Hot Blooded

by Lake, Jessica

  "Linda Trout," I said, because it felt important to me that Callum knew her name. She wasn't just some side issue. "Her name was Linda Trout. She left behind a five year old son. And they think you did it because they found DNA on a coffee cup near the scene that matched yours."

  That woke Callum up completely. He turned and looked at me like I'd gone insane.

  "What? DNA? Lily, I never met that woman in my fucking life. How the hell did they find my DNA? There must have been a mistake. Or - where did it happen? Was it in Streatham?"

  "It was miles away from Streatham."

  I watched Callum's reactions closely, without even fully intending to. Even then, I couldn't put aside that part of myself. He shook his head, looking for all the world like a genuinely confused man.

  "Lily, that's impossible. I mean, I don't know what to tell you, but that is literally impossible. Unless someone planted a fucking coffee cup that I used at the scene? Or...? How did you even get my DNA?"

  I could have made a dumb joke at that point, but I bit my tongue, realizing it would have been badly received.

  "I collected pint glasses from the club. That night you took me to the top of the tower block."

  "Did you?" Callum asked, sounding both impressed and annoyed at the same time. "Jesus, you were gathering evidence that night?"

  I shrugged and felt myself getting a little annoyed in turn. Mostly because Callum's tone made me feel unaccountably ashamed. I could feel my back going up.

  "Callum, yes, I was gathering evidence. What part of 'undercover police officer' don't you understand?"

  As soon as I'd said it I was sorry. I put my face in my hands for a few seconds, trying to get a hold of myself.

  "OK, I'm sorry. That wasn't fair."

  Callum looked out the window. "It's OK, Lily. We're both getting used to this new situation, aren't we? I'm getting used to the fact that you think I killed someone and you're getting used to the fact that I know that."

  "I don't think you killed her," I reminded him.

  "Why? If there's a DNA match - why not?"

  "Well..." I inched towards him on the bed, but he pulled away. "The DNA match is only partial. The lab said it could be a close relative. But mostly I don't think you did it because - because I just don't think you did it. I don't think you're that kind of person. In fact I know you're not."

  Callum looked at me, his expression hard. "How do you know that?"

  I suddenly felt defensive. "I just do, Callum. I just do know it. And fuck you for even asking me. You know why."

  I watched his expression soften. "OK, Lily. I'm sorry. I'm just - I'm fucking angry about this. I mean, I didn't do it. I definitely did not kill Linda Trout. Which means whoever did do it - and it was probably one of Wayne's or Gazza's associates - is getting away with it. What did you say about the partial match again?"

  "The lab tech said it wasn't necessarily you. She said it could be a close relative. Have you, uh, your brother-"

  Callum cut me off, laughing, knowing what I was going to ask. “Jake? No. No way. Jake has gone out of his way his entire life to have nothing to do with the Streatham Club or Gazza or anything remotely similar to my father's business."

  That was the only the second time Callum had ever mentioned his father. The first time it had only been very briefly, to tell me he had no idea where he was or if he was even still alive. He definitely hadn't mentioned anything about his father's 'business.'

  "Wait," I started gently, aware of the fact that I was on volatile ground, "your father's business...?"

  "Yeah, my father was in it. At least according to my mum. I have no memory of the man. All I know is he left before Jake was born."

  I could feel my heart rate increasing. "He was in it, Callum? What do you mean? He was involved with the Streatham Club?"

  "Yeah, apparently. Before he fucked off, anyway. Obviously something went on, but mum just flat out refuses to talk about it. And to be honest, I'm fine with that. I have less than zero interest in my father. He's probably dead. Why are we even talking about this?"

  Very quietly, I replied. "Because of the DNA, Callum. If you didn't do it and Jake didn't do it, how did that DNA get on that coffee cup? Oh my - oh my God, Callum. What if your dad didn't leave? What if he's still-"

  "No. No chance. Lily, I've been around the Streatham Club since I was a kid. There's no way I wouldn't have heard something if my father had still been kicking around. Sorry kiddo, but that's a dead-end."

  I heard what he was saying. It made sense. But there was the DNA. A male relative, the lab tech had said. By that point my heart was racing and I was doing everything I could to keep my excitement from Callum. Partly because I knew I could be wrong, but also because I didn't want to dredge up old pain without good reason. Still, it was a possibility. One that had to be followed up on. I slid my hand into his.

  "But Callum, the DNA. They said it was either you or a close male relative. If it wasn't you and it wasn't your brother, who else could it be? Do you have any cousins?" Another possibility entered my head at that moment. "Do you know if your dad had any other kids? With another woman, I mean?"

  Callum looked at me, shaking his head, but he didn't say anything. I knew what I had to suggest, but I didn't know how to suggest it. I took a deep breath.

  "Do you think maybe we - or just you if you prefer - could talk to your mum? I know this is difficult, and I know I don't know your family history or understand any of this, but I want you to know I'm just trying to help. I want to find who actually killed Linda Trout. And I want to prove it wasn't you."

  Callum swung his legs over the edge of the bed and started to get dressed. "I know, Lily. I know. I mean, if you think my mum could help then yeah, let's go talk to her. I'm warning you, though, she won't say much. You have no idea."

  That was all I wanted. He didn't need to be happy about it. We just needed to pursue everything until we got the truth. If everything went the way I desperately hoped it would and Callum was cleared, then I was dead set on doing everything I could to make him happy.

  When he was dressed he walked over to the sink and splashed cold water onto his face."Let's go talk to my mum, then,” he said.

  "What, right now?"

  "Yeah, let's just get it done. I can't go back to my flat, and Gazza's probably got people keeping an eye on my mum's place, so we're going to have to meet her somewhere."

  "OK," I said, as my brain started to shift back into investigatory mode.

  While Callum called his mum, I slipped into my clothes. Then called Akin to tell him I was going to be away from the safehouse longer than I thought. I did not tell him who I was with, or who I was going to see. When I hung up, Callum had finished speaking to his mother.

  "She's coming up into town, to that pub we went to, the Dog and Duck."

  "Did you tell her what it was about?"

  "Fuck no. I told her I was in trouble - a lot of trouble - but that's all. She'd never show if I told her I had a Met officer wanting to question her about my father."

  "Do you think it would be easier if you did most of the questioning?"

  Callum shook his head. "Lily, I'll be surprised if she doesn't do a runner the minute either of us brings it up."

  We had our work cut out for us, then.

  Traffic was heavy in central London, and we spent most of the journey to Soho in thoughtful silence, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. I wasn't even thinking about Callum's mum, or what she might or might not say. I was thinking about what I'd said - what I'd felt - earlier at the hotel. About my work no longer being the most important thing in my life.

  Was it true? It hadn't even occurred to me before I’d said it to Callum. But then again, I’d always had a knack for avoiding truths that might shake the neat, ordered certainty I seemed to crave so much. Of course, being in a car on the way to talk to Callum's mother about her possibly very interesting past gave me an excuse not to examine my thoughts too closely. Later, I told myself. That wou
ld come later.

  Callum's mother was already at the Dog and Duck when we arrived, and Callum introduced us.

  "Mum, this is my, uh, friend," he said, stumbling slightly over his words."My girlfriend. Lily Morgan. Lily, this is my mum, Helen Cross."

  Helen Cross offered me the sternest of smiles and shook my hand. She was younger than I thought she would be, but her rough hands and the lines on her face spoke to a hard life. She also gave the immediate impression of being a person who took no shit - at least when she looked at me. When she looked at Callum her expression softened instantly.

  "What the bloody hell is going on then, Callum?" She demanded."You scared the hell out me calling like that out of nowhere, telling me you're 'in danger.' What is going on? What danger?"

  "Mum, I have to tell you something and I don't want you to go mad, alright? We're in public here. Can you promise me you'll let me finish before you say anything?"

  It was becoming clearer to Callum's mother that her son's phone call hadn't been hyperbolic in nature and that he was actually in some kind of real danger. Her eyes darted continuously between Callum and myself as she waited to hear what was going on.

  "Yes, alright, Callum. Just tell me what's going on. I need to smoke.” She began to pull a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. "Can we smoke in here?"

  Callum shook his head. "No, ma."

  Helen put the pack of cigarettes away and looked at her son, her face creased with worry. "Go on then, Callum. Let's have it."

  "Alright. The police think I murdered someone, mum. They think I murdered someone and they have evidence."

  Callum had failed completely to beat around even the tiniest of bushes with his mother. Her face had darkened before he had even finished his too-brief explanation.

  "What?" She leaned across the table and snatched the collar of Callum's shirt in her wiry hand. "What did you say, Callum Cross?"

  But Callum knew his mother had heard him. We both sat across from her, waiting for her to say something else. Her eyes moved quickly to me.

  "And why is she here? What does she have to do with this? Callum, what have you gotten yourself into?"

  I decided to follow Callum's lead - he knew his mother better than I did - and be direct. "I'm Lily Morgan. I'm a DCI with the Met."

  Helen Cross stood up immediately and began gathering her things.

  "Mum, sit down, it's alright, please-" Callum said. He reached up and tried to pull her back down onto her chair.

  "I don't talk to coppers, Callum," she hissed, moving in close to her son, "and neither do you. Now come with me. We can sort this out at home, on our own."

  Callum grabbed her arm, but she wrenched it away and marched out of the pub, swearing to herself. We both jumped up and followed her out onto the street.

  "Mum, you have to stay. This is important. We need to talk to you-"

  She practically sprinted away from us, headed in the direction of the tube station. I decided I had to say something, offer some incentive.

  "He's going to get done for murder. They have DNA evidence. If you don't help, he could be arrested at any time."

  That stopped her in her tracks. She turned around and looked me right in the eyes.

  "'They' have DNA evidence? And who is 'they?'"

  "The police."

  "I thought you said you were the police."

  "I am. But I'm on Callum's side. I don't think he did it. And it's very important that we talk to you."

  "Why?" She asked, clearly ready to turn on her heel and continue on to the tube station at any moment. "What possible way could I help?"

  "Will you please come back into the pub and talk to us?" I pleaded, trying my best to remember she wasn't a suspect and I had no right to start ordering her around, no matter how badly I wanted to.

  She turned her focus to Callum. "Do you trust this woman, Callum? A copper? Do you-" She paused suddenly, pondering. "Oh no. You're shagging her. Oh, Callum. You never could keep it in your trousers, could you? Listen to me, when you're thinking a little more clearly, you come home and we'll sort this out, alright?"

  Once again, she turned and started marching towards the tube station. I was desperate.

  "It's about Callum's father!" I yelled after her. She stopped dead in her tracks but didn't turn around.

  "They have DNA evidence, Mrs. Cross. It could be Callum's, or it could be from a close male relative. It could be from his brother or his father. We need to find out whose DNA it is. Please. I know this is difficult, but we need to do everything we can to prove Callum didn't do what they think he did."

  Finally, Helen turned around. Her face looked drained of all color and her eyes were wide with - what - shock? Fear? Some combination of the two? Her body, previously rigid with anger, was now slumped, her posture defeated. She looked at Callum, and when she spoke, all the anger had gone from her voice.

  "Callum - is this true?"

  He nodded. "Yes, mum. Unfortunately, this is true."

  "I have to smoke."

  She looked around for somewhere to sit, then plonked herself down on the curb and lit a cigarette. When I got closer I could see that she was shaking.

  "Mrs. Cro-"

  "Give me a minute, will you?" She barked."Just give me a damned minute!"

  I backed off and stood next to Callum, watching Helen. After a couple of long drags, she looked up at the sky. She closed her eyes as the sunlight washed over her face.

  "I knew this day would come, Callum," she said. "I always hoped it wouldn't but right now, sitting here, I guess maybe I always knew, yeah? You aren't going to like what I have to say, my sweet boy. You aren't going to like it at all. In fact, I think you might not want to speak to me ever again after I tell you this particular story."

  Helen Cross then started to sob, loudly. People passing by on the pavement looked briefly and then turned away again, as the British tend to do when someone gets emotional in public. Callum sat down next to her. A tiny pang of envy filled me as I watched the two of them clinging to each other, mother and son, both of them aware that some deep family secret was about to be revealed, and both instinctively drawn to comfort the other.

  "Please come back to the pub, mum," Callum said, wrapping his huge arm around her narrow shoulders. "Please. It's too cold out here."

  Helen relented, finally. She stubbed her cigarette out on the curb before allowing us to walk her back to the pub.

  "Can you get us drinks?" Helen asked me. "Strong ones. Two whiskies."

  I went to fetch the drinks, whiskey for Callum and Helen, water for me. When I got back to the table both of them were sitting in silence.

  "Here you go," I said, setting the drinks down.

  "Thank you," Helen replied. She pushed a glass of whiskey towards Callum. "Drink it, son. You're going to need it."

  Callum picked up the drink and took a small, careful sip. His face was almost as pale as his mother's.

  "Mum, please. Please just tell me. I can't stand this."

  I slid my hand under the table and squeezed Callum's thigh in a gesture I hoped would give him some kind of reassurance or sense of support. Then Helen started talking.

  "I was married to Timothy Cross when you were born, Callum. He was one of the top men at the Streatham Club."

  Callum nodded, apparently not catching the odd wording of his mother's statement. So she spelled it out for him.

  "I was married to him, but he, oh Callum..." She paused to breathe and fight back the tears welling up in her eyes. "He isn't your father."

  "OK..." Callum said, swallowing hard and nodding his head. "I - you've never said anything about this, mum. I don't even know who Timothy Cross-"

  I held my hand up, sensing that Helen wasn't anywhere close to finished.

  "Let her finish," I said. I rubbed Callum's tense back and gestured for Helen to continue.

  She wiped her eyes roughly. "I'm going to tell you two a story if you don't mind. I don't know how else to say this without telling you ho
w it happened."

  I nodded encouragingly. "That's fine, Mrs. Cross. You can tell us any way you need to. However long it takes."

  She took a deep breath, then she spoke. "It was 1990, maybe 1991, sometime around there. Tim wasn't the big boss at Streatham, but he was up there. Things were changing, then. The business. It was all becoming more and more difficult to manage, the coppers were less afraid than they used to be. John - he was the boss, John Stayles - he was getting right worked up about it. He wanted to hire new people, professionalize things a little."

  She paused there and finished her whiskey. "Can I have another one?"

  I got her another whiskey as quickly as I could. Before she started talking, she took another gulp.

  "Who did he hire?" I prompted her, realizing this was where the story was going. Callum was mute, frozen in place next to me like a statue. I was torn between my need for answers and the desire to pull him out of that pub so he never had to hear the rest of his mum's story.

  "Oh," Helen said, playing with one of the rings on her fingers, "he hired a few new guys. Most of them from Streatham, guys everyone knew. I'd known most of them since I was a child. Timothy didn't rate them, mind you, but one of them was a real arse-licker, a real piece of work. He knew exactly how to flatter John. He also made it very clear, as soon as he was in the boss's good graces, that he didn't think much of Timothy. He knew he was the competition, didn't he? He came around to the house once and behaved very badly in front of Tim, very disrespectfully. When John found out-"

  "I'm sorry, Mrs. Cross," I cut in quietly, "but what do you mean by 'behaved badly'? What did he do?"

  "I'm not sure I need to go into the gory details, do I? Let's just say he behaved the way men behave when there's a woman around and she belongs to one of them."

  "You mean he tried it on?"

  "Of course he did. He would have done anything he could to show Tim what he thought of him. Anyway. John got wind of this and he gave, uh, he gave him a dressing down. Threatened to kick him out of the Club - threatened to kick him out of London - if he didn't show Tim his due respect. Did it in front of all the other men, too."