by Alex Walters
But the loneliness could cloud your judgement. She knew that all too well. She knew how serious the consequences could be. That was how she’d ended up in bed with Jake Morton.
She was distracted from these thoughts by the buzz of her mobile on the table. She’d left it turned on after trying to call Sue, hoping that the carer might respond to the message she’d left. But the number on the screen was unfamiliar.
‘Yes?’ Never give your name, that was one of the rules. Never give too much away until you’re sure who you’re talking to. She’d given very few people this number – Liam, her parents, now Sue – and most of them had strict instructions. Don’t mention Marie’s name in any messages, don’t leave your own name or return number. Think about the consequences of the phone being lost or stolen. Only Sue, who knew nothing significant about Marie’s work, had not been given this guidance, and Marie had winced when she’d heard her name being spoken in the messages earlier. The risk was minimal, but it was still a risk that Marie normally avoided.
‘Sorry to call you on this line. Thought the secure one was a little too close to home.’ She recognised the voice now. Brennan.
‘How’d you get this number?’ she said, conscious that she sounded more accusatory than she’d intended. On the other hand, how had he got this number?
There was a pause, which she interpreted as signifying embarrassment. ‘From your personnel file, actually. I went into the system and dug it out.’
It was her turn to pause as she thought through the implications of this. ‘What did you mean about the secure line being too close to home?’ she asked, finally.
‘Just felt that if I wanted a private chat with you, this one might be a bit more discreet. I thought that Salter might have access to the records and wonder why I’d called.’
‘Good question. Why are you calling me?’
‘Felt we hadn’t finished today. Wondered whether we might continue another time.’
‘Look, Jack. I was uneasy about agreeing to the meeting in the first place. I don’t know if I can justify meeting you twice.’ Even though, she thought, it’s exactly what I’d like to do. ‘Especially if you’re looking to do it behind Salter’s back.’
‘It’s Salter I want to talk about. Among other things. We seem to have some common views about him.’
‘Neither of us trusts him,’ she said. ‘Let me break this to you gently: that doesn’t make us members of any exclusive club.’
‘I’m guessing that the Society of Hugh Salter Shaftees is probably a pretty broad church. But I’d rather not be one of them. And at the moment I have the sense that I’m being set up.’
‘And where do I come in?’
‘Maybe I’m just looking for a receptive ear. Someone who knows Salter better than I do, and who can tell me if I’m talking bollocks.’ He paused. ‘Someone to give the new kid a bit of support. I’ve screwed up royally once. I can’t afford to do it again.’
It was tempting. She wanted to nail Pete Boyle. And she wanted to know what Salter’s game was. Brennan might help her achieve both objectives. He was certainly in a better position to do anything than she would be once she’d got her feet under McGrath’s desk. She’d at least have an ally.
Assuming she could trust Jack Brennan.
‘Let me think about it. I’ve got to be careful. I’m starting the new job tomorrow and I’ve got to keep my head clear. Give me a week or so till I’m settled in. Then – well, maybe we could meet up again. I’ll call you.’
She ended the call and stood for a moment, staring at the screen. She had the sense that she’d just committed to something more serious than her words had implied. The story of her life. Leaping before she looked.
She was startled by the sudden buzzing of the phone in her hand. Sue the carer this time. ‘Hi. Marie.’
‘I’ve been trying to call,’ Sue said, accusingly, ‘but it just went to voicemail again.’
‘Sorry. Somebody called me. I’ve just got off the line. How is he?’
There was a pause, in which Marie imagined Sue mouthing the words ‘As if you care.’ Sue said, ‘Like I say, stable. They want to keep him in for observation, though. He’s still not well. Seems very unresponsive. We were struggling to get any fluids down him, so he got a bit dehydrated as well. They’ve got him on a drip now.’
‘What do they think the trouble is?’
‘Something and nothing, they say. Probably just a cold. But you know the way that knocks him back.’
Of course I do, Marie wanted to say. I live with him, for Christ’s sake. Except that, just at the moment, that wasn’t quite true. She wasn’t living with him. ‘Any little thing seems to, these days,’ she said. ‘Okay, I’d better head back down. I’m due to start the new job up here on Monday, but I can at least come back for tomorrow. How long do they reckon he’ll be in for?’
‘They’re not sure. If he improves overnight, he could be out tomorrow. But they might keep him in longer if he’s showing no signs of improvement.’ There was another hesitation which again seemed to convey a wealth of meaning. ‘Look, it’s up to you, obviously. But I don’t know there’s that much point in you rushing back tonight. By the time you get down visiting time will be finished, so you won’t be able to come in here anyway. Why don’t you wait until the morning? If he’s okay by then, maybe they’ll discharge him anyway.’
‘He’ll still need someone to look after him. Get him home.’
‘Well, I was going to say that, if it’s needed, I could do that.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Sue. But the care arrangements won’t cover that, will they?’ The core support from Sue and the other carers was largely funded through the local authority, although Marie and Liam paid for some additional hours out of their own pockets.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Sue said. ‘It’s not covered my time today, either, but when these things happen you just have to deal with them.’ The tone, to Marie’s ears, managed to be both martyred and accusatory.
‘Yes, but we can’t expect you to–’
‘It’s what I do, Marie. I do it to make a living. But I also do it because I want to. I won’t let Liam down.’
The subtext there was unmistakable. Marie was on the point of saying: ‘No, sod you, I’m coming, whether you like it or not.’ But she bit back the words, recognising that, whatever her own feelings might be, Sue was indispensable to Liam. Even if Marie could help Liam tomorrow, she was still going to have to return up here on Monday. ‘Well, if you’re sure you can manage, Sue.’ she said, finally.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Sue said. ‘I’ll give you the number of the ward, so you can phone directly and check how he is in the morning. Then you can decide whether it’s worth coming down.’
There was a finality in Sue’s words that allowed no space to disagree. Marie muttered more thanks and ended the call. Christ, she thought, it’s getting worse. We’re playing tug of war over poor Liam’s struggling body, trying to show which of us cares more.
And the worst thing was that it felt as if she’d already lost. As if Sue was already dragging Liam away, pulling him unresisting into the warmth and security of her caring heart.
11
Another one down. Another job completed.
It had turned out pretty easy in the end, for all his initial forebodings. Apart from that small jitter at the start, he’d handled it perfectly. He sat back, thinking through the detail of the night before. Checking that he’d got it right, and had left no evidence that might come back to bite him. He felt confident enough. He’d left barely a trace of himself in the house. Apart from the dead body and the unlocked rear door, there was no obvious sign that he’d been there. And there was nothing – fingerprints, DNA – that could be traced back to the person he now was. There would be more in the house he’d used for reconnaissance, but no one would have a reason to look in there.
And the killing had been remarkably simple. He’d somehow expected that she would give him more trouble. Bu
t she’d hardly woken. Just that moment when her eyes had opened and she’d looked directly at him. He wondered whether she’d recognised him in that split second. Probably not. Their paths had crossed only infrequently in the days when he worked for her husband.
But she knew what was about to happen to her. Even though she’d struggled, fought back against his weight pressing down on her, that had seemed almost an afterthought. In her eyes, she’d seemed almost resigned to it. Something she had been expecting for a long time. Perhaps something she wanted.
They were often like that. That one up on the moors. He knew what was going to happen, and he seemed simply to accept it. Perhaps it had been a relief. He’d been running for a long time, and now he was able to stop.
So now everything was done. He’d texted the code to the anonymous number to confirm it was finished. No need for more contact than that. After a short time, the remainder of the money would arrive. Clean cash sent to a designated PO Box, that he’d pay in instalments into a range of bank accounts. No sums large enough to excite any suspicion.
For once, he already had another job in place. Usually he had to wait. He was good at the job and had a reputation in the right places, so the commissions came in often enough. But it was a niche service. And there were risks in being too busy. He might get careless, cut corners. Usually, he was happy to get a job done, and then slip off the radar for a month or two.
But this had been a golden period. One commission after another, but with freedom to work at his own pace. He knew, or at least he thought he knew, who and what was behind it. But it wasn’t his business to care about that. The requests came through the usual channels, and the required upfront retainer was paid. That was all he was bothered about. After that, it was just a job.
Even this one.
He admitted to himself, though, that this one was different. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise. There was nothing wrong with feeling some emotion. But you had to recognise the fact. You had to make sure it didn’t cloud your judgement.
So there would be a personal dimension to this one. He would feel something, for sure. The question was what.
That was his real worry. That he couldn’t be sure of his own feelings. He felt anger, resentment. A sense of humiliation. But also something more positive. A lingering affection. Love even. He didn’t know what love felt like, but there had been times when he had thought, just maybe, it might feel like this.
‘It’s a mess, I’m afraid,’ McGrath acknowledged ruefully.
He could say that again, Marie thought. Not just a mess. A towering heap of crap that had clearly just been allowed to grow for years. If nothing else, it ought to mean that she had a job here for as long as she wanted it. ‘It would benefit from a little organisation,’ she offered, tentatively.
They were standing in the room that McGrath had designated as her office. It was approximately a quarter of the size of McGrath’s own, and largely filled with piles of unsorted documents. Invoices, bills, letters, company brochures. And almost anything else you cared to name. There were two battered filing cabinets, both empty. Beside those, squashed into the corner of the room, there was an equally decrepit desk, with an ancient-looking computer perched on top. Without moving some of the papers, it would be impossible for her even to sit at the desk.
‘Well,’ McGrath said, ‘that’s why we need you. This isn’t really Lizzie’s strong point.’
‘We all have different talents.’ Marie preferred not to think about where Lizzie’s might lie. She picked up a handful of papers from the nearest file, examining them as if they might offer a solution to McGrath’s administrative problems. ‘You’d like me to sort these?’
‘As best you can, anyway.’ McGrath was already backing towards the door. ‘I imagine a lot of it can be thrown.’ He leaned over, apparently to peer at the documents she was holding, although also securing a lengthy look at her cleavage in the process.
‘I imagine so.’ The papers were clearly in no kind of order, chronological or otherwise. Some dated back several years, others were relatively new. She wondered whether the bills had actually been paid. ‘Should keep me out of mischief, eh?’ She raised her gaze back up to McGrath, who hurriedly averted his own from the upper half of her body. ‘Is there anything else I need to know?’
McGrath had said that there was a lot to hand over to her. She suspected she was probably looking at most of it. She wondered whether the material related solely to the legitimate side of McGrath’s business, or whether it might contain evidence relating to his shadier affairs. Given McGrath’s disorganisation, anything might be possible.
‘Don’t think so. Lizzie can show you all the domestics. Tea and toilets and all that. I’ve got a few bits of business to attend to. See you later.’
He’d left the room before she could make any response. That was a relief in one respect, at least. She’d had a fear that McGrath might spend the day breathing down her neck – or some other parts of her body – as she tried to get on with things.
She stood back and regarded the pile of papers. Several weeks’ work there, without question. It might be an evidential treasure trove, or it could be the pile of rubbish it appeared. There was only one way to find out.
She decided to postpone the evil moment a little longer and wandered back to the office where Lizzie was sitting at her computer, perusing the online gossip pages of some tabloid.
‘Andy said you could show me where to make myself a coffee,’ Marie said.
Lizzie looked up, her expression suggesting that Marie had raised some issue relating to quantum mechanics. ‘Coffee? Um, yeah, there’s a kitchen at the end of the corridor. Water heater thingie. Coffee and mugs in the cupboard over the sink. Milk’s in the fridge. I’ve got ours labelled. If I don’t, the techies upstairs nick it.’ An IT company occupied the floor above them, with various other small companies scattered through the rest of the building.
‘Thanks. Want one?’
Lizzie looked genuinely surprised. ‘Yeah, thanks. Look, I’ll come through and show you.’
Marie followed the young woman into the small kitchen at the end of the corridor. There was a sink, fridge, row of cupboards, a cheap-looking dishwasher. Marie busied herself preparing the coffee. ‘Been here long?’ she asked, idly.
‘Nearly two years.’
‘Straight from school?’
‘Worked in a shop for a bit. Chemist’s. But this is a lot easier.’
I bet, Marie thought. ‘How are you finding it?’
‘All right. Left to myself a lot of the time, when Andy’s out and about. So I just get on with things.’
‘Andy okay to work for?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Yeah, really good, actually. Easygoing, generally.’ She filled the cups from the water heater. ‘Don’t know how he makes any money, though.’
Marie looked at Lizzie with interest. Maybe not quite as dizzy as she appeared. ‘Doesn’t seem busy?’
‘Dunno really. I mean, I’m no expert. He gets some business through. But it doesn’t seem like much.’ She paused to hand one of the mugs to Marie. ‘Maybe there’s stuff I don’t see.’
Marie nodded, her face expressionless. ‘Probably handles a lot of it himself. Anyway, let’s hope he manages to keep us in work, eh?’
Back in the office, she sat on the floor, the coffee beside her, and began to look through the piles of paperwork. Sitting with the mass of documents at eye-level, it seemed like a Herculean task.
It was too much. Not just this – filtering through the world’s biggest haystack in search of a needle that might not even be there. But everything.
Especially Liam.
That was the real issue. That was why she was feeling bad. She hadn’t driven down to the hospital on Sunday. She’d phoned in the morning and been told that Liam’s condition had improved significantly. They were keeping him in for another night but, assuming there was no further relapse, expected to release him on Monday. Ten minutes later, Sue had calle
d and reassured her that everything was in hand. ‘He’s been asleep most of the time. I’ll pop in again at visiting time.’
‘I think I should come down–’ Marie had begun.
‘Well, that’s your decision,’ Sue responded. ‘But you really don’t need to. I know how busy you are.’
‘I can get down for the day.’
‘They won’t allow anyone in except during the designated hours. And he’s most likely to be asleep. It’s a long way for you.’
‘What about tomorrow?’ Marie said, wanting to move the conversation on. ‘If he’s released. Is everything okay for him at home?’
‘I can be there when he gets home tomorrow. I’ve spoken to the social worker. She’s going to come tomorrow afternoon and do an assessment. See if we need to increase the care package. But it’s all under control.’
Marie had noted the ‘we’, but wasn’t sure who Sue was including in that first-person plural. She was feeling increasingly excluded, even though she knew that she’d chosen to exclude herself. ‘I still think I should come back,’ she said, though the offer sounded insincere even to her own ears.
‘There’s nothing you could do. Liam probably wouldn’t even be aware you’d been.’
‘Well, if you’re sure . . .’
‘Absolutely certain. If anything changes, I’ll contact you straight away. But there really is nothing for you to worry about.’
‘You’ll let me know if there’s any change for the worse?’
‘I’ve just said I will. I’ll call you tomorrow morning to update you anyway. If you can’t answer, I’ll leave a message.’
‘Thanks. That’s great. I’ll be back next weekend, then.’
‘Whatever you think best.’
Marie had ended the call and stood, in that poky little living room, staring at the phone in her hand. She was tempted to call back, say she’d changed her mind. Head off down the M6 and back home.