Informant
Page 39
The police had arrested her at the hospital, as she assumed they would. But before the interrogation began, she pre-empted them by laying her own deal on the table. She wanted a new identity and a place on the witness protection scheme for her and her sister. In return she’d tell them everything she knew and testify against Joey.
Fiona Calder knew a result when she saw it; Kaz’s testimony would provide the evidence for a double murder conviction. It would also help scupper any allegations of illegality Turnbull might take to the IPCC. Calder agreed, released Kaz and called a press conference.
The crowd that turned out at the crematorium to pay their respects were a motley crew of superannuated villains with walking sticks as much in evidence as mirrored sunglasses. Ellie had been waiting practically her whole married life for this day and she didn’t disappoint. She walked into the chapel with her two daughters in a black feather fascinator with a light veil specially commissioned for the occasion. As the priest told his sceptical audience that although Terence Albert Phelps was a man of the streets he repented at the last, Ellie dabbed her dry cheeks with a black lace hanky.
There was a discreet police presence in the chapel and a couple of armed response officers with MP5s in the Rose Garden. Kaz reflected ruefully that this was probably the one aspect of the rigmarole her old man would’ve appreciated. Joey sat at the back handcuffed to a big brawny prison officer. He’d been arrested on the A12 by a couple of traffic cops who’d stopped him for speeding. He didn’t put up any resistance and whistled up Neville Moore to get him out. When he was charged with double murder, refused bail and remanded to Belmarsh prison, he fired Neville in a fit of pique. But then rehired him three days later.
As the mourners filed out and Kaz stood beside her mother shaking hands and accepting condolences, Joey finally caught her eye. He gave her a wink and a cheeky grin, then turned to his minder with an appealing smile. ‘All right if I just give me poor old mum a hug?’
The prison officer nodded. The police had deployed more officers than he’d ever seen at a villain’s funeral. Joey Phelps wasn’t going anywhere.
Joey enveloped Ellie in as large an embrace as the handcuffs would allow. She wriggled free, one hand on the fascinator.
‘Careful Joey! Mind me hat!’
He smiled at her, his baby-blue eyes filling with tears. ‘I’m sorry Mum. I’ve let you down.’ He glanced at the remaining family line-up: Kaz, Natalie, Brian and Glynis. ‘I’ve let you all down. Let the family down. And I’m sorry.’
Brian shifted uncomfortably. ‘Can’t be helped lad. I’m sure your dad’d understand.’
Natalie fiddled with the cuffs on her jacket, she couldn’t meet her brother’s eye.
He glanced from her to Glynis and beamed. ‘All right Glyn? I must admit I’m really surprised not to see Sean here today. Aren’t you Mum?’ His gaze slid along the line and came to rest on Kaz. He fixed her with a hypnotic stare. ‘I mean I know he’s probably a bit nervous of the old bill, but for him to miss Dad’s send-off, well, I have to say I’m a bit puzzled. Aren’t you Kaz? Hope nothing’s happened to him.’
Glynis looked up from under the broad brim of her hat. ‘Oh, don’t worry Joey – he’s fine. He’s been moving about a lot, y’know how it is. But he calls me every week. ’Course, I told him about your dad and he was gutted. He sends you his love Ellie. We got your dad a lovely wreath: heart-shaped with lots of different colour roses. Sean picked it out himself.’
She glanced at Kaz, who returned her brother’s gaze with a serene smile.
‘Hope that puts your mind at rest little brother.’
EPILOGUE
Nicci Armstrong got off the train at Glasgow Central station. It was a city she’d never visited before, but using the map on her phone she found her way to Sauchiehall Street and the bar where they’d arranged to meet. It was part of a chain, but targeting the cooler, top-end of the market, not exactly a typical art student hang-out, which was the point. She took a stool at the high bar and was ordering herself a glass of Pinot Grigio when she noticed a vaguely familiar figure approaching. The hair was shorter, cut in a trendy crop, the clothes were quirky and retro. She was carrying a large A1 portfolio and a leather satchel. She gave Nicci a tentative smile.
‘Found it okay then?’
Nicci nodded. ‘I don’t know what to call you.’
The young woman held out her hand. ‘Clare O’Keeffe. Pleased to meet you.’
They shook hands awkwardly. Nicci came away with a film of charcoal on her fingers. Clare looked embarrassed.
‘Bit mucky, sorry about that. Life drawing class.’
Nicci smiled. ‘Don’t worry. Drink?’
‘Just a mineral water.’
Nicci ordered from the barman, they collected their drinks and settled themselves in a corner booth.
Nicci raised her glass. ‘Well, I don’t know if you’ll want to drink to this or not, but we’ve got a trial date. Tenth of April.’
Clare raised her glass and clinked it with Nicci’s. ‘I’ll be glad to get it over with.’
Nicci nodded. ‘I’m sure. I’ve tried calling your sister a few times, but she never gets back to me.’
Clare sighed. ‘When she left Woodcote Hall Mum persuaded her to go home. I asked her to come up here and live with me, but she wouldn’t.’
‘Do you think she’ll manage to stay clean if she’s back there?’
A look of anxiety crossed Clare’s face, but she pushed it away.
‘I dunno. I wanted to give her my number so she could stay in touch, but my Witness Protection Officer said absolutely not.’
‘I’d agree with that. They wouldn’t even give me your number, only pass on a message.’ Nicci took a sip of her drink. ‘The other thing I need to tell you is about Ashley Carter.’
Clare smiled wistfully. ‘Poor old Ash. I don’t think my brother treated him that well.’
‘Seems the worm has turned. He’s been separated from Joey for quite a few months now and his family have got him a smart new lawyer who wants to get some leverage on his sentence. We hope he’s going to become a prosecution witness, testify about the murder of Alex Marlow.’
Clare raised her eyebrows. ‘I always did think Ash was smarter than he looked. But he’d been running round after Joey since they was about ten.’
‘He’s also saying Joey shot Dave Harper, Glynis’s boyfriend.’
Clare’s eyes widened. ‘No kidding! Well well.’
She pondered this for a moment, sipped her mineral water and smiled to herself. She seemed quieter and more contained than Nicci remembered. But then suddenly her eyes lit up.
‘I’ve been reading the papers. Woodentop’s making a name for himself.’
Nicci gave her a puzzled look, then she realized. ‘You mean Alan Turnbull? Yeah he’s certainly stirring things up.’
Clare gave her a mischievous grin. ‘Did you lot really think I was gonna fall for Bradley?’
Nicci returned the smile and held up her palm. ‘Hey, no one ever consulted me. It was something the bosses dreamt up.’
‘Now they’re all trying to blame each other.’
‘Pretty much.’
Clare’s gaze drifted off, she seemed lost in reverie. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
‘I liked him though. Didn’t want to. But he was a persistent little fucker.’
Nicci smiled ruefully. ‘Yep, he was that all right.’
They sat in silence for several minutes. Nicci watched Clare tracing a pattern in the beads of moisture on the side of her glass. She remembered Bradley doing the exact same thing, but she quickly put the memory away.
‘Did you pick the new name yourself?’
Clare nodded. ‘It’s after Georgia O’Keeffe, one of my favourite artists. Thought it’d give me something to live up to, keep me on track.’
Nicci sighed. ‘Never heard of her I’m afraid.’ She raised her chin, gave Clare a searching look. ‘It must be hard, just walking away from everything
and everyone. Cutting yourself off so completely.’
Nicci couldn’t imagine it, never seeing Sophie again, even her parents, that would be hard enough.
Clare looked at her, smiled, then her gaze shifted off into the distance, out of the window and into the streets beyond.
‘No it’s not. It’s not hard, it’s brilliant. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Just to walk away. Start again as a different person.’
Nicci scanned her face, she wondered if that were even possible. But if it was she hoped with all her heart that Kaz Phelps had achieved it.
Acknowledgements
Making the transition from television writer to novelist has not been an easy passage and I’m enormously grateful to everyone who’s given me their support, not to mention their time and expertise. Thanks to Jill Foster, Gary Wild, Alison Finch and Dominic Lord, for always being there but also respecting my need to chase a dream.
Anne Sharp and Win Browne were both generous with their introductions. Professor Dave Barclay was informative and invaluable as he is for so many crime writers. Joan Scott, Kathy Lefanu, Brian Chapman and DCI Roy Ledingham all gave me a wealth of professional insights and procedural detail. Lisanne Radice and Jenny Parrot guided me through early drafts with their editorial skills. And special thanks to GC, whose input was indispensable.
I was lucky enough to secure the indomitable Jane Gregory as my agent, she and her team have proved excellent guides in this new world. Trisha Jackson, my editor, whilst shepherding me gently through an unfamiliar process, has brought her sharp intellect to bear on the more wobbly parts of the text. Laura Carr has provided invaluable guidance with grammar and syntax. The backup team at Pan Macmillan have all been friendly and helpful on everything from marketing strategies to social media.
And last but by no means least a very special thank you to my two first readers Sue Kenyon and Jenny Kenyon, without whom . . .
COMING SOON
The explosive sequel to The Informant
THE MOURNER
Susan Wilkins
If she can’t get justice, will she settle for vengeance?
Kaz Phelps has escaped her brother and her criminal past to become an anonymous art student in Glasgow. But can life under the witness protection scheme ever give her the freedom she craves?
Banged up and brooding, Joey Phelps faces thirty years behind bars. Still, with cash and connections on the outside, can an overstretched prison system really contain him?
Helen Warner, once Kaz’s lawyer and lover, is a rising star in Parliament. But has she made the kind of enemies who have no regard for the democratic process, or even the law?
Ousted from the police and paralysed by tragic personal loss, Nicci Armstrong is in danger of going under. Can a job she doesn’t want with a private security firm help her to put her life back together?
A murder dressed up as suicide and corruption that goes to the heart of government unite ex-cop and ex-con in a deadly quest to learn the truth. What they discover proves what both have always known – villainy is rife on both sides of the law.
THE INFORMANT
After a degree in law and a stint as a journalist, Susan Wilkins embarked on a career in television drama. She has written numerous scripts for shows ranging from Casualty and Heartbeat to Coronation Street and EastEnders. She created and wrote the London-based detective drama South of the Border of which the BBC made two series. The Informant is her first novel and she’s currently working on the sequel.
First published 2014 by Pan Books
This electronic edition published 2014 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
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www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-4472-4143-0
Copyright © Susan Wilkins 2014
Cover Images © Colin Thomas
The right of Susan Wilkins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Table of Contents
Title page
Dedication page
Contents
REGULATION OF INVESTIGATORY POWERS ACT 2000
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
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48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgements
THE MOURNER
About the Author
Copyright page