Broken Faith

by James Green

  ‘Good evening, Mr Henderson, I am Inspector Santos, and this is Mr Costello, whom I think you have met before.’

  Henderson was already starting to sweat.

  ‘Really, Inspector’ he looked at his watch ‘it’s past one. This is most …’

  ‘Mr Henderson, this is a very serious matter.’

  ‘If it’s about Jarvis again I’ve told the police twice that my wife and I hardly knew Jarvis.’

  ‘It is not about Mr Jarvis.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is it about the woman inspector who came last time?’ Henderson paused, he didn’t want to ask, but he asked. ‘The one who was murdered?’

  ‘In part, yes.’

  Jimmy watched as Henderson visibly began to disintegrate.

  ‘But what could I possibly know about that? I only met her once, briefly.’ He looked at Jimmy as if seeing him for the first time. It was a sign of how close he was to panic that he seemed to think Jimmy might actually help him. ‘This man was with her. He’ll tell you –’

  ‘Shall we discuss it inside?’

  Santos pushed passed him and went into the villa. Henderson followed and Jimmy followed Henderson. Jimmy left the front door open. In the large living room Dorothy Henderson was sitting with some embroidery on her lap. She looked at Jimmy when he came in with the same look as last time.

  ‘Sit down, Mr Henderson.’

  Dorothy Henderson wasn’t weak like her husband and she certainly wasn’t going to sweat. She put her sewing down and looked at Santos.

  ‘I presume you are the police. Do you normally give orders to people in their own homes when you barge in at one in the morning?’

  ‘In cases of murder, intent to murder, possession and distribution of pornographic material and money laundering, I invariably do give the orders, Mrs Henderson.’

  Henderson almost collapsed onto the settee. She took it better.

  ‘No doubt you have some reason for being here. It had better be a good one because first thing tomorrow, or I should say today, I shall make a formal complaint about the timing of this intrusion, your manner and behaviour and the remarks you have just made.’

  Jimmy decided that if he was here he might as well make the most of it.

  ‘You may need to save a little time from all of that to slip in and visit your husband in his cell at the police station.’

  She looked at Jimmy with total loathing and was about to speak when Santos cut in.

  ‘Tonight my men have been stationed outside your house –’

  ‘Spying on respectable residents? Do you and your men have so little to do with your time?’

  ‘– and some short time ago they intercepted a woman who was on your drive coming to the house to kill Mr Henderson. The woman is now in custody.’

  That stopped her and Henderson gave a low whimper and put his knuckles to his mouth. Dorothy Henderson waited a moment.

  ‘Please explain, Inspector. Why would anyone come here and kill my husband?’

  Santos looked at Jimmy. It was show-time.

  ‘Because he is involved with others in a criminal operation to create and sell pornography. He launders the profits through a company called Iberian Property Holdings which is based in Gibraltar. Inspector Suarez and I stumbled onto the operation while looking into the death of Arthur Jarvis. A man called Mercer, a colleague of your husband who poses as a writer, killed Inspector Suarez in a failed attempt to kill me. It was his second attempt.’ She looked at Jimmy and he could see she was on Harry’s side, she also wanted him dead. ‘I went to England and did some digging. Jarvis and Mercer were in prison together. I found that Mercer’s writing was merely a front, Jarvis wrote his books, badly as it happens. Mercer’s real business was hard porn. I also found that Iberian Property Holdings was a vehicle used to launder the proceeds from the racket. Your husband handles the money and the money leads to a man in London who set up the whole thing.’ He turned to Henderson. ‘I’ve told the police about Tate and Wiston and the book sales, Mr Henderson. Mr Jardene doesn’t send his regards, he doesn’t like you making him publish Harry’s rubbish, although he says it’s getting better. He says the next one, although with Jarvis dead, there won’t be a next one, might even have been commercial.’

  Henderson was wheezing and gently rocking back and forward. Santos took over. Jimmy had done his job.

  ‘It was the man in London who ordered the killing of Mr Costello which, unfortunately, led to Inspector Suarez’s death. Now the operation here is fully blown he hired a woman called Rosa Sikora to come and kill your husband. As I said, we intercepted her and she is now in custody.’

  Henderson slumped forward and started moaning. He was also shaking. If he heard any more he’d probably pass out. Jimmy decided he hadn’t been needed after all. But Dorothy Henderson wasn’t giving in so easily.

  ‘Have you any proof of these ridiculous accusations?’

  ‘The gun the woman was carrying which we know was supplied by Mercer. The material on Jarvis’s computer. The fact that Jarvis lived rent-free in a house owned by the property company. The publisher. The company in Gibraltar. Do you want any more?’

  Henderson came to life,

  ‘I was forced into it. I was blackmailed. I had no choice. I’ll tell you anything, anything.’ Then he shouted the clincher. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

  Dorothy Henderson looked at him, it wasn’t a nice look for a wife to give her husband.

  ‘Shut up.’

  But he wasn’t listening.

  ‘They threatened me. I was a respectable –’

  ‘Shut up.’ Her voice was raised and was a voice that expected to be heard and obeyed. Henderson looked at her with frightened eyes and shut up. Good God, thought Jimmy, he’s about to be arrested on a hat-full of serious crimes and he’s still more scared of his wife than what’s going to happen to him.

  ‘What did they use to blackmail you with, Mr Henderson?’

  Santos’ voice was calm and quiet with no hint of a threat. Henderson was about to answer when his wife spoke. He didn’t see the problem with the question, but she did.

  ‘Nothing. If there is an ounce of truth in any of this, which I doubt, there was nothing with which anyone could blackmail my husband. We are and always have been respectable people. If, and I emphasize if, there is anything to this,’ she looked at Henderson to drive home her point, ‘my husband must have been threatened. His life must have been threatened. There could never have been any question of blackmail.’ She looked again at her husband who swallowed but seemed to finally take the point. He tried to speak, spluttered a couple of times, then got his words out.

  ‘No, not blackmailed, threatened, with violence. I couldn’t refuse. They threatened my life.’

  ‘Who did?’ The question came from Jimmy. Henderson and his wife both looked at him. ‘Who threatened you with violence? Who made you fear for your life?’

  A crafty look came into Henderson’s eyes.

  ‘Mercer, Mercer threatened me. He is a very violent man. I believe he has a history of violent crime. If someone like Mercer threatens you then of course you take it seriously.’

  ‘I see, only I have a problem with him threatening you.’

  Henderson wasn’t up to following but Dorothy Henderson was. Her hat was still in the ring.

  ‘A problem?’

  ‘Yes, you see Mr Henderson started setting up this whole operation, buying Tate and Wiston in Leamington Spa, while Mercer was still in prison.’ He turned to Henderson. ‘What did you do, go and visit him in Leicester prison so he could threaten you there?’ The fear flooded back and Henderson’s mouth made speaking movements but nothing came out. ‘Perhaps you meant Jarvis? But Jarvis was a teacher who liked young girls. He wasn’t such a frightening sort of bloke. Quite a nice bloke by all accounts, except for his little hobby, of course.’

  Henderson fell back on the settee, he was sweating and shaking and now he was dribbling. Jimmy also saw
a large dark stain begin to spread across the front of his trousers.

  Inspector Santos took over.

  ‘Is there anything you wish to tell us, Mr Henderson?’

  ‘My husband has nothing more to say. You will now please leave. If and when you wish to speak to either of us again, it will only be with our lawyer present. Now leave, I find your presence here odious.’

  She looked at Santos then at Jimmy. The look made it clear that in the odiousness stakes Santos was only a place bet. Jimmy was the clear winner. Jimmy saw the look on her face; it was a look he remembered, a look he had never forgotten. It was the same arrogant superiority that had been on the face of the nun headmistress of his primary school when she told him Terry Prosser had named him as the one who smeared shit on the boys’ toilets’ walls.

  Jimmy turned to Henderson.

  ‘Do you own a gun, Mr Henderson? Is there a gun in the house?’ Henderson looked at him, confused and still frightened. Jimmy turned to the policeman and spoke slowly. ‘It would be easy to check wouldn’t it, Inspector Santos, if a license had been issued?’ Then he looked back at Mrs Henderson. He wanted to enjoy this so he made sure it sounded Sunday School polite. ‘Tell me, Mrs Henderson, is there a gun in the house? Or if you’re not sure we could always get a search-warrant.’

  The look had gone. Her face now was pale and set. Santos joined in.

  ‘Is there a gun, Mrs Henderson? Please answer Mr Costello’s question.’

  ‘Yes. We bought it two years ago when those break-ins occurred in some of the British-owned villas and Mr Naismith was put in hospital. It is perfectly legal, we have a permit.’

  ‘May I see it, Mrs Henderson?’

  ‘Certainly Inspector, although what it has to do ­–’

  ‘Please, just get the gun.’

  She got up and went to an ornate chest of drawers by a wall, pulled out the top drawer, reached in and pulled out a gun. She turned. She was holding it by the grip and it was pointing at Jimmy. Now he wasn’t enjoying it any more, now he saw that it was his turn to sweat. Santos also saw where the gun was pointing.

  ‘Please, Mrs Henderson, don’t do anything foolish.’

  She gave him a look of pity.

  ‘I have never done anything foolish in my life, Inspector, except marry a man whom I thought could give me the quality of life I deserved, but who turns out to have been a common criminal, and so stupid that he got caught.’

  And, with a quick movement, she put the gun to her temple and blew her brains out.

  The sound of the shot crashed around the room as she pitched sideways, bounced off the drawers and crashed to the floor. Jimmy and Santos stood rooted to the spot. Henderson began to scream hysterically. Jimmy looked at the body. There was blood coming from the wound and he noticed that the bullet had made a hole in one of the walls and below the hole were spattered something that looked like flecks of porridge. He felt as if he was going to throw up. Two men ran into the room and stopped. They were the men from the front of the car. Both had guns. They looked at the body and then at Santos.

  He spoke to them in Spanish. They put away their guns and left. Santos went to Henderson who was still screaming and slapped him across the face. He didn’t stop so Santos hit him again, harder. This time it did the trick. Henderson took one look at the body, buried his head in his hands and began to rock back and forward. The smell of cordite tinged with urine came to Jimmy’s nostrils.

  ‘I need fresh air.’

  Santos nodded.

  Jimmy left the villa and stood in the garden. It was a warm night, full of the buzzing of cicadas and sweet aromas from the flowers and plants. There was a full moon, the whole place was bathed in a pale silver light. It was beautiful. Jimmy walked to the nearest flower bed, bent over and vomited.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Jimmy was asleep in his hotel room when the phone rang. He had no idea how long it had been ringing. He had heard it in his dream as a school bell but he was locked in the boys’ toilets with no clothes on and his mother was shouting to him from outside that it was time for him to go and say Mass. He was parish priest and the congregation were waiting to sing for him. Finally it had penetrated his mind that the ringing was the phone. He rolled over and picked it up.

  ‘Yes?’

  It was reception.

  ‘One moment.’

  Then Santos’ voice came on.

  ‘Mercer wants to talk to you.’

  ‘Fuck Mercer, I’m knackered and I’m not the bloody Spanish police.’

  ‘And Mercer still wants to talk to you.’

  ‘Don’t I get any rest?’

  ‘I think you should come and talk to him.’

  Jimmy struggled into a sitting position.

  ‘I didn’t do so well last time you got me to talk to somebody, remember? Or do you want me to take a gun into him so he can blow his brains against a wall as well?’

  ‘Forget that. Mercer says he wants to talk to you.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Just after six.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, I’ve been going non-stop for God knows how long. I don’t know what day it is never mind what time it is. What good would I be? I couldn’t even be sure of staying awake. I’ve told you all I know, you have enough now. Henderson must have coughed up his lungs as soon as you got him to the station.’

  ‘Henderson’s in hospital.’

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’

  ‘He’s in a psychiatric unit. We brought him in and he fell apart, drooling, making odd noises. He’s no good to anyone at the moment. The initial diagnosis is that he’s traumatised, deep traumatic shock. With care and medication he might be able to talk to us in two or three weeks, but that’s just a maybe.’

  ‘He’s faking it.’

  ‘No, he’s in a bad way. You saw him at the villa, did it look like faking to you?’

  He had a point.

  ‘No.’

  ‘The truth is, no one has any idea how long he’ll be like that.’

  ‘And if he starts to come out of it the first thing he’ll think of is making it last, maybe making it look permanent.’

  ‘Which is why we need Mercer to talk. He doesn’t know about Henderson yet.’

  ‘That his wife topped herself or that Henderson’s gone doolally?’

  ‘Both.’

  Jimmy sagged. He would have to go, he knew that, but he didn’t have to like going. Then he pulled himself together. Self-pity, an unlovely and useless emotion.

  ‘What reason did he give? Why does he say he wants to talk to me?’

  ‘He didn’t. He just says he wants to talk to you before he’ll talk to anyone else. We need you, Mr Costello.’

  ‘Has Rosa talked?’

  ‘Yes. She’s giving her full co-operation. We let her walk past the cell Mercer was in, the door was open. They saw each other. It was like you said, as soon as she got to the interview room she gave us everything she knew.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘She was recommended by a man named Joseph McNally, somebody whom she knew to be a criminal, to play the part of a journalist for your friend George, the man you claimed was the London end. Some friend by the way.’

  ‘I take them as they come.’

  ‘She said she was going to get five thousand for killing Henderson.’

  That got a small laugh out of Jimmy.

  ‘She didn’t know George very well, then, did she? So what you’ve got is Henderson in the booby hatch for we don’t know how long, Rosa with a gun which you can prove was provided by Harry and saying she was sent by a George to kill Henderson, plus what I dug up in the UK?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you can’t make a case with all that without me talking to Harry?’

  ‘We can make parts of some cases, perhaps. But we want it all, including your friend George.’

  ‘Take Harry down to a cell and stamp on his hands. He’s got arthritis in both of them. He’ll cough to anythin
g if someone with boots dances on his fingers.’

  ‘That’s not a serious suggestion is it?’

  It wasn’t. But the way he felt it was close.

  ‘All right. Send a car in an hour.’

  ‘Why an hour?’

  ‘Because I’m going to get a shower and something to eat and drink and have a piss and a crap. I’ve been to your interview room before. This time I want to be prepared. Harry’s not going anywhere.’

  Jimmy put the phone down then picked it up and dialled room service.

  ‘Can I get some coffee and sandwiches? It doesn’t matter what sort, any sort. OK, thanks.’ Then he got out of bed and went into the bathroom and started the shower. What was Harry up to? But he didn’t bother to look for an answer. He’d find out soon enough, so why think about it? He tested the water and got in.

  Harry was sitting in the interview room staring into space. It wasn’t a new experience and he knew how to deal with it. You waited. He was wearing a loud, short-sleeved shirt with an orange, red, and purple pattern, the sort that got noticed even in Spain. He looked up as Jimmy came in.

  ‘You took your fucking time.’

  Jimmy came to the table and sat down opposite him.

  ‘I’d have worn sun-glasses if I’d known you were going to wear the sunset for me. A bit loud isn’t it?’

  ‘Was it you who grassed me up?’

  ‘Grassed you up about what?’

  ‘You know what.’

  ‘Harry, they’ve got you on the porn thing. They can probably make a good try on the Suarez killing. They’ve got you on supplying that bird Rosa with an illegal firearm which she was going to use to kill Henderson and as we speak she’s co-operating like a good ’un in another interview room. They’ll probably slip Jarvis’s murder in there to tidy the books. Why not? It looks tailor-made for a fit-up. Then there’s the tax you haven’t paid on the money that’s gone through the property business in Gibraltar and if there’s any outstanding parking tickets and litter fines anywhere they’ll probably add those. Which bit of all that do you think I grassed you up on?’ Harry saw his point. ‘They were already watching you before Rosa arrived. All they had to do was follow you when you went to get the gun and again when you dropped her off. Harry, you were dead in the water when you missed me the second time. That was when George decided you and Henderson were expendable and he began to wrap things up.’