‘So you’re it?’
She shrugged her shoulders and grinned. ‘Quite a little task force, don’t you think?’
‘It’s powerful,’ I agreed, ‘but if you’ve come to me, it’s because you need me, so I’m in charge.’ I tilted my head in the direction of the King house. ‘Follow me.’
We set off walking towards the King house, looking just like a young couple going for a stroll. I didn’t ask
much as we went, just about the post-mortem results and Egan’s response. As we got near to the King house, I veered off the path and headed towards the tree that I’d climbed before.
‘Where are you going, Jack Garrett?’
The full name. That usually meant trouble.
‘I’m going to have a look around.’
‘Why don’t you try the front door?’
I shook my head and grinned. ‘Sometimes you show a
distinct
lack of imagination.’
Laura looked like she was about to walk away.
‘If I get in difficulty, you leave. No one knows you are here,’ I told her.
‘What are you going to do?’ Laura asked.
‘If I tell you, will you try to stop me?’
‘Probably.’
‘So you’ll understand why I’m not telling you.’
I got to the tree, but kept on going. Laura stayed with me, but I could tell she was getting nervous.
Jimmy King’s house was surrounded by a high brick wall, so that his property sat in the countryside as if it had been dropped there. I made my way quickly to the back, to the wall just behind the outbuildings I had seen earlier. Once there, we seemed to be hidden.
I turned to Laura.
‘Eric Randle painted something not too long ago, a picture of a house with two gables at the front. This case keeps on coming back here, and when you look at Jimmy King’s house, it has two gables at the front. Now, it isn’t that accurate when compared to the painting, but it’s worth a look, and I’m starting down here.’
‘No, Jack, you can’t go in there. King will have security, he’ll have cameras. And from what I’ve heard, he’s a violent man.’
‘But what if I’m right? If I am, the last place the camera will point is down here.’
‘Jimmy King isn’t the murderer, or the person abducting children.’
I nodded. ‘I know, but he doesn’t seem keen on us finding the real culprit.’
‘It’s “me”, not “us”. I catch them, you report them.
‘Sometimes we have to swap positions. I’ll tell you what I find afterwards.’
I went to put my hands on top of the wall, but it was too high for me. I looked around for a toehold, but then I felt Laura’s hand on my arm.
‘Stop, Jack, there’s something you don’t know.’ When I looked at her, she continued, ‘Sam Nixon’s son went missing this morning. It looks like an abduction.’
I opened my mouth in surprise. I looked at the wall, and then remembered what I had seen not long before: Sam Nixon at the house.
‘You might foul up a crime scene if you go in there, if you think there is any connection with the abductions.’
‘Or catch a killer,’ I said, and then jammed my foot into a toehold in the bricks. I leaned against a nearby tree and then threw myself at the wall. I pulled myself up until my stomach was on top and I could see into the garden. As I balanced there, I looked down at Laura and asked, ‘What would you arrest me for if I’m caught?’
‘Being found on enclosed premises, as soon as you
drop down on the other side,’ she said. ‘Just a fine in all likelihood. We can sell some of your vinyls to pay it.’
‘And if I get inside this building?’
Laura raised her eyebrows. ‘Then you’ll be a burglar, and for that I might just have the house to myself for a few months.’
I winked. ‘You’d better not miss the arrest then,’ I said, and then I dropped over the wall.
I knelt down for a few minutes after I landed. I was in long grass, straggly and unkempt, the patch behind the fence that was never cut. I listened out for a noise, anything to tell me I’d been heard. It seemed silent.
I wondered whether I had done the right thing. I would find it hard to justify being there. Freedom of the press wouldn’t cover me, and it would make things difficult for Laura.
But when I thought about Sam Nixon’s missing boy, and the lost look in Mary Randle’s eyes, I realised that I had to go on.
I looked around for a window, some other way in, but all I could see was pebbledash, covered in lichen blown down from the trees. I went to the back of the building and edged along. My footsteps made soft swishing noises in the grass, but to me it sounded loud, revealing, all the time waiting for someone to appear around the corner, some hired thug or the police.
I got to the first corner without any problems. I put my head slowly around the side, ready to duck back if there was someone there. As the garden came into view, I realised that I could see all the way down to the house.
I felt a jolt, a nervous jump. That meant anyone in the house could see all the way down to
me.
The building I was leaning against was next to an old wooden shed, and there was a small gap between, maybe only a foot wide. I could squeeze in, just, and it gave me the best chance. It created a shadow, and if I saw movement, I could just stay still. But it also gave me my worst chance, because if someone blocked off the ends, I was trapped.
I took a deep breath and thought about what to do. It didn’t take me long to decide. To go round would leave me too exposed.
I squeezed in between the shed and the garage and began to shuffle along. I stumbled on some old planks left in the long grasses. They clattered together, the noise echoing along the gap. I stopped to see if anyone came to inspect. No one did.
I carried on, my hands scraping the side of the building, the peddledash unblunted by the wind and rain, protected by the old shed. It felt sharp and raw.
I found myself at the end of a long lawn, green stripes that marked out Jimmy King’s country dream, surrounded by flowerbeds, lovingly tended. That was all just framing for the house at the end, the bricks bright and red, the ivy taking over the front, not the back. The walls seemed higher now that I was in the garden, and I knew that I would have little chance to escape if anyone came towards me. I thought briefly of Terry McKay, but I shook the image away.
I looked round the corner, along the front of the outbuilding. The door was old wood, with green flaky
paint and dusty windows. I could see that there was a padlock on it, but it looked rusty and weak. I strained to hear sounds from inside. I thought I could hear faint noises, the odd rustle. I pulled my ear away and wondered if I’d just imagined it. Was Sam Nixon’s son in there?
I looked again at the padlock. It looked breakable.
I scoured the ground for something to use as leverage. There was nothing, but then I remembered that I was only trying to write a story.
Don’t break in, don’t get caught, don’t go to prison.
I thought about Laura on the other side of the wall. What was she doing right now?
My nerves made my breath come quickly and sweat prickled my top lip. My heart took over from the sounds of the countryside.
I heard a snap, the sound of a footstep. I whirled around and saw nothing. Only the flutter of a bird’s wings broke the scene.
It was too quiet. I didn’t like it.
There was a window next to the door. I knelt down and crawled underneath it, tried to stay silent, listened out for any whimper, any shout, any threat. I heard nothing. I was in full view of the house now. I couldn’t see any movement in there, but I knew that could change in an instant.
I felt in my pocket for my camera, just to reassure myself that I was equipped, and then realised that if I was going to go in, it had to be then.
I rattled the padlock, and was surprised to see the latch swing open. The padlock had been hanging loose.
All I could hear was the light breeze brushing the leaves of the trees.
I stood up, just so that I could get a grip on the door. I moved to one side, but realised that I was in front of the window. All I could see was myself, reflected back. I didn’t know whether I could be seen by anyone inside. I nudged the clasp to one side and started to pull on the wooden door. It swung towards me slowly, the hinges making a steady whine. I was still hunched, but as the door opened enough for me to get in, I slipped inside.
I pulled the door closed behind me. As I gave my eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness, my nose was filled with gardening smells: creosote, fertiliser bags, mown grass-heads left to go dry on the floor.
As the interior started to come into view, like buildings appearing from the fog, I saw that it looked ordinary. Tools lined the walls—spades, forks, hoes, and shelves of lawn treatments and weed-killers. I reached for my camera, ready to take a picture once the darkness cleared, when I heard movement behind me.
I turned towards where I thought it had come from, my throat tight now, knowing that I was not alone. I was about to say something when I sensed a sudden movement behind me. A strong arm grabbed me from behind, strapped tight across my chest, and I could feel the heat of someone’s breath on my ear. Then a hand went across my mouth, and I knew I couldn’t shout out for Laura.
Laura paced on the other side of the fence, angry, nervous, worried.
She checked her watch. He had been over the fence for more than five minutes. If there had been nothing there, he would have been back now. If he had been caught, she was sure he would have made a noise.
She looked back towards the wall and stamped her foot in frustration. They had both made a big investment in each other, and if he was in trouble, she was going to help him. But she could put her job in jeopardy if she was caught effecting an illegal search of some local big-shot’s property. And anyway, she was wearing a new grey suit. It wasn’t built for climbing over walls.
Laura paced in a tight circle, her hand pulling her hair to the top of her head. She looked skyward, as if the answer might be printed on a cloud. Then she let her hair tumble down and sighed. She had no choice, she knew that.
She hitched up her trousers and got in the same way as Jack, by digging her toe into the wall, using the tree to lever herself up, and then clambering over the wall.
When she landed, she looked down. She brushed off some brick dust, but no damage.
She edged along the side of the shed, assuming that Jack had gone the same way, keeping an eye out for movement from Jimmy King’s house. It seemed quiet, no one keen to enjoy the late-afternoon sun.
As she got to the front of the shed, she listened out. She felt her stomach take a lurch when she thought she could hear murmurs, whispers from inside. Her mouth went dry. Someone had Jack.
Her mind filled with images of him, hurt, trapped, scared. She swallowed as she thought of him.
She looked along and saw that the door to the main outbuilding was open a crack. That was where the sounds were coming from.
She crept towards the door, keeping her head down, below the level of the window. She listened out again, and she could hear a voice. And it wasn’t Jack’s. She reached out for the door and gripped the frame, closing her eyes in silent prayer. She put her warrant card in her hand, the sight of a police crest might be enough to buy her some crucial seconds.
She flung open the door and leaped into the building, her warrant card held out in front of her. She was about to shout ‘Police!’ when she stopped, her mouth open in shock.
Danut, the gardener, was there. Laura remembered him from her visit with Pete. He was sitting down and facing Jack. Danut turned round quickly, and he looked just as shocked to see her.
Jack didn’t. He grinned and held up his cup. ‘What
took you so long?’ he said, and then he turned to Danut. ‘Have you got an extra cup?’
Laura relaxed and shook her head in disbelief. She hoped for Jack’s sake that her suit was fully intact.
I tried to smile an apology at Laura. I looked towards Danut and said, ‘This is Laura. She’s my partner.’
Danut looked at Laura, and then back at me. Wariness crept into his eyes. ‘You told me that you are reporter. But she is police,’ he said. ‘She came here before, when Luke was at police station.’
I looked at Laura’s warrant card, still in her hand. There was no point in denying it.
‘She is police,’ I said, ‘but she hasn’t come to arrest you.’
Danut’s eyes flickered between us both as he stayed silent. He didn’t look convinced, and I saw that Laura had her hands on her hips.
‘Tell Laura what you’ve told me,’ I said to Danut.
He looked at me nervously, but I nodded and smiled, encouraging him to carry on.
Laura sat down on a metal garden chair.
‘On that morning,’ Danut began, his English broken, the Romanian accent making his speech come out like gun-bursts, ‘when you came with your colleague, I had taken car to valet.’
Laura nodded. ‘You told me then.’
Danut grimaced. ‘Mr King not happy with that. He almost fire me, but Mrs King stopped him.’
‘Why would he be angry?’ asked Laura.
‘Because if he fire me, he knows that I tell police everything.’
Laura glanced at me quickly, and I could see her interest quickening.
‘What is everything?’ she asked, her voice slower now, quieter.
Danut looked down. He appeared ashamed.
‘When I take car for valet,’ he said, ‘I not know about dead girl, or else I would not do it. But I did it.’
‘Was it Luke who asked you?’
‘Yes. He was firm about it. He say must get car clean properly.’
‘What could you see in the car?’ I prompted. He had told me his story, but I wanted Laura to hear it from his mouth.
He looked at Laura, and then down at the floor. He chewed his lip, made dust circles with his feet. When he spoke, his words came out quietly.
‘I see blood,’ he said.
‘Where?’ asked Laura. Her anger had been replaced by keenness. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed.
‘On the steering wheel, and on the driver seat.’
Laura and I exchanged glances. I nodded at her.
‘How do I know that you aren’t covering for yourself?’ she asked.
Danut held his hands out, his shoulders bunched up into a shrug, his face full of regret. ‘You don’t, but I am telling you truth.’
Laura didn’t respond at first. I could sense that she was weighing up Danut’s tale against her gut instinct. It was that instinct that separated good cops from bad ones.
‘What time did Luke get in that night?’ she asked.
Danut shook his head slowly and wagged his finger. ‘Luke was in house all night.’
‘But you said it was Luke who asked you to get the car valeted.’
Danut nodded. ‘He did, but he was not driver. His brother was driver.’
Laura’s eyes widened. ‘Brother?’
Danut nodded again. ‘Luke, he have an older brother. Mr and Mrs King don’t let him come to house, but Luke, he worship him. So Thomas comes to house when Mr and Mrs King out. Thomas take car, and he bring it back.’
‘What time?’
Danut exhaled, and then shrugged. ‘Middle of night. He drove Audi back, I heard it, and then drove away in his own car.’
I looked at Laura. Her eyes were distant now, thinking hard, looking towards the roof. My own thoughts started to come in fast bursts, ricocheting around my head.
It was Laura who spoke first. ‘Where is Thomas?’
Danut shrugged. ‘He live in Blackley. Work too.’
‘What as?’
‘Thomas is doctor.’
‘Doctor?’ said Laura incredulously.
Danut nodded.
Laura and I looked at each other. Why was Thomas King barred from his own family home?
Laura was pulling on her lip, lost in thought.
‘What are you thinking?’ I asked.
She looked at me, and then at Danut. She turned away as she thought and looked at the floor. When she looked back at me, she asked, ‘Do you know a Dan Kinsella?’
I shook my head slowly, Danut as well. But the name sounded familiar. My mind rushed back through the previous few days, as I tried to work out where I had heard it.
Then it came back to me. A smile. Blond hair. The dream meeting.
‘He went to the same group as Eric,’ I said excitedly. ‘He was there the other night. Is he connected?’
‘How did he seem?’
‘He seemed okay. Pretty friendly, engaging.’
Laura went into her pocket and pulled out a photograph. She handed it to me.
I nodded as I saw it. ‘Yeah, that’s him.’ I passed it back. ‘Why?’
Laura didn’t answer. Instead, she passed the photograph to Danut. As he looked at it, he looked at Laura, and then at me. Then he nodded, slowly.
‘What kind of game is this?’ He looked angry, defensive.
‘Do you recognise him?’ asked Laura.
He nodded curtly and handed the photograph back. ‘You know I do.’
‘Who is it?’
‘You know who it is. That’s Thomas King, Luke’s brother.’
Laura looked at me and then looked grim-faced. Straightaway, we both knew what the other was thinking. We were going to see Thomas King.