by Bill James
‘The neighbourhood cop, for instance, might report the activity to his sergeant, who might refer it to his inspector, and might refer it to you. And you might decide to organize some inquiries. The inquiries could turn out to be worth taking further – might, in fact, lead to a raid. But it would probably be a premature raid. That is, the timing might not be right for the best, the full, result. So, I’m here, Colin, to ask that if you get a report of that kind you don’t rush to act. When we are ready, we would, of course, notify you and Desmond and would need your assistance. But we’d like to have control of the timetable.’
‘I’ve read about something like this, haven’t I?’ Harpur said.
‘Have you?’
‘Boston in America. There’s a book about it called Black Mass. The local police wanted to move against a known gangster. The FBI objected because they required delays to suit other plans they had, needing the help of the local villain.’
‘The Whitey Bulger case,’ she said. ‘Yes, something like that.’
‘Here’s Denise,’ Jill said, leading her and Hazel into the sitting room. ‘She recently went to see a French film called Tip Top.’
Jill had made some more tea and the three of them began to discuss films generally. Harpur wasn’t much use at this. He would have liked to tell Pamela that he thought it a bit of bloody cheek to come in on their ground and start a private investigation, even if she had shagged Iles a while ago. But because of the children and Denise he’d stay quiet on that topic now. And on their topic, the cinema, because he didn’t have anything to say. Or nothing to say except about Fargo on one of the movie channels, and this would probably seem like very old history to them.
THIRTY-NINE
Enid said, ‘I’m going to hang on in this area for a while longer, Tom, in case you get somewhere with Alice’s request for you to do anything more to protect Jack.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘I’m going to try to find what I can at the Failsafe house. Perhaps I should have had a go at that much earlier.’
‘I’m in an hotel, The Raven,’ she said.
‘Is it OK?’
‘It’s OK, but not for me now. I feel conspicuous there. I’ve signed in. Don’t like doing that. Makes me traceable,’ she said.
‘That bad?’
‘I had a little trouble back home, you know. Why I was in with Alice.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Trouble. Some people are annoyed still. They’re thinking vengeance.’
‘Vengeance for what?’
‘I’d like to get somewhere more anonymous. I’ve seen a flat advertised in this end of the city. I wonder if you could go and have a look at it, Tom. See with your private eye skills whether I’d be safe there?’
‘Safe from what? Whom? What did you do?’
‘Could you, please?’
‘Where is it?’
‘It’s called Cairn Close.’
FORTY
Although Desmond Iles sometimes became unruly at funerals and might have to be suppressed by Harpur, the assistant chief disapproved of violence by any others at the service itself or the wake following, especially fighting by women. Iles had told Harpur that he considered there was ‘something uncultured and even sickening about seeing and hearing a woman flattened after a punch or punches from anyone, male or female, ‘but surely it is most distressing if the punch or punches came from another woman.’ He saw a kind of social collapse typified in such an incident. He reckoned there was a uniquely awful sound when a woman hit the ground like that, possibly unconscious. It was made up of the impact noise of upper body bones such as the chin, shoulder, head hitting the floor, plus bling, shins and knees.
At the pub buffet after Thomas Wells Hart’s funeral, Harpur and Iles spoke for quite some while to Hart’s family, girlfriend and colleagues, but Harpur felt that throughout the conversations with this group of half a dozen or so the assistant chief watched, off and on, all sections of the room. The party took place in the changing quarters of a community sports centre and was non-alcoholic. Harpur picked up an odour of resin.
Iles said, ‘Naturally, I don’t in the least understand how your boy chances to get shot to pieces in a fairly decent suburb, Mr and Mrs Hart. Harpur probably knows and will, I’m sure, tell you the lot, if only to make me look a right hopeless slob. I’m used to that kind of insolence from him, but it will come as a shock to you, and I’m sorry.’
Harpur said, ‘We think—’
‘Which “we” is that, then, Harpur? Does it include me? I only happen to be the assistant chief constable in charge of operations. Does that entitle me to be included in your term “we”?’
‘We think,’ Harpur replied, ‘that as part of his work as a private investigator he went to look at a house over towards Rastelle Major which he suspected was used as headquarters of a money laundering outfit. We now know he was correct and our colleague, Pamela Venning with a contingent of local and London officers have closed that down and made arrests, though we are still seeking the gunman or gunmen who killed Thomas. Perhaps he poked about there too insistently and got spotted and followed. He was himself an expert tracker, but, unfortunately that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d notice a motorized stalker or stalkers on his own tail.’
Judith Vasonne, standing alone with a brown-bread sandwich in her hand and near enough to overhear, said, ‘I told him about the house a long while ago, urged him to investigate. I don’t believe he gave much weight to that suggestion. I think he felt it was a duty to do a thorough visit now, to make up for delaying. Oh, God, I feel responsible for his death.’
‘So you should,’ Daphne Davenpole said, joining them. She wasn’t eating or drinking.
‘Why do you say that?’ Hart’s father said.
‘Because she is and was a cruel, unbalanced bitch,’ Judith said. Iles, that vigilant, part-time, pacifier, moved slightly with his turkey leg, so that he stood between Vasonne and Davenpole, making sure there were none of those gender tainted punches he found so revolting.
Although Iles saw himself as an impassioned fan and observer of connections and links, there were obviously times when he recognized that some people should be kept apart.
He could be a great amalgamator, he could be an exquisite portcullis.
Footnotes
Chapter Ten
1 See I Am Gold
Chapter Eleven
1 See Blaze Away
Chapter Thirteen
1 See Blaze Away
Chapter Eighteen
1 See Roses, Roses
2 See Blaze Away
Chapter Twenty-Seven
1 See Blaze Away
Chapter Thirty-Two
1 See most earlier books in the series
Chapter Thirty-Four
1 See Disclosures
2 See Roses, Roses