Choked

by Tania Carver

  ‘Sorry?’ Again Dee looked rattled.

  ‘She left just before we came in. What did she want?’

  Dee looked between the two of them. Like a trapped animal, thought Jessie.

  ‘She … wanted to talk about her husband.’

  ‘Who used to work for you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Dee seemed to think that was enough. Jessie said nothing, her silence encouraging the other woman to fill the void with words.

  It worked. ‘Her husband had been ill. Cancer.’ Dee’s voice took on a heavy, solemn tone. ‘She wanted to let us know. About his death.’

  ‘Doesn’t she have a phone?’ asked Deepak.

  Jessie noticed rage behind Dee’s eyes, quickly suppressed. Gotcha, she thought.

  ‘She … she wanted to do it in person.’

  ‘He meant that much to you?’ said Jessie. ‘As an ex-employee.’

  ‘We were fond of Jeff. He was a … loyal employee.’

  Her words were so hollow, thought Jessie, that she doubted even Dee believed them. ‘You know, it’s funny,’ she said, in the kind of tone she would use if she was discussing an article she had just read in Heat, ‘we only saw him two days ago.’

  Dee said nothing.

  ‘There was someone at the cottage when it went up. He saved a woman’s life, stopped her going back in. Very brave. We asked him for an address. He gave us Jeff Hibbert’s. Why d’you think that was?’

  ‘How would I know?’

  ‘He didn’t give us Jeff Hibbert’s name, though. Said he was called Stuart Milton.’ She leaned closer. ‘Name mean anything to you?’

  ‘No.’ Dee’s voice was as flat and dead as her eyes were trying to be.

  ‘And then Jeff Hibbert goes and gets murdered just after our visit.’

  ‘Wasn’t cancer,’ said Deepak. ‘He was murdered.’

  Dee’s mouth moved once more but no sound came out. ‘He … his wife said.’

  ‘And we can’t find this Stuart Milton anywhere. Have you got any photos of your brother?’ asked Jessie.

  Dee, caught off guard once more, thrown by Jessie’s sudden change of questioning, couldn’t answer immediately. ‘I … Not to hand. No.’

  ‘None in the house?’ Incredulity in her voice.

  ‘We’re not that kind of family.’ Struggling to regain control.

  Jessie smiled. ‘We’ll find one from somewhere, don’t worry.’

  ‘Why do you need one?’ Dee’s voice was rising, becoming shrill.

  Jessie shrugged, smiled. ‘In an inquiry like this, we can’t rule anything out.’

  Dee said nothing, but her eyes darted from one to the other, all round the room. Still rattled, thought Jessie, still uncomfortable. Good. Just where I want her.

  ‘Did you know that Stuart Sloane was released from jail yesterday?’

  Dee just stared straight ahead. Jessie watched her face, her eyes. The woman seemed to be auditioning answers, deciding which one to give, which one would be best received.

  ‘I … we … heard something. No one informed us officially, though.’ She leaned forward, suddenly on the offensive. ‘I would have expected someone to have done that. Common courtesy if nothing else.’

  Jessie shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Ms Sloane, but if we went round informing every victim of crime when a perpetrator was released, we’d have little time to do anything else.’

  ‘Be that as it may, someone should have informed us. Given the seriousness of the crime.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right.’ Jessie frowned, leaned forward too. ‘How d’you feel about it?’ Her voice light, genuinely enquiring.

  ‘How do I feel about what?’

  ‘Stuart Sloane being released. Aren’t you worried he might come after you again? Try to finish what he started?’

  Dee opened her mouth to answer, bit the response off. Instead she thought for a few seconds. ‘We’re not worried. No. We don’t even know which part of the country he’s in.’

  ‘Although I’m sure you could find out if you wanted to.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Just that someone with your money and influence could find out where he was. If you wanted to.’

  Dee Sloane didn’t answer the question. ‘I think it’s time for you to leave.’

  Once again Jessie ignored her. ‘D’you think Stuart Sloane knew Jeff Hibbert?’

  ‘I … don’t know. Probably not.’

  ‘D’you think Stuart Sloane killed Jeff Hibbert?’

  ‘No. I don’t. I don’t know.’ She stood up. ‘Now please leave. If you have any more questions or accusations to make, you should do so through my solicitor.’

  Jessie frowned, her voice dripping reason. ‘Accusations, Ms Sloane? What have we accused you of?’

  ‘Just … ’ Dee pointed to the door. ‘Just … please leave. Now.’

  Jessie and Deepak rose, made their way to the door. Once there, Jessie turned. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘one more thing. Do you or your brother know someone called Marina Esposito?’

  Dee looked taken aback. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve never heard of her.’

  Jessie and Deepak were shown out.

  They waited until they were past the gates before they started talking.

  ‘Very well handled, ma’am.’

  ‘Thank you, Deepak. I told you, watch and learn.’

  ‘Incisive,’ he said. ‘You’ll get a job on Loose Women yet.’

  ‘Thanks, smartarse.’

  But Deepak wasn’t finished. ‘And “one more thing”? Are you channelling Columbo now?’

  She smiled. ‘Always worked for him.’ They kept walking back to the car. ‘So what did you think? Impressions.’

  Deepak frowned. ‘Didn’t like her. Can’t say why. Just … something about her I didn’t like.’

  ‘Strange. I felt the same way. Must be a chemical thing.’

  ‘Or she’s guilty of something.’

  ‘There could be that.’

  They reached the car. Before they got in, Deepak spoke to Jessie over the roof. ‘That last question? The one about Marina Esposito?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Only truthful answer she gave.’

  Jessie smiled. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

  They got in the car, drove away.

  65

  Eileen Brennan looked at her son’s face. They had removed the tape from his eyes. That was something, she thought. A gesture to be hopeful about.

  She was holding his hand once more, clasping it with both hers, frightened it would be taken away from her. And talking. Incessantly. Telling him all the things she hadn’t been able to say to him when he had been around, all the things she had kept inside, decided not to share, thinking there would be another time to do so, a later time, a better time. But the events of the last couple of days had changed her.

  ‘And … and I’m telling you all this because … ’ A sigh. ‘Because. Because I should say them to you. Before it’s too late. There were things I wanted to say to Don, should have said to Don … ’ She drifted, her eyes watery glass. ‘And now, now I never will … ’ Another sigh. ‘So … there is no better time. There is no time. There’s only now … ’

  She kept talking, kept clasping his hand. Telling him about her husband. His father. Don.

  ‘I met him by chance, you know. And I didn’t like him. Not at first. I didn’t like policemen, see. I was a social worker then, properly political, militant you’d probably say now. We thought they were the enemy. And they could be at times. But not all the time. And not all of them. I thought he was at first. All cocky, Jack Regan, throwing his weight around.’ She laughed, eyes no longer in the room. ‘He said he was just doing it to impress me. Told me that years later. Thought it would be the kind of thing I’d go for. Didn’t know me at all well … ’

  She drifted off. Lost in memories. Came back again.

  ‘Kept asking me out. Eventually I said yes, just to shut him up. And he was different. To what he had b
een, to the others too. Softer, gentler. Talked about his work, about the things he’d seen. Some of the problem families he’d dealt with, the things he wished he’d been able to do but couldn’t. To put things right. I liked him … ’

  She smiled at the memory, clung to it, instead of facing the present.

  ‘And then we … ’

  Phil’s eyes moved. Eileen missed it.

  ‘We started to see each other regularly. And I knew. He was the one. The one for me … ’

  Phil’s eyes moved again. Flickered back and forth beneath his eyelids.

  This time Eileen noticed.

  ‘No … no … ’

  She looked round to see if there was a nurse in sight. Not a seizure, an attack. She couldn’t bear that.

  His eyes kept moving. His body moved too. Shoulders lifting up, dropping, as if he didn’t have the energy to move fully.

  ‘Phil … ’ Eileen didn’t know what to do. She held on to his hand. ‘No, don’t … don’t go, I’ve got so much more to say to you … ’

  Then his eyes opened. Fully.

  Eileen stared.

  ‘Phil?’

  She watched as they focused, flinched from the light in the room, closed again.

  ‘Phil?’

  And opened once more. Slowly this time, cautiously.

  ‘Phil?’

  He saw her now. Smiled.

  ‘Phil … ’

  The tears sprang from Eileen’s eyes, ran down her cheeks. A nearby nurse hurried in.

  But Eileen didn’t notice.

  She had her son back.

  66

  ‘So you could handle them, could you? That’s right, is it?’ Dee sat on the sofa. Unmoving. Stared as Michael paced the floor before her. Stared hard.

  ‘Just police, you said. “Nothing to worry about. Wrap them round my little finger.”’ He waggled his own finger to emphasise the point. ‘Well you couldn’t. They outsmarted you. I told you to say nothing, let Nickoll handle it, get the solicitor to run interference, but you knew best. Now look at it … ’

  He walked away from her.

  She stared after him, eyes like laser beams boring into him, pulling him back. ‘I was trying to clear up your mess, Michael. That’s all I was doing. The mess you made. The mess you deliberately made.’

  He turned back, stood over her. Most people would have felt intimidated, would have backed down. But Dee wasn’t most people. She stared up at him, unblinking. ‘The mess you made. Leaving the car in front of the cottage. Letting it get burnt out.’

  ‘Precisely. I didn’t have time to move it, so I did the next best thing. Left it to burn.’

  ‘But it didn’t burn enough, did it? They traced it back here. They may even find some DNA in it.’

  Michael shrugged, attempting nonchalance. Failed in his attempt. ‘So? Of course there’s my DNA in the car. I drive it. Yours’ll be in there too, probably.’ He tried to lighten his voice once more. ‘Nickoll’ll tie them up. We pay that fat fuck enough, let him earn his money for once. Keep them off our backs.’ He stared at her. ‘Like we should have done earlier today.’

  Dee ignored his response, kept staring up at him. ‘And the false name and address? Stuart Milton? At Hibbert’s address? Couldn’t you have just drawn them a map?’ She fixed him with a cold, unblinking stare. ‘They’ll find you, Michael. They’ll come for you. And then what?’

  He opened his mouth, retort at the ready, but snapped his lips closed once more, biting it back. Instead he sat down on the sofa opposite. Leaned forward, hands clasped together.

  ‘You know what you are, Michael?’

  ‘Do tell, Dee.’

  ‘You’re like some celebrity who’s got it all but still isn’t satisfied, that’s what you’re like. You’ve got everything but it’s too easy. And you’re bored. Now you’ve got to mess it all up.’

  He sighed, ran his hand through his hair.

  ‘I’m not going to be part of your celebrity meltdown, Michael. You can go down if you want to. But you’re not taking me with you. I’ve come too far and worked too hard for that.’

  He sighed once more, let his hands drop. ‘Look,’ he said, voice full of reconciliation, ‘we have to work together on this. Not fight each other. There’s a way out. I’m sure of it.’

  Dee didn’t reply.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’ve spoken to some of our contacts on the force. Asked them about this DS James woman. And they all say we’ve got nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Yes, really. She’s an alky. Doesn’t know if she’s coming or going. Incompetent.’

  ‘She didn’t seem that incompetent a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘It’s her sidekick you’ve got to watch out for. He’s the sharp one.’ Michael put his head back, thinking. ‘And he hasn’t seen me.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So there’s only her word for what I look like. The man she spoke to. We can work with that. We can handle her.’

  Dee was staring straight ahead. In the room but lost to her thoughts. She was thinking, plotting, strategising. She had done this for years. And she always came up with something. A way out, a way forward. Ever since …

  Her eyes came back into focus. She looked at Michael. Calmly, levelly. Then she spoke.

  ‘She has to go.’

  Michael blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘She has to go.’

  ‘Yeah, but … she’s a police officer. We can’t just … get rid of her.’

  ‘Why not?’ Her voice was light, inconsequential, as if she was discussing buying a new ornament or painting the room. ‘We did it with Hibbert. Very cleverly. Very carefully. He won’t be traced back to us.’

  ‘Yeah, but … she’s a police officer … They’re untouchable.’

  ‘No they’re not. We just do it differently. Not be crude and obvious, like Hibbert. And not with the Golem. We have to be more subtle.’

  ‘But … ’

  ‘We have to. And we will.’

  Michael said nothing. Ran his hands through his hair once more.

  Dee stood up. Crossed the room. Stood over him. He looked up to her as she spoke. ‘This is damage limitation. It has to be done.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘And if you won’t do it, I will.’

  He stared up at her.

  ‘An accident, I think,’ said Dee. ‘No. A disappearance. We could do this one together.’ She climbed on top of him, one leg at either side. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Us both … getting our hands dirty … together … ’

  He felt his erection spring up as soon as her body rested on his. She always had this effect on him.

  Always.

  And he loved it.

  ‘Helen Hibbert is already lined up. So what’s the difference? We do another one at the same time … ’

  She unzipped her velour top, peeled it off. Michael watched as she did so. Then she took off her T-shirt, pulled it over her head. She stared down at him, eyes locked. Reached behind her, unclasped her bra. Let it fall.

  ‘I’ll do it without you,’ she said.

  He swallowed. Hard. ‘No, I’ll … I’ll do it … with you … ’

  She smiled. ‘Good.’

  And pulled her hand back, let it go. Slapping his face. Hard.

  He stared up at her, the pain setting off explosions all over his body, his erection straining for release.

  ‘Are you with me?’ She was breathing heavily.

  ‘Yes … yes, I’m with you … ’

  ‘Good.’

  She hit him again. Harder this time.

  And he loved her for it.

  67

  Tyrell stared at the gun. It was a handgun, an automatic. He knew that much. Dull silver, heavy-looking. He stared right down the barrel, into that small round black hole that could kill him at any second. Fascinated but repelled.

  Tyrell hated guns. Always had. But he knew how mesmerising they were.

  He held Josephina close, clutc
hed the little girl tight to his side. Looked at the woman holding the automatic. A thought crossed his mind.

  ‘I don’t know your name.’

  She frowned, taken aback by the question. Tyrell said nothing, waited for her to speak, to move.

  ‘Amy,’ she said.

  ‘Is that really your name?’

  ‘It’ll do.’

  ‘You said I know you. I don’t know anybody called Amy.’

  ‘No. You don’t. Now.’ She looked directly into Tyrell’s eyes, ignoring Josephina. ‘We’re in a situation here. A bad situation. And the only way out, the only way to get what we want, is to keep our nerve. Isn’t it?’

  Tyrell said nothing.

  ‘It’s not to go to the police, or do anything like that. Is it, Tyrell?’

  He still didn’t reply.

  Amy swung the gun on to Josephina, stuck it in her face. The girl screamed. Tried to burrow into Tyrell’s leg. He clutched her all the harder.

  ‘I asked you a question.’

  ‘No … ’ said Tyrell, not entirely sure what she had said but guessing what answer she wanted to hear.

  ‘Good. That’s better. Do what I tell you and you’ll be fine. Both of you.’

  Tyrell felt Josephina clinging to him. He looked down the barrel of the gun again. Knew what had to be done. Knew he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t do the right thing.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  Amy stared at him, eyes narrowing, darkening. ‘What?’

  ‘I said no. I’m not going to do what you say.’ He looked down at Josephina. ‘We’re not going to do what you say.’

  Amy moved forward, still holding the gun on him, her finger curling round the trigger.

  Tyrell backed away, the little girl with him. ‘Just let Josephina go,’ he said, wishing he felt as confident as he was trying to sound. ‘Let her go. Back to her mother.’

  ‘We still want her mother.’

  ‘No. No we don’t. I’ve been thinking. Let her go.’

  ‘We still need her … ’ Amy was starting to breathe heavily, her voice becoming more ragged, more angry.