As Elizabeth and I were leading the stretcher down the corridor, a couple of doors opened, neighbours wondering about the noise, and Elizabeth was able to tell them not to worry. If you worried about every stretcher you saw at Coopers Chase you’d need one yourself soon enough.
As we got outside, into the open air, you could see a few lights on around the place, and a few curtains opened, but, again, they were used to seeing ambulances at the dead of night. I said to Elizabeth that I was surprised it was just a normal ambulance, and she said it wasn’t a normal ambulance, it just looked like one.
As we went back in, Sue and Lance were leading Poppy and Douglas out. They had to be questioned, Elizabeth explained. Even in MI5 you can’t just shoot someone without being asked a few questions about it. Elizabeth gave Poppy a hug, which was nice, and told her not to worry, she’d done everything right. Then I gave her a hug too, and told her not to worry. I very nearly asked about the teabag, but I will ask next time I see her instead.
I gave Sue and Lance a friendship bracelet each. Sue looked like I’d just given her a parking ticket, but Lance said, ‘Thank you, I could use a bit of friendship.’ I didn’t ask them for money.
Douglas came out next, with a book called Megastructures of the Third Reich and a toothbrush.
Sue told Elizabeth to secure the flat and make sure no one could gain entry. Elizabeth just nodded back to Sue and told her to take care of Poppy.
Elizabeth then told me to go home and sleep, and so I went home, but I haven’t slept. Listen to this.
As soon as my door was shut, I took off my cardigan, to hang over the back of the chair. As I was taking it off I felt something in the pocket, and I fished out a folded piece of paper, which hadn’t been there when I put it on.
On the piece of paper was a message which simply said ‘RING MY MUM’ followed by a phone number.
Poppy must have slipped it into my pocket while we were hugging.
So Poppy wants her mum, poor love. I will ring her in the morning.
I’ve put the television on. On BBC2 they are showing normal programmes from the day, but with someone doing sign language in the corner. Isn’t that clever? I was just thinking it was unfair to make deaf people stay up so late, but then realized they could tape them. What a nice thing. I’m watching a programme about the coast of Britain called Coast. Someone is digging up whelks. No thanks, to be honest, but the lady doing the sign language has a lovely top.
I still haven’t quite worked out how my Instagram works, which is very frustrating, as @GreatJoy69 now has over two hundred private messages.
I wonder if anyone else is awake?
18
Ryan Baird is awake. He is currently playing Call of Duty online. He is spraying machine-gun fire at full volume while his neighbours bang on the walls. Ryan made £150 today, selling a couple of laptops, a debit card and a watch to Connie Johnson, who runs the whole of Fairhaven from the lock-up garages by the seafront. She trusts him, even gives him a package now and then to deliver to one of the estates. Drugs? That’s the thing to get into. Stealing phones is for kids.
Ryan has been called stupid his whole life. But who’s stupid now? He’s got cash in his pocket; Connie Johnson clearly likes him. He’s making more money than any eighteen-year-old he knows, probably making more money than his old teachers. The police had him in yesterday for nicking a phone and giving someone a shove, but they can’t touch him, because Ryan is smart. Too smart for the teachers, too smart for the cops, too smart for his neighbours now pressing on his door buzzer. Ryan Baird has got all the answers.
Ryan lights one last spliff before bedtime, then curses as his lapse in concentration sees him shot by a sniper. Lucky video games aren’t real life. Ryan reloads and starts again. He’s invincible.
Martin Lomax is awake, too. A Saudi lawyer has a bee in his bonnet about a powerboat. Martin Lomax is on the phone, trying to placate him. The long and short of it was, he had received the powerboat as agreed compensation from the Cartagena Cartel when the FDA had raided one of their Bolivian drugs labs, costing them all a great deal of money. The issue at hand was that the powerboat had arrived full of bullet holes, and the Saudi lawyer was of the opinion that this was aesthetically unpleasing, and also a hazard to seaworthiness.
Martin Lomax’s other line rings, and he promises he will talk to the Cartagena Cartel as soon as possible.
MI5 are on the other line. Does he know an Andrew Hastings? He does. Does Andrew Hastings work for him? He does, no use lying, this is MI5 and they know already. Was Mr Hastings working for him this evening? No, he was not. We regret to inform you that Mr Hastings has been shot dead while trying to murder a member of the British Security Services, condolences for your loss, but I wonder if you would have any comment on that. No, no comment, no comment at all. Would you know Mr Hastings’s next of kin? No. Was he married? I think he was. Who to? No idea, never asked. Sorry to disturb you so late at night. No, no, not at all, just doing your job.
Martin Lomax puts down the phone. Hastings dead. Well, that was inconvenient. But he would deal with the powerboat first. And he still needed to order some trestle tables for the Open Garden.
Poppy and Douglas are also awake. They are being interviewed in separate rooms inside a large country house near Godalming, just to get the facts straight. Poppy has coffee in front of her and a union rep beside her. Lance James is asking her to talk through what happened.
Douglas has no coffee and no union rep. It’s just him and Sue Reardon. The way things should be done. Did he recognize the man who tried to kill him? Never seen him before. Would it surprise him to know the gunman worked for Martin Lomax? Well, yes and no. Yes and no how? Well, he must be working for someone, surely? And Martin Lomax has threatened him, so it’s not outside the realms of possibility. But why would Martin Lomax want Douglas dead if he hadn’t stolen the diamonds, answer us that? No idea, Martin Lomax is playing some sort of game, that’s for certain, and I’m stuck in the middle of it, nearly getting my head blown off. Take us through the break-in at Martin Lomax’s house again, step-by-step.
It is three in the morning by the time Poppy’s union rep suggests it might be time to allow Poppy some sleep. As she walks down a long corridor, she can hear Sue Reardon still questioning Douglas Middlemiss.
19
Ron has skipped breakfast for this, and is even more furious than usual. He has spent some time looking at the large bloodstain on the bedroom carpet, and he now inspects the bullet hole in the bedroom wall.
‘I’ve seen liberties taken,’ says Ron. ‘God knows, they’ve all tried it on with me over the years, but this takes the whassname. When did you find the body? Half eleven? I was probably still up. I could have slipped on my shoes and been straight over. I swear, it’s not often I’m speechless, but I’m speechless. I wish I could speak, I wish I had words.’
Ron has had all the fun he’s going to have with the bullet hole, and starts pacing.
‘Ron, don’t pace over the bloodstains, please,’ says Elizabeth.
‘But no, who gets the call? Joyce. Of course, Joyce. Everybody loves Joyce.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ calls Joyce from the living room.
‘Including you, Ron,’ says Elizabeth.
‘I haven’t interrupted the two of you, so don’t interrupt me,’ says Ron. ‘There’s a dead body. A dead body, geezer shot in the head, and what do you do? You ring Joyce. You don’t ring Ron, dear me, no. Why would you ring Ron? He wouldn’t want to see a corpse, would he? Old Ron? Last thing he’d want to see. A bloodstain and a bullet hole will be enough for Ron. I’ve heard it all now.’
‘Are you finished?’ says Elizabeth, looking into her bag.
‘Take a guess, Elizabeth? Take a guess if I’m finished. Use those powers of deduction. No, I’m not finished. I would have loved it. Loved it.’
‘Come with me,’ says Elizabeth.
Elizabeth walks into the living room and takes the armchair opposite Joyce
. Ron follows her through. Elizabeth takes a folder from her bag and places it on her lap. Ron has a speech to make.
‘Here’s my promise to you,’ he begins. ‘With Joyce as my witness – and it’s not a promise friends should have to make – if I ever find someone shot, I will call you. I will call you because you’re my mate, and that’s what mates do. Two in the morning, I don’t care, I find a corpse, I pick up the phone, “Elizabeth, there’s a corpse on the landing, on the bowls lawn, doesn’t matter where, slip on a pair of shoes and come and take a look.” I am absolutely fuming.’
‘Are you finished now, Ron?’ asks Elizabeth. ‘I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Oh yeah? Well, what if I’ve got something to talk to you about? About friendship?’
‘As you wish,’ says Elizabeth. ‘But we don’t have an awful lot of time. We have a job to do.’
‘I’ve made you both a cup of tea,’ says Joyce. ‘Don’t be angry, but it’s herbal.’
Ron hasn’t finished though. ‘No apology, no “Sorry, Ron, spur of the moment, I panicked.” You think I see corpses every day of the week? Is that it? I’ve been in the hospital three nights, I get home, and this is my reward. You see a dead body, Joyce sees a dead body and I’m sat at home, watching some documentary with Portillo on a train. That is insult to injury, I’m sorry but it is. I thought we were friends.’
Elizabeth sighs. ‘Ron, I like you. It is a huge surprise to me, but I do. I respect you, too, in a number of areas. But listen to me, dear. I was in an operational situation. I had a man who had been seconds from death, a young girl who had just shot someone for the first time, I had a crime scene, and I had MI5 arriving any time. So I felt I needed another pair of hands. I knew that both of you would want to see the corpse, that was a given. So I was left with a simple choice between a woman with forty years of nursing experience and a man in a football top who would bang on about Michael Foot the moment MI5 arrived. Granted, thirty-odd years ago the job would still have gone to the man, but times change and I rang Joyce. Now, what can we do to calm you down?’
‘I’m already calm,’ shouts Ron.
‘My mistake,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Drink your tea,’ says Joyce.
Ron stops for a moment. ‘What do you mean, we’ve got a job to do?’
‘That’s better,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Ron, I took a folder out of my bag. Midway through your rant.’
‘It wasn’t a rant, but let me ring the Queen and get you a medal for taking a folder out of a bag.’
‘I did it quite slowly and deliberately. A buff-coloured folder, not the sort of thing I would normally carry in my bag. I thought you might notice.’
‘Joyce noticed, I suppose?’ says Ron. ‘Clever old Joyce?’
‘Well, yes she did, but the point is moot. Joyce hasn’t seen this folder yet. It’s just for me and you.’
‘Joyce hasn’t seen it?’ asks Ron.
‘Not yet, she can see it eventually,’ says Elizabeth. ‘But you and I have a job to do first.’
‘I’m not sure about this,’ says Joyce.
‘Oh, don’t you start,’ says Elizabeth. ‘I’m placating Ron.’
Ron nods. ‘OK. Sorry if I lost my rag there.’
‘You didn’t at all, dear. You voiced your frustrations, perfectly understandable.’
‘So what’s the job? What’s in the file?’
‘Don’t think it’s gone unnoticed that you stayed by Ibrahim’s side when he needed you,’ says Elizabeth. ‘And I think this is the reward you’ve earned.’
Elizabeth holds out the file and Ron reaches over and takes it.
‘It has Ryan Baird’s address, mobile telephone number, anything else you might need.’
Ron flicks through it, nodding. ‘So we’re going after him?’ he asks. ‘Straight away?’
‘You’re going after him, yes.’
‘I’m going after him?’
Joyce beams. ‘Wonderful.’
‘Yes, I thought you’d like to?’ says Elizabeth.
‘I would like to, yes,’ says Ron. ‘You got a plan?’
‘I do. I just need to see Bogdan about something first. Then you’ll get your instructions.’
Ron nods. He taps the file against one of his big hands. ‘Poppy get you this, did she?’
Elizabeth nods.
‘What’s going to happen to her? After blowing this geezer’s head off?’
‘She’ll be fine,’ says Elizabeth. ‘She did the right thing in the right way. They’ll question her today, get everything straight, then probably back to work.’
‘Will they let her see her mum, do you think?’ asks Joyce.
‘Goodness no,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Why would they let her see her mother?’
‘I think I’d want to see my mum if I’d just shot someone, wouldn’t you?’
‘It’s not kindergarten, Joyce; you’re always so sentimental,’ says Elizabeth.
Ron, still leafing through the file, looks up. ‘And your ex-husband? Dougie boy? What’ll happen to him?’
‘Much the same thing. They’ve had to move him out of here, of course. It’s compromised.’
‘So we’re done with the whole thing?’
‘We’re done with it. Our babysitting days are officially over.’
‘We can still look for the diamonds, though?’
‘Of course.’
‘Good. You want to know what I think, by the way?’ says Ron.
‘Not really, Ron,’ replies Elizabeth.
‘I think you could easily have made two phone calls last night, could have had me and Joyce both here. But I think you didn’t want me to meet your ex-husband.’
Joyce nods as Elizabeth responds.
‘Well, I’ve always wished I’d never met him, so I like to extend the same courtesy to my friends.’
‘Handsome, Joyce says?’
‘Very,’ agrees Joyce.
Elizabeth shrugs. ‘What is it with men and handsome? Wouldn’t you rather be kind and clever and funny and brave than handsome?’
‘No,’ says Ron.
‘Can I ask you both something?’ says Joyce.
Her friends both nod.
‘In your teas, I’ve left one bag in and one bag out. Could you try them both and let me know which you prefer?’
20
Something happened last night, Bogdan Jankowski can just tell.
He is on his way to the building site on top of the hill, but has popped into the shop at Coopers Chase to buy some Lilt Zero and twenty Rothmans.
A man he doesn’t know has just got out of a van he doesn’t recognize and headed over to Ruskin Court.
Bogdan watches as the man lets himself into Ruskin Court using a key he shouldn’t have.
Something is up here. Bogdan approaches the van. As he peers through the passenger side window he sees a newspaper, which is usual in a van, but then notes it is the Daily Telegraph, which is not. He looks at the side of the van, ‘F. Walker Roofing – All Jobs Considered’.
From the corner of his eye, Bogdan sees Elizabeth, Ron and Joyce emerging from Ruskin Court. What are they all doing in Ruskin Court? Trouble, always trouble. And if there is trouble to be had, then Bogdan would like a piece of it.
Elizabeth waves goodbye to Ron and Joyce, hurries over to him and, hooking her arm through his, leads him away from the van.
‘What’s the van?’ asks Bogdan.
‘How should I know?’ says Elizabeth, who makes it her business to know everything. ‘Good morning, though.’
‘Good morning to you. Who are you seeing in Ruskin Court so early?’
‘I borrowed a book from Margery Scholes,’ says Elizabeth.
‘What book?’ asks Bogdan.
‘A Jeffery Deaver,’ says Elizabeth. ‘It’s terrific.’
‘Which one?’ asks Bogdan. They are now approaching Elizabeth’s home in Larkin Court.
‘The most recent one. Thank you for walking me home. Will you be coming t
o see Stephen later?’
Bogdan nods. ‘We got a big crane going up this morning, but nothing special after lunch so I come down.’ Bogdan is in charge of the new Hillcrest development currently taking shape high up above them. He has had a series of rapid promotions due to the recent events, but is taking everything in his stride. Bogdan always takes everything in his stride.
‘Who was the guy who went into Ruskin Court? Wearing gloves?’
‘No idea, darling. Drains? Drains would wear gloves, wouldn’t they?’
‘He walked in thirty seconds before you walked out. And you walked out ten seconds after I start to look at the van?’
‘I think you’re being a little paranoid, Bogdan. Are you getting enough sleep?’
‘I get eight hours and twenty minutes every night,’ says Bogdan. ‘You promise me something, though?’
‘If I can, of course. If I can’t, then no.’
‘You tell me why you’re lying eventually? About the van and the man? And I just saw Margery Scholes in the shop, so how did you get into Ruskin? You tell me sooner or later?’
‘Oh, Bogdan, we all have our secrets. I’ll see you later, I hope?’
Bogdan nods and Elizabeth goes inside. Bogdan retraces his steps, but the van has gone.
He walks up the hill thinking about men with gloves, and keys they shouldn’t have.
The Hillcrest development is running according to plan. Of course it is. He is making plenty of money too. Half goes into the building society, and half goes into Bitcoin. He is not tempted to buy a house, because buying a house meant you were staying, and you could never really predict if you were staying, could you? Bogdan spends the morning checking the works, supervising the installation of the crane and smoking his Rothmans. He then makes his way back down the hill, to play chess with Elizabeth’s husband, Stephen.
He passes the graveyard where the nuns are buried. What do they make of the steam hammers sinking foundation posts further up the hill? Bogdan finds the noise soothing, and he hopes they do, too. No one wants silence for eternity.
The Man Who Died Twice (The Thursday Murder Club) Page 8