by Jane Casey
I went. I hung the jacket on the end of the stairs, looped the tie around the newel post and left the shoes on the bottom step. For want of anything more useful to do I sat on the floor and sorted the post. Looking at the postmarks, it was a couple of months since anyone had done the same. I ended up with a small stack of bills and letters that went on the hall table, and a heap of junk mail.
The kitchen was at the back of the house, down a flight of steps. I put the lights on and whistled. It was huge, impeccably fitted, expensively done. A marble floor, black granite worktops, designer lighting. There was no fruit in the bowls, though, or flowers in the vases. Again I had the sense that Godley hadn’t been living here, even if he’d slept in his bed now and then. I dumped the junk in a bin that seemed to be recycling and prowled, checking the fridge and the cupboards. There was almost nothing to eat in the house.
‘Hungry?’
I whirled around, my heart thumping. ‘You scared the shit out of me.’
‘Sorry.’
‘How is he?’
‘Asleep.’ Derwent was carrying an armful of ties, which he tipped on to the table.
‘What are those for?’
‘In case he tries to hang himself when my back is turned.’
‘He won’t.’
‘He might.’ Derwent looked at me and I caught my breath at the sheer depth of loathing he managed to convey. ‘I didn’t think I’d find him trying to shoot himself in our property store, but there he was. You can’t blame me for not wanting to take any chances.’
‘He could use anything to hang himself. This is what – a four-storey house? He could throw himself out of a window. You can’t keep him safe here if he really wants to kill himself. But I don’t think he really does.’
‘What was that back at the office, a cry for help? It looked to me like he meant it.’
‘He did.’
Derwent stared at me for a long time, then seemed to make up his mind. ‘Right.’ He went and got a chair from the table and slammed it down in the middle of the floor. ‘Sit there.’
I did as I was told. He got another one for himself and put it in front of me, uncomfortably close. We were knee to knee when he sat down. An interrogation. Just what I needed. He leaned in, his face inches from mine.
‘No messing. No lies. No bullshit. What do you know that I don’t about the boss? What did you do to him?’
‘It wasn’t me,’ I said quickly, understanding why he was so angry. ‘It’s nothing to do with me. I just happened to find out about it.’
‘Find out about what?’
There was no way around it. ‘Godley’s been working for John Skinner. For years.’
He leaned all the way back in his chair, tilting on the back legs. ‘Fuck off.’
I should have been getting used to that: first Rob, now Derwent. ‘It’s absolutely true. He told me himself.’
‘Pillow talk, was it?’
‘Of course not,’ I snapped. ‘He took me to see Skinner in Wandsworth nick after that horrible shooting in Brixton three years ago – the three lads in the Range Rover. Skinner’s gang was knocking holes in the opposition and Godley wanted him to stop it. I was supposed to be the chaperone, so Godley didn’t have to worry someone would guess he and Skinner were communicating privately. He didn’t think I’d work out what they were talking about, but I did. Godley even said he’d underestimated me. That’s why he’s been off with me. It’s not personal. He just can’t stand that I know the truth about him.’
Derwent regarded me with total disgust. ‘You will say literally anything rather than admit you’ve been shagging him.’
‘I haven’t been shagging him. That’s not even the issue. Didn’t you hear what I said?’
‘It’s not true.’
‘It is. Why do you think Skinner stayed one step ahead of you the whole time you were hunting him, back when you were working on gang crime? Godley was tipping him off every time you got close.’
‘No.’
‘Yes,’ I insisted. ‘You couldn’t get him or his main lieutenants. You tried everything but they were always too quick, or too lucky. But it wasn’t luck. Then Skinner ran away to Spain out of your reach and kept things going by proxy and everything was fine for him until his daughter disappeared and he came back. He was too worried to be careful when he went on his little rampage, trying to find her. There was nothing Godley could do to get him out once we arrested him so Skinner made the best of it, pleaded guilty, and set up again from inside. He never let go of Godley. The best the boss could do was to give him as little information as possible without pissing him off. He tried to be unhelpful without giving away that he wasn’t trying. It was a tough thing to do for so long.’
‘Why the fuck would the boss want to help a scumbag like Skinner at all? He doesn’t need the money. Look at this place. His wife is loaded and he’s not short of a few bob either. That’s not from Skinner.’
‘He was blackmailed. They threatened Serena. He was worried for her safety, and for Isobel. You know they’ll always find something they can use against you. Everyone has a weak point. Skinner found Godley’s. I think he loved getting to make use of him because he knew Godley loathed it. He’s a manipulative prick, as you know.’
‘That’s about all I know.’ Derwent jumped up and started to pace up and down, beside himself. ‘How did I not notice any of this?’
‘Because you love and respect Godley and you wouldn’t have believed it even if you noticed it.’
‘I know him better than anyone.’
‘You know the best version of him. He wouldn’t have wanted you to know about Skinner. The worst thing for him, I think, was thinking how people would change towards him once they knew. He couldn’t stand to lose their respect.’
‘But it wasn’t his fault.’
‘He doesn’t see it that way. He thinks he should have taken the risk.’
‘Not with someone else’s life,’ Derwent said. ‘Not Serena’s.’
‘He adores her. I don’t know how much you heard in the property store but he worships her. The whole divorce thing was his way of saving her. He must have made her move out of the house so Skinner didn’t know where to find her.’
‘Why now?’ Derwent asked.
‘Because Skinner pushed him too far and he’d had enough. Godley told Skinner he was stopping. Don’t you remember how happy he was up to Dornton’s wedding? And then after we’d been to see Julie Hammond he was doom in a suit?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Skinner sent him a message to tell him that he wasn’t allowed to quit. I actually saw it but I didn’t know what it meant until later. Hammond was the first murdered policeman. Then the rest.’
‘All to put pressure on the boss?’
I nodded. ‘And he’d had enough. He decided to put an end to himself rather than go on.’
‘He should have talked to me.’
‘You are the last person he’d have told.’
‘You should have talked to me.’
He was still angry with me. ‘I wanted to. I didn’t know what to do, though.’
‘You should have reported him.’
I jerked my head back in surprise. ‘I’d have destroyed him.’
‘You stupid tart,’ Derwent said coldly. ‘What he did was so illegal – so wrong – that you don’t want to be standing near him when he gets found out, let alone complicit in it.’ He leaned on the kitchen worktop, his hands over his eyes, and groaned.
‘That’s not fair,’ I said, angry now. ‘You know what would have happened if I’d turned whistle-blower. I’d have been screwed. My reputation would have been damaged by association anyway. No one likes a grass, do they?’
A glint from Derwent. ‘That’s surprisingly selfish. I’d have seen you as the martyr type, willing to die for what was right.’
‘It wasn’t just about me. Godley’s career would have been over too. He’s a good police officer – the best I’ve ever worked with. He was doing so much
that was right, I didn’t want to be the one to point out what was wrong.’
Derwent covered his eyes again. ‘Just shut up. I’m trying to think. I have to sort this out and I don’t want to throw either of you out of the lifeboat. Although don’t think I’m not tempted.’
The minutes wore by. I managed not to make any smart remarks about how hard it was to think when you weren’t used to it. Eventually Derwent straightened up and took out his phone.
‘This is what should have happened the minute you found out about Skinner.’ He gave me a filthy look as he scrolled through the contacts. ‘You think you know everything, Kerrigan, but you have a lot to learn.’
I stayed silent, afraid to move off my chair.
It was Serena’s number he was looking for, it transpired, and he got hold of her immediately. His voice softened as he spoke to her.
‘I’m at your house. I’m sorry, I don’t have time to explain what’s happening, but Charlie needs you.’
There was a short pause.
‘No, I promise you, that’s not true. I can’t tell you what’s been happening but he does love you. He never stopped. He was trying to keep you safe.’
Another pause.
‘Serena – Serena, just come, all right? I want you to be here when he wakes up. No, he’s not okay, but he’s not injured. He just needs you. Okay. See you soon.’ He hung up. ‘She’ll be here in twenty minutes.’
‘Right,’ I said, watching him choosing another number. ‘Who are you calling now?’
‘Never you mind.’ He walked out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. I stayed where I was, feeling small and stupid and wronged. I hadn’t asked to be let into Godley’s secret. I hadn’t wanted the responsibility. I hadn’t known what to do with it, either, once I had it, but that was the burden I’d carried. It was easier to be blind, I thought. Easier to believe the best of people, and not ask the questions that had uncomfortable answers. I wished with all my heart I was capable of not caring. Life would have been so much easier if I could have just stayed out of other people’s business. Doing that, though, would kill off something so fundamental to me that I wouldn’t be me any more. Was that what Derwent would prefer?
I was shivering by now. All the marble in the kitchen made it as cold as an ice rink. I got up and hunted for the boiler or a control pad for the central heating. It had to be somewhere but I couldn’t find it. I walked around, hugging my arms around myself to ward off the cold. I took out my phone and looked at it. I could call Rob …
I shouldn’t.
I should tell him what was going on.
He should call me to apologise.
I could text him.
That was essentially the same as calling him. And I wasn’t calling him.
Eventually I made a pot of coffee and drank two cups too quickly, and wondered if I was developing cardiac arrhythmia from the combination of stress and caffeine.
Derwent came back in, still on the phone. He liked to wander when he was talking. I couldn’t guess from the monosyllables he was uttering what the conversation was about, or who was on the other end of the line. He did one circuit of the kitchen island and looked at me, his head on one side. What’s wrong?
I rubbed my arms and mouthed, ‘Cold.’
‘Of course,’ he said into the phone, shrugging his jacket off. ‘I’d have thought so.’ He came over and slung the jacket over my shoulders, not even looking at me. He drifted out again, rolling up his sleeves as he went. I wrapped myself up in the jacket, wondering if I should get him to have a go at sorting out global warming while he was in problem-solving mode.
My own phone buzzed. I hooked it out of my back pocket. DCI BURT flashed on the screen.
‘Oh, hell no.’ I muted it and watched until the call went to voicemail. Derwent came back in while I was listening to her message.
‘Who are you calling?’
‘No one. Burt called me.’
‘What did she want?’
‘To know what’s going on.’ I weighed my phone in my hand. ‘What do I do?’
‘Call her back.’
‘What?’
‘Tell her the boss was taken ill. He asked me to take him home and you came along to help nurse him.’
‘I’m not saying that. She thinks I’m sleeping with him too.’
‘Unsurprisingly,’ Derwent said, as if I had deliberately misled them and only had myself to blame.
‘I’ll say I came along to help you. That’s true, basically.’
‘Tell her it’s flu or exhaustion or something but we don’t want to leave him. Tell her we’ll be back in the office in two hours after the doctor has seen him.’
‘Will we be back then?’
Derwent shrugged. ‘I don’t care. I just don’t want her turning up here. Go on. Call her back.’
I did as I was told, focusing on an empty fruit bowl so Derwent didn’t put me off while I was talking to her. I more or less gave the impression that I was with Godley and therefore couldn’t speak for long, or very loudly. The second time she said, ‘But I don’t understand why you couldn’t come back upstairs before you left to tell me what was going on,’ I told her I had to go. I hung up before she could protest.
‘Good work,’ Derwent said.
‘I don’t think she believed me.’
‘She definitely doesn’t trust you, and why would she? You’re the skinny whore who’s sleeping with the boss.’
A noise from the doorway made us both jump. Serena had let herself in without us hearing her. She looked fragile in a huge jumper and narrow jeans, and she was much thinner than the last time I’d seen her. She was still utterly ravishing – delicate features, huge blue eyes, immaculate fair hair.
‘Serena.’ Derwent went over to her and put his arms around her. She clung on to him, her face anxious.
‘What’s happening, Josh? What’s going on?’
‘Charlie’s not doing so well. He’s been working hard and – well, someone’s been threatening him. The stress has really got to him. He had a bit of a breakdown at work. We’re sorting it out, so please don’t worry, but I think he needs you.’
‘Who is she?’ Serena was staring at me.
‘A colleague. Detective Constable Kerrigan.’
‘We’ve met before.’ But that was at a Christmas party and I’d been a lot less dishevelled. There was no hint of recognition on Serena’s face.
‘She managed to stop Charlie doing something very stupid today,’ Derwent said. ‘We’re lucky she was there.’
Serena was still glaring at me and I played back the bit of conversation she’d overheard. The direct approach seemed necessary.
‘Sir, would you mind explaining to Mrs Godley that you were joking about me sleeping with the boss?’
‘Oh, shit. Yes. It was just a joke.’ Derwent gave Serena a little shake. ‘He’s been missing you something chronic.’
‘Really?’ She looked as if she was on the verge of tears.
‘Truly. I’ve been getting shit from him pretty much every day. Thank God you’re back.’
‘I don’t know. I have to see Charlie. I’m not back really.’ She drifted into the kitchen and started putting on lamps, pulling a face as she looked into the sink. ‘God, how has he been living?’
‘Not well,’ Derwent said. ‘He needs you.’
‘Oh …’ She even cried beautifully, I noted. ‘If you’re right and he wants me back, of course I’ll come. I never wanted to go in the first place.’
‘Do you want to go upstairs? He’s asleep at the moment, but—’
‘I want to be with him.’ She headed back into the hall where she paused for a second to open a cupboard I hadn’t noticed. A hum filled the air.
‘Is that the central heating coming on?’ I asked Derwent.
‘Sounds like it.’
‘Thank God.’
‘I see. My jacket’s not good enough for you.’
‘It’s not keeping my nose warm,’ I said. ‘Or my ea
rs.’
Derwent laughed. ‘Well, keep it anyway. I don’t need it.’ He was keyed up, moving around all the time as if he couldn’t keep still. He kept checking his watch.
‘What’s up? What are you waiting for?’
He tapped his nose instead of telling me and went out again. I waited a couple of minutes and went after him, not as scared of his rage as I had been. He was putting on lights in the big reception room that ran the length of the house. It was beautifully arranged with small sofas and antique chairs and a huge marble fireplace in each half of the room.
‘Expecting company?’ As I said it the doorbell rang.
I fully expected Derwent to send me to answer it but he didn’t. He hared past me, giving me a pat on the bottom as he went. ‘Showtime.’
I hesitated, wondering if I was supposed to go back to the kitchen or if I could stay. I found a chair near the back of the room, beside a radiator that was lukewarm but better than nothing. If Derwent wanted me gone, I would be kicked out quickly. If not, I wanted to know what was going on.
The door opened to admit two anonymous men, blank-faced and grey-suited, who nevertheless intimidated the life out of me as they walked into the sitting room. Behind them came a man I did recognise: Nigel Williams, the Met assistant commissioner who I’d last seen in the Maudling Estate. Derwent brought up the rear and shut the door. I got a glance from him and a look that I couldn’t interpret, but he didn’t tell me to leave.
‘This is highly irregular.’ One of the grey men had settled himself in an armchair by the fireplace. He slung a foot over the opposite knee. ‘I hope there’s a good explanation.’
‘The explanation is that Charles Godley is in a bad situation,’ Derwent said. ‘Not his fault, and not the point of what we’re doing here.’
‘What are we doing here?’ Nigel Williams demanded.
‘Gentlemen, we have a unique opportunity. We can use it, or lose a good police officer for ever.’
‘An opportunity?’ Grey man two had a surprisingly deep voice. ‘Tell me what that may be.’
Rapidly, Derwent sketched in the background: how Godley had been passing information to Skinner, and why, and for how long.