by James Green
‘If it had been my case I would have checked who, among those who might in any way be connected to Jarvis, and that would be all British ex-pats, had gun permits. That would have given me the Hendersons. I would have got the gun, checked it and that would have given me the murder weapon which made it either him or her. I doubt she cleaned it so the prints on the gun would make it her. It’s how you catch villains and get convictions. It’s called fucking police work.’
Santos had the good grace to look sheepish.
‘Maybe I was out of line saying I didn’t need you to tell me how do my job. If you’re right I needed you quite a lot.’
The knot in Jimmy’s guts unwound, he looked at the departure board and saw his flight number had come up as ready for boarding.
‘Proceed to gate four. That’s me.’ He got up. ‘Well, do I give you back the key?’
‘No, keep it,’ Santos got up, ‘but one last thing. Mrs Henderson’s already dead. Why did you say we’d get a guilty verdict? Why lie?’
‘I didn’t. She was a practising Catholic. She committed suicide, she was prepared to put herself outside God’s mercy. She was guilty as hell and refused to seek forgiveness ,so hell is where she’ll be now doing hard time and she’ll go on doing it for ever. Happy endings all round.’
Santos obviously didn’t see it that way.
‘I’m not sorry to see you go, Mr Costello, but as you are going, have a good trip.’
‘Thanks, I will.’
Jimmy walked away and Santos watched him go.
Neither had felt the need to shake hands.
Chapter Thirty-five
Jimmy walked into the Hind. He’d arrived in London the previous day but decided to find a hotel and get fully rested before he went to see George. He didn’t want to be tired when they met. It was one o’clock and the pub was busy with lunches but George was sitting in his usual place with a cup of tea in front of him, reading his paper. Jimmy went to the table and sat down. George lowered the paper and smiled.
‘Hello, Jimmy, nice to see you.’
He waved a hand at one of the bar staff then pointed to Jimmy.
‘Will she remember it’s Directors?’
‘Oh yes, they’re good girls, keen and clever with it. Why they come over here to do bar work is a mystery to me. They’ve probably both got degrees but they come here to do bar work. It’s a funny old world.’
‘They’re not the only ones with degrees who do funny work, remember?’
‘I wouldn’t know, Jimmy, I just take people as they come.’
‘How’s things, George? Business still doing well?’
‘Oh, so-so, you know. Make a bit, lose a bit. Much as usual. How’s it been going with you?’ He took a closer look at Jimmy’s face. ‘You been in the sun? You look a bit red round the edges.’
‘I’ve been in Spain.’
‘Oh yes. You went to Gibraltar, didn’t you?’
‘No, I went to Santander. I met a couple of your friends there, Harry and Rosa.’
George shook his head. The beer arrived but Jimmy let it stand on the table.
‘No, sorry, Jimmy, means nothing to me. I don’t know any Harry or Rosa. I don’t even know anybody called Henderson and I can prove it.’ He gave Jimmy a grin. ‘Go on, have a drink, there’s nothing in the glass but beer.’
Jimmy picked up the glass and took a drink. Still the same old George.
‘They both sang and they both used the same song sheet. Have the police been round?’
‘The police? They visited and asked a few questions but I told you, I’m legit now. Almost.’
Jimmy watched him. So, he was clean, he’d made sure his end was all tidied up.
‘You sorted out that property firm then?’
‘Property firm? I think you’ll find there is no property firm, not any more. There’s nothing, Jimmy, you’ve wasted your journey if you’ve come to try and make trouble for me. Harry was never bright and Rosa, whoever she is … well ,I don’t know what she said of course, but I doubt she can back it up with any hard evidence.’
‘What if I back her up?’
‘Hearsay and circumstantial, nothing a court could do anything serious with. Any half-good brief would get it thrown out. Now if the police had something substantial, some real connection like a mobile phone of mine with a call record. But they haven’t, have they?’
‘Haven’t they?’
‘No, I don’t own a mobile phone, don’t like the things.’
‘What was that you gave me in Ebbsfleet?’
‘Did I give you anything in Ebbsfleet? I don’t even remember going to Ebbsfleet with or without you. In fact I’m pretty sure I’ve never been to Ebbsfleet in my life.’
‘And you can prove it.’
‘No, but nobody can prove otherwise can they?’
‘The CCTV cameras might help.’
‘Think so?’ Jimmy nodded. ‘Wrong. What they’ll show is my Jag with someone in it and you walking away. I doubt they’ll have any kind of clear picture if the driver’s face, but even if they did it wouldn’t do them much good would it? Mind you, I hope I’m wrong. I hope they can identify the driver because the Jag was stolen that night. One of my staff reported it the next day. I was away myself, on business. They found the car a week later, but it was burned out. Pity, it was a nice motor. Still, it was insured, so no real loss.’
‘I can say it was you driving.’
‘Of course you can. And I can deny it. No, Jimmy, there’s nothing solid in that direction.’
‘The Spanish police have the mobile, I gave it to them, and inside it will say it’s yours.’
‘No, now there you’re wrong, Jimmy. The inside will say it belongs to my cousin Eamon Doyle, he owned the Hind before me. My mother’s older sister married an Irishman called Doyle.He was their son. You know I never even knew I had a cousin until someone told me that the Hind was owned by someone who looked dead like me so I came and had a look and it turned out we were cousins. Funny old world isn’t it? I bought the pub off him just after Nat got given wings and a harp.’
Jimmy sat back and laughed out loud. One or two people looked.
‘George, that’s the biggest load of bollocks I’ve heard since I was told wanking sent you blind.’
George grinned.
‘Of course it is, but you know the game, Jimmy, don’t go for black and white in things like this, go for as many shades of grey as you can get. Tie the fuckers in knots and spin it all out. None of it will stand up but none of it can be knocked straight down or shoved out of the way. Not so much lies as endless half-truths. They’ve got Harry, Henderson and Rosa bang to rights, why drag me in and risk the whole bloody shooting match? I got pulled by the local coppers and told my tales and pretty soon, when they saw what they’d got, what they could actually take into a court of law, we all went home. And that’s how it will all pan out in Spain as well, Jimmy, I’ll get left out of it and things will carry on pretty much the same as before. I never went inside because I was always careful. You don’t …’
‘I know, you’ve told me before, you don’t need to be violent if you’re clever.’
‘And it’s still true, not very violent and not often, only when necessary, when someone sticks their noses in where they’re not wanted. When people do that they have to take what’s coming to them don’t they?’
Jimmy picked up the beer and took another drink. It was still good beer.
‘I suppose so.’
‘I knew you’d be sensible about things, you always knew the score and didn’t bear a grudge. So, you staying in London or passing through?’
‘Passing through. I thought I’d pop in and say, hello. Maybe ask a favour.’
‘Ask away, Jimmy, anything I can do, you know that. Always ready to help a mate.’
‘I need to prove I’m Harry.’
George didn’t respond for a second.
‘You need to prove you’re Harry Mercer?’
‘That’s right.�
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‘Who to?’
‘A bank.’
Jimmy could see he’d got George’s interest.
‘To do what?’
‘Free information, George? That’s a novelty. I need to be Harry for a visit to a bank. I can pay if you can make me into Harry for a day.’ Jimmy waited a moment. He didn’t want to hurry this, to seem too pushy. He took a drink. ‘How much would it cost to make me Harry?’
George smiled.
‘That depends on the money.’
‘Who said anything about money?’
‘You did, you told me it was about money when you said you needed to be Harry to visit a bank. Why would you want to be Harry except for money?’ Jimmy said nothing. ‘If I do this I’ll do it on a percentage basis, not a straight fee.’
George waited and let him think. The way George looked at it, Jimmy was a long time out of it and London wasn’t a place he had any friends. He could try elsewhere but he doubted he would want to deal with strangers. And he was probably keen to get the money and get out. It had to be a fair sum to make Jimmy come all the way back to get it.
George knew he held the stronger hand so he waited.
Finally Jimmy spoke.
‘What per cent?’
‘Well, it’s got to be a fair sum for you to be here, and I can guess what you’re going to do for Harry, you’re going to fix the evidence and you always put a high price on doing that. Mind you, it was always something you did well, I’ll give you that, you gave value for money. With your evidence wobbly Harry might even get off the murder. It has to be a neat sum doesn’t it, you never came cheap and Harry really needs help on this one. I don’t think you’d do anything for him for less than,’ he thought for a second, ‘fifteen grand.’
Jimmy gave him a smile.
‘In your dreams, George, try and think with your brain not your wallet.’
‘No, I’m close. I know Harry and I know you. Harry’s in deep shit so you’ll have screwed him. Don’t try to kid a kidder, Jimmy, you’ve been out of touch too long to be any good at it.’
‘Maybe I’ve been out of touch too long to know the value of things. Ten grand, in a safety deposit box. I need to prove I’m Harry to lift it. Well, what’s your end going to be?’
‘Only twenty-five per cent. Cheap really, but like I said, always happy to do a good turn for a mate.’
‘Two and half grand for a passport? I really must be out of touch. When can you have it?’
‘Twenty-four hours after you give me a decent likeness of that ugly boat race of yours.’
Jimmy stood up.
‘Where can I get one?’
‘There’s a booth in the WHSmith down the road. Five minutes’ walk.’
‘I’ll be right back.’
George watched him leave the pub. He got up and went through the door marked ‘Staff only’. Just over fifteen minutes later Jimmy came back and George was back at his table. Jimmy came and sat down and pushed a strip of four photos of himself across.
‘These OK.’
George left them on the table.
‘You won’t need them, Jimmy.’
‘Oh yes, why not?’
‘Because I’m going to do like I said, I’m going to do you a favour. I’m going with you to the bank and I’ll collect your money for you.’ He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a passport and threw it on the table. Jimmy picked it up. The face looking out was George’s but the name was Harold Reginald Mercer. ‘I sometimes needed to be Harry for business reasons and Harry couldn’t always be popping across to London or wherever, so I had that made up a while back. It’ll do the job.’
Jimmy put the passport down, George leaned across, picked it up, put it away and sat back. Jimmy picked up the strip of photos and pushed them into his jacket pocket.
‘And what if I don’t want you to pick it up for me?’
‘Then you don’t pick it up at all.’
George waited, he still held all the cards.
‘No, nothing doing, George. I’ll find somebody else.’
He started to get up.
‘Sit down, Jimmy, and use your brains. You must have the key to the deposit box and you know which bank. But I’ve got the ID. If we do it now we both know where we are. Neither of us can pull a fast one. If you walk out of here I’ll find you and send a few lads and have them take the key off you and get the name of the bank. Knowing you, you won’t co-operate so you’ll get hurt, maybe badly hurt. I’ll get the key but maybe not the name of the bank; if you get stubborn you might even finish up in a box. All that does is get you dead and me a useless key.’ Jimmy sat down again. ‘That’s better, that’s using your brains. So, do we go and get our money.’
Jimmy sat for a minute. George let him think, even though there was nothing to think about.
Jimmy stood up.
‘We’ll go now and take a cab.’
George stood up and came round the table.
‘Sensible man. How much is it really?’
‘Twenty.’
That got a big smile.
‘Sneaky bugger. But I’ll still only take twenty-five per, after all we’re mates, aren’t we?’
And they left the pub to look for a cab.
The bank was busy, there were queues at all the cashiers’ windows and a queue at the information desk. Jimmy stood in the middle of the bank at a sort of table with forms and pens on it. He had a form in front of him and held one of the pens trying to look inconspicuous. Every so often he wrote something on the form. Nobody looked in the least bit interested in him. He looked at his watch. George had been gone ten minutes. He should be back soon. Jimmy watched the door George had gone through with one of the staff. It opened and George came out with a carrier-bag. He walked towards Jimmy, smiling. Two men detached themselves from the information queue and quickly walked to George, two others left the table where Jimmy had been fiddling with his form. They went to George and stood each side of him. George stopped as one of them took hold of his arm. Jimmy put down the pen and joined them. George wasn’t smiling any more but Jimmy was. One of the two form filling men took out his warrant card.
‘Chief Inspector Hatcher, sir. May I see what you have in the bag?’ People in the queues waiting to get to the cashiers began to take notice. George looked round but there was nowhere to go. He held out the carrier bag. DCI Hatcher took it and looked inside. People in the queues waiting to get to the cashiers began to take notice. George looked round but there was nowhere to go. He held out the carrier bag and the man who had shown him the warrant, DCI Hatcher, card took it and looked inside.
‘Can you explain how you came by this money?’ George didn’t reply. His eyes never left Jimmy’s face. ‘May we see some identification, sir? A passport perhaps.’ George took the passport from the inside of his coat and handed it over. Hatcher opened it. ‘And are you Mr Harold Reginald Mercer, sir? It says here you are.’
George didn’t answer. There was nothing for him to say. But Jimmy felt like talking.
‘You’re clever, George, but you’re a villain which means you’re also greedy. Harry believed I’d take his money and it made him trust me because he thought he could buy me. You made the same mistake and it’s going to put you away for a long time. You’re clever, George, but the trouble is you’re too clever.’
‘Fuck you.’
Now the men beside George had both his arms held firmly.
‘No, George, you’re the one who’s fucked this time.’ Jimmy turned to Hatcher. ‘I’m off now, Chief Inspector. You’ve got all you want.’ He turned back to George. One of the men had a pair of handcuffs out. ‘See you, George, or, on second thoughts, no, I probably won’t.’
Jimmy walked towards the exit, George, with his hands handcuffed behind his back and with his police escort, followed. Outside there were two police cars. Jimmy turned left and headed towards the nearest Tube station which was about ten minutes walk away. He didn’t look back. He wanted to remember George just as h
e had last seen him, handcuffed, with a copper on each arm and another holding the evidence.
Chapter Thirty-six
‘I’m back.’
‘Mr Costello,’ her voice, even on the phone, had ice on it, ‘I hope you have a very good explanation why you have been away for so long and why you switched your phone off every time I called you.’
‘Yes to both.’
‘And those explanations would be?’
‘First, I was busy doing what you sent me to do, and second, I didn’t want to talk to you because you would tell me to come back.’
‘I would indeed have insisted on your return. As I remember, I did insist on your returning to Rome.’
‘See? I told you, and I didn’t want to be impolite and have to tell you to go and boil your head so I switched off my phone when you called.’
There was a silence.
‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m in my apartment.’
‘I think you should come and see me.’
‘So do I. I’ll bring my list of expenses.’
‘Hmm. We’ll talk about that among other things.’
‘When shall I come?’
‘Three o’ clock this afternoon.’
The phone went dead. Jimmy put it down on the table by his chair. It was eleven o’clock, mid-morning. He had flown in from London the previous evening at seven and come straight home, made himself a small meal and gone to bed. He’d woken half an hour ago, showered and gone down to the café on the street below his apartment to have a light breakfast. Now, sitting in his own apartment, he felt almost human for the first time in over a week. He was glad to be home. He’d slept well but was still tired. He put his hand to his side and pressed gently. He was mending nicely. He had four hours to kill and nothing special to do so he phoned his doctor. He wasn’t an especially good doctor but Jimmy hadn’t chosen him for his professional skill, he chose him because he spoke good English and Jimmy’s brain stubbornly refused to make any serious progress in becoming competent in the Italian language. When the doctor’s receptionist put him through he explained that he had been abroad and cut himself badly in his side. It had been stitched and seemed to be healing but he wanted someone to take a look at it. He got an appointment at two o’clock for that day. He’d only been to the doctor twice before but on both occasions had been able to phone up and get an appointment for the same day. That was what made Jimmy think he couldn’t be much good as a doctor.