It Was You

by It Was You (retail) (epub)

  ‘They were a wonderful couple,’ Fanshawe said. ‘I have to admit it. The school’s golden pair. Brian and Hannah. Brian came in – when was it? – eighty-one. Before then, well, I had my sights set on Hannah. It wasn’t that she was the most beautiful girl but there was something about her, she was just such a lovely woman. Sunny, lit this place up like a torch. I can’t have been the only chap who had a crush on her. It was probably unrealistic anyway but it soon became a no-go when Brian turned up. You could tell what would happen straight away and it wasn’t long before it did. And you couldn’t be jealous, they were just so perfect for each other. They had a kind of aura you couldn’t get inside. Brian absolutely adored her, you could tell that a mile off. Sometimes you’d be embarrassed to be with them. Not because they’d be smooching or anything. You just knew that, as soon as you left, they would be. They seemed to be waiting to be alone. Then they had Carolyn and they seemed even closer. She was the spit of her mother. When Hannah died, well, you didn’t need to be a psychologist to guess what would happen to Brian.’

  We were interrupted by more footsteps, which turned into a knock at the door. The school secretary with some forms for the deputy head to sign. I was disorientated by what Fanshawe had told me. The picture of Brian Oliver didn’t fit. Not with the picture I had now. I thought of how he’d conned me. It was obvious that I wasn’t the only one. I felt the need to enlighten my host, but I didn’t know if I had the right.

  ‘How did she die?’ I asked, when the door was shut. Was it MS, like Brian Oliver had told me, weeping at my desk?

  ’Hannah?’ Fanshawe reached for his tea. Almost diffidently he said, ‘Oh, she drowned.’

  ‘Drowned? Where?’

  ‘North Wales, somewhere. It’s very accessible from here. One of the rivers up there. They’d gone up there for the day, to a beauty spot I believe.’

  ‘What happened? Did she fall in?’

  ‘No,’ Fanshawe said. ‘No. She went into the river on purpose.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Well, it’s been a long time and I’m not sure of the details. Oh, what am I saying? I know exactly what happened. It’s as if it happened last week. They were walking along a path when Hannah said she was cold.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘Brian and Hannah.’ Fanshawe sighed. ‘And Carolyn. They hadn’t gone far so Brian offered to go back to the car, to fetch a coat.’

  ‘And?’

  And he went. He went to get it. But before he did, he told Carolyn not to go near the water. She was what? Five or six. I remember him insisting to me. The river was in spate and he told her quite clearly not to go anywhere near the water.’

  ‘But she did?’

  Fanshawe nodded. ‘Apparently. No one knows how, of course, but she must have got too close and she fell in. Into the river.’

  ‘And Hannah tried to save her?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And she drowned?’

  ‘She got Carolyn to the side, onto a rock. It must have taken a mighty bloody effort because the river was high. That’s where Brian found the little girl, clinging on. But Hannah, she couldn’t hold on herself. She was swept away. Brian was only gone ten minutes. When he came back, it was over.’

  I looked at the deputy head. I was confused. ‘I don’t understand. If Hannah was a grown woman, how could she save her daughter but not make it herself? A rock you say? If the girl could hold on to it, why couldn’t she hold on too?’

  Fanshawe was startled, shocked. As if the answer were obvious. Then his face changed as he realized what he hadn’t told me.

  ‘She was pregnant,’ he said. ‘Eight months pregnant. With their second child. She can’t have been able to hold on, though she must have tried.’

  ‘And Carolyn saw this?’

  Fanshawe didn’t answer. ‘There was a weir a little way downstream and more rocks. Hannah was swept down onto them. That’s where Brian found her. She was…she was… I’m sorry. She was in quite a state, the baby and everything. It must have been a terrible sight.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I wasn’t there, of course, but I could almost see it in Brian’s eyes, reflected there. I went round to see him that night, as soon as I heard. And quite frankly it was one of the worst nights of my life. The look on his face. I can’t describe it to you. All I can say is that from that moment on it never, ever, left him.’

  ‘Did you see Carolyn?’

  ‘That night? No,’ Fanshawe said. ‘She was up in her room. I asked Brian if she was all right but he didn’t seem to hear me. He just kept saying, “I told her. I told her.” I could tell that he blamed her. I wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t, that she was only a child, but he was in such a state. I think he found it very difficult to be with her after that. I mean, with her every day. As I say, Carolyn looked a lot like her mother. I think Brian kept getting reminded.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And so did she. He reminded her almost every night. He reminded her over and over again.’

  When I left Sam Fanshawe, after thanking him for his time, I told him to write down my warrant number. My old warrant number. Your head will never check, I told him. Fanshawe agreed that I was probably right and he did what I said. He fussed around for the right book to put it in and I bit my lip. I still hadn’t told him about the abuse his friend had inflicted on his daughter. I didn’t much want to – the episode seemed to have affected him a lot as it was – but I didn’t like to think of him reading it in the paper in a month from now, and realizing that I’d kept it from him. As he shook my hand at the door I filled him in, told him how Oliver had dealt with his wife’s death. The breath went out of Fanshawe and he looked nauseous.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ he just managed to say.

  ‘I’m not saying you did.’

  ‘I knew he wasn’t a perfect father after what happened. That she wasn’t loved, Carolyn, not at all.’ He shook his head. ‘And you know what? And this is terrible: I’m not surprised. You’re telling me what my friend did to his daughter and I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t have been then, not really. What does that say about me? Christ.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve only just realized. All these years. I got images of Hannah being swept away every time I saw Carolyn, every time I saw her empty, expressionless face. She wasn’t just a quiet girl, Mr Rucker. There was something about her. As if she were empty inside, a machine almost. I never liked her and I thought it was just who she was. But it wasn’t. Every time I marked her neat, acceptable, average bloody homework I remembered what Brian had told me. He told her not to go near the water. He told her. I blamed her for what happened just like he did. She was six years old and I blamed her too.’

  * * *

  Back on the train I sat in first class again. I was the only person in the entire carriage and I was glad. As the inky silhouette of the countryside ran past my eyes, taking me back to the city, I let everything I’d heard run through my mind. I was left with a shivering, traumatized, terrified little girl sitting alone in her room, needing someone to soothe the images out of her brain. Those first hours were probably the most important, the most damaging of all. I remembered something Cherie had told me while she had my balls in her hand and was trying to make me share her pain. She had no toys, no dolls, nothing. I called John Hammond and he confirmed it. Nothing was found in the girl’s bedroom after the fire but a bed. Not even a poster on the wall. Hammond had assumed her father had taken them down to decorate or something. But he hadn’t. Brian Oliver, in his anger, in his bitterness, had taken everything away from his daughter. Everything, no doubt, but the pictures in her head.

  I called Sharon and told her I’d be staying at mine tonight. She said she understood and asked me how I was. I said fine and hung up but what I really felt was flat and tired. Worst of all, helpless. Helpless because there was nothing I could do for the little girl in the room on her own, dreading the sound of footsteps on the stair. It was over for her. She was dead
. I had to push her from my mind. I had to do everything I could to try to stop the thing that she’d turned into, stop it before it found out about Sharon, or else invented a reason to kill another woman. I’d always intended to find Cherie before the police did. Now I knew that I had to. It wasn’t just that she might get off in court. I knew Andy would be working on Sharon, trying to get her to act as some kind of bait. I had to find Cherie before that happened. How I did it was another matter.

  I thought about it for three hours, staring out into the rushing darkness. I didn’t have a clue. I had no idea at all. It was a race, between Clay and myself. He had an F1 team behind him. I had a knackered old Mazda. I couldn’t think of any way to beat him. I carried on racking my brains, though, and didn’t stop once I was back at my flat, staring out onto the street at Fred’s.

  And that’s when the answer came to me.

  I picked up my phone on the second ring.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ‘Mr Rucker?’ It was an unfamiliar baritone.

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘A mutual friend gave me your number.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The lovely Sally Sullivan.’

  I nodded to myself. ‘I see.’

  ‘She asked me to call you. She told me that you might be willing to pay for some information. Would she be right?’

  I sat back in my chair and thought about it. It was depressing. What could the 22 give me now? As Andy said, we knew who had picked Denise Denton up. I was annoyed at myself for not getting Sally to phone the 22 back, to tell them not to bother speaking to the hooker I’d tussled with. I didn’t want them giving her grief.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s too late. I wanted a description of someone but I don’t need it now. The person I was looking for, I know who it is.’

  ‘How clever of you,’ the voice said. ‘I’ll tell Penny to skip the description part. It’s a good thing, actually, she’s not what you’d call articulate. You’ll find that out when you meet her.’

  I frowned. ‘Meet her? Why would I want to meet her? As I say, I’ve got an ID, so I don’t need to know what the person looked like, the person she must have seen.’

  ‘I understand that. As I say, she can forget the description. But, my friend, Penny has more than that.’

  ‘More? What more?’

  ‘She has an address,’ the voice said with mock patience.

  ‘An address? How did she get it?’

  ‘She’ll tell you that herself. When, I repeat, you meet her. After you’ve handed over the money. A lot of money. Well, are you interested?’

  I’d sat up but I felt my shoulders beginning to slump again. ‘Not if the address is on the Camden Road near King’s Cross,’ I said. ‘I’ve got that too. I’ve been there.’

  ‘King’s Cross? No. It’s nowhere near there. This is way across town. Mr Rucker, I was told you were serious.’

  ‘I am. Yes. It’s not the Camden Road?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake. The police have put up a reward, you know?’

  ‘OK, OK. She has an address. I want it. But how do I know it’s legit? What if it’s rubbish?’

  ‘It isn’t. You have my word. You see, Penny would never lie to me. About anything. She, like everyone else who knows me, is fully apprised of what would happen if she did.’

  ‘OK then. Yes.’ I tried not to sound too excited. But I was excited. The phone creaked and I realized I was gripping hold of it as tightly as I could. ‘I want it, definitely. There’s no need for the police. Just tell me where and when?’

  ‘Where? Number 74 Poland Street. Top buzzer. When? Tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘What’s wrong with now? Or later tonight?’

  ‘The boys in blue, that’s what. The ones you, I believe, have caused to swarm all over us. Penny has to be careful not to be spotted, and they’re still everywhere. I think she can move tomorrow.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Between four and six. She’ll be here if you come then. No later. I’ve heard a lot about you, William, and not just from Mrs Sullivan. I’m looking forward to our meeting.’

  ‘Who am I speaking to?’

  ‘Me?’ The voice sounded outraged. ‘Didn’t Sally tell you? I was pretty sure she would have. Oh well. Listen carefully and remember. You’re having the pleasure of speaking to Charlie Baby.’

  * * *

  I took three Percodans before getting into bed. I wouldn’t have slept otherwise. I called Sharon when I woke and we chatted, not about anything. The police were still there. Nothing had happened. She was bored. I didn’t know when I’d be round but she understood. I said I loved her. She made a joke but agreed that she loved me too before telling me please to be careful. Whatever I was doing.

  ‘You have to think about your own safety more now. You know that, don’t you?’

  I told her that I did.

  Mid-morning I made myself eat brunch at Fred’s, sitting under one of those heat lamps that are supposed to give London a more European feel. Which they will do. When the seas rise because of the heat they kick out it’ll be just like Venice. I spent a little while gazing down the Market, watching Grace, the huge bag lady who comes down the street most days to see what the bins have to offer. I saw her empty one out onto the pavement, then walk off with two smeared magazines for some reason. She left the pavement the way it was, covered with filth, and it made me think of Cherie. No matter what terrible things led you to the place you found yourself, you still had responsibilities, you could still decide what was the best way to behave. You can only blame other people for what they did, not for what you do in their name. The crap Grace had left began to blow down the Market but I didn’t do anything about it. I had my own clearing up to do. Soon it had nearly all dispersed and the people walking up and down the street didn’t seem to notice. It had blended right in.

  I spent the rest of the day upstairs in my flat until it was time to leave.

  * * *

  The ground floor of 74 Poland Street housed a digital processing company dealing mainly with animation. Their window featured several cut-outs of cartoon characters from films and computer games. The latest fantasy female was running straight towards me, brandishing an Uzi as well as two oversized nipples. She looked like she could do more damage with them than the machine gun.

  Number 74B advertised itself as a model agency. The top buzzer had no name on it at all. I waited while two guys in their forties wearing the same clothes as the kids on Exmouth Market walked past before hitting it.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s Rucker. Billy Rucker.’

  ‘To see?’

  ‘Charlie Baby.’

  ‘On the recommendation of whom?’

  ‘Sally Sullivan.’

  ‘And what is the name of the other party, the person you want to talk to?’

  ‘Penny.’

  ‘Good,’ the voice replied as a buzzer sounded. ‘That’s not what it is but it’s what you were told. Walk right up the stairs.’

  I pushed the door and entered a narrow passageway. At the top of the stairs I was met by a door that looked like it belonged on the inside of a nuclear submarine. It was aluminium grey, studded with rivets that had been painted over. There were three locks to it, two at the usual height and one about eye level. Doubtless there would be inside bolts as well. I imagined that without the correct equipment it would be almost impossible to breach the door and get inside. Or, once you were inside, to get out again.

  I could also see a peephole but it remained covered. A security camera pointed down at me from the top left-hand corner.

  ‘Wait a second,’ a muffled voice told me. ‘You came alone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sally said you wouldn’t be stupid enough to invite the police. She was right, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Of course.’

  I’d been concerned about being tailed in the last few days but not overly so because I hadn’t been going anywhere I minded the police knowing about
. Today I minded. I’d driven an incredibly circuitous route to get to Poland Street and if Andy had got a car on me I was sure I’d lost it. I began to think that actually he was telling the truth. He hadn’t. In the last few days I’d had no sign of anyone on me, either behind a wheel or on foot. The only presence was the van outside my flat, which had still been there when I’d got home at midnight and was there when I left for Soho. I found it very strange. There was my safety to consider but what about any leads I might dig up? They must have thought that I couldn’t help, that they were way ahead of me. If they did they were wrong.

  ‘OK. I saw you park that excuse for a motor and no one else followed you. You didn’t use your phone to call anyone. Take a step back. That’s unless you want six inches of galvanized steel in your face.’

  The door swung open without a sound and I stepped forward into a room, the size of which astounded me. It was at least a hundred feet in each direction, as wide, I realized, as the production facility downstairs. The floor was a dark hardwood block tile, patched by rectangles of light. The light could have come from four huge windows on the far wall but these were completely covered by heavy drop blinds in a light coffee colour. Instead it came from a series of roof lights, thick glass panels that could also be covered but were not at present. The man who had opened the door to me was by no means small but he was dwarfed by the space behind him. As my eyes took in the room he grinned.

  ‘What do you think?’

  I shrugged. ‘That someone would have to run a lot of girls who gave a lot of head to afford this kind of place.’

  ‘You’d be right. Not just the cock bags either. Gear shifters too. I’ve got a lot of people helping me on my way. Lucky, aren’t I?’

  ‘So far.’

  ‘So far, indeed. I know this all too well. Which is why I’m renowned for taking such extreme measures to protect my good fortune. Won’t you come in?’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. I recognized the voice but I thought I’d ask anyway. ‘Are you Charlie or do you work for him?’