David Raker 05 - Fall From Grace

by Tim Weaver

  ‘Paige is at the other bar,’ she said, turning to me.

  ‘And Murray?’

  ‘She’s not here.’

  I nodded, looking out across the room to where a second, smaller bar was built in the far corner. Two men were leaning against it, one of them side on to me – his chubby frame straining inside a tight pinstripe jacket – the other slightly turned away, elbows resting on the counter, dressed in a black suit minus the tie. It was Paige. He was in his early sixties, five foot eleven and, except for a tan, looked exactly like the photo I’d seen of him.

  ‘I thought I was on my own tonight,’ I said, turning to Craw.

  ‘You are. I’ll keep Annabel entertained.’

  I looked at Annabel. ‘I won’t be long.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  I headed across the room towards Paige.

  18

  Paige had the build of a marathon runner, his jacket hanging off him at the shoulders and sleeves, trousers sharply pleated down the front, giving them a comically big look. Physically, he seemed the exact opposite of a man who might run an entire Met command, dealing daily with its complexities, yet what he gave away in size, he made up for in other, less tangible ways. Even as he leaned against the bar, the man in the pinstripe jacket bending his ear about a meeting they’d had, it was clear he had a presence about him, something impossible to pin down, and even harder to teach.

  I ordered a bottle of beer and stood at the bar, looking out across the room. The guy in the jacket was talking about statistics, half drunkenly, Paige making the occasional non-committal noise. I waited sixty seconds and then looked over again, and this time Paige met my gaze and his eyes widened into a barely concealed help me expression.

  This was my in. ‘Chief Superintendent Paige?’

  The man in the pinstripes stopped mid-sentence, looked back over his shoulder at me and frowned.

  ‘Hold on a minute, pal, I’m right in the middle of something here.’

  ‘It’s okay, Al,’ Paige said.

  ‘But I wanted –’

  ‘We can talk about this in the morning.’

  Al hesitated, his face dissolving into wounded anger, and then nodded to Paige. Flashing a look of disgust at me, he headed off.

  I moved into the space he’d occupied.

  ‘Thanks,’ Paige said.

  I held out my hand. ‘David Raker.’

  He took it, a crease to his face. ‘Raker. Where have I heard that before?’

  ‘Probably alongside a swear word.’

  His frown deepened.

  ‘I find missing people. And, often, that means picking up –’

  ‘Where the Met have failed.’

  ‘Your words, not mine,’ I said, smiling.

  He nodded in return. ‘So, given your line of work, I’m assuming you’re here tonight because someone’s gone missing and we’ve failed to find them.’

  ‘Actually, no. I’m pointing the finger of blame at Devon and Cornwall Police this time.’ I smiled again, trying to keep him onside. ‘The person I’m looking for disappeared down on Dartmoor. He left his house to go and get some firewood, and never came back.’

  He knew instantly who I meant.

  Something changed in his face.

  ‘I’m trying to find Leonard Franks.’

  ‘I realize that.’ He studied me. ‘For who?’

  ‘His wife.’

  ‘Does Melanie know about this?’

  ‘You’d have to ask Ellie. But given that DCI Craw and I don’t have the happiest of histories, and the fact that she’s seen me here and hasn’t strangled me yet, I’d suggest Ellie’s kept it quiet for now. Or, at least, Craw’s choosing not to ask.’ The only truthful thing in all of that was that Craw hadn’t strangled me yet, but I kept my expression neutral. ‘So, have you got a moment to talk?’

  He eyed me for a second. ‘Talk about what?’

  ‘I just wanted to find out –’

  ‘You want the inside track?’

  He kept his voice even and controlled, but it was clear his guard was up and instinct had kicked in. When a cop got cornered, this was what happened: they went into lockdown until they figured out if there was an immediate threat to them.

  ‘Have you found out where he went?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Not yet.’

  ‘What about why he left?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’ve only been on this a few days.’

  ‘You’ll be on it a week, a month, a year, believe me. People who get paid to do this for a living couldn’t find a trace of him.’

  ‘I don’t do this for free.’

  A humourless smile. ‘I’m sure you don’t.’

  ‘Look, I’m not going to endanger your pension pot here. I just want to talk to you about Leonard Franks. As I understand it, you and he were friends for years – I think you can give me a unique perspective on him. Ultimately, you might help me find him.’

  He just looked at me.

  ‘I don’t know you from Adam,’ he said finally.

  I reached into my jacket, got out a business card and held it out to him. ‘You won’t have to search too hard.’

  ‘You think I care what it says about you on Google?’ The atmosphere had soured. He didn’t take the card. ‘I met you for the first time two minutes ago, now you’re trying to screw up an official case involving my best friend. You think, for one minute, I’m going to jeopardize the search for him by talking to someone who corners me at a bar?’

  He wasn’t going to play ball because, in truth, he was right: he didn’t know me, and had no idea whether he could trust me. I didn’t blame him. Problem was, I might not get another chance alone with him, so I either wrote off any potential contribution he made – or I tried to create a common cause. My mind looped back to the pub flyer I’d found; to the lecture that Franks told Ellie he and Paige were attending at the Black Museum.

  ‘Do you remember going to the Hare and Badger on Broadway back on 11 February? I know you two used to like it there. I’ve seen your email conversations.’

  He looked at me. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘You remember meeting him that day?’

  ‘That was ten months ago.’

  ‘He told Ellie he was going to a lecture with you.’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘At the Black Museum.’

  A pause – and then his eyes narrowed.

  Something was up, and, inside a couple of seconds, I realized what: Franks had been to the pub that day, but it wasn’t to meet Paige. He hadn’t been to a lecture with him either. I could tell from his face that the first Paige had heard of any lecture, of any lunchtime meeting with his friend, was now. At best, that meant Ellie had misunderstood what Franks had told her when she’d dropped him off on the morning of 11 February.

  At worst, it meant Franks had told her a barefaced lie.

  ‘What’s going on, Mr Raker?’

  I saw a subtle shift in Paige’s expression. Some of the animosity had dropped away as he realized he wasn’t the only one who’d been taken by surprise here.

  ‘I was sitting on a sunlounger on a beach in Tenerife on 11 February,’ he said. ‘If Len told Ellie otherwise, then I’m afraid …’ He faded out.

  We both knew what it meant.

  ‘I think you can help me,’ I said.

  His eyes moved from me, out into the room, his defences up again. He scooped a bottle of beer off the bar counter and started picking at the label. ‘How do I know you’re not some shithouse reporter?’

  ‘Because I gave up journalism in 2009.’

  He looked at me. ‘So you are a journalist?’

  ‘Was.’

  A long, resigned sigh. ‘Great.’

  ‘You can find out everything you need to know about me on the web – or you can log into the police database and get the full A to Z from your fellow boys in blue. I’m not hiding here. This isn’t some elaborate ruse. All I want is thirty minutes of your time.’

/>   He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking between the faces gathered around him. He went to speak, stopped himself and looked at me again. Then, finally, he committed, voice suddenly quiet, his attention fixed once more on the crowds. ‘I’ve spoken to Melanie a few times since Len disappeared, and it’s the same for the both of us. We’re hamstrung. She got read the riot act about using police resources, day one. If I go searching and get found out, I’ve got even further to fall. So one thing I need to be absolutely clear on is that, if we talk, it’s off the record. This stays under lock and key.’

  ‘I can guarantee that.’

  ‘Yeah?’ He turned to me. ‘I don’t know anything about you, so your guarantee is worth absolutely zero to me. With that in mind, let me also give you a guarantee in return: if you cost me even a second’s sleep, if you drop me in the shit with anyone, even if it’s with the guy who cleans the toilets in Scotland Yard, I will make you pay for it. I’m not one for threats, but I mean this: number one priority for me is Leonard Franks.’

  ‘Same here.’

  ‘I need to be insulated.’

  ‘You will be.’

  ‘If it all goes to shit, and there are reasons it might, we never spoke.’

  I looked at him. ‘Why would it go to shit?’

  He emptied the last of his beer, placed it down on the counter and turned to me. ‘I’m prepared to tell you, but I’m not doing it here. There’s a hotel on Horseferry Road called The Neale. It has a bar in the lobby. I’ll meet you there in an hour.’

  19

  Annabel and I left the event and grabbed something quick to eat, then I paid for a taxi to take her home and headed south along Millbank. The Neale was a tiny boutique hotel overlooking St John’s Garden. Inside it was all marble and brushed steel. I headed past the reception desk towards a semicircular bar area, done out in charcoal sofas and mauve accessories.

  Paige was right at the back in a booth.

  He had someone with him.

  At first, as I approached, it was difficult to see who – they were facing Paige, legs under the table, hand around a beer bottle, mostly disguised by the high back of the booth – but, as I got closer, I realized it was a woman. I could see her nails had been painted a subtle pink, and she was wearing an engagement ring on her left hand. Paige was talking to her, gesturing, but then broke off as soon as he saw me enter the bar.

  A second later, she came into view.

  It was Carla Murray.

  She’d undergone much more of a change than Paige, shifting a ton of weight and growing her hair long. There was still a toughness about her, those grey eyes studying me as I approached, her hair scraped back into a functional ponytail. She must have been five foot nine, perhaps just shy of ten stone, but she’d never be petite, even if she wanted to be: whatever size she’d given away in the time since the photograph of her at the press conference, she’d now replaced with sheer muscle power in the gym.

  Paige gestured for me to take a seat opposite him, and Murray shifted along her booth. She introduced herself in a broad Glaswegian accent, but didn’t offer her hand.

  ‘Well, this is a surprise,’ I said.

  Paige nodded. ‘I take it you know Carla already.’

  ‘Only from what I’ve read.’

  ‘Then I guess that’ll have to do for now.’ He stopped, looking out across the bar, his gaze flicking between tables, ensuring we weren’t being watched. ‘I realized why I recognized your name earlier,’ he said, eyes back on me, a hint of hostility in them. ‘I was just telling Carla: you were the one who was all over the Snatcher case Melanie had last year.’

  ‘I’m not sure I was all over it.’

  ‘You ended up getting stabbed because of it.’

  ‘Well, that much is true.’

  He watched me for a moment, like he expected me to add something else. When I didn’t, he said, ‘Lots of people at the Met don’t like you, David. You know that, right?’

  ‘I’m not here to make friends.’

  ‘You’re here to find people?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘People like Len Franks?’

  I nodded.

  He studied me for a moment more, glanced at Murray, then leaned back in the booth, shrugging. ‘I care a great deal about finding Len.’

  ‘Then we’re all on the same page.’ Neither of them made a move to continue, so I turned in the booth and looked at Murray. ‘I didn’t realize you two knew each other.’

  ‘I’ve got to know Carla since Len disappeared,’ Paige replied for her.

  ‘How come?’

  His eyes pinged to Murray and then back to me.

  ‘How come?’ I repeated.

  Again, Paige didn’t reply, and Murray made no effort to fill the silence.

  But then Paige started turning his beer bottle and looked up at me. ‘There are some things you should know. Things that might help you find Len. Given what you’ve found out already, what I’ve read about you, and what people at the Met have told me about you over the phone in the last hour, it’s safe to assume you’ll keep digging until you get to what we know, anyway. So I’d rather you heard it from me.’ Paige gestured to the bar. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ When neither of them made an effort to continue, I said, ‘Look, anything you tell me will be in complete confidence. I know all you’ve got to go on is my word, but while I doubt you’ve heard anything positive about me from whichever colleagues you spoke to at the Met during the last hour, no one there can accuse me of not being able to keep my mouth shut. Whatever you’ve got doesn’t go any further.’

  ‘David,’ Paige said, ‘if I didn’t think that was the case, we wouldn’t be here.’

  I reached into my pocket and got out my pad and pen, setting them down on the table. When I looked up, Paige and Murray were staring at each other. They didn’t try to disguise it. Instead, it was like they were still undecided about whether to move forward.

  ‘There’s one thing I need to be really clear on,’ Paige said finally. ‘When we met earlier, I promised I’d come after you if you dropped me in the shit. I meant that. I’ve had a look at your cases, at some of the places you turned up and people you found, and while everything looks watertight on the surface, I’m confident I could find some anomalies if I chose to look a little harder. This conversation goes anywhere beyond this booth, I’ll find holes in those cases, and I’ll take you to the cleaners. That’s a promise.’

  He needed reassurance. ‘Understood.’

  ‘Len was, is, my best friend. But he made some decisions that were …’ Paige cleared his throat. ‘He made some choices that might have consequences. I don’t want to speak for Carla, but I know she feels the same way. He was her commanding officer, her mentor, her friend. The choices he made, we need to ensure …’ He stopped again. ‘We need to ensure we don’t give them oxygen. Or, at least – if they are to be made public – we need to ensure it’s an abridged version.’

  ‘So this is a skin-saving exercise?’

  ‘No,’ Paige said. ‘Far from it. Nothing you find out about Len will have any effect on us. Len’s choices are his choices. We were never involved in them. Not at any point.’

  ‘So you’re saving his reputation?’

  ‘I’m trying to help you find him.’

  ‘Why haven’t you tried to go after him yourselves?’ I looked between them. ‘If you know something, something that will get him found, why not make that available?’

  Paige held up a hand. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘So Craw doesn’t know about these “choices” Franks made?’

  ‘No.’

  It seemed unlikely she wouldn’t have asked Paige some questions, though. She knew about Paige and her father’s friendship. She’d have asked Paige if he knew why Franks left. She’d have sought him out.

  ‘So,’ I said to him, ‘what you’re saying is you lied to Craw?’

  ‘I chose to keep some things back.
’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘For her protection.’

  ‘Craw doesn’t strike me as the type who wants to be protected.’

  ‘No one thinks they want to be protected. But Melanie has a career, a family. She has a professional obligation to the Met. Her commanding officer told her specifically not to use police resources to go after Len, but if I gave her what I had, the pull to find her father would be such that she would go against those orders and get herself fired. You, David …’ He paused, a wrinkle of distaste in his face. ‘You have no obligation other than to yourself. You have nothing hemming you in. This is your entire career. This is your family. That makes you impossible to police, and that’s why I invited you here. Because this is the only way I can, at least in part, try to limit the damage you’ll undoubtedly do. I care about what happens to Melanie because I care about Len Franks. Less kindly, I wouldn’t give a shit if you disappeared off the face of the earth tomorrow.’

  I couldn’t pretend it was the first time I’d heard that. ‘So you’re the only two who are in on this?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Why only you two?’

  He nodded a second time, expecting me to ask. ‘At the end of January, Len got in touch – separately – with Carla and with me. Afterwards, we both agreed he sounded quite … distressed. He said he’d been looking at a cold case and he wanted our help.’

  ‘Okay, hold on. What was the case?’

  ‘He didn’t say,’ Murray replied.

  It was the first time she’d spoken since she’d introduced herself.

  ‘He didn’t mention anything about it, to either of you?’ I glanced at Murray. She shook her head. ‘Did he hint that it might have been an old case he worked here?’