Maloney's Law

by Anne Brooke

  She opens her mouth to reply, but at the same time the back door clicks open and there’s the sound of a grunted hello. Jade’s father has returned from his morning viewing of the allotment, and this is the cue for her mother to leap up and head for the kitchen to check her husband is all right. There’s a lot to be said for rural values, and I’m almost sorry Jade doesn’t share them. Might be nice if she leapt up to greet me at the office once in a while. The thought makes me smile.

  ‘What’s up with you then?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m just amused by the lies you tell about me snoring.’

  ‘I have witnesses. Independent ones,’ she makes to carry on but it’s too late. The door has already opened and Mr. O’Donnell is standing on the threshold. He’s a big man, grey tufts of hair emphasising his baldness, and whenever I’ve seen him he’s always dressed as if he’s about to step into a tractor and go ploughing: baggy hard-wearing trousers, old striped shirt, and holey jumper, usually green. The opposite in style to his daughter, although their faces are similar, something about the mouth and nose making my friend a definite O’Donnell.

  ‘How’s my favourite daughter then?’

  ‘Dad, I’m your only daughter.’

  The two of them exchange a quick but sincere hug, and Jade twangs her father’s black braces.

  ‘That hurts!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  She isn’t though, and neither is he. It’s part of their ritual of greeting. The sight of it twists my stomach, and I wonder how things might have been if my father had ever been like that, though it’s only now I can admit it wasn’t all his fault. It took two of us to make my family as it is today, it took two.

  Letting his daughter go, Mr. O’Donnell stretches out a gnarled hand, and I shake it with enthusiasm.

  ‘Good to see you again.’

  ‘And you, sir. How’s the allotment?’

  ‘Can’t complain, weather’s been kind. The journey?’

  ‘The usual.’

  We then smile at each other for a second or two before drawing away. This will be the sum total of our direct conversation for the day, but it never feels odd. Mr. O’Donnell is a man of few words, and it makes me like him better. You can’t get hurt if you stay silent.

  Jade’s mother calls time for lunch, and the four of us sit down in the small but double-aspected dining room. From where I am, I can see Mr. O’Donnell’s garden stretching up to the sheds, and beyond this lies his much-loved allotment. Jade is always proud of the fact that the family have never had to buy their own vegetables, as everything they need is grown on their own land. A world a million miles away from my childhood, where everything came from the most expensive shops possible, and my mother never needed to step into the kitchen if she chose not to. My father hired staff, and the day I finally walked away from it all was, in a sense, one of the best I’ve ever known. Though of course I could never really walk that far away, not then.

  Now all four of us munch away on the acres of food prepared by Mrs. O’Donnell. Roast lamb and all the trimmings, and she’s added in Yorkshire puddings too because she knows I love them.

  ‘Now, Paul, you look like you need feeding up,’ she says, forking more broccoli onto my plate in spite of feeble objections. ‘You need to keep your energies going for that dreadful drive back to London, you know, dear. And I imagine that job of yours is quite exhausting, too. Is it going well at the moment? I understand you had to go to Egypt, on a case?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs. O’Donnell. It wasn’t for long though, just to ask a couple of people some questions. I was back before Jade had even realised I’d gone.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Jade chipped in. ‘I knew you were gone, the office was tidy for one thing and—’

  ‘Okay, don’t give me a list of everything I do that ruins your day. I know my faults.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Mrs. O’Donnell says. ‘Jade is always telling us how easy you are to work for.’

  ‘Mum! Don’t give away all my trade secrets. If Paul thinks I’m unhappy, he might give me a decent pay rise one day.’

  I hold up my hands in pretend horror. ‘Pay rise? I pay you as well? Indeed I am truly wonderful, and you are lucky to work for me.’

  ‘Dream on, buster. You’re lucky to employ me.’

  Her mother laughs and starts to clear the plates, while her father pours his daughter more wine.

  During pudding — apple tart and cream — of which I have seconds, I catch up on what’s been happening in Jade’s parents’ village since the last time I visited. It’s like something from The Archers, all country walks, fetes, WI meetings, and lunches out by the river. And that’s just Mrs. O’Donnell. Outside his home interests, Mr. O’Donnell is kept busy, now he’s retired, by county shows and the odd bit of harvesting. I love hearing about it; another kind of a life is always attractive, though whether I could ever move to the country myself is something I’ve not considered. PI Rule Number Five: Stay where the crime is. And, on the whole, that means cities and people, not villages and fields.

  And of course, in the O’Donnell’s case, church life. Or rather chapel life.

  ‘I don’t suppose, darling,’ Mrs. O’Donnell says as she starts to stack the pudding bowls, ‘you’ve had a chance yet to catch up with Steve and Naomi?’

  I raise one eyebrow at Jade. ‘Who?’

  ‘Old friends from chapel,’ Jade explains. ‘They’ve moved into London, Muswell Hill...when was it, Mum?’

  ‘Over the summer. I said you’d pop in and—’

  ‘I know, Mum, I know. I’m dreadful, and I will, honest. It’s just that they’re so...so Baptist and so pregnant.’

  Mr. O’Donnell chuckles. ‘That’s not a sin, at least not yet, not even under this Government.’

  ‘Yes, and you’ll tell me they’re lovely people, and they are, but all we’ll talk about when I go ’round is Chapel and babies, and I know zilch about either at the moment.’

  Jade rests her chin in her hands and looks so disheartened that I give her shoulder a quick squeeze, and her mother hugs her. ‘Quite right, you’re young yet, darling. There’s all the time in the world for whatever you want to do. But there are other subjects apart from religion and babies, and they’d love to see you. Do pop in if you can.’

  ‘Yes, I will, I promise.’

  After lunch, we throw ourselves into the drill of washing-up. There’s no dishwasher here, just a strict line of willing helpers organised into military efficiency by Mrs. O’Donnell. Then, all good deeds done, Jade and her mother drift back into the living room for coffee and chat. To give them some mother-daughter privacy, the menfolk, such as we are, take a stroll around the allotment.

  I’m not a fan of gardening, but other people’s enthusiasms fascinate me. For Jade’s father, it’s nature and anything to do with growing things. Jade once told me he knows all the Latin names for every vegetable and fruit you can think of, and I don’t doubt it. Today, I find myself nodding intelligently when faced with tomatoes, propagation, the greenhouse, how difficult the weather has been for sprouts, and how many potatoes they’ve grown over the season, whenever that may be.

  Half-way ’round the now-familiar stroll, at the furthest point from the house, Mr. O’Donnell pauses.

  ‘Paul?’

  ‘Yes?’ I stop, a little ahead of him, and turn round. His grey hair is framed by the sun.

  ‘We’ve been — I mean, Jade’s mother and myself — well, may I ask you a question?’

  ‘Sure.’ I stuff my hands in my pockets and try to look as if this is a normal part of the tradition. The truth is I’ve never seen Jade’s father look quite so uncomfortable before, and I’ve never heard him say such a long and jagged sentence either. We’re treading on new territory here. I hope we can both navigate it.

  ‘Do you...? Are you and my daughter...? I mean you both get on so well, do you have intentions?’

  Oh, God. Of all the questions running through my head, I’ve never imagined this one, and, for the first time ever
, I regret my decision to ask Jade not to tell her parents about me. If I’d been more honest in the past, this wouldn’t be happening now.

  ‘Ah, well, I...’ Inspiration dribbles to emptiness and I look away and then at the ground, rubbing my face. ‘I’m very fond of Jade, Mr. O’Donnell, of course, I think the world of her.’

  ‘Yes, we know that. It was why—’

  I push on regardless, ‘And we’re very good friends, we always will be, she’s a wonderful person, but I...I don’t think we’re cut out to be a couple.’

  ‘Oh.’

  When I finally look my best friend’s father in the eyes, his frown is as sharp as winter.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, trying to twist things back to how they were but knowing, even as I’m saying it, that it might be impossible. ‘I’m sorry, but then again, Jade’s had a lucky escape. She can do a hundred times better then me, more, I expect.’

  He says nothing in reply. Silent, awkward, all fragile companionship gone, we head back to his home.

  ‘How was the men’s talk today then?’ Jade says but then, as she looks at the both of us, her smile fades.

  I mumble something incomprehensible; whilst behind her halo of blonde hair, Mrs. O’Donnell gives her husband a questioning glance and is rewarded with a small shake of the head in return. The test has been given to me, and I’ve proved worthless.

  The next two hours and nine minutes last a month, maybe more. By the time we leave, I wish I’d managed to learn the gift of honesty before it came to this. The O’Donnells have always been good to me, and this is how I repay them.

  I can’t tell Jade. Maybe she knows more than she lets on though, as it’s only after thirty-four minutes in the car that she throws in the subtle question after talking for a full five minutes about the latest Big Brother reject.

  ‘What happened in the garden?’ she asks, touching up her still perfect mascara in the vanity mirror. ‘You looked devastated when you came back in after lunch. Both of you.’

  ‘What? No, nothing. Nothing happened,’ I tell her. ‘I was worrying about the case, that’s all.’

  ‘Did you talk to Dad about it?’

  ‘No, of course not. You know I wouldn’t do that. It’s unfair.’

  Jade puts her mascara back into her green velvet make-up bag and closes it with a snap. ‘He wouldn’t mind, he’s very fond of you. You know that. I thought for a second he might have been bringing up religion and children with you, like Mum did with me.’

  ‘Come on, she was only asking about those friends of yours. Whom I’ve never heard of, by the way. Not that I’m accusing you of holding out on me but—’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ she says, not responding to my teasing. ‘Honest, it’s just that Steve and Naomi are people from the past, and I don’t know if I’ve got anything in common with them now. I’m not sure if I can go back.’

  ‘Too many Baptists and babies?’

  ‘No,’ she hesitates, not like the Jade I know. ‘I suppose I’d love that, too, one day. To go back to Chapel and have babies and stuff. All the stuff everyone else ends up with, everyone but you and me, that is. Maybe I’m just jealous, maybe that’s why I’m scared of seeing them.’

  She stops, and there’s nothing I can say to help, but because it’s her and I love her I try anyway.

  ‘Look, don’t put yourself down. You’re worth more than all of them put together, and you’ll get all the stuff you want in the end, just you wait and see. Babies and husbands and chapels and God knows what else. Steve and Naomi will be jealous as hell of you one day.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, maybe.’ She reaches out and pats me on the knee. ‘I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll get there in the end, and so will you. We both will. As long as you’re not...I mean, and I’m not nagging I swear it, you will be careful, won’t you? About everything?’

  When I glance across at her, for a moment I think she might be about to cry before realising she’s just flicking away a loose eyelash.

  ‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘We’re both going to be fine. As I say, you’ll have six husbands and fifty children, at least. Not only that but I’ll finish this case in record time with my top-notch professional skills and be richer than in my wildest dreams. At least for a couple of months. And, yes, I’ll be careful. Everything’s under control.’

  At home I listen to this morning’s message again twice and wonder if, no matter what I say, not everything is under control after all.

  ‘Just a warning,’ the unfamiliar male voice, foreign accent unmissable, says, ‘stay away from Delta Egypt.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘You did what?’ There’s a tremor in Dominic’s voice I haven’t heard before, and when he places his water glass on the office table it rocks once before settling.

  I repeat my last sentence, the one explaining how I exited the premises of Delta Egypt on my second visit. So far it’s been a tale cut short as I haven’t yet told him about the CD or its copy, or what Blake said to me about Teresa, and I haven’t decided whether I will or not.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m here, aren’t I?’

  Sitting down opposite me, he says, ‘So what did you find out while you were there? Anything worth my while?’

  A second’s hesitation and then I shake my head, relaxing back into my seat and taking care to keep eye contact with him, ‘No, I’m afraid not. Not so far.’

  This is true, as it stands. What I’m leaving out are the suspicions I have and, most important of all, my instincts about Blake Kenzie himself. The man’s a criminal, no doubt of it, and one with something to hide. The question is what.

  Dominic smiles, ‘You said you met Blake. What did you think?’

  ‘A powerful man, that’s easy to see, and someone who knows what he wants and how to get it. You wouldn’t want him as your enemy. Intelligent, cunning, dangerous. He didn’t like me, but in my business, that’s not surprising.’

  ‘Very similar to myself then, apart from your last statement.’

  The palms of my hands grow clammy. For a moment I have no idea what to say, or even what he might expect me to say, and all I can do is gulp back the ball of confusion lodged in my throat.

  Dominic’s next question takes us back to our previous course, thank God. ‘Do you like him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I see. Perhaps you’re right, Paul, perhaps you’re right.’

  There’s no time to ask what he means by this as already he’s closed the subject and moved on. I wonder what he’s running from and why.

  ‘So,’ he says, tapping his water glass with one fingertip. ‘I assume you managed to steal at least some of their records while you were at Delta and, if so, which ones?’

  ‘I prefer the phrase “copied on behalf of a client”, Dominic, if you don’t mind.’

  He just shrugs. ‘As you wish. But, please, tell me what you’ve found.’

  ‘Nothing, yet. It all looks above board to me,’ I tell him. ‘Jade’s working hard on getting underneath to anything strange, and I expect to—’

  He snorts, and I stop. While he waits, I reach for my water and take one small sip. ‘Look, Dominic, I know you’re paying me good money, and if there’s anything to find out — though I doubt it — I’ll find it out for you, but I’d appreciate it if you kept your feelings about those I choose to work with to yourself. I’ve no idea why you’ve never liked Jade, but she’s my friend. Not only that, she’s the best computer hacker I know, and I wouldn’t have got this far without her. If after this case is finished you’re any better off in terms of knowledge, it’ll be her you ought to thank.’

  He nods. ‘I understand.’

  I nod back and after a second we break eye contact.

  ‘As I was saying,’ I continue, ‘I expect to be able to give you a more complete report by the end of the week. This meeting was just to keep you updated.’

  That’s not entirely true. To do that, I could easily have called him, but I wanted to see
the look on his face when I told him what had happened in Egypt. I wanted to see if he already knew about it or not. I’ve done what I came to do, but I’m no better off; he’s given nothing away. It’s time to leave. Before he begins to think I’ve called the meeting because I’m suspicious rather than love-sick. Maybe I’m both.

  ‘So, I’ll ring you within the next three days, let you know what we’ve found out. Before I go, I do have one question for you.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Have you told Blake anything about me, anything personal?’

  He pauses.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘What’s there to tell, now?’

  I head for the door, but once again he doesn’t let me go without a final comment for my blood to mull over.

  ‘There is something I believe you’re wrong about, Paul.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Jade isn’t the only one I ought to be thanking. It seems to me you’ve already done more than enough for the fee I’m paying you. In Egypt alone.’

  I’d given up smoking the day after my birthday, three years, ten months, three weeks, and six days ago, but now from instinct I still reach for my pocket outside Dominic’s office. There’s something about what’s been happening to me since meeting up with my ex-lover that’s made the years between seem as if they’ve never existed. It makes me feel as if I’ve been asleep for too long and woken up not knowing much. About anything.

  The sun is hot against my face although it feels a thousand times lighter than in Cairo. Safer, too. The City, the last full week in August, and the only one not looking forward to the bank holiday is me. I start to walk, hands in pockets, eyes focused on the pavement in front of me, out of habit glancing from side to side now and then, though there’s no need. Not here.

  I decide to take a bus, to hurry back to the familiarity of the office. The urge to be there makes my skin prickle and my legs twitch. This is the moment in a case I love most, the moment where I might be about to discover something, however small and obscure, that will make a difference to the way things turn out. It might be another chance to change an injustice into a justice, a chance I never had with Teresa. It’s always been that way, ever since...ever since.