(2013) The Catch

by Tom Bale

  ****

  After Robbie walked out on her, Maureen Heath stewed for a couple of hours. She knew she wanted satisfaction – revenge might be a better word – but was unsure of the best way to achieve it. She was also aware that Bree was a conniving little bitch, and could in future use her knowledge of this morning’s disaster to humiliate Maureen within their little circle.

  Having worked herself into an indignant rage, Maureen called Donna. Donna was a proper mate, but unlike the rest of them her marriage remained blissfully happy after thirty-two years. Donna and Mike still whispered and canoodled like a pair of horny teenagers.

  Donna answered the call like the trouper she was, coming round with chocolate cake and a decent bottle of red wine. Maureen had already knocked back a couple of vodkas, so even one glass of vino was enough to convince her that she ought to tell Donna everything.

  That marked something of a departure. Up till now the rest of them had agreed it was best not to burden Donna with the details of their sometimes ‘complicated’ love lives. It’s for her own sake, they all stressed. It’s not fair to weigh her down, not when she can’t keep a secret. Every word you tell her gets passed straight to Mike.

  But today it seemed like an insult that they’d kept such things to themselves. Donna was part of the gang. She had a right to know.

  Of course, it helped that Donna’s husband wasn’t particularly close to Maureen’s other half. Whereas Mike and Bree’s hubby, that was a whole different story. Mike and Jim were the very best of buddies and had been for years.

  In fact, Maureen couldn’t imagine those two ever keeping secrets from each other.

  ****

  Stemper knew the Blakes were dissatisfied with his performance. Not sufficiently dissatisfied to dispense with his services – on that score he was safe, not least because they had nowhere else to go – but it was a warning shot. In failing to recover the paperwork, he had let them down. But he’d also made the situation more complicated by killing Caitlin’s former partner.

  Once again he was reminded of Jerry’s gloomy assessment of a curse on Hank O’Brien.

  And everyone who came into contact with him, perhaps.

  Stemper had tried to put such nonsense aside when he set out what the next stage might entail. The Blakes hadn’t baulked at the prospect of extreme measures, so now Stemper had to make it happen. Increase the pace, increase the pressure, even though it meant ignoring the voice of caution.

  He had no choice. He had painted himself into this corner, and only he could extricate himself.

  CHAPTER 80

  Dan walked as far as Roedean, then climbed the steps to the clifftop and caught a bus into Brighton. He’d reached the stage where he’d been alone with his thoughts for long enough, but equally couldn’t face returning home. He wasn’t yet ready to break the news of the separation to his aunt.

  He got off the bus at Churchill Square, crossed the road and climbed the hill. He tried not to think about where he was heading, because this really wasn’t a wise thing to do. But then she’d probably be out, in which case wisdom didn’t come into it.

  He rang the doorbell. Caught himself clenching and unclenching his hands.

  ‘Who is it?’

  Cate’s voice – although he wasn’t immediately certain of that.

  ‘It’s me. Dan.’ Now his own voice sounded strange, and the very bad feeling was suddenly crystallised in his mind: Don’t go inside there are too many things you mustn’t discuss and you know you’ll crack if she pressures you—

  ‘Dan. Sorry. Come in.’

  The door opened. Cate was clinging to it with one hand, the other gripping the security chain that hung from the frame. He took a step forward, but had to wait for her to realise she was blocking his path. Her face was ashen, and she looked years older, somehow.

  She stood back, tried a smile. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Cate, are you all right?’ It was clear that something terrible had happened. He wondered if somehow she had discovered the truth about Tuesday night.

  Then she said, ‘Not really. I’ve just found out that Martin’s dead.’

  ****

  Cate saw the way it hit him: as if he’d tensed in anticipation of a blow to the stomach, only to be punched in the face. It was the same kind of reaction that had crippled Cate when Janine sprang the news on her.

  To think that on Friday evening she had been threatened, harangued, almost assaulted by her ex-husband: in the aftermath of their fight she would gladly have wished him gone from her life, but never in this way.

  How hollow and cruel now was her jealousy of Janine, of the baby that Martin’s girlfriend was carrying: a child who would never know his or her father. It put Cate’s own pitiful woes into perspective.

  Once Dan was inside, she shut the front door and summoned the effort to walk into the living room. No: the kitchen. She had to offer him refreshments, as though this was a normal visit, a normal day.

  But there was something wrong with Dan, too. It wasn’t just her revelation that was making him appear so uneasy.

  She said, ‘I take it you didn’t already know?’

  ‘God, no. How did he ...?’

  ‘I don’t have many details. He was stabbed, yesterday afternoon. In the North Laines.’

  He drew in a breath. ‘I saw that on the news. I never dreamt ...’

  ‘You don’t.’ Cate shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. ‘It’s always somebody else’s tragedy, isn’t it?’

  At that, Dan seemed to shudder. She took this as her cue to ask: ‘What’s been happening with you?’

  Embarrassed, he said, ‘Hayley and I have split up.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I thought you had plans for marriage, buying a coffee shop together?’

  ‘Turns out she was never really interested in the cafe idea. I don’t know.’ He grinned, trying to make light of it. ‘Probably for the best to end it now, while we’re still young. No mortgage, no kids—’

  ***

  It was such a clumsy thing to say, Dan wanted to headbutt the wall. He knew from Robbie that Cate’s split from Martin had been largely to do with having children. Cate had been in favour, Martin hadn’t.

  Now her whole face seemed to crumple. Big bright tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She shook her head as he went to apologise.

  ‘H-his girlfriend, Janine ... she’s pregnant.’

  There wasn’t any more to be said, or any consolation that Dan could offer, other than to put his arms around her. She moved into the embrace as if they had been designed to fit together, and the awkwardness he so often felt in her company dissolved in an instant. He clung to her as much as she to him, their bodies pressed so tightly together it was almost painful, as though they were forcing the comfort from one another.

  It seemed to go on for a long time, but Dan tried not to count the seconds. He didn’t want to miss the experience in recording its passing, or ruin it by becoming self-conscious.

  Before that could happen, he kissed her. His hand stroked her hair, gently cupping the back of her head while he placed a kiss on her forehead. She answered it with a playful squeeze, so he kissed her again, on the forehead, the temple, the cheek, each kiss lasting a fraction longer, his movements slow, deliberate: it seemed important that he didn’t startle her.

  The same instinct had him relaxing his hold, making it clear she could break away if it was unwelcome, if he’d misjudged. But Cate’s response was to pull him closer, her face turning, guiding him towards her mouth, to the kiss that mattered more than all the rest.

  Dan believed it was the most desperate and the most generous, the hungriest and most nourishing kiss he’d ever had. He kept his eyes open, and so did Cate, their gazes locked in silent communication: Here and now, this is the right thing, the best thing that can happen.

  ****

  They broke apart, just to snatch a breath, and then they were back together, the kisses long and deep and thrill
ing. Once or twice a voice in Cate’s head tried to assert itself: This is a mistake. You might love Dan, but you’ll never be in love with him. You’ll break his heart.

  But those were long-term considerations – and besides, weren’t all hearts broken in the end? More immediate was the pleasure of feeling his body against hers, the way his hands moved, his touch firm and strong; the expert kisses, the way they ignited her lust for sex with him, with somebody.

  That was the brutal truth – the basic imperative for human contact – but for now Cate was able to brush it aside, even when they paused again and she saw how different it was for him: that hint of a cheeky grin, putting her in mind of a jubilant schoolboy who can barely credit that his wildest dream is coming true.

  ‘Robbie used to tease me about how much you fancied me,’ she said.

  ‘He teased me, too. Said I must need my eyes testing.’

  ‘Well, he’s got a point these days. I’m practically an old woman.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I look dreadful.’

  ‘No. You look upset. But you’re beautiful. You always will be.’

  She had to kiss him again, before he made her cry. Another of her brother’s criticisms came to mind: that she was too cautious, always having to stop and analyse everything. Sometimes it was better to take a leap into the unknown. As Robbie liked to say: If something feels right, just do it.

  Cate pulled away from the kiss. Dan looked disappointed until he registered the wicked gleam in her eyes.

  ‘Bedroom. Now.’

  CHAPTER 81

  Stemper caught only a brief glimpse of Caitlin’s visitor as the man entered the house. If he’d arrived a few seconds earlier he might have had a clearer look. As it was, he tormented himself with the thought that this could be a contender for the second man in the pub on Tuesday night. If only Traci’s description had been more detailed.

  Equally, Stemper couldn’t rule out that the man was a police officer, visiting Caitlin in connection with yesterday’s murder. Loitering near the home of the victim’s former partner was asking for trouble, but of course the Blakes knew nothing about that. No doubt they’d want him to burst into the house and threaten the couple with their lives, which was well within his capabilities, of course. But was it the right thing to do?

  Ultimately, he decided, it wasn’t. He explored the area on foot and found there was no access to the back of the building. Keeping a watch on the front was made difficult by the lack of hiding places and a shortage of on-street parking. He had to keep circling the block, sometimes in the car, sometimes on foot. This method held the risk that he’d miss something crucial, but it also meant he was less likely to be noticed.

  Right now – to Stemper if not to the Blakes – that was more important.

  ****

  Jed returned while Robbie was still trawling through paperwork. He ignored the key scratching in the lock, ignored a couple of thumps on the door, but finally had to respond to an angry shout.

  ‘Oy, Robbie. Let us in, ya wanker!’

  Robbie didn’t want grief from the neighbours, so he opened up, claiming the lock was faulty. Jed almost spat with disdain. His pupils were dilated, and he was swaying on his feet like a lamp post in a hurricane.

  ‘Are you off your head?’

  ‘Day of rest, innit?’ Jed slurred. ‘I’m following the orders of the Lord Almighty.’

  He stumbled to the bathroom, left the door wide open while he urinated for about half an hour at full volume, then disappeared into his bedroom.

  ‘Good riddance,’ Robbie muttered, and got back to work.

  According to O’Brien’s journal, the sound files had been recorded at board meetings and small social gatherings when only Templeton’s most trusted colleagues were present. There was a lot of distortion from background noise – chairs shifting and creaking, the clink of crockery, coughs and sniffs and mumbled asides – but through all that emerged stunningly clear evidence that the Templeton group was rigorously fleecing a variety of government departments in the UK and half a dozen other major economies.

  ‘Fucking civil servants,’ Templeton was heard to say. ‘Doesn’t matter where you go, the top brass are just the same. Fat, privileged, self-important, pompous fools. Isn’t that right, Hank – I mean, you were one yourself once, weren’t you?’

  Guffaws from around the table: even Hank, the butt of the joke, was chuckling politely.

  ‘Well, I have repented of that sin, I’m glad to report.’

  ‘Not before time,’ Templeton said. ‘Still, it’s those inflated egos that make it so easy to get one over on them. They equate job security with professional superiority. And at the end of the day it doesn’t matter if they piss away billions of public money. Nobody’s going to take a penny from their gold-plated pensions.’

  Another occasion – a long and boozy lunch. There were a couple of women present, described by Hank as ‘overpriced tarts’, and Templeton couldn’t resist the temptation to boast. ‘Sometimes it feels too bloody easy. There’s no sport in it. They put a contract out to tender, and usually, if you’ve made the right connections beforehand, it’s a done deal. You think of a number, double it, then double it again, and that’s the going rate for the job. And it doesn’t matter if there’s a competitor, because they’re doing the same. In most places there’s only ever two or three companies in contention for the plum jobs – and let’s face it, we all know the score.’

  After listening to several more comments along these lines, Robbie was drawn to ponder the significance of the video file. If Hank had secured such rock-solid leverage on Templeton, why would he take the trouble to film the Blakes?

  The answer made him laugh out loud. Hank, you crafty sod ...

  His phone buzzed again: Bree. But Robbie had no intention of talking to her yet. He had much bigger fish to fry.

  ****

  Bree had to endure lunch at Singing Hills, a golf club near Henfield, with Jim and a couple of his friends who hated her guts. Using her phone in such company was strictly forbidden. When she tried to sneak a look at it in the car park Jimmy had slapped her arm and said, ‘Leave that alone. You’re not a fucking teenager.’

  They were back home around two and Jimmy went for a nap, making it plain that she wasn’t welcome to join him. Bree curled up in front of the TV and checked for messages. Nothing from Robbie. Nothing from Maureen.

  Was that good or bad? Bree couldn’t decide.

  With a glance at the door, she tried Robbie’s mobile. It tripped over to voicemail, so she texted – How did it go? – and waited a whole ten minutes before calling again. Same result.

  She felt nervous now, wary of trying Maureen’s number. But the need to know overcame her fears.

  The phone rang and rang. She was about to give up when Maureen answered.

  ‘All right, Bree.’

  ‘I’ve been dying to hear. How d’you get on?’

  A pause. ‘Yeah, it was an eye-opener.’

  ‘Are you okay? Can you talk?’

  ‘Nah. Sorry, have to catch you later.’

  Bree was staring in dismay at the phone when she heard thumping on the stairs. She just had time to grab a magazine before Jimmy came in, pulling on a jacket.

  ‘I thought you wanted a lie-down?’

  ‘Not tired no more.’ He picked up his keys.

  ‘Where you off to?’

  ‘Drink with Mike.’

  Bree twisted round and sat up, praying that Robbie wouldn’t choose this moment to call back.

  ‘How long’s that been arranged?’

  ‘He just rang, said he needed a word. Soon as.’

  He left the house without kissing her goodbye, which propelled Bree into a sulk. If Jimmy was going to treat her like this, it served him right that she had Robbie to make her feel warm and wanted. In fact, she was almost tempted to pop over to his flat right now ...

  Then she remembered that Robbie had spent the morning screwing Maureen Heath, and he
r enthusiasm waned a little. And with Maureen sounding so ungrateful ...

  Honestly, Bree didn’t know why she tried so hard to help people. She never got the thanks she deserved.

  It’s time you put yourself first for a change, she thought.

  ****

  Dan and Cate raced upstairs, tearing off their clothes with the urgency of desire and perhaps a sneaking awareness that doubts might set in, should they pause to consider what they were doing.

  I’ve known her since I was four, Dan thought. And I’ve wanted to sleep with her since I was about twelve ...

  Only when they were in bed could they afford to slow down, because by then nothing existed except the sensation of each touch. They made love with passion and humour, sometimes solemn and assured, sometimes clumsy and giggling, finding a tempo that suited them equally, their communication enhanced by the deep knowledge of an almost lifelong friendship.

  Then the finish, fast and noisy and uninhibited, as though for that moment they were determined to be strangers to one another: perfect strangers.

  ‘Well,’ said Cate, when they had lain in silence for a few minutes, recovering. ‘That was a bit weird.’

  ‘I thought it was amazing.’

  ‘Oh, me too.’ She moved up on to one elbow, placing her other hand on his stomach. ‘It’s just, I’ve always regarded you as ... well, the brother I wish I had, instead of the one I’ve got.’

  Dan wasn’t sure what to say, and perhaps Cate sensed his reluctance to bring Robbie into the conversation, for she quickly changed the subject.

  ‘So when did you and Hayley split up?’

  ‘This morning.’ He gave her a brief summary of their conversation. ‘She followed me Thursday night, and on the strength of the kiss I gave you in the pub, she concluded that we were having an affair.’