Sins of the Father

by David Harrison

  He was parked in a lay-by on the A27, sipping coffee from a mobile catering van. The car was vibrating slightly from the rush of late afternoon traffic. Light aircraft buzzed overhead, travelling to and from Shoreham airport.

  He examined his face in the driving mirror for signs of injury; there was a mark on his chin where he’d hit the floor. Nick was just under six feet tall, with a slim build and, at thirty-seven, only the beginnings of a paunch. His dark hair was cut short and so far bore no traces of grey. He had warm brown eyes and a slightly lop-sided smile that charmed almost everyone who saw it – Kevin Doyle being a recent exception.

  The encounter had left him bruised but exhilarated. His suspicions had been confirmed when he arrived at the Doyles’ house in Sompting and saw there was plenty of money in evidence: a brand new BMW 3-series coupé on the drive for starters. So how come Lauren had been driving a ten-year-old Ford Escort, bought and insured only a month before the accident?

  The car she’d rear-ended was a Renault Espace containing five people, all of whom had lodged claims for whiplash injuries. Allowing for the vehicle damage, compensation for injury and legal costs, the claim had a reserve of £35,000. He still had a lot of work ahead to prove it was fraudulent, but at least now he knew he was on the right track.

  When he’d finished writing up his notes on the interview, he took out the letter from Howard Franks. The gist was the same as the others, but the tone was becoming harder. Franks intended to proceed with his biography of Eddie Randall, regardless of the family’s objections. It will make uncomfortable reading, the letter warned. I urge you to co-operate with me. At least then you’ll be prepared for what’s to come.

  Nick resisted the impulse to throw it away. His sister, Diana, had convinced him that ignoring Franks was no longer an option. They were supposed to be discussing it tonight.

  Perhaps he and Sarah should pay her a visit, he thought. Maybe go to the pub for an hour or so. That way they might pass a whole evening without fighting.

  Yeah, and a pig might take off from Shoreham.

  ***

  The phone stopped ringing, and in that moment she knew she’d go through with it. The Randall charisma had been denied a chance to work its magic.

  She went back upstairs feeling lighter of heart. Now finish packing and get out before he comes home.

  In the bedroom the phone rang again, and this time she snatched it up. She had anger behind her now. She’d be able to tell him how it really was.

  “Sarah?”

  “Oh, Alex. I thought —”

  “Yes?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you all right? Are you crying?”

  Sarah touched her cheek; evidently she was. She sniffed and rubbed her nose with the edge of her palm.

  “Sarah, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I don’t love him anymore. Sometimes I feel like I hate him. So why is it so difficult to leave?”

  “Leave? You mean you’re walking out on Nick?”

  She looked at the suitcase, almost filled, and nodded. Thank God it was Alex. It gave her a chance to tell someone, and in so doing tell herself.

  “A breathing space.”

  “Ah.” Alex was nothing if not perceptive. In the last few weeks her wisdom had been about the only thing holding Sarah together.

  “In theory this should be an easy decision, but now that I’m about to do it…” She gave a little laugh and thought: Poor Alex. Dumping all this on her.

  “It’s quite natural to feel scared,” Alex said. “This is a chapter closing. Even though it’s an unhappy one, you’ll still grieve at its passing.”

  “Do you think so?” Could she hear doubt in her voice? Was she wavering already?

  “Where are you staying?” said Alex.

  “The Parkside in Eastbourne. Just two nights, to start with.”

  “Do you want some company?”

  “Someone to get slaughtered with? Maybe. Can I call you if I do?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks, Alex. For everything. You’ve opened my eyes.”

  “Don’t mention it. Look, I shouldn’t delay you.”

  “Okay. I’ll be in touch.”

  She finished packing and dragged the case downstairs, all the time expecting to hear Nick’s car on the drive. She had nothing rehearsed if he came face to face with her, but that didn’t worry her now. Two days away, some time to herself, and then maybe she’d invite him to meet somewhere and talk. Nothing ruled in or out.

  It was just after four in the afternoon when she stepped outside. At the end of the road she could see Hove promenade, the beach-huts standing like crenellations, the sea beyond as flat and green as a child’s drawing. The air smelt warm and scented with barley from an offshore breeze. Traffic thundered past on the main road and seagulls cried their sad echoey cries. Everything so settled, so normal, it seemed ludicrous to think she might never come here again.

  ***

  After making the call Alex found her hands were trembling with excitement. This wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Hoped for, maybe. But she certainly hadn’t imagined making an impact so soon.

  Sarah was leaving Nick. Walking out on him. And Alex was to have some of the credit. It meant that certain aspects of her plan would have to be re-worked, but it was undoubtedly a positive development.

  She pondered for a while. She had a few hours to spare. If she used them wisely, she could perhaps consolidate her position. The moment of maximum vulnerability – either you exploited it or you lost it forever.

  Alex was an exploiter. An exploiter par excellence.

  And many other things besides.

  TWO

  When Nick drew up outside his house there was no sign of Sarah’s Peugeot, and all the front windows were shut. He unlocked the front door, wondering if she’d gone to the gym. Perhaps she’d assumed he would be late home, or then again perhaps she hadn’t. However much they might deny it, they were both still trying to avoid one another when they could.

  He checked the answerphone for messages, then dialled 1471 for the last caller. Number withheld. He rang his sister.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to Sarah?”

  “Not since the weekend. Why?”

  “No reason. Is it okay if we come over tonight?”

  “Sure. Do you want dinner?”

  “Best not. Sarah might have something planned.”

  He rang off, aware of the hint of disapproval in Diana’s farewell. She thought Nick was an idiot, jeopardising his marriage the way he’d done. “If Pat ever cheated on me, I’d cut his balls off,” she’d told him.

  He went upstairs, pulling off his shirt and tie. There was an ugly bruise on his stomach where Kevin Doyle’s foot had connected. In the old days, when he was office-bound, he thought it was bad enough taking an earful of abuse over the phone. The threat of physical assault hadn’t been part of the equation when he decided to go freelance as a claims investigator.

  Still, he had been seeking a reaction and he’d got one, so he could hardly complain.

  In the bedroom he stepped out of his trousers and then stopped. Something looked different. He surveyed the room slowly and didn’t get it until the second time round. Normally there were two suitcases stored on top of the wardrobe. Now there was only one.

  He pulled the doors open. He wouldn’t have classed himself as an expert on his wife’s clothes, but an awful lot seemed to be missing. He picked up the phone and called her mobile, expecting it to be switched off. Instead he got a ringing tone, almost inaudible over the beating of his heart.

  “Hello?”

  “Sarah. Where are you?”

  “I’m... I’ve decided to get away.”

  He sat down heavily on the bed, felt his stomach settle a couple of seconds later. “You’re leaving me?”

  No answer. He could hear her breathing rapidly, nervously.

  “Are you coming back?”

  “I don’t know.”
>
  “Where are you going to stay?”

  “A hotel. Don’t ask me where. And don’t call me, please. Give me some time.”

  “What about your job?” Sarah worked for an American bank, based in Brighton.

  “I rang in sick. If I have to, I’ll take some leave or something.”

  “Sarah, come on. Come home and talk about this.”

  “I’ve been waiting three months for you to do that. It’s too late. I have to think it through myself. Make my own decision.”

  He said forlornly, “Is there someone else?”

  “What? You bastard! You’re the one that screws around, not me!”

  The call ended abruptly. Trust him to ask the one question guaranteed to push her over the edge. He re-dialled but the phone was switched off. He cursed himself and lay back on the bed, wondering if he’d lost her forever.

  ***

  Kevin Doyle’s temper was quick to ignite, slow to subside. While it smouldered, no one around him was safe. Today there was only Lauren, and she knew the pattern all too well. After he threw the insurance investigator out he raged for ten minutes, telling her how useless she was, telling her she’d fucked everything up. She cowered and cringed and apologised, but it didn’t stop him lashing out, a fast open-handed blow to the cheek that lifted her off her feet.

  She collapsed and lay still, crying without a sound. If he heard her snivelling he’d want to hit her again, he’d want to kick her and kick her until the anger was out of his system. But the tiny part of his brain that urged caution managed to take control.

  He spun away and checked his phone for messages. Lauren climbed to her feet.

  “I’m really sorry, Kev. Honest. I just never expected him to...”

  “Nah.” He thought of how long he’d spent rehearsing her, all the details about the accident, what the other driver said and did. Never thought the bastard would trap her over the number of gears. Something like that could have caught him out, never mind Lauren.

  He felt his mood softening, and she must have seen it too. She embraced him from behind, nuzzling her head against his shoulder. He could feel the weight of her tits pressed against his back, making his groin tingle. They always had great sex after a fight, Lauren eager to please. Anything he wanted. Tempting.

  But there was also Roger Knight, waiting to hear how the interview went. Roger had been dubious about using Lauren, but Kevin assured him she’d do okay.

  Lauren kissed his neck and said, “What d’you think he’ll say?”

  “He’ll say ‘I fucking told you so’. He’ll say that’s why he’s the ideas man, and I’m just the guy who does the donkey work.”

  “You ain’t scared of him, though.”

  “Course I ain’t,” he growled, and felt her flinch. “But he’s got the set-up, hasn’t he?” The power and the money; not that he could say as much to Lauren.

  She said, “I was thinking, though. It’s not like this bloke’s got any proof.”

  “He’ll look for proof. And we could’ve done without that.”

  She clicked her tongue and held him tight, perhaps so he wouldn’t hit her again. “What’re you gonna do?”

  “I dunno. Stop him making the connection.” Waiting for her next question: How? And finding an answer: Kill him.

  But that was a bit drastic, wasn’t it? At this stage?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  “Babe?” Her hand moved down, slipping easily inside his jogging pants, stroking him the way he liked.

  “I’ve gotta ring him.” But he didn’t push her away.

  “Afterwards...”

  He thought about it, and then nodded. “Put an outfit on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She giggled with what could have been genuine pleasure, gave his cock a friendly squeeze and made herself scarce. Kevin watched her go, adjusted his trousers and then dialled the number.

  ***

  Roger Knight was already in a bad mood. Trapped on the phone to his ex-wife, he heard the crunch of gravel that announced Caitlin’s return. Better if he could conclude their business before she came in, otherwise he’d be facing difficult questions about his conciliatory approach to Lynn’s demands.

  Not that he was particularly happy about them. The trouble was, Lynn held all the aces: Sally, Bridget and Tim, aged fifteen, thirteen and ten. Three wonderful kids living six hundred miles away in Aberdeen and growing more distant by the day. Regular access visits had been agreed by both sides and ratified by the court, but as any divorced parent knows, there are a hundred sneaky ways visits can be sabotaged.

  If Caitlin privately disapproved of his apparent weakness, Kevin Doyle would have one answer: kill the bitch, or at least scare the living hell out of her. But that wasn’t Roger’s style. Besides, if the kids ever suspected him of dirty tactics he’d lose them forever.

  “Any of them about?” he asked.

  “Bridget’s horse-riding and Tim’s in the garden with a couple of his mates. I think Sally’s on her computer.”

  “Will you call her for me?”

  A pause. Then she said, “Not answering. Probably has her headphones on.”

  The front door opened and Caitlin came in, flushed with excitement, strands of blonde hair falling across her face.

  “I’ve got to go, Lynn,” he said. “I’ll send you a cheque.”

  Caitlin’s smile vanished as she registered the weariness in his voice. He put the phone down and she said, “What is it this time?”

  “The holiday. She doesn’t think they’ll have enough spending money.”

  “It’s bloody all-inclusive.”

  He shrugged and looked away.

  “How much?” she asked, more gently now.

  “Five hundred.” He met her eyes, expecting a harsh reaction, but instead there was a grudging smile. “It’s only money.”

  “You’re too soft on them,” Caitlin said, but he could tell she wasn’t cross anymore. They embraced and kissed, then kissed again.

  “How did the audition go?” he asked.

  “Great! I’m through to the next stage. Unofficially.”

  “Well done. Do you want to eat out tonight to celebrate?”

  “No. I want to stay in and celebrate.” There was a sparkle in her eyes that made him laugh.

  “I’m a middle-aged man. I don’t know if I can stand the pace.”

  “Course you can. Anyway, I’ll go on top. You just have to lie there.”

  They were heading towards the living room when the phone rang again. Hoping that Lynn had mentioned the call to Sally, he grabbed up the receiver and a gruff voice said, “It’s me.”

  Roger’s face fell and he almost groaned. Caitlin caught the look and frowned. He mouthed, “Doyle,” and she mimed vomiting, then went into the living room and shut the door behind her.

  “What is it, Kevin?”

  “There’s a problem with the claim.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The fucking investigator from the insurance company.”

  “You told me Lauren could handle it.”

  “She could have, but this guy knew it was a fucking con. He tripped her up.”

  “How badly?”

  “She didn’t admit to nothing, but I had to go in and sort it out.”

  Roger sighed. That sounded too much like a Doyle euphemism.

  “Tell me you didn’t hit him?”

  “It was no more than a tap. I fucking had to. Then I threw him out.”

  “I’m sure that allayed his suspicions.”

  “Yeah yeah. I don’t need any more grief. The thing is, he’s gonna be sniffing all round us now. We need to sort out what we’re gonna do.”

  “I think it’s better if you leave that to me, don’t you?” He could hear Kevin snorting furiously. Nobody else could get away with talking to him like that. “Come to my office tomorrow morning and we’ll discuss it calmly. Okay?”

  Kevin put the phone down without another word. Roger tutted, then entered the livin
g room. Caitlin came in from the kitchen, dangling two bottles of Budweiser by their necks.

  “How was Neanderthal Man?”

  “Extinct, if I had my way.”

  ***

  Sarah wasn’t keen on the idea of drinking alone, but after an hour in her room, brooding on the conversation with Nick, she realised it was a choice between getting out and going insane. Lately home had felt like a prison cell. There was little point in exchanging that for another in the hotel.

  The bar seemed to be full of flabby, tired-looking reps, all of whom turned to watch her enter. Careful not to catch anyone’s eye, she ordered a Coke and chose a table by the window. At the bus stop across the road three teenage girls in skimpy outfits were huddled together, giggling at something on a mobile phone. Sarah thought of her own clubbing days, dolled up to look years older than she was. Now she’d be trying to do the opposite.

  She didn’t consciously register the black Focus when it turned into the car park, but a couple of minutes later, when she turned and found Alex walking towards her, she realised she had been thinking of her friend. She rose from her seat and the two women embraced, Alex pecking her cheek as they broke away.

  “I wanted to see for myself if you were okay. You don’t mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  Alex shrugged off her handbag and examined the room. “Nice place,” she said wryly.

  “Mmm. I’m unscathed so far.” A quick glance confirmed that every man in the room had taken notice of her friend’s arrival. That wasn’t particularly surprising. Alex was a tall and athletic woman with long auburn hair and sharp blue eyes. Her well-tailored trousers and close-fitting top made the most of her swimmer’s physique: long legs, taut stomach, broad shoulders and firm bust.

  “They look like hungry sharks,” Alex said quietly as she sat down.

  “They are now you’re here.”

  As if on a cue, a young man in a Hugo Boss suit sauntered past and nodded. “Ladies.”