DANNY was on the computer when I emerged from the shower. There was a packet of cigarettes on the desk beside him.
“Something you’re not telling me?” I asked, nodding in its general direction.
“Ah,” he said, looking even more shifty than he had yesterday.
I just raised my eyebrows.
“They’re Clare’s,” he said eventually, as though trying not to upset me, but failing.
“Uh-huh,” I responded, trying to affect nonchalance, but failing just as badly. I didn’t know what else to say, so decided against saying anything, and instead left to make a cup of tea. A moment later Danny followed me to the kitchen.
“What’s up?” he said. “You don’t seem yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Cup of tea?”
“Anna?”
“What?”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What the matter is.”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“Is it Clare?”
“No.”
“Right, so it’s Clare then.”
“God, you’re annoying.”
“Listen, I didn’t ask her to reappear. I didn’t ask her to help me. She just offered.”
“But you accepted.”
“Not in as many words.”
“Ha. And what does that mean, exactly?”
Danny sat down, looking distinctly uncomfortable, while I poured hot water into two mugs and started stirring the PG Tips tea bags. I was this close to seeing if I could find him a leftover Typhoo instead.
“It means what I said. I was just as shocked to see her as you’d have been.”
“Danny, if I’d seen her I’d have been calling the police or Interpol or at the very least hotel security.”
“It just wasn’t like that.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“But it’s bothering you. Why? I don’t trust her either but what harm can it do?”
I just looked at him, trying to believe my ears were in some way disconnected from my brain.
“What harm?”
“Exactly.”
“Are you being deliberately stupid or just trying to annoy me?”
“No, come on, tell me.”
“For fuck’s sake. The love of your life turns up when she should be doing a life stretch for multiple murders. Murders, Danny. She’s an art thief, a self-confessed fraud, and seems to lack any sense of moral judgement. And she wants to be your friend, and she’s giving you hugs, and now she’s going to wheedle her way back into your life on the pretext of helping you, which is just about as likely as me becoming the next Archbishop of Canterbury, or a fucking professional basketball player or something. And you’re asking me if I can see anything possibly even slightly suspect?”
“It’s not like that!”
“Well, it looks like that from here.”
“For starters, she’s not the love of my life.”
“Ha.”
“Think what you want. And secondly, I’m investigating some seriously bloody dangerous people, so anything that helps is more than welcome.”
“You’re as bad as she is.”
“I’m not! Jesus. Listen to yourself.”
“Somebody needs to.”
“Oh, Anna. Do you want me to get killed?”
“No, obviously.”
“That’s a start. Well then. Look, it’s a serious business. And if she knows something then I’d be stupid not to at least take her seriously.”
“Oh, so now she’s your guardian angel?”
Danny laughed. Which annoyed me.
“What’s funny?”
“It’s just that’s exactly what she said.”
“What?”
“That she was my guardian angel.”
“I fucking give up. Make your own tea.” And I stormed off in a not inconsiderable strop.
Ten minutes later there was a knock at my bedroom door. I ignored it.
“Can I come in?” he said.
I ignored that too. He came in anyway, and sat down next to me on the bed. At least he’d had the decency to bring the tea, which was just as well.
“It’s getting cold,” he said, gesturing to the mug. I felt like ignoring it on a point of principle, but I like tea, and principles take second priority at times.
“Anna,” he said, when I still didn’t respond. “Please let’s not fall out.”
I looked at him. He looked genuinely upset at the prospect. I felt my anger start to soften, which is weird because that should have just annoyed me even more.
“I just don’t see how her turning up is anything other than trouble,” I said eventually.
“No, I understand that. But trust me. I’ll take anything she says with a pinch of salt.”
“And now you’re talking in clichés.”
“This is serious! No, I don’t trust her. But she knows people. She may help. She may be completely useless. I don’t know. But everything is worth considering. Do you think March is playing by the rules?”
“No.”
“Exactly. So yes, I take on board the warning, and I love that you care, but I have to listen to her. I’d be stupid not to.”
I rubbed my eyes with both hands, wishing I’d tidied my room before his arrival, and took a sip of the tea to give myself thinking time.
“And the cigarettes?” I asked eventually.
“She left them on the table in the hotel.”
“And you kept them as what? Some sort of souvenir?”
“No. Because she’d written me a message in the lid.”
“That’s romantic. What sort of message?”
“Will you give it up with the romance? You were the one out swapping numbers with non-gay Ben.”
“Yeah, well I may just ring him. What sort of message?”
“Her email address.”
I sighed. Danny just looked at me. She was clever. I’d give her that. Too clever for her own good one day, perhaps.
“Okay,” I said, feeling the fight go out of me. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will.” It came out as little more than a whisper. And then we hugged. And then his mobile phone rang.
Danny rushed to the living room to answer the call, leaving me to ponder my life decisions, but not coming up with thoughts of any particular clarity. A couple of minutes later he reappeared, looking shocked.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“That was March,” he said. “He wants to meet.”
* * *
Danny left the flat about half an hour later. I told him to be careful, and he assured me he would be. They were meeting in a coffee shop near Mornington Crescent, in full view of the public. If there was any trouble there’d be plenty of witnesses. I wasn’t happy but acknowledged he had no option but to go.
With the flat to myself, I had a call of my own to make. Not to Ben, although I was seriously tempted. Colette answered on the fourth ring.
“What’s the deal with the girls?” I asked, after we’d said our hellos.
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. There just seemed to be a bit of tension. And they looked a bit out of it. Are they okay?”
“How do you mean okay?”
“Just okay, okay. It was like they were spaced out. Excuse the lack of subtlety, but are they on drugs or something?”
I could hear Colette sigh.
“I don’t know. Quite possibly. Why? What happened?”
I told her about Holly collapsing on the sofa and Leah acting weird.
“Leah’s a funny one,” Colette said after I’d finished. “Holly seems a bit posh. She’s got a kind of public school background and definitely comes from money. I get the feeling she’s only in the band as some sort of rebellious phase before settling down for a life in the country with a city boy.”
“I know the type.”
“Exactly. Leah, though... she’s about as different as it gets. I t
hink she was homeless. Maybe not sleeping rough as such, but living in a squat somewhere. How they all met each other I have no idea. I get the sense she’s had it hard.”
“Are they your friends?”
“No, not particularly. I’ve only met them through Steve.”
“That’s good. I’m not sure about them. Steve seems a lovely guy but they seem highly strung.”
“When are you doing the pictures?”
“This afternoon.”
“Best of luck then. See what you can find out. Let me know how it goes. Okay?”
“Shall do.”
“I’m out of the country for a week on a job, but we’ll catch up when I get back. Call me.”
“I will. Have fun.”
We hung up. I thought again about calling Ben, but I had too much to do, preparing for the photo shoot. What would I say to him anyway? “Hi Ben, I know I said I wasn’t interested as recently as thirty-six hours ago, but how about a night of passion just to get my own back on my flatmate who’s a pain in the arse?” And besides, I couldn’t help worrying about Danny. Of all the unfathomable things in the world, what exactly was March up to?
7
DANNY, you’re looking well. Can I order you a tea or something? Earl Grey perhaps? You look the sort.”
Danny looked around the room, scanning for anyone who might be watching. Alert to danger. There were only three other customers. A couple seemingly in love, holding hands in the corner, and a mother with a pushchair near the counter. None looked particularly interested in the overweight man with the thinning grey hair, sitting on his own by the window.
“What’s this about?” asked Danny.
“Just a little chat with my old friend. Take a chair, please. The lovely waitress will be over in a moment.”
Danny sat down, against his better judgement. The last time he’d been opposite Graham March had been in an official police interview, during the hunt for Clare. It hadn’t been cordial.
“So, how’s life?”
“I’m doing well, Graham. Can I call you Graham? I gather titles are no longer appropriate.”
“Ah Danny, you’re a cheeky boy. It’s just temporary, I assure you. Just a little misunderstanding, caused in no small part by your good self, but don’t worry, I bear you no malice. I’m enjoying an extended paid holiday thanks to you. You’ve done me a favour.”
Danny looked at the man opposite. They hadn’t shaken hands.
“That wasn’t the intention. But again, the meeting?”
“You’re a bit eager. Patience, old boy. Your Uncle Graham has got a story for you.”
Danny laughed.
“You’re coming clean? Well that’s a turn-up. Excuse me while I start the tape machine.”
“Ah, not so fast. Make yourself comfortable. All in good time.”
The waitress arrived. Danny ordered a cappuccino, without sprinkles.
“How old are you now, Danny?” March continued. “Twenty? Twenty-one?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Really? And yet still possessed of such youthful innocence. I’ve read some of your work.”
“You can read! Well done.”
March ignored the jibe.
“Some interesting theories. A rather tasty hatchet job on your former boss, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“I’m not sure I’m interested in your opinion on anything.”
“Have you heard from Clare recently?”
“No.”
“You surprise me. Obviously we can agree the helicopter crash was a fake?”
Danny feigned a yawn.
“I’m not here to talk about Clare.”
“No, of course, but it’s interesting nonetheless. What I like to call a real-life mystery. The hunter becomes the hunted and then goes all Lord Lucan on us.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“Me? Alas not, although she has my number if she’s in town and wants some excitement one evening. Even the enchanting Clare must have needs.”
Danny looked for a trace of a smile but March looked serious. If he wasn’t being ironic he was surely delusional.
“Listen, I’m sorry to curtail your daydream, Graham, but can you actually get to the point?”
“I’m building to that. And how is sweet little Anna. Are you two shagging yet or does she prefer them manlier?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“No, but the image makes me chuckle.”
The coffee arrived. Danny reached for his wallet but March passed the waitress a five pound note.
“My treat. All things considered.”
“Assuming it isn’t poisoned.”
“You could say thank you.”
“I could.”
Danny pulled the cup closer and scooped some of the froth with a teaspoon.
“One last question and then we’ll begin,” March continued. “Easter Bunny, Danny? Is that really the name you gave me?”
“One of many, but by far the least offensive.”
“Ah, very good. And the rationale?”
“Because of your name, March. That’s the Easter. And the Bunny because you were operating underground.”
“Oh.” March looked puzzled.
“What?”
“Ah, well, that is a disappointment.”
“A disappointment?”
“Yes. I was rather assuming it was something to do with my prowess with the ladies. You know? At it like a rabbit, if you catch my drift. How thoroughly unexciting. And talking of which, have you spoken to the delectable DC Amy Cranston recently? Although I hear she’s a DS now. Very impressive. I really do miss her.”
“I’m sure it’s not mutual.”
March leaned forward and lowered his voice. Suddenly the mask of joviality slipped.
“Danny, I used to think you were an annoying little shit, but I appreciate I need to reassess that judgement, as you seem to have put a bit of weight on. You want to be careful with the pizzas. Get yourself to the gym perhaps, try to build some actual muscles. Either way, it’s time to give you the benefit of the doubt. I’m here to do you a favour.”
“A favour? From you?” Danny laughed, leaning back to put as much distance between them as possible.
“Well, I say a favour, but it’s a chance, mainly, for you to atone for your earlier misjudgements.”
“Right. And they are?”
“Don’t be coy, Danny. You know you’ve said some horrible things about me.”
“All of which were true.”
“In your warped tabloid opinion. But now you can write a new story and set the record straight.”
“The record’s already straight. The only bit missing is the part where you get sent away.”
“I’ll ignore your naivety.” March reached into his pocket for cigarettes, withdrew one and lit it, inhaling deeply.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” said Danny, making a show of wafting the smoke away.
“At last you make a salient point,” said March, putting his lighter back in his jacket pocket.
“Which is?”
“The things you don’t know about me. Specifically, viz, my charity work.”
“Your what?”
“Ooh, very good. That’s the spirit. The investigative journalist - and I use the term in its loosest sense - actually asking a question. We’ll make a man of you yet, Danny.”
“Fuck off, Graham. Are we done? I’ve got better things to be doing on a Sunday.” Danny started to stand up. March reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. His grip was vicelike.
“You’re forgetting the story, Danny. You’ll want to hear this.”
“I doubt it.”
“Well, I’ll summarise and try to speak very slowly. Make things easy for you. So, the next thing you don’t know is that I’m volunteering at a homeless shelter. A leading light in the quest to provide safe accommodation for the disadvantaged, if you will.”
“You’re doing what?” Danny’s
question was part disbelief, part disdain.
“Exactly what I just said. And you get to write the story. Wrongly maligned senior police officer shows the caring side of humanity. It’s good news for a change. Your readers will lap it up.”
“Are you drunk?”
“I hesitate to acknowledge the insinuation.”
“Well what the fuck are you on about? The only thing our readers are interested in, where you’re concerned, is how long you’re getting sent down for.”
“So it’s your job to change perceptions. I’m a decent man, Danny. Come with me and I’ll give you an exclusive. And then, as a separate adjunct, I’ll tell you about my work in the field of the arts. And not the kind of art your former boss used to nick, either.”
Danny leaned forward, looking March straight in the eyes.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at, but play it with someone else, okay?” This time when he stood up March didn’t try to stop him. Danny turned and left the building, heading out into the relentless rain without looking back.
* * *
The location for my photoshoot with Lumière Rouge was a derelict building close to Bromley-by-Bow tube station, which meant another trip on the loathsome Underground. I could have driven, and normally wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but by the time I’d finished preparing my equipment I didn’t have time to write a shot list or start sketching ideas, so I decided to take the train and do it on the way instead. It was a heavy-duty compromise for the sake of art.
Steve was there, with a bag over one shoulder, holding an umbrella, but there was no sign of the girls. We shook hands.
“So, what did you have in mind?” I asked.
“Quite straightforward, really. We just need a few publicity shots for gigs and labels. Apparently you’re the best.”
“According to Colette?”
Steve grinned.
“Of course.”
“Well, she’s got a point.” I smiled back. “Do you have a stylist? Any requests from management or a record company?”
He shook his head.
“No, no stylist, sadly. And no manager either. It’s just us. And we’re still working on the record company thing but hopefully this will help.”
“Fingers crossed. I’ll do my best. Any sign of the others?”
“They’re on their way, apparently.” Steve sighed, as though this was a frequent occurrence. “Come on, we’ll do a recce while we wait.”
Out Of The Red Page 4