Risky Business

by W. Soliman

  “Good thinking,” I said, flashing a wary grin and immediately regretting it. Even smiling hurt.

  A detective came to get us. It was time for us to make our formal statements.

  Bennett stood and warmly shook my hand. “Thank you, Charlie,” he said. “I’m in your debt. Any time you need anything, anything at all, my door will always be open to you.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  We walked through the squad room and received a round of applause. The only person not to join in was a scowling Jillian Slater.

  “Don’t forget she still thinks you’re a murderer,” Kara said sweetly.

  As if I could.

  Chapter Nineteen

  We collected Kara’s car from the police garage, Gil from my neighbours and went back to the bungalow. The downside of living on a boat was not having a bath. And right then what I really needed was a long soak to get some of the kinks out of my battered body. With Kara offering to scrub my back it inevitably turned into something a lot more interesting, which was how I discovered that when the spirit was willing, weakness of the flesh didn’t mean a damned thing.

  Later she dropped me back at the boat and dashed off to collect the kids from school. I promised to see her again soon but had other things to clear up first. Cleo was on my conscience. I’d been avoiding face-to-face meetings with her, unsure what to say about the intimate side of our relationship, even less sure what her expectations were. Anyway, we arranged to get together. She was horrified by the state of me, especially when she realised I’d acquired my injuries whilst trying to help her dad. When she heard that he’d most likely soon be released, she couldn’t contain her joy.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Charlie,” she said, tears shining in her eyes.

  “Glad to be of help.”

  “But you shouldn’t have put yourself at risk.”

  “Well, it turned out okay, and your dad will probably get compensation for wrongful imprisonment. He’ll be able to return your savings and have a bit left to get his life back together.”

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She smiled at me and touched the back of my uninjured hand. “Like I told you at the beginning, murder’s not his style.”

  “There’ll be a lot of publicity. The press will be all over you for comments,” I warned her. “I’d rather not be dragged into it.”

  “But you deserve the glory.”

  “No, I don’t.” I’d let Jillian Slater put an innocent man away without doing much to try and stop her. I didn’t deserve anything. “If you want to thank me, just keep my name out of it.”

  “Fair enough. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m certain.”

  “And I’ll be able to pay you.”

  “I don’t want your money, Cleo. Keep it.”

  “No, really I—”

  “I won’t take it and there’s an end to it.”

  There was an awkward pause. I still hadn’t figured out if she thought the end of the investigation meant the end of our personal relationship. Either way, she didn’t deserve to be left hanging in the breeze.

  “Cleo,” I said awkwardly. “About us, I—”

  “It’s all right, Charlie,” she said, smiling. “I never thought there’d be a happy ever after.”

  “Ah, so you were using me then?”

  “Just taking solace where I could find it. I don’t need complications in my life right now.” Well, that told me. “I need to be there for Dad.”

  “He’s lucky to have you,” I said, meaning it.

  She stood up, leaned over me and dropped a kiss on the uninjured side of my face.

  “Goodbye, Charlie,” she said. “And thank you.”

  I watched her as she walked away. So did half the other men in the pub. Her seat had barely been vacated before Jimmy Taylor sauntered in and plonked his arse on it.

  “I’m surprised the conquering hero has time to spare for us humble foot soldiers,” he said, shaking my hand. “Congratulations, mate, you’re the talk of the nick. Slater’s shitting bricks.”

  “Good.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

  “Yeah, well, that truck is singing like a canary. Garnet stupidly didn’t bother to get Glover a top-notch brief, thinking he’d keep stum. He would have done too, if you hadn’t recorded everything Garnet said.”

  “So Slater’s now doubly keen to get me for murder.”

  “I reckon.”

  I watched him make healthy inroads into a pint of bitter. “I might just be able to help you there.”

  “Okay,” he quipped, “I’ll take your confession.”

  I offered him a wry smile, produced a photograph of Miller’s former lover from my jacket pocket and placed it on the table between us. My other theories about Miller’s killer had come to nothing so perhaps it was time for Jimmy to look at this guy.

  “Who’s that?” Jimmy asked.

  I told him.

  “Hang on, Miller wasn’t gay, was he?”

  “He hadn’t come out but he and this guy were an item for quite a while. Miller threw him over for someone else and he didn’t take the rejection well.”

  “So you like him for doing Miller now? A man scorned, and all that?”

  I let his sarcasm wash over me. After all, I’d given him two dead ends to chase. Three if you count Garnet, who was actually innocent of this particular crime. “I think he’s worth looking at.”

  “But he wasn’t there that day.”

  “He didn’t go through the lobby, no.” I explained about the garage.

  “But how can we prove that?”

  “Check his alibi. And check the CCTV on the corner of the street. If he came that way then he’ll be on it, but if he came from the other direction…”

  “It’s a fifty-fifty shot then.” Jimmy wasn’t exactly champing at the bit.

  “Check it out on your own. If it is him, I want you to have the collar, not Slater.”

  He grinned. “You and me both, mate.”

  I lingered a bit in the pub after Jimmy left, taking my time to finish my drink. The doctor had warned me not to take alcohol with the painkillers he’d given me and just one pint was making me feel a bit woozy. For the first time in living memory I didn’t finish a beer and made my slow way back to the boat.

  * * *

  Two days later I rode the Harley all the way to Torquay. Kara thought I was mad but, perhaps sensing that I needed to do this, took Gil for me so I could make the trip. Hal’s team were doing a final practise against another couple of teams off the Devon coast. I needed to talk to him about his problems. I also needed to see Paul and was curious to see the boats in action. Hal offered to send a car for me but I needed to prove something to myself by doing it the hard way. Em still told anyone who’d listen that stubbornness was one of my most unbecoming traits.

  I arrived to a carnival atmosphere. The seawall was lined with spectators, probably tempted out by the fine weather. There were fast-food stalls, ice cream vans and vendors wandering about selling tacky souvenirs. Six boats were competing, all painted in garish colours, advertising their sponsors’ wares. Support boats swarmed round the fleet like flies, as did launches carrying local press and VIP spectators. I noticed television cameras too. Scantily clad girls working for the sponsors were getting a lot of attention from the male spectators.

  Hal waved when he saw me and ushered me into his launch. “Glad you could make it, Charlie,” he said, doing a double take when he saw my array of bruises but making no comment on them. He was clearly preoccupied, probably worried that something would happen to snarl up the practise.

  “Which two are your boats?” I asked as the launch stopped just clear of the star
t of the course.

  “The two painted in my corporate colours. Green and blue flashes.”

  “Got them.”

  “French and Mason are in number one. Paul’s driving number two with Alan as throttleman.”

  “I thought you only ran one boat.”

  “I have, up until now, but the rumours about the team and my ability to finance it are growing in strength.”

  I chuckled. “So you’re countering them by running a second boat. Very astute.”

  “Not necessarily. Depends if Paul’s learned enough to make it worth my while. He’s been bugging me about it for long enough. This is his chance.”

  “Who decides which boat gets the best starting position?” I asked. “Obviously the one on the inside is best placed.”

  “At races it’s decided on practise results. Today we drew lots.”

  “And your two are right in the middle of the pack.”

  “Yeah, it could be worse.”

  The roar of engines being revved, the smell of diesel oil, asphyxiating exhaust fumes and an overload of testosterone made for a heady atmosphere. Men in the flotilla of launches surrounding ours shouted advice and instructions into microphones and I was soon caught up in the excitement. Someone in another launch sounded a Klaxon.

  “The one-minute warning,” Hal said.

  The rev of engines increased.

  “Here we go,” Hal muttered to himself.

  With an additional roar and plume of exhaust smoke, six boats pelted toward the first buoy, so close together that I couldn’t believe there wouldn’t be a collision. I recalled Mason telling me that the seas were never calm and I could see what he meant. The wake from other boats smashed against the flimsy hulls as no quarter appeared to be asked for or given.

  Hal had binoculars pinned to his eyes. I picked up a spare pair and focused them on Paul’s boat, astonished to find that I was willing him on. He was tucked into third position, riding the rough waves with total concentration and not attempting to cut up the boat in front. At least not yet. He must have learned something from his chequered career. All the boats took the first buoy without mishap and thundered towards the next.

  “Eighty knots down that straight,” Hal said to no one in particular.

  “Makes Formula 1 look like a wimp’s game,” I remarked, impressed.

  No one in the launch responded and I returned my attention to the race. I didn’t know whose boat was in the lead but French was second, Paul still in third. Then the boat in fourth recklessly pulled level with Mason and I heard a sharp intake of breath on Hal’s part.

  “What’s that idiot doing?” he growled.

  They were going to touch. There was no way they could avoid it unless French ceded his position because the guy on the inside wasn’t giving way. I could see Mason shaking his fist and shouting at the other driver. French had no choice but to turn to starboard but Paul was already legitimately hogging that position. This was where he could take the lead and prove himself at the expense of the man he must badly want to beat. To my utter astonishment he throttled back and gave French room. French regained second place and took the next buoy.

  Paul’s consideration had cost him third place but I suspected that it had also earned him Hal’s respect. He already had mine.

  They were on the third leg now and something odd happened. The leading boat suddenly slowed. The three boats behind it left it standing, which was when Paul made his move. With a daring manoeuvre that left every one of us in the launch gasping at his audacity, he increased his speed and cut inside the boat in front of him as they both swerved towards the next buoy.

  “That was impressive,” I said.

  Hal turned towards me, actually smiling. “Yes,” he said. “It was.”

  The boats were now on the final lap, French just ahead of Paul as they fought one another for the lead.

  “What happened to the leader back there?” I asked Hal.

  He shrugged, glasses still glued to his eyes. “Could be anything. I’m just glad it wasn’t us for once.”

  French and Paul had left the others behind. It was a two-horse race to the final turn. This was where Paul was bound to do something stupid. I found myself willing him not to take chances. Needless to say, he did. He switched course, came up on French’s starboard bow, cutting inside him and the final buoy, leaving French with no choice but to give way.

  “Is that legal?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” Hal said, grinning. “And very risky. The boy’s learning.”

  It was a bit of an anticlimax when we got back to shore. Hal was taken up with organisational matters and it was some time before we could sit down with a beer.

  “Thanks for coming down, Charlie. Hope you enjoyed it.”

  “I hate to say this but I have new respect for my stepbrother.”

  Hal quirked a brow. “You and me both.”

  “And nothing went wrong for you today.”

  “No, but that leading boat had a clogged fuel line.”

  “I don’t know how that happened but I think I know who’s responsible for your problems.”

  “Come on then,” he said, when I didn’t immediately say more. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  And so I told him, explaining Angie’s connection to Katrina Simpson and Simpson’s relationship to Garnet.

  “God, why didn’t I make that connection myself? I followed the trial in the press and knew someone had testified for Katrina.” Hal shook his head. “When Angie came to work for me, I just didn’t connect the name.”

  “Why should you have? It was some time later and I assume you didn’t interview her yourself.”

  “No, no I didn’t, but even so.”

  I told him that we’d seen Angie entertaining one of his maintenance crew on his boat the Sunday before. I’d sat out more than my share of deafening silences in my time but this one was in a class of its own. I stayed quiet as well, leaving him to digest all I’d said.

  “You have no idea how bad I felt about Katrina Simpson going to prison,” he finally said. “I had sleepless nights about it, wondering if I should have testified, to help her.”

  “You didn’t have firm evidence. If you’d gone into court and explained that conversation you’d overheard, you can bet your life that the prosecution would have come up with a dozen other explanations, all more plausible than an affair.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought at the time.” He paused. “But a few months after Katrina went to jail I happened to see Max in a restaurant with a young lady.”

  “Ahh.”

  “Exactly. I left immediately. No way did I want to confront him, but I knew then that Katrina had probably told the truth about the affair.”

  “But she still opened those accounts for Max, even if she didn’t steal the money. She must have known they weren’t kosher, so she’s not entirely innocent.”

  “Even so, I should have spoken up for her.”

  “You did the right thing with the information you had at the time.”

  “Then how come I feel so shitty about the whole fiasco?”

  “Life’s like that sometimes.” I took a swallow of my beer. “What will you do about the two saboteurs? Will you involve the police?”

  I wasn’t surprised when he said no.

  “I’ll get rid of them, of course, and make sure they know why. Angie was clever choosing someone comparatively junior in the maintenance crew to help do her dirty work. Suspicion didn’t once fall on him. And he’s immature enough to be flattered by a pretty girl’s attentions.”

  “There you have it then.”

  “You don’t think Garnet was trying to wear the team down so he could take it over?”

  “I did wonder about that in the beginning but I’m pretty sure he wasn’
t. He had his hands full with all his other gigs. He’s just a megalomaniac who sees a slight against someone close to him as personal.”

  Hal sighed. “I won’t see Angie in trouble with the law. She was only trying to exact revenge for a friend, however misguidedly. Besides, if I’d spoken up for Katrina, she might not have been found guilty.”

  “Well, you don’t need to worry about Peter Garnet anymore. My former colleagues will be detaining him for the foreseeable future.”

  He didn’t ask why and I didn’t elaborate.

  “I’m glad it wasn’t Paul, Charlie. I know you suspected him.”

  “I’m glad too,” I said, meaning it. What it would have done to Dad and Brenda didn’t bear thinking about and my relationship with my father, such as it was, wouldn’t have survived the fallout. Besides, now that Paul had revealed a little of his soft underbelly, I was having a hard time keeping up the vendetta. We would never be mates but we didn’t need to be at each other’s throats all the time either.

  “I’ll make it up to Katrina Simpson,” Hal said, signalling the barmaid for refills.

  “How?”

  “When she gets out I don’t suppose people will be queuing up to employ her.”

  “But you’ll offer her a job.”

  “If she’ll give me the time of day.”

  “Why don’t you write to her inside?” I suggested. “Tell it from your point of view and make the job offer in your letter. Give her time to get used to the idea.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea, Charlie. I’ll do just that.” He reached into his pocket and handed me an envelope. I could tell that it was stuffed with cash. A lot of cash. “This is for you.”

  “I don’t want your money. What are friends for?”

  “Don’t be an idiot. You’ve saved me a fortune and you’ve earned it. Besides, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re out of work.”

  I grinned. “Well, there is that. Thanks, Hal.”

  My phone rang and I excused myself to answer it. It was a jubilant Jimmy.