by Jane Casey
‘No. Definitely not.’ Pilgrew was jittery with tension. He got up and went into the hall. ‘Jonny? Get down here. Now.’
Now took a minute or two. We sat in silence, staring at Pilgrew, while he stared back. He was squeezing his hands together, over and over again. Not happy. Not at ease.
He knew, I thought.
Jonny Pilgrew walked into the room looking as if he was going to the scaffold. He was white with fear and looked very young in his wine-coloured school jumper and dark grey trousers, a uniform I recognised instantly.
‘I see you go to Uplands School,’ Derwent observed. ‘Are you in Vanessa Hammond’s year?’
‘No. The year above.’ His voice was hoarse and almost inaudible.
‘Do you know her?’ I asked and got a definite headshake in response.
‘Do you know Amy Maynard?’
The boy flinched, visibly. ‘Yes.’
‘Do you know that we’re looking for her?’
He stared at me dumbly. I thought he was going to cry.
‘Who’s Amy Maynard?’ Pilgrew demanded.
‘The student counsellor at Uplands,’ Derwent said. ‘And chief suspect in the murder of Terence Hammond.’
Jonny was so pale I thought he was going to faint.
‘When we saw you at White Valley,’ I said, ‘we didn’t know that Amy Maynard was there too. But her car was in the car park. Was she there to see you?’
‘No.’
‘Why was she there?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t see her.’
‘Were you expecting to see her?’
‘No. I don’t know.’
‘Why did you cut your hair, Jonny?’
He put a hand up to touch it, uncertain.
‘I don’t know why he did, but it was a good thing. He looked ridiculous with it long.’ Pilgrew’s eyes were switching back and forth from me to Derwent, considering what we were saying.
‘Why did you dye it?’ The roots were starting to show already, a line of paler hair that told its own story.
‘I wanted a change.’
‘When did you decide to do it?’
‘A while ago.’
‘After we saw you at the school coming out of Miss Maynard’s room.’
He nodded.
Pilgrew rounded on his son. ‘Why were you having counselling? You’re not gay, are you?’
‘No! Dad, come on.’ Jonny tried to laugh, but he was shaking. ‘Leave it out.’
‘I just don’t understand why you were going for counselling.’
‘Miss Maynard suggested it. She spoke to the sports department about talented people. She thought she could help us. She did hypnosis and stuff. Gave me advice on focusing when I was shooting. She’d read books on sports psychology.’
Which qualified her to teach him precisely fuck all. She’d heard about his talent for shooting and decided she could use him.
‘What a waste of time,’ Pilgrew said dismissively.
Jonny flushed. ‘She was really good.’
‘You like her, don’t you?’ Derwent smiled. ‘I can see why. She’s pretty.’
The boy was scarlet.
‘Did you fancy her?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did she fancy you?’
‘He’s just a kid,’ Pilgrew said.
Derwent gave him a thin smile. ‘He’s a teenager who will be tried as an adult when he is charged with murder. He’ll be looking at a life sentence.’
‘What? What are you talking about?’
Instead of answering, Derwent said, ‘Jonathan Pilgrew, I am arresting you for the murder of Terence Hammond. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Jonny sat down on the edge of the sofa and dropped his head into his hands.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Pilgrew thundered.
‘This is what we think happened,’ I said. ‘Amy Maynard got close to Jonny. She persuaded him to help her. She arranged for him to steal Rex Gibney’s gun and he used it to shoot Terence Hammond, at her request.’
‘Is this true?’ Pilgrew asked his son.
‘He was a bad person. A killer. He’d abused vulnerable kids. He maimed his own son.’ Jonny sounded as if he still couldn’t fathom how evil Terence Hammond had been. I marvelled at the half-truths, the compromised facts that Amy had used to construct her trap. ‘He raped Miss Maynard. She was so brave. She lured him back to the place where it happened and made him think she wanted to be with him again.’
‘And what did you do?’ I asked.
‘I did what she asked me to.’
‘Which was what?’
‘I shot him.’
‘Stop talking,’ Pilgrew said. ‘He needs a solicitor.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘We need to find the gun. We have a search warrant.’ I showed it to Pilgrew who read through it carefully, then handed it back to me.
‘It’s under my mattress,’ Jonny volunteered. ‘In pieces.’
‘I told you to shut up,’ Pilgrew yelled.
‘What’s the point? I did it. They knew it. They were going to find the gun anyway.’ Jonny’s eyes were wet. ‘She asked me to do it and I didn’t want to but I had to. It was different from shooting at a target. A lot different. I didn’t think I could do it – but he was so gross. All over her. Touching her. Pushing her head down so she could—’ He broke off, swallowed, regrouped. ‘The world would be better without him, she said. So I did it. I didn’t want to let her down.’ He stared around at us, moving from one face to another like a lost dog seeking reassurance. He looked very young indeed.
‘It’s all right,’ Derwent said. ‘I understand.’
‘She loves me and I love her.’
‘Has she been in touch with you, Jonny?’ Derwent’s voice was quiet, in contrast to the boy’s father. ‘Do you know where she is?’
‘No.’ But he put a hand up to rub his upper lip just after he said it, and we all saw the panic in his eyes. Not a practised liar. Not a good one. But very useful to us indeed.
‘Do you think she’s going to show?’
‘She has to. She needs the money.’ I watched the crowds milling around the shops, fast-food stands and entertainment arcades that filled the Trocadero. It was one of the busiest places in London, just off Shaftesbury Avenue, and Amy Maynard couldn’t really have picked a more difficult place for surveillance. There were too many exits and too many places to hide. The only good thing about it was that the undercover officers who were loitering in key locations had plenty of cover. No one would have noticed twenty extra people standing around, not doing much. Even if they were on edge, as Amy presumably would be.
We were standing opposite the escalators that led up to the cinema complex on the second floor. It was where Amy had suggested Jonny could meet her, to hand over the £1,200 in cash he’d taken out of his bank account over the previous few days.
‘Do you think she’ll be on time?’ I asked.
‘He’s her lifeline. I’d imagine so.’
‘Do you think she’ll show herself if she doesn’t see him?’
Derwent scowled. ‘She’d better. I still think it’s bollocks that we weren’t allowed to use him.’
‘He’s a child.’
‘Old enough to kill. Old enough to be tried as an adult.’
I scanned the scene in front of me, trying to see if the undercover officers stood out. A male and female officer were having a deeply intimate conversation while looking over each other’s shoulders. Another, a tall black guy, was talking on his phone. Two bulky men in bomber jackets strolled across the concourse holding cups of coffee. To me, they were obviously police. But in the milling crowds we might just get away with it.
Derwent was scanning the scene too. ‘Where is she?’
‘I don’t know.’ A few minutes passed as we watched and waited, the
tension twisting in my gut. I couldn’t help expecting to see the Amy Maynard I’d met before, the girl in colourful, unflattering clothes. I’d warned the surveillance teams that she might be dressed differently but it still took me a second to appreciate that the woman walking out of the cinema complex was Amy herself. It was only her walk that gave her away; it was hard to disguise the way she moved. Her hair was cropped and blond, her jeans skin-tight, her top fitted enough to show, very clearly, that she wore no bra. She was attracting plenty of attention, but not from the undercover teams.
‘There,’ I said.
‘Where?’ Derwent was trying to see where I was pointing. I didn’t wait. I was gone already, moving fast to get to her before she had time to run. In my earpiece Derwent was relaying a description to the undercover officers over the radio, his voice tense. One by one I saw them focus on her and head towards her, iron filings to a magnet.
And Amy looked straight at me. It took her no longer than a second to realise she was in trouble and to start running. It wasn’t her fault that a second wasn’t long enough.
I collided with her when she was about ten feet away from the escalators. I sent her sprawling to the floor and landed on top of her.
‘Let’s try this again, shall we?’ I pulled her hands out and the black undercover officer cuffed her with her wrists behind her.
Amy was kicking the floor, overwhelmed with rage. ‘Stupid fucking cretin. Dickhead. Twat.’
‘Who’s that, then?’ the other officer asked.
‘Jonny. He must have told you where to find me.’
‘He didn’t have much choice,’ I said. ‘He’s under arrest too.’
‘Fucking fuck.’
‘Amy, Amy. That’s no way to talk,’ I said.
Derwent crouched down beside her head. ‘You look good, Amy,’ he whispered. ‘That’s a nice look on you.’
‘Get stuffed.’
A crowd was gathering. Amy looked around, then started to hit her face on the floor. I caught her head.
‘None of that. Everyone can see you. Half of the people here are filming this. No one is going to believe you when you say it was police brutality.’
‘I hate you,’ she hissed.
‘You’re just angry. Whereas I have never been happier.’ I leaned in. ‘Terence Hammond wasn’t a great person. He wasn’t a good police officer. He was a lazy husband, and a poor enough father. He was inadequate and stupid. But you still shouldn’t have killed him.’
‘I didn’t kill him.’
‘It was your plan. Your idea. Jonny pulled the trigger but you set Hammond up.’
‘I didn’t know what Jonny was going to do. He’s obsessed with me. He was stalking me. He—’
‘Stop,’ I said, very softly. ‘Save it for your lawyer. You pretend to care about young people but all you care about is yourself. Nothing justifies the fact that Jonny Pilgrew is going to get landed with a life sentence for murder.’
‘That’s not my problem.’
‘It is your fault and I will make it your problem.’ I leaned even closer. ‘This is it, Amy. This is your life. I hope you enjoyed it, because you’re not getting out of prison for a very long time.’
Chapter 30
When I got to my desk, my phone was ringing. I stared at it, feeling a strange reluctance to answer it. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel like good news. I let it ring for longer than I should have, and then broke at the last possible minute before it switched to voicemail.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that Maeve Kerrigan?’
I recognised the honeyed voice, given an edge by the slight huskiness of the heavy drinker the morning after. ‘DI Ormond.’
‘Deborah, please.’
I said absolutely nothing in response. Hell would freeze and the demons would skate before I called her Deborah.
‘What do you want?’
‘Have you heard from Rob?’ The question burst out of her as if she’d been holding it in.
‘Haven’t you?’ I asked, suspicious.
‘No. All I’ve had is a notification that he’s been put on leave indefinitely, at his own request. And of course the request was granted, I mean, half of my team is off sick because of seeing Harry bleed out and I don’t blame them but I don’t understand how Rob could just disappear.’
‘When did you see him last?’
‘The morning you came round.’ She sounded sulky. So it had been a one-night stand and no more. I jabbed my pen into my desk, feeling glad and angry and unsettled.
‘I haven’t seen him.’
‘Has he spoken to you?’
‘No,’ I said truthfully, and hung up on her. I didn’t tell her about going home the previous night, though. I didn’t tell her about walking in and knowing, absolutely knowing, that Rob was back. There had been a change in the order of atoms in the flat, somehow, an energy that had been missing from my world. I hurried into the living area and found it deserted. Back to the bedroom. The bathroom. The small room that was supposed to be for guests and had ended up as a dumping ground for things I didn’t want to throw out and Rob didn’t want to own.
The smile on my face had faded along with the hope.
In the bedroom I opened the wardrobe and saw air: empty hangers. Empty drawers by the bed. I’d been right; he had been there. And now he was gone. I had wanted to howl then and I wanted to howl now.
In the kitchen, second time round, I’d spotted it: the note. One sheet of paper, folded over. I opened it with a sense of tremendous despair.
Maeve,
I am going to spend some time away from work and London and, I’m sorry to say, you. I need to get my head together. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.
The rent – don’t worry about it. Stay for as long as you like. Stay until I come back, preferably. I bought the flat a few years ago, so I’m the evil landlord, and I’m giving you a rent reduction. I can cover the mortgage so don’t worry about it. (I had been meaning to tell you this for a while. One more thing I got wrong.)
I love you.
R
X
‘You bastard,’ I’d said, on an exhalation. I’d been holding my breath as I read it, I realised. I spent a lot of time that evening reading it, and then reading it again. By the way, I’m rich, which I kept pretty quiet. By the way, I’m sorry. By the way, I’m leaving and I’m not saying when I’m coming back. Oh, and you don’t get to talk to me about it, or anything else.
You don’t even get to say you forgive me.
I rang my mother, in the end, who knew us both, and told her an edited version of what had happened, including Debbie Ormond’s role but leaving out the Maudling Estate stairwell. I wasn’t really expecting her to be able to help. I just wanted to talk to someone who was solidly, definitely on my side.
‘I mind much more about the flat than about him sleeping with someone else. Is that strange?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know how you young people behave these days, sleeping around. Things are acceptable now that never were in my day.’
I rolled my eyes. This had been a mistake.
She went on. ‘You’re funny about money, though. You like to be equal with people. You don’t like feeling as if you’re worth less than anyone else. That was the big problem between you and Ian.’
‘That was one of the problems between me and Ian.’
Which Rob had known.
I was starting to see why he hadn’t wanted to tell me he was loaded.
I paced around the flat. ‘But it’s such a big lie. And for years, Mum. I remember talking to him about whether we could afford this place – really worrying about how we could manage. And then he negotiated a good deal for the rent – with himself – so it was all fine. He lied and lied and I had no idea.’
‘As I said, you’re funny about it.’
‘Did you know about it?’ I asked, suddenly suspicious.
A pause. ‘We had some idea.’
&n
bsp; ‘What? You said “we”. You and Dad?’ The scale of the betrayal amazed me.
‘He told us about the flats some time we were asking about his plans for the future.’
When we were interrogating him about how suitable he was for our daughter.
‘Flats? You mean there are more?’
‘I think he has six altogether.’
‘Mum!’
‘They’re worth millions. It just shows what you can achieve.’
‘But where did he get the money?’
‘His parents are very wealthy. Didn’t you know?’
‘No, I didn’t. I really didn’t.’ I’d never met them. They were divorced, for one thing, and lived outside Manchester, far enough away that dropping in wasn’t an option. Rob had been happy to go to my parents for Christmas and Easter and many occasions in between. I’d never insisted on visiting them instead. I’d thought it looked too pushy. I was starting to regret it.
‘Your father and I thought he was sensible to invest in property the way prices are going. You know I’ve always worried you’re getting left behind. You’ll never be able to afford anything the way you’re going.’
‘Not this again. Not now,’ I said sharply.
She’d taken the hint and fallen silent while I worked out how I felt about all of it. The lies. The cheating. The fear I had that he’d never really trusted me. I couldn’t forget what Derwent had said. No trust, no relationship.
‘Do you know what the worst thing is?’ I paced up and down. ‘I don’t actually care that he cheated on me. I don’t even care that he lied to me. I know I should be furious with him and with you two for knowing what was going on and not saying, but I just want him back. I’d forgive him in a second if I could just talk to him.’
‘That’s the trouble, isn’t it. He doesn’t want to be forgiven.’
‘But why not?’
‘Sometimes the hardest thing is admitting you were wrong. It’s hard to say you need to be forgiven.’
I thought about that.
‘You had him up on a pedestal, Maeve. You always thought he was perfect, but he’s just human. That’s hard for him to admit. Let him go. He’ll come back to you when the time is right.’
‘I don’t have much choice,’ I pointed out. And that hurt so much. I’d always assumed I’d be the one to ruin everything. I’d thought I would have a moment of madness, like doing something unthinkable with Derwent at the wedding. I’d thought I’d lost Rob in Bexley. Then I’d thought it was my fault he’d left me. I hadn’t realised I could lose him again, and for good, without doing anything more than love him.