‘What is it?’ he asked and listened to her in silence, his face like stone as she recounted every detail she could remember of her encounter with the woman from Dolphin Square. But when she told him about her arrangement to meet the woman at the French pub, he looked at her in amazement for a moment and smiled, though there was not much more than cynicism in his expression.
‘I don’t suppose for a moment she’ll turn up,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t you get a name out of her? We’ll never track her down without it.’
‘There was no way she was going to tell me her name,’ Kate said. ‘But I did manage to get another picture of her. I called her back as she walked away and took a quick snap. It’s a bit blurred because I took it very hurriedly and she was furious when she saw what I was doing, but with the ones I took the previous evening it gives us a rough idea of what she looks like. See?’ She pulled the picture out of her bag and showed him.
‘Where are the rest of your pictures?’ he asked.
‘I left them locked up in the office while I went to Pimlico, but I thought I’d better go back for them and make copies,’ Kate said. ‘They’ll be safe at home, I think, though none of them are very clear. The light wasn’t good.’ She handed him the complete set of prints she’d made for him and he sat studying them for a long time in silence.
‘Well, I suppose we might recognize her if she turns up,’ Barnard said, focusing on the shots of the woman. ‘Though I don’t reckon that’s the least bit likely. Couldn’t you have called me once you tackled her?’ But before Kate could reply he shook his head.
‘No of course not,’ he said quickly. ‘Sorry, silly question. It’s just that we’ve got so close and it could all still slip through our fingers, especially with DCI Buxton involved.’
‘There was no way she was going to stand there and let me make a phone call,’ Kate said. ‘And I couldn’t call the local police, anyway, could I, after what she said about Buxton? He sounds as if he’s up to his eyes in it all. And you were too far away to be much use.’
‘She definitely told you that our victim was someone called Doreen?’
‘She said that was her name and she had a Liverpool accent, and so did the man she thought was with her. You should be able to identify her from that, shouldn’t you?’
‘Not me personally,’ Barnard said with feeling. ‘The DCI can ask for help from the Liverpool police. It’s his job after all. That’s what he gets paid for, and I want nothing more to do with that bastard Strachan. But let’s stroll down there on the off-chance that she does what she said she’d do and turns up at the pub. We might be lucky.’
‘If she comes, you’ll arrest her?’ Kate asked.
‘If she comes, I’ll have to interview her one way or another,’ Barnard said. ‘You know that, Katie.’
‘She won’t come, will she?’ Kate said miserably. ‘It stands to reason she won’t come.’
Barnard parked his car and they cut through to Dean Street and found the French pub crowded with after-work drinkers. Barnard took a long time to work his way through the crowd round the bar to order and made a hazardous push back through the crowd to deliver their drinks.
‘If she’s here, we’ll be hard pressed to see her,’ he said.
‘I’ve had a good look round, but she doesn’t seem to have come,’ Kate said. ‘I thought she might run. She was obviously scared out of her wits. But there was no way I could stop her.’
‘We’ll wait half an hour and see if she turns up,’ Barnard said. ‘If not, I’ll have to go back to the nick and see if I can contact DCI Jackson. I can’t let this go until the morning. We’ve been trying to get an ID for the murder victim for days without success, and you waltz off to Pimlico and come up with one in half an hour. He won’t be best pleased if I don’t tell him straight away.’
‘I haven’t done anything illegal have I?’ Kate asked.
‘If you’ve identified our victim, you’ve done something we’ve completely failed to do so far,’ Barnard laughed. ‘He should give you a medal. Wait for me in the Blue Lagoon while I’ll fill him in. He needs to know about this as soon as possible or I’ll be in trouble up to my neck.’
DCI Keith Jackson was still in his office when Barnard returned to the nick and knocked on his door.
‘Do you have a minute, guv?’ he asked. ‘It’s important. I think we’ve nailed the ID of our murder victim at last, with a bit of help from my girlfriend.’
Jackson waved him in, looking startled. ‘Your girlfriend? How did she become involved?’
‘I told you I would do some off-the-radar surveillance around Dolphin Square … You agreed to that.’ Jackson nodded, though he didn’t look happy to be reminded of his reluctant acquiescence.
‘That was a long shot and I really don’t want to know about it given the second murder in Pimlico, unless you’ve turned up something crucial,’ Jackson said quickly.
‘Well, I think we have, guv,’ Barnard said quickly. ‘I went down there by car – not my own car as it’s a bit conspicuous – and took Kate with me as I reckoned it would look less suspicious if there were two of us. I wasn’t planning to do more than have a quiet recce to see who was going in and out, if anyone. And we were lucky. We saw a woman come out, all dolled up. She bought some cigarettes and then went back in. A bit later a chauffeur-driven car dropped three men off. Kate followed them in, at a safe distance, and saw them go into the suspect flat. She took photographs of everything she safely could, and we’ve got those for you.’
‘Did you identify any of the men?’
‘Not then,’ Barnard said. ‘What I didn’t reckon on was that Kate would decide to go back again this afternoon, off her own bat, because she was worried about a child being involved. Anyway, she struck lucky again and bumped into the woman we’d seen the night before. This time she was on the street and seemed very upset, in tears in fact, and when Kate showed her the drawing of the victim in Soho Square she IDed her, said she was called Doreen and had a strong Liverpool accent. Just like Kate’s in fact. Doreen Darcy, if that’s who she is, is Tony Jordan’s bit on the side. His wife told Kate about her when Kate was doing research in Liverpool for some photographs she was taking for work. And Mrs Jordan reckons both of them came down to London, where Jordan’s been negotiating some building contract or other. The woman from Dolphin Square got the distinct impression something bad happened in Flat 461 the night the body was dumped, though she didn’t see what exactly it was. She was told to keep out of the way. She had decided to bail out completely but bumped into Kate first, and Kate managed to get the whole story out of her.’
‘Name? Does this informant have a name?’ Barnard shrugged slightly, knowing this was the weak link in the story.
‘The woman refused to give it,’ he said. ‘She was obviously scared to death. She promised to meet Kate again tonight and talk to me as well …’
‘But of course she didn’t turn up?’ Jackson said sharply.
‘She didn’t turn up,’ Barnard agreed. ‘We’ve lost her.’ Jackson did not explode, as Barnard thought he might. He looked thoughtful for a moment, his hands steepled in front of his face.
‘Another problem is that Doreen Darcy’s sugar daddy, Terry Jordan, is some sort of big cheese in Liverpool,’ Barnard continued cautiously. ‘In the building trade, and not in a small way. He’s doing some housing deal with the government for a new town up north.’
Jackson looked grim.
‘Well, we all know people in high places can get up to no good,’ he said. ‘We saw plenty of that last year. People with all the privileges who should have known better. But I need to talk to the Yard. I need to find out just how likely this tale of yours is. I need to liaise with them and with the Liverpool police. It shouldn’t be too difficult to trace this woman and find her family or friends in Liverpool, if that is in fact where she comes from. And this man Terry Jordan can be tracked down easily enough if we need to talk to him, once we know definitely who the woman is.’ Barnard hesitate
d, then decided it would be very unwise to hold anything back.
‘You know my girlfriend is a photographer, guv. While we were driving round, keeping our heads down, just sussing the place out, she took some photographs, people going in and out of Dolphin Square. As I said, I’ve got copies of all of them for you. But today she got a second picture of the woman who worked in the flat, a bit blurred but better than the one she took the night before in poor light. I’ve got copies of everything for you to look at.’
‘In due course, Sergeant,’ Jackson said. ‘In due course. Let’s put a name to our victim first – find out if she really is this woman from Liverpool – and then take it from there. I need to talk to Liverpool and the Yard. This could turn out to be a can of worms that no one will be very pleased about.’
EIGHTEEN
When they got back to Barnard’s flat, Kate flung herself on to the sofa close to tears. ‘Are there any honest cops anywhere?’ she asked bitterly. Barnard winced slightly as he fingered the barely fading bruises on his face, and shrugged. He was not, he thought ruefully, the person she should ask just now. ‘It would certainly be good not to have to fight both sides against the middle,’ he said circumspectly. ‘Anyway, it’s out of our hands now. The DCI’s taken over.’ Kate wondered if the fact that DCI Jackson had taken over would make any difference to the grey man who was trying to prise information from her, and indirectly from Barnard, for purposes she could only guess at. But whatever Jackson was trying to organize officially, she didn’t think it would be safe to tell anyone about the threats she’d received over a seemingly innocuous lunch at the Corner House, which she had barely been able to eat because she had been so close to the edge of panic. Until she was absolutely sure the threats had been lifted she didn’t dare do anything that might put either Tom or Harry at risk.
‘Can I ring the hospital to see how Tom is?’ she asked.
‘Of course you can,’ he said. ‘You need to keep in touch with him, or that bastard Strachan will take as many liberties as he likes.’ Kate nodded and picked up the phone. When she got through to the hospital, she was put through to a harassed-sounding ward sister who demanded to know who she was and offered no more than a formulaic ‘as well as can be expected’ once satisfied that she was in fact Tom’s sister.
‘Are any of my family with him?’ Kate asked sharply. ‘Or his friend Kevin?’
‘Just a policeman,’ the nurse said sourly and hung up. If anything, the information imparted by the sister made Kate feel worse rather than better.
‘I know it’s not much comfort, but he’s probably better off in a hospital bed than he would be in a cell at the mercy of DCI Strachan,’ Barnard said. ‘Do you know if he’s got a solicitor?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Kate said. ‘Probably not. Tom was never the most organized person.’
‘You should ring his boyfriend and make sure he gets some legal advice. He’ll be entitled to legal aid. He shouldn’t talk to Strachan again without a lawyer present.’
‘Let’s have something to eat, then I’ll call Kevin,’ Kate said. ‘He may be visiting at the hospital this evening, though I’m sure the police will do their best to keep him away.’
‘They’ll take a pleasure in it,’ Barnard said, looking grim.
They ate in a subdued mood, then slumped on the sofa to watch Z Cars on TV because Barnard said it made him smile.
‘It’s popular in Liverpool,’ Kate said. ‘A lot of little lads want to be Fancy Smith. But I suppose not that many of them have come across bastards like Strachan face to face. Inspector Barlow isn’t quite in his league, is he?’
‘He’s not far off, I reckon,’ Barnard said, putting his arm round Kate. ‘But maybe it’s just the accent that amuses us down here. And the tune’s jolly.’
‘Everton are talking about making it their team song,’ Kate said as the doorbell rang.
‘Who the hell’s that?’ Barnard said irritably and got reluctantly to his feet. Kate could hear him talking to someone in the hall and then he came back into the living room followed by a tall blond man, who was looking concerned.
‘Kate, this is my next-door neighbour, Steve Keighley. He says someone came round looking for you today, a man dressed as a priest. He thought it was odd as he didn’t realize you were staying here, so he thought it best to play a bit dumb. I know you’ve already talked to one priest, so tell Steve what your man looks like and we’ll get an idea if it’s the same one.’
Kate’s stomach clenched slightly. She had hoped no one from the Church would be able to find her at Barnard’s flat, but it looked like that was overoptimistic.
‘I’ve already had a conversation I didn’t want with a Father Granville,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve no idea how he could find out I’m staying here, and I certainly don’t want to talk to him again. Nor anyone else from the Catholic Church. I gave all that up years ago.’
‘I didn’t like the look of him,’ Keighley said. ‘He was wearing a clerical collar, but I wouldn’t have trusted him further than I could throw him. He looked more like someone out of an American gangster film to me.’
‘Some of them do,’ Kate said, with a wry smile.
‘Anyway, I didn’t know you were here so I denied all knowledge of Harry’s friends. It looks as if I did the right thing. They can be very persistent some of these Church people, can’t they?’
‘They can,’ Kate said. ‘Very persistent.’
‘Thanks for that, Steve,’ Barnard said. ‘If you’re a cop, you need neighbours who can be a bit discreet. I’m grateful.’
When Keighley had gone, Barnard sat down again by Kate and turned the television off.
‘What’s going on Kate?’ he asked. ‘Is this the same man who went to your flat in Shepherd’s Bush?’
‘It sounds like it,’ Kate said. ‘But how did he find out I’d come here? I can’t imagine Tess told him.’
‘You asked her to be careful?’
‘Of course,’ Kate said and saw the anxiety in Barnard’s eyes at the thought of his own privacy being invaded.
‘This can’t just be about you missing Mass, can it?’ he asked. ‘You’re one person among millions going – or not going – to church every week. They can’t make this sort of fuss about everyone who backslides.’
‘Of course they can’t,’ Kate said. ‘It’s years since I gave up on them. It can only be connected with my trip to Liverpool. Something I did or said – maybe some questions I asked, maybe some pictures I took – must have worried them. But I haven’t a clue what it might be.’
‘Or might it be connected to what happened to Tom when he was a kid with the priest who pestered you both? What was he called? Father Gerard?’
‘Father Jerome,’ Kate said. ‘I can’t imagine how anyone could find out about that. We never told anyone. Not even our mam and da. More fool us, maybe, but we were very young and our parents would have gone completely crazy – they’d probably have accused us of making up vicious lies. The Church and the priests were untouchable back then. And from what I saw in Liverpool, it’s not much different now.’
‘Maybe Father Jerome’s still at it, though,’ Barnard suggested. ‘Someone else might have complained more recently.’
Kate hesitated for a moment.
‘Father Reilly knew,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten. I told him in confession. And he told me never to talk about it – ever. He told me Tom was telling lies and I was never to mention it again. He told me that Father Jerome was a holy man and God and Our Lady would never forgive me.’ She hesitated and looked away. ‘So I didn’t, to my shame. I was terrified and Father Jerome disappeared, moved away. We never heard anything of him again. But as I got older, I knew we should have told someone. He could have gone on doing the same thing to other boys somewhere else.’
‘You were only a child, Katie,’ Barnard said. ‘You couldn’t take them all on by yourself. Neither you nor Tom.’
‘But if that’s connected with what’s happening now, what I don�
��t understand is why DCI Strachan would get involved. He’s a Northern Irish Proddie. He’d be more likely to be over the moon to see the Church embarrassed, but instead he seems to have embarked on a crusade to shut Tom up. It makes no sense at all.’
‘They say Catholics are good at guilt,’ Barnard said quietly. ‘But I don’t think you have anything to feel guilty about. It all happened a long time ago. You said you went to confession, so the Church knew about it and it was up to them to take action.’
‘But if they didn’t believe me? Or if they did believe me and just moved Father Jerome on somewhere else? It’s not good enough, is it? Hearing that little boy in the flat at Dolphin Square brought it all back to me …’
Barnard put his arm around her but she pulled away quickly and took a deep breath, aware that there was far more for her to feel guilty about than what had happened to Tom all those years ago. She was much more concerned about how she could keep Tom and Barnard safe from the threatening man in the grey suit, who would no doubt be ringing her again in the morning. By now, she thought, he would almost certainly have learned that Harry had pinned an identity on the dead woman that linked her to Liverpool and to Terry Jordan and his much publicized negotiations in London.
‘The problem’s in Liverpool,’ she said flatly. ‘I think you should mind your own back and stay out of it. Let them sort it out up there.’
‘But Terry Jordan’s girlfriend was dumped in my manor, even if she was killed somewhere else. My nick’s involved one way or another. We don’t pick and choose our cases, and this one is ours.’
‘Leave it to your DCI,’ Kate said. ‘You said he’s taken charge. Leave it to him if there are important people up to their necks in this, not to mention DCI Buxton and the bizzies in Liverpool. It’s not down to you any more, is it? It’s too big and too serious, and you’re the one who will come off worst if it all blows up in your face because you will insist on doing your own thing.’
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