BA 97 – Baggage in Hall.
My table was on a platform and I looked down over the heads of the people at the barrier, all facing one way. A pickpocket’s wet dream. An endless shoal of weary faces streamed through them, the odd individual fished out with shrieks and hugs. I pictured Sharon at passport control, then at the baggage carousel. She was only yards away now but she’d still be another ten minutes at least. I couldn’t stay seated, though. I walked down to the gate, making sure I didn’t miss anyone coming through. I stood to the side where I’d see her first, before she could see me. I wouldn’t shout out straight away. I’d just watch her. I was trying to peer into the baggage hall when my phone rang. The display said private number and I answered, thinking it might be Sharon, calling from a payphone on the other side. Instead it was Andy and he sounded urgent.
Andy told me that the girl had been identified. I told him that was great. I asked him if I could call him back but he pushed on. He said there was something else.
‘The pathologist found a note,’ Andy said.
‘A note? Where?’
‘It was in the girl’s mouth. Well, I say her mouth, that was where Burg thinks it was most likely stuffed before her head hit the wall of the Rotherhithe. Either that or it was just left with her. Anyway, the note was a mess, a real mess, but Burg’s good. He’s the best. He put it under a lamp and he thinks he can just about make out what it says.’
‘And? What was on it?’
‘Just three words,’ Andy said. ‘But what I was thinking. You went down to the alley the Thomas girl died in, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’ I turned my head. Was that her? No. Not blonde enough. ‘I looked through the cards that came with the flowers.’
‘Good man. We didn’t find anything but figured that might have been where he left it, if he did. Do you remember any of the messages?’
‘No, but I wrote them down, the ones I could read. It had been raining. I’ll check later.’ Her? Another guy was kissing her so I hoped to hell it wasn’t. ‘What am I looking for?’
‘“It Was You”,’ Andy said. ‘Nothing else. They’re pretty sure. It didn’t mean anything but then I remembered I’d seen the phrase before. In Ally and Mike’s cafe, written on the bottom of a shopping list. I read it at the time but took no notice. But we have to remember, the perp didn’t know the girl in the Mondeo’s head would get mashed. He expected us to find the note. When Burg told me about it I remembered the shopping list. You seeing the same thing in Dalston would prove Josephine Thomas was the first victim. Billy? Billy?’
I nearly laughed.
‘“It Was You.”’
‘What about it?’
‘Are you sure that’s what it said?’
‘It. Was. You. Well, did any of the cards say that?’
‘No.’ I shook my head.
‘Damn.’
‘But…’
‘But what?’
‘But I’ve seen them.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve seen them as well. “It Was You”. Written.’
‘What the hell do you mean? Written? Written where?’
‘Outside. They…they were outside my house. All over Fred’s.’
‘The cafe? On the corner? All over it? I don’t understand.’
Neither did I. I was there, talking to Max again.
‘In graffiti,’ I said. ‘Sprayed on the windows. The owner was trying to get it off.’
‘When was this?’
‘Last week.’
‘Bloody hell. But Exmouth Market is still Islington, right? Same as the Lindauer. Maybe it’s wider than we thought. Why don’t you meet me there, tell me what you saw?’
‘The girl,’ I said. ‘Andy, tell me about the girl.’
‘No connection,’ he said. ‘None. This isn’t the Lindauer, Billy. The girl in the car wasn’t even from London, though we’ll check on any Islington connection. She was from Birmingham.’
‘What was her name?’
‘It’s here somewhere. She had a few minor priors, that’s how we ID’d her. Prints on the central database. Here. Husband reported her missing about a month ago. Came to the Smoke to seek her fortune by the looks of her. Type of girl you waste your time looking for…’
‘What was her fucking name?’
‘Hey, calm down. We haven’t found her husband to tell him yet so keep shtum. This makes today’s Standard you’re in shit.’
‘Andy…’
‘It was Denton. Denise Denton. Why?’ Andy laughed. ‘Know her, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Good. For a minute there I thought…’
‘But I know her husband.’
‘What?’
‘His name’s Jared.’
‘Yes. Yes. It fucking is. How the hell do you know that?’
‘He hired me to find her,’ I said.
My voice was no more than a whisper.
‘He came to my office. He gave me a picture of her. I went down to Brixton. I’ve been looking for Denise Denton for the last two weeks.’
‘Well, you found her, Billy. In the boot of that car. You found her.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘It was you. Billy, it was you. It’s not the Lindauer, Islington even. Josephine Thomas, Ally, this Denton girl. It was you!’
Even though it was Andy who was speaking the words seemed to be coming from my own brain. They ricocheted round my head. I moved the phone away from my face as if it was radioactive. I stared at it. The airport was rushing round me in a swirl of noise.
‘Billy? Are you still there? Where the hell are you, anyway? Billy! You need to get here, get here right now!’
The phone was calling out to me like a sick bird. I turned away from it. I couldn’t take it in. Me? This had all happened because of me. At the same time as knowing that it couldn’t possibly be true, I knew that it was true. The words, outside my flat. Ally. Josephine Thomas. Now this girl. Another voice was coming at me. Not out of my phone, out of the clamour.
‘You came,’ it said. ‘Oh, thank you. You know I said I didn’t mind? I was lying. I’ve just spent the last eleven hours hoping you’d be here, imagining you being here, and here you are. Oh, honey.’
Sharon was standing right in front of me. A trolley of luggage was by her side. I just stared at her. I couldn’t speak. Me. It was me. It was all about me. I couldn’t, I refused to believe it. And Sharon. I couldn’t take her in either. I knew it was her but my mind had crashed. I was supposed to see her walking through the gate, her eyes searching the barrier. I thought she’d be in her leather jacket, the one I’d seen her off in, the fitted rust-coloured jacket that hugged her like a second skin. She was in Pakistani dress, a salwar kameez. Her green eyes flickered from the recesses of her headscarf. She was smiling, a little confused. Scared even. A canyon was cut right into my heart.
‘What do you think?’ Sharon did a quick turn to the side, trying to keep the puzzlement off her face. ‘Classy, huh? Practical too. Thought I’d surprise you and I obviously have! You look, I don’t know what you look. Well?’
I couldn’t move. Sharon didn’t know whether to kiss me, shake my hand, anything.
‘Rucker? Are you still there? Rucker?’
I hit ‘end’ on the phone, as if by doing so I could not only shut it off but snuff out what Andy had told me. I shoved the phone into my pocket. I tried to draw myself together from the fragments I’d just been blown into. Sharon’s eyes drew back, hardening as she prepared herself.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ I swallowed. ‘You look lovely. Really lovely. That suits you.’
‘Thank you. Thanks. It’s handy too.’ I’d done enough to push back the doubt on Sharon’s face and though she still seemed a little wary she also seemed relieved. She was studying me, weighing me up, taking deep breaths.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ I nodded again. ‘OK then. So, did you miss me?’
‘If you knew how much. I’v
e just been telling myself not to crowd you, to be cool. But I don’t want to be.’
‘Then don’t.’
Sharon put her arms round me and I held her, melting into her, not melting enough, wanting to dissolve into her body.
‘Listen.’ Sharon took a deep breath as she moved back, staring into me. ‘I have to ask you something. And you have to be honest with me.’
‘OK.’
‘Really honest.’ She closed her eyes and paused. Her face grew serious, determined. ‘I was going to wait, play it easy for a while too, but I can’t either. I can’t even wait till we’re home. I messed you around once and I’m not going to do it again. I need to know what it was all about for you. Us getting back together. I’m going to tell you now that I love you. And I always have. But was it just nostalgia for you? Or do you want to carry on?’
‘Sharon…’
‘Not just carry on, actually. What, what I really need to know is if you love me. God, that sounds stupid. You told me that you did but you’ve had time to think, really think. I need to know. So please tell me and don’t worry if you’re not sure. I can manage on my own.’
‘I love you,’ I said. ‘I want you to move in with me. Or me with you, I don’t care. I’ve been thinking about that.’
‘Good. For a second, when I saw you, I was worried. I want you to know that I’ll never hurt you again. I know I did and…’
‘That’s in the past. We’ve done that. I believe you.’
‘Good, because it’s true.’ A smile was born on Sharon’s face, one that just kept growing. Tears balanced in her eyes. ‘So. You don’t mind, then?’
‘Mind?’
‘Oh, some detective you are.’ Sharon moved forward again and took my hand. ‘I didn’t want to tell you on the phone. I wanted to see you, and to decide what I’d do if you didn’t want to be with me. It’s why I came back, why I didn’t go back for the last two weeks. If it was just me, you know?’
Sharon moved my hand so that it was sitting on top of her belly. There was a little belly. Or was there – when do women get bellies? Sharon was leaving a gap for me but I didn’t know what to say. She nodded.
‘Don’t worry, it was a bit of a surprise to me too! We only slipped one night. That first night. Remember? How about that, Mr Super Sperm?’
I still couldn’t speak. Sharon’s eyes were reaching out to mine like a toddler’s arms.
From my pocket my phone began to ring again.
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Billy, you have to say something.’
Sharon’s bright green eyes seemed to be speeding towards me, opening more and more like a flower in a nature film. In contrast, the airport and everything surrounding us had pulled back at the speed of light, leaving us alone in our own private bubble of space and time.
When the airport crashed back in I nearly stumbled, suddenly realizing that I needed to breathe. Sharon’s eyes had opened as far as they could, and though she was trying hard to hold it, she couldn’t. Fear began to tinge her pupils, making them shiver, making them lose their hold on mine. Almost imperceptibly her eyes moved away, to my brow, my mouth, to the expression that must have been taking shape on my face. I watched a similar one take shape on hers. Then the noise came back in, the crowd of passengers, the hiss and clang of a bank of fruit machines in the arcade behind me.
In front of me Sharon let go of my hand and bit her lip. She didn’t look scared so much as resigned, her face etched with regret. Annoyance at herself. I wanted to say to her: no, you don’t understand. But I couldn’t speak. Still stunned I took hold of Sharon’s hand again and held it tightly as I pushed her trolley through the crowd, heading back to the coffee bar I’d been sitting at.
My mind was as full as the terminal. A scalding wind burned through my chest. The bubble returned, following us as we walked along. I saw the people going past me but I couldn’t believe that this was the world I lived in. Sharon was fending off her fear with words. She said that she wasn’t trying to trap me, that it was her decision to keep the baby. The baby. I steered her trolley through the crowd that appeared like a gas, each person an atom in random motion. I was choking, I wanted to ram the trolley forward, scatter the people out of the way, but then I stopped. I felt my throat contract. Oh no. Panicking, I looked all around.
My eyes jumped from one face to the next in a millisecond. I was looking for the person who was watching us. For the person who could have followed me out to the airport just as they must have followed me down to Brixton. Seen me handing out photos of Denise. Seen me with Josephine. With Ally. I ignored the confusion coming from Sharon. Him? Him? I didn’t make anyone out but then how could I? I didn’t know who I was looking for and even if I did they could have been anywhere: up in the gallery, off to the side, in front of my face for godsake. I pushed the trolley forward again, hard, but then told myself to calm down. It was too late. They would have seen me meet Sharon by now. They would have seen her. The hollowness spread to my stomach, my arms. I wanted to throw up. The only hope I had was the headscarf Sharon wore, that and her loose robes. I’d had to look twice at her myself.
We made it through to the coffee bar but Sharon wasn’t keen on staying there.
‘I can see you’re surprised, but can’t we just get out of here?’ Sharon tried to make herself laugh but she didn’t really manage it.
‘Listen…’
‘I should have waited.’
Sharon nodded to herself, like someone who knew the correct answer but only after giving Chris Tarrant the wrong one.
‘I should have told you in a day or so. I just saw you and I wanted to tell you so much. I’ve fucked it up, I know. But did you really have those thoughts, about us living together?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you really missed me?’
‘Yes.’
‘God. I kept imagining you out on the town.’ Sharon shook her head. ‘Billy, I didn’t sleep at all on the plane worrying about this. Can’t we just leave? Can’t we just pretend I never said anything? I don’t want you making rash promises after I’ve just dumped this on you.’
‘Just give me five minutes, please.’
‘I could have got rid of it and it was my decision not to, so if you don’t want to be a part of it…’
‘Please,’ I said again.
* * *
We were on the tube. I’d sat Sharon down in the coffee bar and told her what had happened, beginning with Josephine Thomas. She was concerned, but no more than I had been when I’d heard about it. A murder on the news, a little closer to home than normal. I could tell Sharon thought that was it and I tried to prepare her for the fact that it wasn’t, but I didn’t know how. I felt like a fighter pilot, locked in on Sharon’s matrix, my thumb poised over the red button. Eventually I let it go and I watched from ten miles up as the news of Ally’s death blew Sharon apart. I explained how I’d found her. I told her about the girl in the tunnel and then I told her how Andy had just called me. I told her that somehow, in some way I couldn’t fathom, I was the cause of all this.
Sharon’s first question was about Mike, how he was, and my stomach filled with ice to think of him. I couldn’t think of him. I said we should go and I pushed Sharon’s trolley down to the train station, where I bought two tickets for the Heathrow Express. When it came we climbed aboard but when the doors beeped I put my foot in the way and stepped out onto the platform again, dragging Sharon’s cases after me. Sharon stepped out of the carriage too. No one else got off the train. The train left and the only person on the platform was a conductor. If we’d been followed, the person doing it was on that train. I found another trolley and pushed it in the direction of the Underground. Sharon didn’t say anything, accepting what I’d done, just gripping my arm for reassurance. I wasn’t sure whose.
When the tube came we found some seats and sat down next to each other. Sharon’s headscarf was annoying her and she went to push it back over her head.
&nb
sp; ’Don’t,’ I said. ‘It suits you. Leave it.’
Sharon looked at me but left the scarf there. She took hold of my hand and we were silent for a long time as the tube clattered in towards central London.
I’d pictured this moment in my mind for weeks. Months. But it had never been like this. Instead of enjoying the fact that Sharon was back, or thinking about what she’d told me, my mind bucked forwards, sideways, all over, searching for some kind of answer to the news I’d been given. I hadn’t called Andy back. I wanted to think first, try to pull something out of the tangle of events that I seemed to be at the centre of. I thought of all the cases I’d handled, the people I’d put away. It had to be one of them but I had no idea which. None stood out, no pregnant women I’d sent to prison or anything like that. No doubt Andy was already pulling the files. I suddenly realized that he’d probably be worried too. We’d worked so many cases together. Would it be his turn next? I remembered that he had a sister. Did she have any kids? Sitting beneath all of these thoughts, like the foundations to a house, was the news that Sharon had given me.
I was holding Sharon’s hand, not realizing how tight my grip was. She smiled at me.
‘Whatever is happening, it’s not your fault,’ she said. ‘It might be to do with you but you’re not to blame. How could you be?’
‘I don’t have any kind of idea.’
‘Because you’re not. You just have to be patient, you’ll see. As for Mike, you couldn’t help suspecting him. He probably knows that by now. He should understand why you thought it. OK?’
I smiled but didn’t say anything. I didn’t think Mike would see it like that. Three women had died because of something in my past and I’d thought he had killed Ally. I remembered the woman at the bus stop, how she’d looked at me, looked at me as if I was a danger to her. She’d been right. Hoping she wouldn’t notice I drew my hand out of Sharon’s. Again, I saw it, all over the cafe: It Was You. I looked around the carriage for the fifth time, my eyes resting on each of the faces there. I counted six people reading the free paper, Metro. The front page carried a picture of the blocked-off tunnel mouth, opening like a grave. ‘Carnage’ was the headline, beneath which were the words, ‘Tunnel Crash Holds Chilling Secret’. The faces of those reading the paper were all the same. Stilled by horror. And hooked by it. This was how it was playing out there, amongst people not connected. A chilling story, unfolding, until they turned the page. I looked at them with a distaste I couldn’t justify and a huge spike of envy. I couldn’t turn the page.
It Was You Page 14