Painted Skins
Page 27
‘Very unexpected,’ Po added, but drank. He had buried the hatchet with Trojak, visiting the man’s sick bed to shake his hand and thank him for saving Tess’s life. As he left Trojak’s room he’d bumped into the man’s estranged wife, Veronica. He wasn’t proud of himself for leaving her in tears when he told her John deserved better, but neither was he regretful: she needed to hear some home truths.
‘What’s going to happen to John?’ Tess asked Emma.
‘Nothing major. He’s agreed to stand as a witness in the case against Daryl Bruin. In return he has been granted immunity from prosecution. If Bruin doesn’t go down for corruption and blackmail, he will for his part in the attempted rape of Jasmine Reed. Maxwell Carter too.’ Max had survived surgery, though he’d remained in a critical condition for a few days. His throat-cutting didn’t excuse him his part in the attempted rape years before, even though his role had been minor, and he’d largely been pushed into helping Cal Hopewell and Bruin to get their evil way with the underage girl. ‘It’s only a pity Hopewell isn’t around to stand trial; I can’t help feel he escaped justice.’
‘He got what was coming to him,’ Po said, ‘I’m only sorry I wasn’t the one to catch up with him.’
‘If you had we might not be sitting here like this enjoying great food and drink,’ Alex reminded him. ‘We’d be sending you food parcels in Maine State Prison. All’s well that ends well, as they say.’
Po’s eyebrows rose and fell, but he didn’t reply. Alex was right, Po would have killed Hopewell, and it wouldn’t have been seen as an act of self-defence, or to save the lives of others in peril, the way Trojak’s actions had. He’d already gotten away with the death of Jesse Randall, though he’d tried to take the blame. The fact that Elsa’s chain was still wrapped around his throat when all three of them were hauled from the water told a different story. Elsa wasn’t being prosecuted: there wasn’t a jury in the nation who would convict her after all that she and Randall’s other victims had endured. In fact, Elsa had been hailed a heroine by the media, and in both Tess’s and Po’s opinion it was an accolade well deserved. The girl had not only fought back, she had got to a phone and led her rescuers to Randall’s hiding place, and to Jasmine, Lucy and Maria. Her actions had put an end to the reign of terror of a sexual predator and murderer. She had appeared on TV talk shows, and was being pursued by the large publishing houses in New York for her story, on which she had already made a start – her dream job had always been to write. Hollywood producers were also allegedly sniffing around, and Tess and Po had joked about who would be their onscreen counterparts if Elsa’s tale ever made it to the screen: Hugh Jackman and Scarlett Johansson had both been mentioned to playful shoves and chuckles of denial.
‘I’m guessing there’ll be some sort of posthumous inquest into Jesse Randall’s crimes?’ Tess asked. Emma had been in touch with Detective Ratcliffe, who was helming the investigation to discover the true length and breadth of the sexual predator’s activities. Though four girls had survived their ordeal, there was yet to be resolution in the murder of Carrie Mae Borger.
‘Definitely an inquest,’ Emma replied, ‘but I’m still unsure to what length. The girls have all been interviewed now, as have all of us. I imagine when it comes to it we’ll all be called to give evidence.’
Emma had gained official commendation for having highlighted the presence of a serial offender working their patch when she’d sent over Tess’s report to Detective Ratcliffe. The praise did more for Emma’s professional reputation than it did for Tess, and she was happy that her employer – and friend – had benefited. After all Emma had assisted her when Tess was actually working a private case, where she needn’t have.
‘I’ve a feeling Jasmine might be seeing the inside of a lot of court houses over the next couple of years,’ Emma went on. ‘She’s a witness in the cases against Daryl Bruin, Maxwell Carter, Calvin Hopewell and Jesse Randall. My only hope is she doesn’t do another unexpected flit.’ She turned up her mouth in a lopsided smile.
‘She has no reason to run any more. She’s reconciled with her grandmother, Margaret Norris, and looking forward to starting a new job.’ She raised an eyebrow at Po to pick up the explanation.
‘Bar-Lesque is no more,’ he said to looks of confusion from both Emma and Alex. ‘With Bruin and Max Carter out of the picture, the business was left vacant, and with it the danger some decent people might lose their jobs. I’ve bought out the lease and Jasmine and Chris Mitchell will joint manage it. Not as a burlesque revue but as a retro bar and diner. I always did enjoy old-school rock and roll music and they’re a perfect fit for the front of house jobs.’
Alex shook his head. ‘Po, you mind me asking something, now you’re practically my brother-in-law?’
‘Go for it, bro,’ Po said with a lop-sided smile of his own.
‘You’re a grease monkey, right? Where do you get all this money from?’
‘You’re afraid I’m still up to my old criminal ways?’ Po teased.
Alex shrugged expansively. ‘It has crossed my mind.’
Po took no offence. ‘I was never that kind of criminal. After my father was murdered, I was the sole beneficiary of his life insurance. I was wise enough to invest it at the time, and as you might recall I didn’t get to spend any of it when I killed his murderer and ended up spending a long term in the Farm. By the time I got out, the pot had grown quite a ways. I’d gotten used to being thrifty, so reinvested, and well, I even beat the economic crash a few years back. I’m not rich, but I’m comfortable enough that I can throw a little cash where it’s needed most.’
‘A true philanthropist, unlike Daryl Bruin,’ Tess put in.
‘You’re rich and you still hang around that grimy old garage?’ Alex wondered.
‘What can I say? I enjoy tinkering with engines when I’m not pretending to be a private eye.’ He raised his champagne flute at Emma. ‘That isn’t to say I’m too rich to be paid for my time doing just that.’
‘Po, you earn every cent I pay you,’ Emma replied, and she tipped her glass to him. ‘But,’ she said, ‘you’re still picking up the check for dinner.’
‘F’sure,’ he said. ‘This one’s all on me.’
‘Wow! You’re so generous, Po!’ Tess grinned. ‘We can’t pass up an opportunity like that, guys.’ She picked up the empty champagne bottle, and eagerly shook it at a nearby waiter.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to say thank you to my wife (and chief whip-cracker when my productivity becomes tardy), Denise Hilton, my literary agent Luigi Bonomi and the team at Luigi Bonomi Associates, my friend and fellow author Graham Smith, my fellow artist Karen Ratcliffe (not to be confused with a fictional homicide detective of the same name), and my editor Nicholas Blake and the team at Severn House Publishers, and also to all my loyal readers, who all played a part in the writing and publication of this book. I couldn’t have done it without you.
Matt Hilton