From his days in NYC he knew – people who want to jump, don’t always wait.
He walked forward slowly towards the crowd, now recognising some faces.
There stood Ray – a can of beer in one hand as if he’d turned up to watch a game.
Next to him, Billy from the Ploughman’s – who nodded at Jack as he approached.
And Maddie – who stood closer to the parapet than the others – and seemed to be talking to Tim, even though his back was turned.
Takes guts, thought Jack, looking at Maddie.
She might have stood on this very spot when Josh Owen leapt to his death.
Jack walked over to Billy, spoke quietly.
“How long’s he been up there?” said Jack, nodding towards Tim.
“About twenty minutes, I reckon,” said Billy.
“You find him?”
Billy shook his head and pointed at Maddie.
“She did. Phoned us for help. Not that we can do much.”
Jack walked closer to the parapet, until he stood at Maddie’s side.
She turned to him, and shook her head as if in complete despair.
Her face was tear-stained, her hair unkempt.
“He’s going to do it,” she said.
“He talk to you?” said Jack.
She nodded.
“What did he say?”
“It didn’t make any sense!”
Jack looked up at Tim – tried to judge the distance. With Tim’s back turned – maybe he could make a leap, grab him by the legs, pull him away from the edge before he had time to react.
But it was just too far.
He turned back to Maddie.
“You think you can talk him out of it?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “And you know what? I don’t even know why I should.”
And Jack watched her turn and walk away.
Then he saw Sarah step over to her, put an arm around her, hold her close, Maddie sobbing, a wave breaking.
Jack looked around at the others on the bridge – then up at Tim.
Didn’t seem like anyone else here was going to do anything – but someone needed to stall Tim until help arrived.
Guess it’s down to me, he thought. Terrific.
Years ago, back in NYC he’d done a couple of courses on talking down suicide jumpers – but he’d never been called on to use the skills.
He tried to remember the key points – but all that came to mind was his helpful summary of the whole course for his pals back at the precinct – just use your common sense and think before you say each word.
That had been his motto on the streets for thirty years – and it had worked fine. Question was – would it work here?
Only one way to find out.
He stepped forward.
“Don’t you come any closer!” said Tim, turning sharply and looking at Jack.
As he did – Jack could see him wobble and nearly fall.
“Whoa, Tim, no problem,” said Jack, holding up his hands. “It’s just me. Jack Brennan – remember?”
“I’m going to jump,” said Tim. “I am.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to kill myself.”
“I get that.”
Jack paused, wanting to slow the conversation down.
“But Tim, now, here’s the thing,” he said slowly. “Not sure quite what that’s going to achieve.”
“What do you mean – achieve?” said Tim, sounding annoyed. “It’s the only way out. So nobody knows!”
“Knows… what? About the drugs?”
“You know about that?”
A nod.
Jack keeping his voice low. “You found them in Callum Brady’s locker, then planted them in Josh’s house. But that’s not all, is it, Tim?”
“What do you mean?”
“Josh was after the job you thought was rightfully yours…”
“I was supposed to be deputy head. That was mine.”
Tim wobbled a bit. A slight misstep, and he’d go over… crashing down to the river and rocks below.
Jack kept his voice measured.
“But that’s not all Josh wanted that was yours, was it?”
He saw Tim looking at him.
Jack nodded to the people waiting on the river bank.
Maddie…
“It was about Maddie too, hmm?”
Tim’s eyes narrowed.
Even in this darkness – with just the light from the car headlights – those eyes… so clear.
“But you weren’t going to let that happen.”
Finally Tim spoke: “You don’t know anything…”
Jack nodded.
“’Fraid you’re wrong there, Tim. Callum and his pal Jake… they saw you that night. With Josh. Maddie dropped you off at home. But you just couldn’t stay away, you had to go find him.”
The smallest nod from Tim.
“Owen was a bastard.”
“Guessing… at the pub you slipped the drugs into his beer? But that wasn’t enough was it?”
Another nod.
“It was funny at first. But I wanted more.”
“You followed him…”
“I had to let that bastard know he wasn’t going to get away with any of it! Ruining everything!”
Tim’s raised voice echoed off the stone.
Jack nodded.
The picture clear. The two of them. An addled Josh shouting, screaming, delusional on drugs. Tim – growing more convinced he had to do something more.
Something violent.
“It ended right here, hmm?”
A last nod.
Tim looked away. “I had to make sure he’d get none of those things.”
Like Tim up there on the parapet, Jack imagined Josh – so wobbly, crazed. And Tim ranting at him, threatening him.
All it would take would be…
Now Tim lowered his voice.
“So yeah. I pushed him. That what you want me to say? And n-now, you see, everything really is a mess, there’s–”
And when Tim looked around, like an animal being cornered…
Jack took a step closer.
Such a small step.
Unnoticeable.
“I’d never be able to teach again anyway – would I?” I’ll go to jail. How long do they give murderers these days?”
Jack kept his voice low, measured. “Just one bad night. One bad decision, Tim. That’s all. Wouldn’t be for the rest of your life…”
Jack waited for Tim to respond.
He looked over towards Sarah. Still no sign of Alan.
Just got to keep him talking till the professionals turn up, he thought.
“What happened to you,” said Jack, “is a lot for anyone to lose.”
I have no idea where I am going with this, thought Jack. Just need to get a tiny, tiny bit closer.
He saw Tim crouch down on the parapet, and wobble slightly.
Tim’s face close.
His body within reach.
Now leaning away from the water, the blackness, his centre of gravity towards Jack, towards the light.
“Wanna know what he said?” Tim took a breath. “Josh Owen’s last words?”
Could these now be Tim’s as well?
“Go on.”
“He said that I didn’t deserve Maddie. Said… I’d never be deputy head.”
Jack nodded. Tim making the whole scene that night… come back to life.
Then his voice seemed suddenly lower, dark, as he looked down. ”So… I had to, you see… I mean…”
And then Jack moved.
Leaping forward fast, his arms coming up quickly so that Tim didn’t have time to react, locking him in a bear-hug.
Tim grunted with the pressure.
Then the two of them falling back into the road; Jack bracing himself for the slam of the stone on his back, with the weight of Tim on top of him. Hearing Tim shouting out, and seeing in the corner of his eye other people now moving, almost
in slow-motion, towards him.
Tim’s face pressed hard against his own with the shock of the fall.
And then the teacher’s weight being lifted off him, and looking up to see Billy and Ray holding Tim hard by the arms and Sarah rushing over to crouch by his side.
“Jack – are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I think.”
Sarah smiling at him, her face close.
“Just so long as I don’t have to get up,” he said. “Bad enough with the knees. But my back – sure isn’t going to like this tomorrow morning.”
And then his partner in all this extended a hand.
As she helped Jack get up.
This night – this case – just about over.
43. Dinner at the Pig
Sarah looked down the long table – past flowers, bottles of wine, water, to where Jack sat at the far end, sipping his martini, and chatting to Helen, her mother.
She realised she hadn’t felt this happy in months.
It wasn’t just being out for dinner at the Spotted Pig – Cherringham’s very special, very cool place to eat.
Or even being here again with close family, and friends old and new.
Her father Michael. Helen. Tony. Even the grateful school head Louise.
No.
She knew there was another reason for feeling this good: she and Jack had worked another case – and solved it. Something she had feared would never happen again.
And – it made her catch her breath just to think it – maybe still wouldn’t.
Even though, just the other day, Jack had said he’d try and get back to Cherringham every year, she knew in her heart it was unlikely.
She knew his boat was fixed – even though it hadn’t been sold yet. And already it had had a lot of interest.
And though they’d avoided the subject these last few days, she also knew he must have booked his flight home by now.
There was nothing to keep him here.
This special meal – organised by Tony and Louise as a thank you – might well be the last time she’d see Jack in quite a while.
“Steak, rare, with pepper sauce,” said Julie the co-owner appearing at her side with plates, breaking Sarah’s thoughts.
“That has to be Jack’s,” said Sarah, laughing. “We’ve been coming here for years and I have never – ever – seen Jack order anything else.”
“Hey – I had the oysters once,” said Jack grinning up the table at her. “True fact!”
“Only because they let you make your own sauce – isn’t that right, Julie?”
Sarah watched Julie handing out more plates, working her way round the table.
“Sam still talks about that terrifying day ‘some great big Yank’ invaded his kitchen demanding ingredients to make a proper ‘cocktail’ sauce,” said Julie. “What a daft concoction!”
“Jack is this true?” said Louise, smiling.
“I simply don’t know what she’s talking about,” said Jack trying to look innocent.
“He’s even tried it at our house,” said Sarah’s mother. “Though of course after we’d eaten it, I not only forgave him, I borrowed the recipe.”
“For which, Jack, I am forever in your debt,” said her father.
“Careful, Michael,” said Jack, “we all know Helen is a fabulous cook – in fact…”
Sarah saw him raise his glass.
“How about another toast?”
“One can never have too many toasts,” said Tony, raising his glass as did everyone round the table.
“To British cooks everywhere! You have raised your game over the years and we Yanks are eternally grateful!”
“To British cooks!” said everyone round the table, laughing.
“I’ll pass that on to Sam,” said Julie, retreating. “But don’t you lot expect free liqueurs – I know your game, Jack Brennan.”
“Innocent until proved guilty, your honour,” said Jack.
“Do start, everyone,” said Tony, “please.”
Sarah tucked into her duck confit, the little slices exquisite – and there was silence for a minute or two while everybody savoured their main courses.
“Talking of innocent,” said Louise, “what’s the latest on your arrested criminals?”
“Tony?” said Jack.
Sarah saw Tony put down his knife and fork.
“Well, from what I hear on the grapevine, Tim Wilkins, poor chap, has been charged with murder and is receiving medical treatment in a secure hospital. I doubt it will come to trial for a while yet. Meanwhile your pals from the burger van are on bail on drugs charges.”
“You think the younger brother – Ted – will face the same charge?” said Sarah.
“Hmm, from what I hear, he’ll probably get away without a prison sentence. His elder brother won’t be so lucky.”
“And Callum Brady?” said Louise.
“Not good,” said Tony. “He’s a juvenile – so he’ll end up in a young offenders’ institution.”
“In which case, we just have to hope he doesn’t get sucked deeper into that life,” said Louise.
“Tough for a kid to pull out of that kind of nose-dive,” said Jack, “but I’ve seen it done.”
“How about that fella – what was his name? – Ross?” said Jack. “I hear he was pulled up on a drugs charge that very same night?”
“Yes,” said Tony. “Marc Ross. The National Crime Agency’s been after him for some time apparently. Chap had a reputation for keeping his hands squeaky clean. Feather in the cap for our Alan Rivers, finding twenty thousand pounds worth of drugs in his car on a stop and search. Done him the world of good.”
“He’s a fine policeman,” said Jack.
“So what’s happened to Ross?” said Michael.
“Well, they took his house apart, and shuttered his clubs in Gloucester and Oxford. Word is they’ve rolled up a very large smuggling and distribution network. I doubt he’ll be getting much change out of ten years inside.”
“Bravo!” said Michael, banging his hand on the table and looking at Jack and Sarah.
Sarah saw him remember the “official line”.
“Ah. I mean – bravo, Alan!” he corrected himself.
The others raised their glasses again:
“Bravo, Alan!”
“Of course,” said Louise, smiling and putting down her glass. “It was an extraordinary coincidence.”
“In what way?” said Jack innocently.
“Ross makes a mistake like that, and gets arrested the same night you wrap up Cherringham’s very own drugs problem, and solve the death of Josh Owen.”
“Hmm,” said Jack.
“You know, Louise,” said Michael. “I’ve noticed these kind of coincidences before where Jack is concerned. Isn’t that right, Tony?”
“It is,” said Tony. “Almost as if the man is capable of conjuring arrests out of thin air.”
Sarah saw Tony give Jack a playful grin and the two reached across and clinked glasses.
“To the magic of police work,” said Tony.
***
Jack sipped his coffee and looked around the table. He caught Sarah’s eye and she smiled at him.
He smiled back. Then he looked at Tony who gave him the most imperceptible of nods.
He checked his watch and glanced out through the big open windows that looked out onto Cherringham High Street.
Though it was almost exactly ten o’clock, it was still light out there. People strolling, enjoying the warm summer evening.
He heard the bell of St. James beginning to chime the hour.
And looked down the table at Sarah.
She was looking right back at him, quizzically.
She knows me too well, he thought, smiling at her. Knows I’m up to something.
Then he tapped his wine glass with his coffee spoon, until there was silence, and stood.
“Thank you – my good friends,” he said. “Now I’m not one for speeches – I think y
ou all know that. Guess I prefer actions to words. Actions can explain a lot – that’s really what detective work is all about at heart – isn’t it? Seeing an action take place, reconstructing it – then working out the meaning. Finding the story – the sense.”
He looked around the table. Everyone listening – curious, not quite knowing where this was leading.
Tony knew, of course. He’d told Tony before the dinner.
Part of the plan.
“So, let’s see who can work out what this means…”
And he raised his arm, and gestured to the door of the Spotted Pig – where Daniel stood grinning.
“What’s going on, Jack?” said Sarah.
Jack looked at her and winked. Then gestured back at the door.
As Chloe stepped into view, carrying a puppy.
A springer spaniel – the exact colouring of Riley.
Jack turned and looked at Sarah.
Love watching those cogs whir, he thought.
Slowly she turned to him and a smile broke out on her face.
“Wait a minute. Hang on.” The light bulb went off. “You’re not going, Jack?”
“Nope.”
Daniel and Chloe came into the restaurant with the puppy and stood either side of Sarah.
Daniel grinning – as happy as Jack had ever seen him.
Jack saw Sarah had a tear in one eye – which she quickly wiped away.
“I don’t understand,” said Michael.
“The puppy – a present, yes?” said Sarah.
“Great nephew of Riley, so they said at the dog place,” said Jack.
“A gift to Chloe and Daniel – because Riley’s coming back to you.”
“Correct,” said Jack.
“You said you’d never take Riley back to the States with you – so that means you’re staying on the Goose?”
“Correct again,” said Jack.
“What about your daughter – your grand-daughter?”
“Turns out, they realised they managed fine without me for those weeks. And anyway, now they’re on the move – new job, new country. Australia.”
Could Sarah be more excited? he thought.
This – was perfect.
“So… you… are staying in Cherringham!”
“Correct again, detective.”
And on a cue from Tony, Julie appeared with two bottles of champagne – and Jack found himself overwhelmed with hugs and kisses and handshakes as the whole table crowded around.
Last of the kisses – from Sarah.
Dead in the Water Page 22