Informant

by Susan Wilkins

  Kaz pretended to ponder. ‘King size. I think that would be best.’

  An hour and a half later she hit the pavement with a sheaf of receipts in her bag and a delivery time-slot between ten and one the following day. She’d bought a bed, two bedside tables, a lamp, a very elegant chest of drawers, two leather sofas, a glass-topped coffee table and a round dining table with four chairs. It was all quite easy once you got into the swing of it.

  But she couldn’t help thinking of Helen’s flat, the spacious, minimalist feel of it. The sofas she bought were cream and kid-soft like Helen’s. For Alice Ogilvy’s taste was as good as Helen’s, possibly superior. In fact Helen would’ve thought twice before she dumped the likes of Alice Ogilvy – at least that’s what Kaz told herself.

  As the anger and the shame of Helen’s rejection broke the surface once again, Kaz could feel the familiar tension gripping her stomach. She’d been fighting it all week. The fantasy of killing Julia kept returning to her intermittently. She imagined borrowing a gun from Yev or Tolya, tracking Julia down, she skipped over the details of how, and taking her out. Single head shot, simple as that. But then she’d have to face Helen, witness her pain. And that’s when the fantasy turned to nightmare. Helen would hate her, recognize her for the slag she was. All hope would be lost. She’d be back inside again.

  More than once Kaz had ended up curled in a foetal ball, sobbing. But now, as the familiar loop started to play in her head, she pushed it away. She wasn’t going down that route today, she was out shopping, getting her life back on track and Helen Warner could go fuck herself.

  Kaz crossed the road and was setting her mind to deciding whether to get a laptop, a tablet computer or both, when her phone trilled with an incoming text. She opened it up and read a message from Mal Bradley: can we meet? need to talk urgently. things moving fast. Kaz texted back and after a short exchange she agreed to see him an hour later in a pub he suggested on Charlotte Street. She didn’t much like pubs, but she figured she’d get there early, settle herself with a coffee, then he’d be walking into her territory.

  He’d obviously had the same idea, appearing ten minutes short of the hour and with Nicci Armstrong in tow. Kaz had positioned herself in a corner booth, but with a good view of the door. The place was relatively empty, a few early lunchers and serious drinkers. Bradley clocked her immediately and came straight over, looking slightly put out.

  ‘You’re early.’

  ‘Been doing some shopping.’

  Bradley inclined his head in Nicci’s direction. ‘You may remember my colleague Nicci Armstrong.’

  Kaz gave her a curt nod. Flipping back to the interview in Southend it was no real surprise to learn that she wasn’t the local plod but one of Woodentop’s people.

  Bradley smiled. ‘Can I get anyone a drink?’

  Kaz pointed to her coffee. ‘I’m fine.’

  Nicci put a casual hand on Bradley’s shoulder. ‘Sit down, I’ll get them. Pint?’

  While Nicci headed for the bar, he slid into the booth beside Kaz.

  Kaz decided to open the batting. ‘Thought you lot weren’t s’pose to drink on duty.’

  Bradley laced his fingers in front of him. ‘Yeah, but most coppers are alkies, aren’t they? We’re no exception. Get it when we can.’

  He was turning on the charm, the cute smile, the attempt at humour. Kaz took it all in. She waited. He glanced down at the several shopping bags she had next to her, saw the famous logo.

  ‘New laptop? Nice.’

  ‘I need it for college.’

  Nicci Armstrong returned to the table, placed a pint of lager in front of Bradley, she had a gin and tonic for herself. Kaz recognized the smell, an old familiar fragrance from long ago, like a scent she might’ve remembered her mother wearing. Except with Ellie the memories were more of vomit and piss, of days when she laid on her bed without budging, while Kaz, Joey and little Natalie went hungry.

  Nicci sat down opposite Kaz, took a sip of her drink and glanced at Bradley. He turned the pint glass round, tracing a line with his finger through the cold dewy beads of moisture clinging to the glass. Then he looked up, straight at Kaz.

  ‘What we need to talk to you about Karen, is politics.’

  ‘I don’t vote. They’re all as bad as each other.’

  Bradley smiled. He liked that she always whacked everything back at him. ‘Not that kind of politics. Sean’s an old lag, he’s done his time. There’s no real mileage for us in arresting him five minutes after he gets out. Makes the system look stupid, makes us all look stupid. That’s the politics of this.’

  Kaz knew what was coming next. She also knew Sean would be a hard sell. But she waited. Bradley opened his palms.

  ‘Still, it’s good that we’re having this conversation. It’s a start. A good start.’ He smiled broadly.

  Kaz fixed him with a penetrating stare. ‘I’m not giving you Joey. Not now, not ever.’ She picked up her cup and drained it. She’d get nowhere unless she pushed them to the edge. ‘So, end of discussion.’

  Nicci leant back in her chair, folded her arms.

  ‘Tell me this Karen, what kind of life do you want?’

  Kaz looked the other woman up and down. Everything about her was less obvious than Bradley. And Kaz suspected she was a lot smarter.

  ‘I want to go to college, get a degree, become a painter.’

  Nicci sighed. ‘You know that’s only really going to be possible once Joey goes to jail.’

  ‘Why? ’Cause you lot’re gonna hound me ’til I give in?’

  ‘No.’ Nicci smiled ruefully. ‘Truth is we’ll give up, move on to other targets eventually. But you’re gonna spend your life taking care of Joey, dancing to his tune, covering up his mistakes. He’s a killer, Karen. Probably a psychopath. You saw what he did to Jez Harris. He doesn’t care about anyone else. It’s the way his brain’s wired. You may think you can help him, but he will use you up.’

  Kaz blinked a couple of times, still she held the eye contact. She’d learnt long ago, never let them face you down. The image of Zara, the little kid with a gaping bloody hole in her chest, flashed through her brain. She shook her head, dislodging it, flinging any doubts away.

  ‘Nah, you got it all wrong. Sean’s the psycho – believe me, I know. But what, it ain’t good politics for you to nick him? Even when it’s given you on a plate? Joey’s a wuss by comparison. He’s a businessman. Money, that’s what he’s about.’

  ‘He murdered a police officer.’

  ‘You were there? Saw it, did you?’

  Bradley watched the duel between the two women. He’d been reluctant to bring Nicci with him, but Mayhew had insisted. Bradley had taken this as a measure of how little he was trusted to get the job done. Now, however, he could see the value in it. Nicci was simply telling Karen Phelps what she needed to hear; it sounded authentic because it was true. It may not be enough to convince her quite yet, but this time she hadn’t gone ballistic and walked out.

  He smiled. ‘Who’s paying for the laptop? Joey?’

  ‘None of your fucking business.’

  ‘You’re right, it’s not my business. Then again if the money was derived from the proceeds of drug dealing, it is. What did you use, cash or credit card?’

  ‘I don’t have to tell you that.’

  Nicci picked up the baton. ‘That’s true. But we take you down the nick, we search you, we marry up the laptop you’ve bought with a credit card that isn’t yours . . . we call your probation officer . . . That would be a serious breach of your licence. You know the drill after that.’

  Kaz opened her bag, pulled out a receipt. She slapped it on the table in front of Nicci.

  ‘Cash. You think you can prove it was the proceeds of drug dealing? Go on, have a try. Meanwhile I’ll call my lawyer.’

  The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Then Kaz turned to Bradley. ‘I told you why I wanted Sean to go down. I also told you he killed a copper. Now politics or no fucking politic
s, why ain’t that enough?’

  Bradley sighed, but it was Nicci who answered.

  ‘Turnbull wants your brother. It’s as simple as that. “Drug baron’s evil empire overthrown”, that’s the headline he wants.’

  Kaz exhaled in disbelief. ‘You ever smoke a spliff? Or when you was a kid and went clubbing, you never done a tab of E?’

  Nicci shot a glance at Bradley. He took a gulp of beer to avoid the necessity of lying. Kaz watched them both and smiled.

  ‘You don’t have to answer, ’cause we all know that most people’ve tried it, tried something, crossed the line somewhere. If Joey was selling whisky or fags he’d be businessman of the year. They’d be giving him awards. He sells people what they want, that’s why it’s profitable. He’s not conning old ladies out their pensions or sending the country broke. When you lot gonna start going after the real villains?’

  Nicci started to laugh softly. ‘Nice speech Karen. And if you’re asking me personally I’d say legalize the lot. So would most coppers.’

  Bradley nodded his agreement as she continued.

  ‘The thing is, it’s not legal. There are no rules to the game. But there’s big bucks to be made, so people fight over territory, over customers. They threaten and maim and murder to get their slice of the action. Biggest thug wins. And you’re naive if you think your brother isn’t in all that up to his eyeballs. But I don’t think you’re naive, so maybe you don’t care.’

  Nicci leant back in her chair, picked up her glass and took a sip.

  Kaz watched her, she realized it wasn’t going to play out. She picked up her shopping bags and stood up. ‘You’re right, I couldn’t give a toss. But I’m a slag in your eyes, so it’s only to be expected innit?’

  She skirted round the back of Nicci’s chair and strode towards the door. In a moment she was gone.

  Bradley glanced at his colleague. ‘That went well.’

  Nicci sighed. ‘She’s hearing us all right, that’s why she’s so petulant. It’s going to take time. In the end we put her testimony together with her sister’s, we got a case.’

  ‘You actually getting anything from the sister?’

  ‘Not yet. But we’re mates.’

  ‘Turnbull’s going to go apeshit when he finds out we didn’t threaten her with Sean.’

  ‘Then don’t tell him.’ Nicci drained her glass. ‘You want to be Turnbull’s kind of copper?’

  Bradley shrugged. ‘Not really, no.’

  ‘Then take my advice, draw your own line and stick to it.’

  40

  Kaz turned the key in the lock and let herself into her new home. Sunshine was streaming in through the enormous windows. As she started to roll up the plastic sheeting put down to protect the wooden floors small motes of dust rose up and danced in the light. The deliverymen had already rung to say they’d be there within the half-hour. She sat down, back against the wall, and opened up the takeaway coffee she’d bought from the deli on the corner. As she sipped she savoured the pleasure of finally being alone behind her own front door. For this was the first place she could really call home, free of the taint of the past and the shadows of childhood. Okay, Joey had bought it for her, but there were no strings attached. She’d made that very clear to him, wouldn’t have accepted otherwise. Bradley’s sidekick could accuse her brother as much as she liked, but the fact was she’d offered them real evil and they weren’t even interested. Sean wouldn’t get them the right headlines, it was all just crap.

  After she’d walked out of the pub Bradley had texted her a couple of times. He wanted her to call him back. She’d ignored him. Then he’d started ringing. She’d still ignored him. Finally, around eleven, as she was about to go to bed, she picked up. He sounded surprised and also drunk.

  ‘Karen? Listen I’m sorry . . . Nicci can be a bit . . . well y’know . . .’

  ‘Whad’you want Bradley?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t . . . we need to talk . . . I need to warn you.’

  ‘Warn me about what?’

  ‘Turnbull . . . he’s . . . you need to watch out for yourself.’

  ‘I been doing that all my life.’

  ‘It’s just politics this.’

  ‘Yeah, I got that.’

  Kaz heard a deep inhalation of breath on the other end of the line. ‘Fact you’ve talked to us Karen, that can be used against you, y’know.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  There was silence, she could hear him swallowing; he needed a drink to answer. Or not to answer.

  ‘Look I told you, it’s all about deals. Turnbull has to deliver to his boss. And the deal is Joey.’

  This was really starting to irritate Kaz. Was the point of this drunken phone call to warn her or threaten her? She couldn’t work out which, but she’d had enough.

  ‘Bradley, it’s late and I’m tired. So stop ringing me and fuck off.’

  She’d hung up and crawled into bed. Her last night at the hostel, she fell into a dreamless sleep and woke shortly after dawn.

  By the time she’d finished her coffee, the deliverymen were at the door. They rang the intercom and she buzzed them in. Three large lads who looked as though they lifted weights when they weren’t lifting furniture. In less than twenty minutes they’d brought in all her purchases, carefully unwrapped the heavy-duty plastic and disappeared with it plus a generous tip. Having watched her brother splashing the cash, Kaz followed suit; she could see the sense in it and the pleasure. Everyone was happy.

  Removing her shoes she lay down on one of the soft cream sofas. She’d got the lads to position it opposite the balcony window. From her reclining position she could see the wharves opposite, long since converted into luxury apartments, and the glittering surface of the river. The tide was high, the water slapping up the side of the far embankment. She leant over to her bag and pulled out her sketchbook. She opened it to a fresh page and was gazing intently out of the window when her phone trilled on the kitchen counter. Her first impulse was to leave it, but it was probably Joey, phoning to check that everything had gone smoothly. She got up, retrieved the phone, glanced at the screen. It was an 07 number, but he changed his SIM cards frequently, never kept one for any length of time. She pressed to answer.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Kaz? Kaz, it’s Glynis.’ She sounded breathless and frightened, holding it together – but only just. She and Dave should be at Gatwick by now, ready to board the lunchtime flight to Ibiza. Joey had made all the arrangements, found them a small apartment in San Antonio.

  ‘All right Glynis? What’s going on?’

  The reply was a muffled scrunch. Either someone had grabbed the phone or it had been dropped.

  ‘Glynis?’

  A couple of gasped breaths, then her quivering voice came back on the line.

  ‘I gotta talk to you Kaz. You at your new place? Can I come round?’

  ‘You’ll miss your flight. You should be at the airport.’

  ‘We can’t risk it. He knows Kaz. He saw the tickets. We given him the slip, but I don’t know where else to go.’

  Kaz had a list of questions, but it seemed unlikely that Glynis was in a fit state to answer any of them.

  ‘Okay, where are you now?’

  ‘We’re . . . I dunno, up west somewhere. We been driving round in circles.’

  ‘Dump the car – too easy to follow. Get on the tube, take the DLR to Westferry. I’ll meet you at the station, say three-quarters of an hour.’

  ‘Aww thanks Kaz.’ The relief in her voice was palpable. ‘Look . . . I’m really sorry . . . I . . .’

  ‘Don’t be. Just do like I said.’

  Kaz clicked the phone off, chucked it on her pristine new sofa in exasperation.

  Bloody Sean. What was she going to do about him?

  Kaz reached the station five minutes before the appointed time. She’d spent the interim trying to contact Joey. He hadn’t been home the previous evening, at some girlfriend’s she supposed. He wasn’t answering any of t
he numbers she had for him, Ashley’s phone was off, the landline at the flat went straight to voicemail. She left messages. She was frustrated more than irritated. Joey’s habit of going AWOL just when he was needed was beginning to get on her nerves.

  As she approached the station she saw the slight figure of Glynis standing alone on the pavement clutching her handbag. There was hardly anyone else about so Kaz concluded that the train must have come in some time earlier. But where was Dave? Glynis turned as soon as she saw Kaz, still she remained rooted to the spot. She didn’t move forward or hurry towards her, which seemed odd. Kaz was still yards away, but her eyesight was keen enough to see that the whole left side of Glynis’s face was battered and bruised. One eye was completely closed up. Her shoulders were shaking, she was sobbing. Suddenly she crouched down like a small child and began howling.

  ‘Sorry Kaz, I’m so sorry! So sorry!’

  That was when Kaz saw the blue Mondeo parked kerbside behind her. The back door opened and Sean got out. He had his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and a smug smile on his face.

  ‘Think you and I need to have a chat little cousin.’

  It took Kaz less than two seconds to decide how to respond. The flat wasn’t far, Sean was fit enough, but she was fairly certain she could outrun him. If she could only get home, safe behind her own front door. She turned tail and ran.

  She made it halfway down Limehouse Causeway before the Mondeo caught up with her. She heard the underside of the car whacking a speed bump before it screeched to a halt behind her. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Sean was out of the car and coming after her. To her left was a ten-foot chain-link fence, she was up and over it in a trice and found herself in the playground of a primary school. She scooted round the buildings, scaled another wall at the back and landed in a tiny cobbled side street.

  Although she’d walked round the area a couple of times she still didn’t know it. She paused for breath and to get her bearings. It was hardly more than an alley and in one direction she could see it led to the river: a dead end. Maybe she could find somewhere to hide and wait him out. Then she saw a man appear at the other end of the alley, taller than Sean and much younger. He seemed to be beckoning. She looked hard and recognized Tolya. Her heart leapt, Joey must’ve picked up one of her messages and come looking for her. She immediately headed up the alley towards him at a fast trot.