Two of the four men she had been watching walked away, wandered off down the street. The other two disappeared through the wooden door, heading for the club. Caelan took a breath, let it out slowly. The familiar charge of adrenalin hummed through her veins. This wasn’t dangerous as assignments went, and she had enjoyed stringing Hamilton along the previous evening. Looking at the dingy building, the peeling paintwork and the dark windows, she pushed her concerns aside. She had raised her issue with Penrith, been told to forget about it. She marched across the road, pushed open the door.
Inside, concrete stairs, the smell of spilt beer and dirty carpets. Caelan went up the steps, one hand on the sticky metal banister, the other on her shoulder bag. She could hear muted music, male voices. At the top of the stairs was a landing, opening onto a room containing three full-sized snooker tables. Each table was illuminated by a strip light, but the rest of the room was dingy. Navy-blue walls and charcoal carpet tiles added to the gloom. At the far end was a small bar, surrounded by a few white plastic garden tables and assorted chairs. Caelan counted nine men, including Hamilton, who sat alone at one of the tables, a pint of lager in front of him. The only other woman in the room was behind the bar, eating crisps and fiddling with her phone.
Hamilton spotted Caelan, and raised a hand. Reluctant, but forcing a smile, she headed towards him. From his vacant grin and unfocused gaze, she realised the pint he now reached for was far from his first of the afternoon. He took a mouthful of beer, patting the chair beside him with his free hand. Caelan sat.
‘Good to see you, gorgeous.’ He leaned towards her, grabbed her hand and planted a kiss on the back of it. ‘Looking good.’
Caelan reclaimed her hand, resisting wiping it on her trousers. ‘You too, Frankie.’ She hoped she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ He pulled a wad of notes from the inside pocket of his jacket, shooting a glance at Caelan to make sure she had noticed. ‘I’ve been doing some business.’
‘Yeah? That was quick. I’ll have a beer, thanks.’
Hamilton nodded, made his way to the bar. Caelan was aware of several of the men in the room looking her way, some discreetly, some openly staring. She sat back, crossed her legs, making a show of being relaxed. Let them look. She was in control here.
Hamilton plonked the bottle of lager on the table, caressed the back of Caelan’s neck for a second as he sat down. She forced her shoulders to relax as his damp fingers touched her skin. He was clearly under the impression that this was a date. She gave him a teasing smile.
‘Nice place,’ she said. He laughed, missing the sarcasm.
‘Yeah, it’s not bad. I used to come here a lot, to play a few frames of snooker, have a beer. Wasn’t sure if it would still be here.’ Casually he slid an arm across the back of Caelan’s chair. He was relaxed, smiling.
Caelan lifted her drink, her eyes scanning the room. Most of those playing snooker had gone back to their games. For now, she could concentrate on Frankie. Lucky her. ‘Why wouldn’t it still be here?’
He leaned closer. She smelt garlic, coffee. His touch was making her skin itch. ‘It’s been raided a few times,’ he said, his mouth close to her ear.
‘Why?’
‘Employing illegals, licensing stuff. Drugs. The usual. It’s okay, they could never prove any of it. Bloke who owns the place is a mate of mine.’
Caelan leaned forward to put her bottle back on the table, taking the opportunity to inch away from Hamilton. ‘Talking of mates, have you heard about Jackson Hobbs?’
Hamilton frowned, removing his arm from her chair. ‘Heard what?’
Caelan kept her eyes on his face. ‘He’s dead.’
His mouth opened, eyes widening. He blinked, and Caelan was certain he hadn’t known before. ‘Dead? What do you mean?’
She picked up the bottle, had another mouthful of beer before replying. ‘Murdered. Someone shanked him in prison.’
Hamilton was still staring at her. ‘Fuck. I don’t… Fuck.’
‘Yeah.’ Caelan cradled the bottle. ‘You didn’t know?’
He swallowed. ‘No. Who told you?’
‘Mate of my boyfriend’s called me,’ Caelan lied smoothly. Possibly unwise, but necessary.
‘Who told him?’
‘Don’t know. I didn’t ask.’ She waited, knowing she was on shaky ground if he demanded to know. Hobbs’s murder might make the news, the problems facing prisons being well publicised, but there was no guarantee. What was one dead prisoner? One fewer for taxpayers to keep, some would say.
Hamilton was out of his chair. ‘Listen, princess, I’m going to have to shoot off.’
She pouted. ‘But I’ve only just got here.’
‘I know, but this… Well, there are people who should know about it. I’ll call you, yeah?’
He hurried across the floor, attracting curious glances. Caelan watched him leave, wishing she had taken Nicky up on her offer of backup. Hamilton was spooked. Where was he going? Who was he so eager to speak to? He needed to be followed, but she couldn’t do it herself. She got to her feet, went over to the bar.
‘You got a ladies’ in here?’ she asked.
The woman behind the bar, now painting her fingernails, nodded towards the far end of the room. ‘Sort of. Back there.’
‘Cheers.’
Caelan wandered across the room, hoping the men around her were too absorbed in their games to notice.
No chance.
‘Looking for some company, darling?’ He was young, skinny, wearing tracksuit bottoms, the hood of his sweatshirt up even inside. He stepped towards her, grinning. ‘Frankie had to rush off, did he? Why don’t you join us? I’ll show you how to play.’
He licked his lips, making sure she didn’t miss the innuendo. Caelan forced a smile, kept walking.
‘What would Frankie say if I did?’ She kept her voice light, teasing, playing to his assumption that she was Hamilton’s property, though the idea stuck in her throat.
He scowled. ‘Like I give a fuck. He’s no one now, man.’
She saw the door marked Toilet, headed for it, hoping he would take the hint. She pushed open the door, looked around, knowing she was taking a risk. The room was small, just one cubicle, a urinal and a stained sink. A window was open in the corner, but she knew it was useless. She couldn’t fit through, and even if she could, climbing out would draw far too much attention. She sent Penrith a brief text explaining where she was and what had happened. Nicky might be nearby, but it was unlikely. Hamilton would be miles away, and they would never know who he was going to see. Fuck. She should have followed him, tagged along.
Her friend in the tracksuit bottoms was waiting for her outside the door.
‘What’s your name?’ he demanded.
‘Kay. Look, I’ve got to go.’ Caelan tried to push past, but he held her wrist.
‘Not seen you in here before.’ He smiled. ‘And I’d have remembered.’
‘I wanted to see Frankie. He was here.’ Caelan glared, not having to pretend to be irritated. ‘Didn’t know I’d be interrogated about it.’
He let her arm go. ‘Just being friendly. I’m Marcus.’ He watched her, and Caelan knew he was waiting for a reaction.
‘Marcus. I’ll remember that.’
‘Make sure you do. What did you say to Frankie?’
‘What?’
‘He went out of here like his balls were on fire. You tell him you’re pregnant?’
Caelan had to laugh. ‘Nah, nothing like that.’
‘What then?’
‘Heard some news. Thought Frankie should too.’
He smirked. ‘That Jackson Hobbs is dead?’
‘How do you know?’
‘Everyone does. How do you?’
‘Like you said, it’s not a secret.’
‘Except Frankie hadn’t heard. Shows how far out of the loop he is.’ He stepped closer, lowered his voice. ‘What are you doing with him anyway?’
; ‘I’m not with him.’
Marcus laughed. ‘Yeah, does he know that? Because before you came in, he was telling us all about this new girl of his.’
Caelan hesitated, taking in the confident stance, the smile. ‘Here’s the thing. I heard Frankie might be able to help me out.’
‘With?’
‘Doesn’t matter. I thought I’d make myself known to him.’
‘He said you knew his name, you remembered him.’
‘Had to say something, didn’t I?’ Caelan risked a smile. ‘He heard what he wanted to hear.’
Marcus tipped his head back, thinking about it. ‘Frankie’s out of the game.’
‘Yet he has a roll of paper in his pocket.’
A laugh. ‘Probably mugged his granny. What’s your business?’
‘I’m not saying.’ Caelan glanced over his shoulder. She had to get out of here. Frankie could be streets away by now.
Marcus shrugged, turning away. ‘Then I can’t help you.’
‘Fine. I’ll be on my way.’
She gave him ten seconds. In the end, it was more like five.
‘Kay.’ He said it quietly. She stopped, waited.
‘What’s your surname?’
‘Summers.’
‘Give me your number.’
Facing him, she put her hands on her hips. ‘Thought you said you couldn’t help?’
‘I’ll ask around. I’ll need to check you out first.’
‘Do that.’
Her stomach dropping, she gave him the number of the mobile she was carrying. He tapped it into his phone. She flicked her hair, turned away.
‘No promises,’ he called.
She kept walking.
* * *
Once outside, Caelan moved quickly, her heart thumping. As she had expected, there was no sign of Frankie. Who the hell was Marcus? She needed to get out of the area, then call Penrith and ask him. Though she hadn’t given any details about her ‘business’, he had assumed drugs were involved. Why wouldn’t he? That was Frankie Hamilton’s line of work, after all. And he was going to check her out. What did that mean? She had used the Kay Summers legend more than once, and now it would have to be altered. Whoever Marcus was, he would have contacts. His involvement could be dangerous, but what choice had she had? There had been no way of avoiding the discussion without arousing his suspicion.
She took a roundabout route towards the station, planning to catch a bus back to the flat she had been sent to. Once there, with the door locked, she would call Penrith.
That was when she saw Liv Hobbs.
The detective inspector was walking towards her, bundled into a thick coat. Her face was drawn, her eyes shadowed. Understandably, she looked ill. Caelan hesitated, knowing she couldn’t allow Hobbs to see her. What the hell was she doing here? She’d mentioned having friends here, but why would she be coming to visit them on the day her brother was murdered?
Caelan stepped into a newsagent’s, stood by a rack of tabloids until she saw Hobbs pass by the open shop door. She counted to five, stepped back outside, saw her disappear around the corner. She followed. Hobbs was heading for the bus station, walking slowly, her head down. She and her brother might have been estranged, but the news of his death had clearly affected her deeply. She waited for the lights to change before crossing the road, and Caelan was reminded of her car crash. What was Hobbs thinking now? Had the deliberate collision been a warning to her brother, or to Liv herself? Without knowing who had spoken to Jackson Hobbs in prison, or who might have visited him, Caelan had no idea. What would anyone want to warn Liv Hobbs about? Her involvement in the Edmonton drugs investigation? But that would mean someone knew the operation was ongoing. Was Caelan’s own position at risk? Was Nicky’s? It made more sense that the collision was a warning to Jackson Hobbs, but why use the sister he hadn’t spoken to for years to attract his attention? Caelan frowned as she walked, puzzling it over. Another aspect of the situation that made no sense.
Hobbs was boarding a bus, but Caelan knew she couldn’t follow. She had altered her appearance since visiting Hobbs at her home, but not enough. Hobbs was sharp. She would realise. Best to let her go and pass the information on.
In fifteen minutes, Caelan was back in the flat, filling the kettle. The place was as she had left it, but she checked it over just the same. Downstairs, the music was thumping again, though not quite as loudly as before. At least she didn’t have to worry about being overheard. When she had a cup of tea, she made the call. Penrith began to talk before she could speak.
‘Firstly, your pal Frankie Hamilton has just been picked up from his address in Edmonton for questioning,’ he told her. ‘He didn’t seem surprised to find two police officers at his front door.’
‘He’s probably used to it. Did he mention me?’ Caelan sipped her tea.
‘He’s still en route. I’ll let you know. Next, the phone Joseph Rainey gave you.’ Penrith coughed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about it first?’
‘Why? Because Somerville had just spoken to Joseph and I knew she was in the area. What have they found?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What?’
‘They haven’t unlocked it yet.’
Caelan closed her eyes. ‘It’s been hours. How hard can it be?’
‘Don’t ask me, you know I’m a pay-as-you-go Nokia man.’
‘Of course you are.’ She pictured Penrith in his office, his belly squeezed behind his desk, one arm behind his head. ‘I saw Liv Hobbs just now.’
‘Where?’ Penrith sounded unconcerned.
‘I think she’d got off the Tube.’
‘Making assumptions? Tut tut.’
‘She caught a bus.’
‘She’s bereaved, on leave. It’s none of our business.’ He was interested, though. It was almost imperceptible, but his tone had changed.
‘Why is she here? I know she has family in Edmonton, but she’s estranged from them.’
‘I don’t know. Grief can have a strange effect on people. I remember a colleague, years ago, who hated his father. He’d been aggressive, abusive. They hadn’t seen each other for years, but when the old man died, the son went to pieces.’
‘Mourning the relationship they never had.’ Caelan drank some more tea, Nicky wandering unbidden into her mind again.
‘Exactly.’ Penrith sucked his teeth. ‘Maybe DI Hobbs has reacted in a similar way. Still, I’ll make a note.’
‘I also need you to check someone out for me.’ Caelan moved into the living room as she spoke, curled up on the sofa.
‘Been mingling with the locals again, have we? Who?’
‘Name’s Marcus. I met him at a snooker hall. Can you find out who owns it?’ She gave the address. ‘He’s going to check me out.’
‘Is he now?’ Penrith chuckled. ‘Good luck to him then.’
‘I hinted I’m a drug dealer, or user. Possibly both. Either way, he thinks I want to do business.’
‘All right. I’d better invent some convictions, then. Add them to your record.’
‘You’re assuming he has a way of accessing criminal records? Why?’
‘Come on, you know how these things work. If he’s a major player—’
‘Which we don’t know he is,’ Caelan put in. ‘No one has said so.’
‘If he is, he’ll have someone in his pocket.’
‘Someone like Ben Rainey?’ Was that the link? She rubbed her eyes, tired and frustrated.
‘It’s a possibility we need to consider. It’s much more likely he’s a small-time gangster, with no power or inside knowledge whatsoever. He probably meant he was going to ask around on the street.’
‘Hamilton may have told him I’m not from around here.’
‘Maybe. I wonder how Hamilton ended up in Edmonton himself. He’s from south London. You’d think there’d be plenty there to keep him busy.’
‘Worth finding out.’
‘Then do it. I assume you’ll see him again?’
‘Do
n’t know. Depends what he hears about me, I suppose.’
‘It won’t be a problem. We’ll have a word in the right ears. They’ll pass on anything we want them to, you know that. Now, do you want these criminal convictions adding?’
‘Not sure. Don’t want him to think I’m an amateur, that I make a habit of getting caught.’
‘Something minor, then. A possession charge. I’ll have it sorted out. Don’t worry.’
Caelan stretched out her legs, drank the last of her tea. ‘I wasn’t.’
‘Anything else?’ Penrith’s tone suggested he hoped not.
‘What happened at the prison?’
‘As you were told on your previous call, a waste of time.’
‘And the suspect?’
Penrith paused. ‘He’s been interviewed. Didn’t say a word. Wouldn’t talk about Hobbs, the murder, or who’s paying him. He’s currently in a cell at South Harrow. They’ll have another go at him later. Verbally, I mean.’
‘Were you there?’
‘At his interview? I observed, yes.’
‘And?’
‘My impression was…’ Penrith broke off to yawn. Caelan told herself not to bite. ‘My impression was the man was terrified.’
‘Of possible repercussions? He’d been threatened? “Keep your mouth shut or we’ll come for your family”?’
‘Along those lines, yes. I’m guessing, but it makes sense. He was sweating, couldn’t sit still. Clammed up completely. Even at the prison, he wouldn’t talk.’
‘What about before the murder?’
‘Nothing unusual in his behaviour, I’m told. He was quiet, no trouble. Wanted to keep his head down, his nose clean, and all those other clichés. If something kicked off, he didn’t get involved.’
Caelan stood, went over to the window. ‘He behaved himself in prison, yet he was in for GBH? He never fought? I can imagine people trying to provoke him, make him scrap for his place in the hierarchy.’
‘I was expecting a more… colourful prison record too. Maybe he’s a changed man.’
Tell No Lies Page 17