‘It’s sunny, so nobody’s that bothered about drugs anyway.’
‘I’m telling you, addiction levels dropped like a stone, violent crime is way down, the incidence of AIDS is as low as it’s ever been… and all the money they saved by not waging a pointless war on helpless junkies was spent on creating jobs and building rehab centres. I just don’t understand why people aren’t shouting about this from the rooftops.’
Hendricks looked at Thorne. ‘Or in Turkish restaurants.’
‘I wasn’t shouting.’
‘Helpless junkies, you said. Helpless? Really?’
‘Yeah, some of them. Most of them.’
‘I don’t know about that —’
‘And we’re sitting here pouring booze down our necks.’ She picked up her beer bottle. ‘A nice legal drug, which kills far more people every year than all the illegal ones put together. It’s the hypocrisy which pisses me off more than anything.’
Hendricks shrugged and took a swig of his nice, legal drug. ‘Anyway, just because something worked in Portugal… and besides, I’m not convinced —’
‘Look it up —’
Thorne said, ‘Ignore him, Helen.’
‘Who’s to say it would work anywhere else? I just think it might be a step too far, that’s all.’
‘Well, I think you’re wrong.’ Helen raised her bottle in a mock toast.
‘Why have you got such a bee in your bonnet about it, anyway?’
Helen stared at him for a few seconds. ‘I can’t believe you’re asking me that. You haven’t drunk so much that you’ve forgotten what I do?’
‘I know what you do,’ Hendricks said.
Thorne was shaking his head. Liam was staring at the table.
‘So, for a kick-off, you’ve got kids being raised by drug-addicted parents, often placing them at physical risk, which is abuse in itself. I’m not going too fast for you, am I, Phil?’
Thorne glanced across and saw that two people at the next table were staring.
‘More importantly, there are any number of studies showing that, as well as causing serious mental health issues, childhood abuse can drive people to use drugs in later life. Trauma, then self-medication, I mean it’s not rocket science, is it? So, it’s not bad enough that these kids I see at work every day are abused, because now, thanks to our stupid attitudes towards drug addicts, some of them are going to grow up and be treated like criminals.’ Helen took a swig of beer, reached to tear off a piece of flatbread. ‘So…’
Hendricks nodded slowly, then looked across at the couple on the next table and shrugged apologetically. ‘What can I tell you?’ he said. ‘She’s high as a bloody kite.’
‘Piss off, Phil.’
Thorne leaned across the table. ‘He’s joking, Hel…’
Now, lying in bed, Thorne said, ‘He was just saying all that because Liam was there. I mean, back when he was clubbing every night of the week, Phil probably took every drug known to man. In fact I know he did. Maybe he doesn’t want Liam to find out he was into all that stuff.’
Helen hummed, non-committal.
‘You know, now he’s all loved-up and trying to be well behaved. Now it’s all about keeping fit and I don’t know… spending Sundays at the garden centre.’ Thorne moved closer to her. ‘He was just messing about. You know what he’s like.’
‘Yeah,’ Helen said. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so bolshie.’
Thorne was still hoping that the slim possibility of make-up sex was on the table. Or in the bed, at the very least. ‘Nothing wrong with you being bolshie,’ he said. ‘It’s quite hot, actually.’
‘Last week this kid nearly died on the Alton estate,’ Helen said. ‘Just because his mum thought it was a good idea to keep her methadone in Fruit Shoot bottles. He was OK in the end, but it was touch and go.’
‘Jesus…’
She pulled the duvet up, then stretched across to pick up her book from the bedside table. ‘Same age as Alfie.’
Thorne said nothing. He sighed and stared at the light fitting for half a minute, and when he closed his eyes the bulb continued to glow behind them.
As though she was able to read his thoughts, Helen turned a page and said, ‘You’re welcome to make up with yourself, if you want. Won’t bother me.’
TWENTY-ONE
He’d spent the last hour or so browsing Facebook; clicking on profiles at random and looking at strangers’ photographs. Their friends, their partners, their pets. It was something that often helped him to unwind at the end of a stressful day, but none of the pictures could compare with those that had been in his head for the last three days.
It was quite the album.
His Friday evening had certainly been one to remember, probably the best one yet, he decided. He could not be sure though if that was simply because he was getting better at what he did, learning how to relax a little more and enjoy himself, or if it was down to her. He’d known it would be special from the moment he’d seen her, known he was not going to be disappointed. That dress and those fancy shoes, the trouble she’d gone to with her hair and make-up.
She’d looked as good as she was ever going to.
And he very much appreciated the effort.
He had guessed that Alice would go to a lot of trouble, had worked that much out about her already, seen how keen she was. She could have had no idea about the trouble he had gone to. None of them did. The thought he had put into it, the time and effort lavished. She might have got a sneaking idea right at the end, of course, put two and two together, but by then there had been other things for her to think about.
As ever, he could only guess at what those things might have been.
Regrets, if he had to put money on it.
Would have, should have, could have…
There was no question he had made a good choice and that pleased him enormously. These days, there was too much choice, if anything. Too many options when it came to all sorts of things. You couldn’t buy a cup of coffee without half an hour to kill and a degree in Italian. He remembered trying to get breakfast in America once, when it had taken the waitress five minutes to list the different types of bread available just because he’d been stupid enough to ask for toast.
Who needed the aggravation?
It was the same with everything. There were far too many channels on his TV, too many products on the shelves whenever he went shopping, and he still hadn’t worked out some of the things he was able to do on his phone.
Not that he had any issue with technology. Making his choices would have been almost impossible without it.
He clicked on a photo of a young boy playing with a puppy and ‘liked’ it, because he was in a good mood. A few moments later, he was looking at a picture of a frail-looking old man who had recently passed away. He posted a sad-face on the bereaved daughter’s page, because it felt like the right thing to do.
In the end, he decided, it wasn’t the number of available options that really mattered, it was all about going at things properly and making an educated choice. Doing your homework. Any idiot could go ‘that one’, but that was how people came unstuck, wasn’t it? Besides, when you got it right, it was the best feeling ever and the pictures afterwards were so much better.
It wouldn’t be long, he reckoned, before he’d have to start checking out some new possibilities. Not quite yet, but he was already looking forward to it, and why the hell wouldn’t he?
Choosing them was almost half the fun.
TWENTY-TWO
Kyle Mason worked in the service department of a car dealership in Holloway, less than a mile away from the prison in which he had once done time alongside Andrew Evans. He was in his early thirties and – Tanner supposed – handsome, though there was no trace of the winning smile she had seen in his photograph when he walked out to meet her in the reception area. Tanner introduced herself and he nodded, pushing his hands a little deeper into the pockets of blue overalls emblazoned with the company logo.
A
‘can-do’ raised thumb with a nice, smiley face.
Tanner followed Mason up a narrow stairwell to a viewing area the manager had told her they could use for fifteen minutes. As interview rooms went, it was suitably grim, with curling carpet tiles and a single, dusty strip light. They sat in moulded plastic chairs next to a drinks machine with an OUT OF ORDER sign taped to it, while in front of them, on a low table, somebody had taken the trouble to artfully arrange dog-eared copies of What Car? and Auto Express.
Doing her best to ignore the music from a tinny speaker on the wall, Tanner laid her bag on the floor and stared down through a dirty window at the service workshop below; a four by four on a vehicle lift and three or four mechanics moving beneath it.
‘I don’t see the point,’ she said. ‘I mean you can sit here and watch people working on your car, but you’ve got no idea what they’re doing, have you? Well, I certainly wouldn’t.’
‘Is this going to take long?’ The man’s voice was deep, the accent pure south London. ‘The boss took a punt, giving me this job, you know? It doesn’t look great when you lot come bowling in for a chat.’
‘I’ve already spoken to him,’ Tanner said. ‘It’s not a problem. He knows you’ll be helping us with an investigation and that’s only going to look good, right? Good for everyone. So, let’s hope you can.’
‘What?’
‘Help us.’ She watched Mason shift awkwardly in his chair and reached to take her notebook from her bag. ‘Must be a bit strange, Pentonville sitting there on the doorstep.’
Mason sniffed. ‘I cycle past it every morning on the way to work. I like looking at it.’
‘A reminder of old times?’
‘A reminder of shit times. Something I don’t want to go back to. That I’m never going back to.’
‘What was it you were in for again?’
‘Assault.’
Tanner nodded. ‘Sexual assault, wasn’t it?’
Mason sat back and sucked his teeth. ‘What’s the point of asking if you already know?’
‘I wanted to see what you’d say, that’s all. If I’m looking for information from someone, I like to know how upfront they are. I’m not trying to catch you out.’
‘I did a stupid thing, I paid for it.’
‘Stupid?’
‘A bad thing, OK? I’m not that person any more. I’m nothing like that person.’
‘Pleased to hear it,’ Tanner said.
There were shouts and a peal of throaty laughter from the workshop below. A pneumatic hiss and the scream of a drill in short, angry bursts.
‘What kind of information?’ Mason asked.
Tanner opened her notebook and nodded towards the door; the streets beyond. ‘For at least some of the time you were over there in Pentonville, you were on the same wing as a man called Andrew Evans.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. Andy was a mate. Stayed in touch, like.’
‘Right, and you and your mate Andy were both using Spice when you were inside.’
Mason hesitated.
‘I don’t care about that.’ Tanner looked hard at him, made sure he understood. ‘I’m only here because I’m trying to find out a bit more about the woman who delivered it to you.’
He folded his arms, grimaced. ‘Her. The Duchess.’
‘Well, this woman may not be someone you think of very fondly now, but I’m sure it was different when you were inside. According to Andrew Evans, she visited you dozens of times.’
‘Yeah… probably.’
‘So, what did you talk about during those visits?’
Mason shook his head slowly as though he was struggling to remember.
‘Look, we know she used different names and we know none of them were real.’ Tanner leaned towards him. ‘So as of now, all we’ve got is a picture on a bunch of fake IDs and anything you can tell us would really help. I did tell your manager that you were going to help, remember?’
‘She talked about all sorts,’ Mason said eventually. ‘The weather, the news, anything. Just so it looked like the visit was kosher, if a screw walked past or whatever. Most of the time she asked how I was doing, what the food was like, how my classes were going.’ There was a flash of that winning smile. ‘I did car maintenance, you know, which was how I ended up getting this job, but there was all sorts. Computers, foreign languages, all that.’
‘And she never said anything about herself? Her family? Where she was from?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Did she have an accent?’
He shrugged. ‘Just ordinary, you know. I mean, not northern or Scottish or anything foreign.’
‘A London accent?’
Mason snapped his fingers. ‘She had a kid.’ He nodded. ‘Yeah, she definitely mentioned that.’
Tanner scribbled. ‘Boy or girl?’
‘I don’t think she said. I was just talking about missing my son and she said she couldn’t imagine what that was like. How she’d go mad if she couldn’t see her kid. Something like that.’ He watched Tanner writing. ‘Is that any good?’
‘It’s something.’ Tanner finished writing and looked at him. ‘Anything else you can remember? Some comment she might have made…’
Mason was looking through the window. One of his workmates had clocked him and was waving while another was happily making ‘wanker’ signs. Mason turned back to Tanner. ‘She said something about the seaside once.’
‘What about it?’
‘That she liked it, you know? That it was a good place for kids to grow up and all that. Said that when I got out I should take my son down there, get him out of London for a bit.’
‘You think that’s where she grew up?’
‘Yeah, could have been, I suppose.’ He turned to the window again. ‘I mean, a lot of the time I was talking to her I was out of it, so it’s hard to remember. You know what I mean?’
Now, the men below them were making even less subtle gestures; tongues lolling, thrusting their hips.
Tanner nodded and closed her notebook.
‘We done, then?’ As Tanner reached for her bag, Mason stood up, looking hugely grateful that he could be on his way. ‘So… how’s Andy doing?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I saw him after he came out and it was pretty obvious he was still caning the Spice.’
‘He’s doing better.’ Tanner stood up, too.
‘That’s good. That’s good…’
Tanner walked past him and stopped at the top of the stairs. ‘How did you manage to sort yourself out, Kyle? I don’t mean getting the job.’
‘Listen, I had plenty of friends who did time before me, people who used the same stuff, so I knew how that shit worked, OK? What you come out owing. Soon as I was out and I was clean, I paid it all off.’
‘You make it sound easy.’
‘No, it was not easy, but it had to be done. I sold my car, sold anything I could think of. I scraped the cash together and got those animals off my back.’ He smiled again and this time it lingered a while. ‘I even managed to get a little bank loan once I’d got my job.’
‘I’m impressed.’ Tanner wondered why Andrew Evans had not been able to take similar steps to get his life back on track. Whether he might have done, had the people he owed money to not generously offered him another way out.
Had he been as streetwise as his friend.
‘I’m not stupid,’ Mason said. ‘I know you still have to pay a bank loan back.’ He nodded, the smile gone. ‘But if you can’t, the bank don’t come after you with guns. You know what I mean?’
In the dealership car park, Tanner sat in her VW Golf and took a call from Long Barrow Manor.
‘I need to see Paula,’ Evans said.
He was trying to sound calm, but Tanner could hear the effort in his voice. She said, ‘That’s not going to be possible, Andrew.’
‘I need to see my wife. What’s the big deal? Why can’t I see my wife?’
‘We went through all this —�
�
‘Yeah, but I don’t get it.’ He wasn’t making an effort any more. ‘I get that they don’t know what’s going on and I know it has to be like that, but why can’t Paula know? It’s not fair.’
‘She knows you’re safe. She’s been told.’
‘Yeah, but she needs to see I’m OK. And my little boy needs to see.’
‘I can’t do it.’
‘Just for an hour or something, yeah?’
‘Look… maybe I can arrange for a phone call, but I’m not promising anything, so —’
‘I don’t want to talk to her on the phone. Why can’t she come and see me?’
‘They don’t know what’s going on or where you are, but that doesn’t mean they might not try to find out.’ As soon as she stopped talking, Tanner knew that she’d said the wrong thing.
‘You saying she’s in danger or something?’
‘No, I’m not saying that.’ In the rear-view mirror she watched herself shaking her head. ‘I’m really not saying that, Andrew. I’m just trying to make you understand why nobody can know where you are, that’s all.’
Glancing up, Tanner could see the manager of the dealership staring at her from the doorway to reception. He saw her looking and waved. Tanner listened to Evans breathing for a few seconds and said, ‘I’ll go and see her, OK?’
Evans muttered something, low and fast, but Tanner couldn’t make it out.
‘I’ll go and see Paula,’ she said. ‘I promise.’ The tone sounded on her phone to let her know that another call was coming through. ‘OK, Andrew?’ She looked at the screen and saw the number that was waiting. ‘Listen, I’m sorry, but I really need to hang up now.’
TWENTY-THREE
‘Leila was so busy,’ Mina Fadel said. ‘I think that was the trouble.’
Next to her, Leila’s father, Barin, nodded. ‘Very busy, but that was because she was so popular. Most popular doctor at the surgery, because she was the best.’
‘Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?’
‘No thank you,’ Chall said.
‘But you’ve come such a long way.’
The Killing Habit Page 12