Informant

by Susan Wilkins

  Kaz considered this; it struck her he was a little bit too fond of his products to let go of them and replace them with another investment.

  ‘Yeah, but in the meantime you’re still paying off the old bill and there’s still a danger some ambitious idiot comes along, wants to make a name for himself and busts in on you?’

  Joey laughed. ‘You worry too much. All that stress babes, ain’t good for you.’

  Kaz smiled wearily. ‘You don’t worry enough.’

  Joey strolled over to the fridge and took out a bottle of beer. ‘Okay, so let’s say some random plod stumbles across one of the cannabis factories. Even if they get hold of Quan or one of his boys, they ain’t about to drop me in it. The lease is owned by an offshore company that’s owned by an offshore company . . . As for Marko and Leysa, old bill would need a tip-off to sniff them out.’ He flipped the top off his beer. ‘And I run a very tight ship.’

  Kaz watched him sipping his beer. No one could deny he exuded a confidence that was attractive, he still had charm to burn just like the little Joey. She’d watched him with Marko and Leysa, they were totally under his spell. But when he wasn’t performing, rolling out the spiel and keeping everyone entertained, there was an edge to him, an underlying hardness. There was only the occasional glimpse of it, but when he said ‘I run a very tight ship’ she certainly got a whiff of it. She knew it was there. And then there was his temper. It was in a fit of temper that he’d killed Natalie’s boyfriend and Kaz knew, even though she wanted to deny it, that Jez Harris wasn’t his only victim. She fixed him with a direct look, but kept the tone deliberately casual.

  ‘You seen Sean?’

  Joey took another sip of beer. ‘He’s on my list.’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’ Kaz got up from the sofa and walked over to Joey. ‘Listen, why don’t you let me deal with Sean?’

  Joey chuckled. ‘No babes, he’s a dangerous fucker, you leave him to me.’

  ‘I thought we had a deal, no more killing.’

  Joey huffed, then reined himself in. ‘Who said anything about killing?’

  Kaz took a step closer to her brother and rested her palm on his chest.

  ‘Okay, I said I had an idea, here it is: we set him up for the old bill and send him back to jail.’

  ‘Grass him up you mean? You’d do that to your own flesh and blood?’

  Kaz stared at him gone out. ‘What, that’s worse than killing him?’

  ‘I never said I was gonna kill him.’ Joey turned away, put his beer bottle down on the kitchen worktop. ‘Anyway, I go up against Sean, it’s a fair fight. But grassing, that’s the coward’s way out. He’s a complete toerag, granted, but he’s still our cousin.’

  Kaz sighed in disbelief. ‘All your talk about being a businessman, going legit. When push comes to shove you’re still thinking like the old man, like some macho thug. You want to fight it out with Sean man to man? Swords, pistols – what did you have in mind? You know and I know how it’d be, you’d get tooled up, try and catch him unawares and blow his brains out. What’s fair or honourable about that, eh?’

  Kaz realized she was shaking, the ridiculousness of Joey’s attitude made her mad. He stared right back at her, his blue eyes shone, his face inscrutable. They stood only inches apart, Kaz could feel the heat of his body. She was beginning to realize that behind the fun and the japes this was the real Joey. She didn’t think he was about to hurt her, but for the first time in her life she had a sense that he might, he was certainly capable of it.

  Suddenly he threw up his hands and laughed. ‘Okay, have it your way. You wanna deal with Sean, you deal with him. All that matters to me is that he’s not running round mob-handed making trouble.’

  Kaz gave him a penetrating look. ‘You mean it, you’ll leave it to me?’

  Joey hunched his shoulders. ‘If I’ve said it, I mean it.’

  Kaz folded her arms and took a turn about the room. ‘Okay, first up we need to help Glynis. Get her and her bloke out of Sean’s reach. Thought we might use your contacts in Ibiza.’

  Joey started to smile, Kaz caught his look. ‘What you grinning at?’

  ‘You babes. This is what I’ve always wanted – us working together as a team. You’re gonna be brilliant at this. It’s what you was born for.’

  34

  Nicci Armstrong decided to make a day of it, take Sophie out of school, prepare a picnic, turn the whole thing into a mother-and-daughter adventure. She’d come to the conclusion that she’d made things way too easy for Tim; he got to do the fun stuff with their daughter, while she struggled to hold down a stressful job and still be a proper mum. But this was an opportunity to put the two together, do the job and steal some extra time with her child.

  Sophie was over the moon, a day off school and she was helping Mummy. They were going on a secret mission, she couldn’t even text her friends, but she was so excited she didn’t care. They got up at six to make the packed lunch, jam sandwiches as well as egg, plus Nicci had bought some gingerbread men and chocolate-covered marshmallows from the special bakers. These were Sophie’s favourites. It was like a birthday tea but without the birthday.

  Nicci was in charge of driving and the satnav, Sophie was in charge of music. But she didn’t bombard her mother with JLS, she tried to widen things out, including Justin Timberlake and Robbie Williams to accommodate Nicci’s antiquated tastes. For the first hour as they drove north they sang along to every tune, Sophie was amazed at how many songs her mother knew. She had only a ghost of a memory of the long ago Christmas when Dad got Mum a karaoke machine and they’d made so much noise the neighbours complained.

  They stopped at the motorway services for a drink and the loo. Sophie had a strawberries and crème frappuccino with masses of whipped cream on top; she kept getting a blob on the end of her nose. Nicci never usually let her have this sort of stuff, but today was different. It was like going out with Dad only better. Nicci took a video clip of her trying to drink it and they both had a fit of giggles.

  Once they were back in the car Nicci told her a bit about the girl they were going to visit. Sophie knew she had to pay attention, this was a briefing for the mission. It’s what the police did. The girl was Natalie and she’d got very poorly from taking too many drugs, Sophie knew all about that. They’d had a special talk at school and watched a film. She felt immensely proud and important, she’d never been asked to help her mother with work before. In fact Nicci rarely spoke about her job. So this was a double first if you counted the frappuccino.

  It was the police’s job to help Natalie. But first she had to be persuaded to trust Nicci and that wasn’t going to be easy. Natalie had been unhappy for a long time, her parents had been cruel to her and she didn’t have any friends. Sophie tried to imagine what a cruel parent might do, undoubtedly something worse than take away your phone. A boy in her class kept coming to school with loads of bruises so he had to see the school counsellor every week. Some people said his mum’s boyfriend hit him. Sophie thought that was probably cruelty so helping Natalie was clearly a good thing.

  As they drove up the sweeping drive to Woodcote Hall Nicci glanced across at her daughter’s radiant face. Her happiness was plain to see, it was simple and infectious. Getting pregnant with Sophie had been an accident and definitely not part of Nicci’s career plan. Yet as soon as she gazed at her baby’s red, bawling features she was hooked. No one, least of all her own parents, had expected her to be a natural mother. Unlike her they’d read all the books; depression, sleepless nights, problems were to be expected. But Nicci adored her child, went back to work and simply coped. She was tired, she rowed with Tim, but from the word go she and Sophie were a love match. Even after the divorce there was not a moment of regret, Sophie was the jewel in her mother’s life.

  Nicci found a parking space in the old stableyard next to the Hall. But even as she backed into it she was developing worryingly ambiguous feelings about bringing her daughter with her. Sophie was having such a
good time and somehow that made it worse. Nicci started to wonder to what extent she was exploiting her own child. Was this a ploy to come over as more sympathetic? She hadn’t mentioned the plan to anyone at work – and with good reason. She could hear Mayhew tutting at her. Bad move. But what was she going to do, turn round and go home?

  Sophie’s eyes darted around the stableyard; she was alert to everything and well informed. A man from the National Trust had come into school and they’d done a project on Hatfield House. As they got out of the car, Sophie’s brow furrowed. ‘Well, this isn’t Jacobean.’

  Nicci grinned with delight. She was only just getting used to the adult words that were starting to pepper her child’s vocabulary.

  ‘Built a bit later I think. But you know much more about this stuff than me.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Used to be only one family lived in a place like this, but they had loads of servants.’

  ‘I think this is where they kept their horses.’

  Sophie shot her mother a sidelong glance. ‘Dad said maybe I could go horse-riding when we go on holiday.’

  Nicci smiled. The kid was whip-smart and knew exactly how to play her parents off against each other.

  ‘Did he now? Well I’d hold him to that if I was you.’

  They waited for Natalie in the magnificent hallway supported by Palladian columns. She came down the stairs escorted by a nurse. She still looked pretty fragile and was wrapped in an oversized hoodie, which she clutched tightly round herself. Nicci made the introductions and was surprised by the confidence with which Sophie took charge.

  ‘We’ve brought a picnic. Gingerbread men and chocolate marshmallows, two each.’

  Natalie gave her a wary smile. ‘Cool.’

  This was Nicci’s second visit but Natalie’s drug-addled brain was clearing. She’d had time to consider the situation and she’d got her visitor sussed. Volunteer? That was a fairy story. She didn’t come over as the type who went visiting junkies as a hobby, it didn’t add up. Now she’d brought her kid, either that or she’d borrowed someone else’s.

  The three of them wandered out of the front door and round to the back of the house. Then Sophie caught sight of a small gazebo sitting on a raised hillock and she ran towards it. The two women followed, Nicci lugging the coolbox and a canvas bag of goodies. Natalie shot a suspicious glance at her new friend.

  ‘You don’t hardly look old enough to have a kid.’

  ‘Sometimes I don’t feel old enough. But we take care of each other.’

  ‘What about her dad?’

  ‘Divorced. Everyone, especially my parents, lectured us. You should stay together for Sophie’s sake . . . blah blah blah.’

  ‘Nah, kids know if you’re miserable. Just makes things worse.’ Natalie’s gaze drifted off into the distance.

  Nicci nodded. She wanted to come back with a question, a torrent of questions, it was the detective in her. But she had to be patient. Still she regarded lies and deception as counter-productive. She reckoned Natalie had experienced enough of that in her life, she wasn’t stupid and she wasn’t about to trust anyone who played the same game.

  Nicci put the coolbox down and transferred the canvas bag to her other hand. ‘You know I’m a police officer, don’t you?’

  Natalie gave a cynical shrug. ‘Really?’ But the straightforward approach did surprise her. A thin smile spread across her face. ‘Yeah, I figured.’

  Nicci grinned. ‘What gave me away? The big boots?’

  Natalie returned the look, her eyes were pale and blank. ‘No one’s interested in me. Why would they be?’

  ‘They might be.’

  ‘Nah, I’m just a nuisance. People here are getting paid to look after me. You’re here ’cause you wanna know who killed Jez.’

  Nicci inclined her head. ‘But Sophie’s here because she gets to skive off school for a day and she loves picnics. So where shall we sit?’

  Natalie cast her eye over the short springy turf. ‘Dunno. Wherever.’

  Nicci started to unpack the canvas bag. Natalie stood watching at first. But Nicci tossed her a corner of the brightly coloured rug and together they spread it out on the grass.

  Sophie came running down the hill from the gazebo, her cheeks were pink, she was slightly breathless. ‘This place is awesome. You’re so lucky Natalie.’

  Natalie blinked at her a couple of times. She rubbed her forehead, as if trying to wipe away some interior pain. ‘Is she really your mum?’

  Sophie looked puzzled. ‘Yeah. ’Course she is. Sometimes she tells me the hospital gave her the wrong baby. But that’s a joke.’

  Nicci smiled. She was kneeling on the rug, unloading foil-wrapped sandwiches from the coolbox. Natalie glanced from one to the other, her expression tight and pinched. Some unknown force within seemed to be churning her guts over. She swallowed hard and pulled her hood up.

  ‘Dunno that I want a picnic, not today.’ She turned abruptly on her heel and started to walk away.

  Nicci and Sophie exchanged looks. Immediately Sophie was on her feet skipping after Natalie.

  ‘Hey! Wanna hear my playlist?’

  Natalie stopped in her tracks. She shrugged. ‘All the music they got in here’s crap. Like supermarket music.’

  Sophie held out her headphones. The tiny square nano dangled from one end. ‘You can borrow this for now?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. And . . . you tell me the stuff you like, I’ll download it, make you your own playlist.’

  Natalie gave her an appraising look. ‘You’re a nice kid.’

  Sophie pulled up her own hood, unconsciously mirroring the older girl. ‘Mum wants to help you. So do I.’

  Natalie turned her head away. Her eyes were brimming with tears. ‘You don’t understand. There ain’t anyone or anything can help me.’

  Nicci joined her daughter. ‘It may feel like that now. But there’s always a way out Natalie. And there’s a way out for you. You just have to look around until you find it.’

  35

  It was the last day of the summer school, classes were winding up in preparation for the return of the real, full-time students in October. Mal Bradley had dipped in and out, having discovered that others in the class had work and family commitments that forced them to do the same. He’d seen Karen Phelps there a few times, but she’d ignored him completely and spurned all his attempts at mateyness. The only reason he’d kept going was to put off the moment when he would have to tell Turnbull that he was getting nowhere.

  He’d offered to accompany Nicci Armstrong to Yorkshire again. Her plan to befriend Natalie Phelps was progressing at a snail’s pace. The notion she’d ever make a credible witness against her brother struck him as far-fetched. However Nicci was a dog with a bone, it was how she operated. She was making the drive once, sometimes twice a week, and insisted on going alone so as not to freak Natalie out. On top of a regular workload, that struck Bradley as ridiculous. Still he found some consolation in the fact he wasn’t the only one on a hiding to nothing.

  For the final life drawing class Mike Dawson had invited all the students to pin up their drawings to create a small exhibition. The atmosphere was celebratory. On a table in the middle of the studio Mike had provided several bottles of cheap plonk and some bags of crisps. The students had added their own contributions and soon the table was piled high with cans of beer, Jaffa Cakes, biscuits, one student had even baked a cake.

  Mike led the class, glasses in hand, on a tour of the room, viewing and commenting on the work and progress of each individual student in turn. As the group gathered round Bradley’s patch of wall, he noticed Karen Phelps watching him from the back of the huddle. Mike Dawson peered at the drawings intently, then cleared his throat.

  ‘Well, Mal started out as a complete beginner, am I right?’

  Bradley nodded. He felt the question was slightly redundant. Anyone could see that he drew like a seven-year-old.

  Mike nodded thoughtfully. ‘But what we see
here is definite progress. A more confident line developing and more accurate observation. A sense of the essence of the figure is definitely emerging. Anyone care to add anything?’

  A woman at the front of the group, who’d taken a shine to Bradley, raised her hand tentatively like a schoolgirl. ‘I think what Mal’s done is lovely. It’s full of feeling.’

  Bradley gave her a small nod. He placed her on the wrong side of forty and the far side of desperate. There was no way he wanted to give her the least encouragement. He caught Kaz’s eye, she was watching his discomfort with amusement.

  She glanced in Dawson’s direction. ‘Yeah, I got a comment Mike. That one at the top there looks a bit like one of them photo-fit pictures. Y’know, the kind the police make.’

  Heads in the group swivelled from Kaz back to the wall and the drawing in question. Mike narrowed his eyes and scrutinized it intently, then he turned to Bradley.

  ‘What d’you make of that Mal? You a secret fan of Crimewatch? D’you think there might be an influence here?’

  Bradley pondered. ‘It’s possible. I do read a lot of crime novels, especially about gangsters and psychopaths.’

  Mike chuckled. ‘Ummm what you’ve done with the eyes – they do look a bit manic. D’you think Leo’s got the look of a psychopath about him?’

  A ripple of laughter went round the group. Bradley shot a challenging look at Kaz. ‘Problem with psychopaths Mike, is that they look just like you or me. They fool us by seeming to be ordinary.’

  Mike Dawson nodded sagely, then ushered the group on to the next student.

  Bradley brought up the rear and positioned himself next to Kaz. She gave him a sideways glance.

  ‘Don’t know why you didn’t ’fess up to being a copper. They’d probably love you even more. ’Specially your number one fan over there.’

  Bradley adopted a stage whisper. ‘Cougars – definitely not my style. Anyway as we both know, I’m supposed to be undercover.’