‘
Yes
.’ Gordon realised his right leg was juddering with nervous excitement, and made an effort to control it. ‘They paid him in the pub. Then killed him and took the money.’
‘It’s feasible,’ Patricia said. ‘But I don’t think we should disregard this farmer.’
Stemper urged caution. ‘I can approach him, but I suspect he’ll be the type whose silence can’t be guaranteed. I feel our priority should be the woman. According to Traci, the police know her identity, and yet they’ve had to issue an appeal for the two men to come forward. Think about that ...’
Ignoring the patronising tone, Gordon followed the logic. ‘Either Traci got it wrong and the woman
didn’t
know them ...’
Patricia leapt in: ‘Or she hasn’t admitted the connection to the police. She’s covering for them.’ There was a new fervour in her voice. ‘I see it now. This feels ... right.’
‘I agree. So how do we locate her?’ Gordon asked.
Stemper said, ‘I want to know how the farmhouse came to be used in the movie. You say O’Brien had put the property out to rent?’
‘Through a letting agent,’ Patricia said. ‘In fact, there could be emails about it on his hard drive.’
‘Excellent. That would be the place to start.’
****
To Gordon’s dismay, his wife’s enthusiasm departed as rapidly as it had appeared.
‘Let’s remember, this film conspiracy is only one half of the equation. Finding the paperwork remains as vital as ever.’
Stemper said, ‘And Hank owned no other property at all? That seems unusual for a man of his income.’
‘He was cleaned out during the divorce,’ Gordon said. ‘She got the London apartment, as well as a holiday home in Greece.’
‘All he had left was the house in Sussex.’ Patricia displayed a flicker of uncertainty. ‘At least, that’s all we knew about.’
Jerry was suddenly restless: scratching his head, pulling at the crotch of his ghastly skintight jeans. He stood up.
‘Time I was going.’
Patricia looked furious. ‘Somewhere you have to be?’
‘There is, actually. Friday night, I’m taking my wife out for dinner. Hell to pay if I don’t.’ He chuckled, but he was the only one who did. ‘Where do you want me tomorrow? Or don’t you?’
Patricia looked at Stemper, then said, ‘We’ll call you.’
Jerry shrugged. ‘I’ll see myself out.’
Patricia motioned at Gordon to follow him. It didn’t seem necessary, but Gordon did it anyway, hurrying to the hall in time for Jerry to fix him with a morose look.
‘Wish I’d never taken this frigging job,’ he said, and slammed the front door behind him.
Back in the living room, Patricia was telling Stemper: ‘He’s moved beyond insolence and into something far more dangerous.’
‘The worm is beginning to turn,’ Gordon added, trying not to laugh at his own witticism. ‘And what we need is an early bird.’
Stemper smiled, for the sake of politeness, but he sensed that Gordon was merely playing with words. If there was an instruction to proceed, it had to come from Patricia.
And she knew it. ‘Jerry is now a liability. The fact that he would question his remuneration after such a catalogue of failure ...’
‘He was hinting at blackmail,’ Gordon added darkly.
‘What do you know about his wife?’ Stemper asked.
Patricia snorted. ‘South-east Asian, a mail-order bride. Some slip of a girl, I expect.’
‘No, she’s in her late thirties,’ Gordon said. ‘They’ve been together a few years. And she’s no slip of a girl, believe me.’
‘You seem to be very well-informed.’
‘Jerry showed me some photos after their holiday in Cyprus. I seem to recall you made an excuse and vanished.’
‘I’m sure I did.’ She returned her attention to Stemper. ‘Will that be a problem?’
‘It’s an added complication, but by no means insurmountable.’ He went quiet for a minute, keen to see if Patricia interpreted his silence correctly. She did.
‘With what we’re adding to your workload, we’d better take a fresh look at your own remuneration.’
Stemper beamed. ‘Very kind. I’m happy to maintain the current rate, but may I suggest a performance bonus? Another fifty thousand when each objective is fulfilled?’
‘Sounds most reasonable.’ A glance at her husband. ‘You’re aware of how much is at stake. If you can find a way to salvage our plan, it goes without saying that the reward will be
extremely
generous.’
‘I’ll give it my utmost. It’s unfortunate that last night’s search was interrupted. I need an opportunity to explore in daylight.’
‘Except now we have Hank’s sister to contend with.’
Gordon gave Patricia a sharp look. ‘Are you suggesting ...?’
‘No,’ she snapped, though Stemper felt sure that she had, for a second, contemplated drastic measures. ‘Let’s give her a day or two. If she’s gone by Monday, that should leave enough time to get back on track.’
‘Providing we locate the papers,’ Gordon said.
‘We will. And we must also find a replacement for Hank.’
‘You mean as the front man?’ Stemper said. ‘I’m afraid I have to rule myself out there.’
‘Of course. We wouldn’t ask you to expose yourself like that.’
Gordon spotted the double entendre and choked off a snigger, but Patricia was oblivious.
Stemper said, ‘Do I take it that, in the original plan, Hank was expendable?’
After a brief hesitation, Gordon nodded furtively, and Patricia said, ‘Yes. I suppose he was.’
‘Then his replacement needs to be the same. Someone you can burn without too many qualms.’
‘I’d dearly love to nominate Jerry, but he doesn’t possess the wit.’
‘You might as well send a pet monkey to make the demand,’ Gordon joked.
The smile was wiped off his face when Patricia said, ‘If we recover the paperwork and there are simply no other options, we shall have to do it ourselves.’
****
The prospect made Gordon feel physically sick. He didn’t like Patricia discussing it while Stemper was present, and he didn’t like the way Stemper was, as usual, taking note of every word, every reaction, methodically compiling his vast database of malice.
‘I’ll see if we can find the name of that letting agent,’ Gordon said. When he returned with his laptop, Stemper was declining the offer of refreshments. Gordon didn’t get the impression that he’d missed anything of importance.
Stemper said, ‘This weekend I’ll concentrate on finding the woman and her accomplices. I’ve been wondering how the police knew who she was. Either she came forward after seeing a news report, or more likely they found her through Hank.’
‘So we’re back to Jerry and his failings,’ Patricia grumbled.
It was in Gordon’s nature to offer a defence, pointing out that Hank had no doubt put some effort into keeping his activities secret. But it was late, he felt jaded and weary, and he knew that ultimately it wouldn’t make a jot of difference. Jerry’s fate was already decided.
Stemper said, ‘Presumably the prior contact was made by phone. A pity that Hank’s mobile will be beyond our reach for a while.’
‘Of course, we do have various acquaintances in law enforcement,’ Gordon said, his fingers busily chattering over the keyboard. ‘There might be a favour we can call on.’
Stemper vetoed the suggestion. ‘If you obtain the information from an official source, it essentially guarantees that nothing untoward can happen to her.’
Gordon hadn’t considered that point. He went to say so, but spotted a familiar name on screen.
‘Here they are. Compton Property Services. Only the one office, and it’s in Brighton.’
‘Perfect,’ Stemper said. ‘I’ll get straight on to it.’
‘Thank you.’ Patricia’s voice was husky with emotion. When Gordon glanced up he saw that her gratitude was directed at Stemper, and Stemper alone.
‘We’re on their trail now,’ she said, ‘and we’re going to make them suffer.’
Afterwards Dan wasn’t sure what mad impulse sent him into the garage. He knew he’d drunk several more beers, had slid past maudlin into the realm of genuine grief, and emerged the other side so numb that he was practically catatonic.
Opening the garage door was impossible without a stomach-churning screech. Dan didn’t think about it consciously, but he must have counted on Louis’s music to obscure the noise. As he grasped the leading edge and lifted the door, the painful grinding of metal prompted a grisly association with the accident fifteen years ago.
It had happened on the A27, a couple of miles east of Chichester. Mum and Dad had sneaked a rare day out together, leaving Louis with Joan. On the way home they were crossing a roundabout when a Mitsubishi pickup truck came flying out of the road to their left and ploughed into their Vauxhall Cavalier.
They didn’t stand a chance
. In the weeks and months that followed, Dan eavesdropped this phrase so often, heard it quoted by so many people – friends, relatives, police, social workers – that he grew to detest every word. It wasn’t intended to be cruel, he knew that now, but at the time it seemed to have a bitter subtext:
They were hopeless. They were losers. They couldn’t find a way to survive ...
The driver had stopped, but only because his truck was embedded in the Cavalier. As other motorists rushed to offer help to the victims, the man who had killed them managed to slip away. Apparently a member of the public had given chase over the fields, but lost him in woodland south of the A27. Later it was found that the truck was unregistered, uninsured, had no MOT; its brakes and tyres were illegal and lethal. A small quantity of drugs was found beneath the passenger seat.
The driver was never traced. At first that was irrelevant to Dan: it wouldn’t bring his parents back, and that was all he cared about. It was only when he reached adulthood that the injustice began to burn, the way friction rubs away skin, but by then it seemed too late to discuss it with anyone. Instead he’d tried to forget it, and to his eternal shame he had been mostly successful.
Until Tuesday night, when he had become what he loathed.
****
In the darkness it was virtually impossible to see the damage to the car. Just a series of irregular shadows, the indentations of a glancing blow that had thrown Hank O’Brien into a ditch.
I did it
, Dan thought. Robbie’s right.
I was at the wheel. I have to take responsibility
.
He sniffed, and realised his vision had blurred. Maybe he was drunk. But it would be so easy, even though it was –
Jesus, eleven-thirty
– to pick up a phone and make the call. Hand himself in.
‘What’s up?’ said a bleary voice.
Dan jumped. Louis was by the door, silhouetted against the pale concrete of the driveway.
‘Nothing.’
‘Funny time of night to be in the garage.’ Louis sounded subdued, but there was a note of his familiar dry humour, perhaps signalling a desire to make amends.
‘How are you feeling?’
Louis shrugged. Gazed at his feet and kicked his toes against the dusty garage floor. ‘Shitty.’
‘That scene last night—’
‘You don’t have to say it. I was an arsehole.’
Dan nodded. ‘I hate lecturing you, Louis. I wish I didn’t have to do it.’
‘But if you don’t, who will, eh? Poor Joanie puts up with enough stress.’
‘If either of us lays down the law, it’s only because we love you.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that? Makes it even worse.’ Louis shoved his hands in his pockets. He was in jogging pants and a T-shirt, and Dan had to fight an automatic impulse to scold him for not putting a coat on.
‘I’m worried about you, Louis. You’re at the age where you want to go out with your friends, getting drunk and ... and whatever.’ He decided this wasn’t the right moment to delve into the
whatever
. ‘But it’s also dangerous. Unless someone sets boundaries – unless you know where the boundaries are, at least – there’s a danger that you’ll end up getting ... well,
consumed
by it.’
A moment of silence followed his little speech. Dan imagined it was because he’d sounded so inept, so weak and woolly and predictable. But Louis had tears running down his cheeks.
‘I feel really inferior to you.’ He raised his head and made eye contact at last. ‘You’re a brother, an uncle and a father all in one. Doesn’t leave much room for us to be mates, does it?’
Dan was stunned. ‘I’ve never seen it like that.’
‘Yeah, well ... I look back now and I’m awestruck. I was a two-year-old when they died, I didn’t have a clue what was going on. And you were only fourteen, but you had this ... this
huge
responsibility heaped on you without any warning.’
His voice was so thick that the words were hard to make out. He cleared his throat, acknowledging the struggle with a bemused smile.
‘And yet you dealt with it. You lost your mum and dad and became like a parent to me overnight, and I’ve never once heard you complain. Compared to you, I’m just a silly little brat.’
‘No, Louis. No one sees you like that.’ Dan opened his arms and embraced his brother, and while they held each other he felt that his heart might break to measure the distance between the image Louis had of him and the grim reality.
****
Then Louis stepped away, gesticulating as he searched for the words to describe his torment.
‘We lost our parents, Dan. It’s so unfair, it makes me want to scream. It’s
always
there. I can feel it inside me, and it’s like ... it’s like the breath of a madman in my lungs. And the brilliant thing about drinking is that when I’m pissed I don’t feel that. I don’t need to scream for a while.’