by Kim Fleet
And the question remained, why would the barman at the Imperial Hotel need a cover story anyway?
Aidan woke a couple of hours later, shuffling into the kitchen and grabbing the coffee pot. ‘All that green tea is driving me mad,’ he said, to her raised eyebrow.
‘How’s your headache?’
‘Getting better.’
She pointed at a carrier bag on the worktop. ‘Fancy a late brekky? I bought some of those pain au chocolat things you finish off in the oven.’
‘Sounds great.’ He poured boiling water onto coffee grains. ‘What are we up to today?’
‘You’re resting,’ she said, ‘and I’m still tracking down a murderer.’
‘How can I help?’
‘It’s just going to be grunt work. Lots and lots of Internet searches and probably not finding anything useful at the end of it.’
‘I can make notes for you,’ he said. ‘I’m good at sifting lots of data.’
‘If you’re sure you’re up to it.’
‘Please. I need something to do.’
She kissed him. ‘You’re a terrible patient,’ she said. ‘OK, you can help, but if that headache gets worse, you stop and go back to bed.’
They sat side by side at the table, Eden driving the laptop, Aidan with a huge sheet of paper spread in front of him.
‘We’re looking for relic hunters,’ Eden said. ‘I’m going to start with auction houses and see who’s buying what.’
‘That could give you hundreds of people,’ Aidan said. ‘How are you going to filter the results?’
Eden thought for a moment. ‘As someone’s prepared to kill for the Holy Blood, I’ll stick to the high rollers.’
‘And what types of relics?’ Aidan said. ‘There are all sorts out there. Icons and paintings and toenails and bits of foreskin.’
Eden wrinkled her nose. ‘Yuk.’
‘What’s your hypothesis?’
‘Someone carried out background research on everyone associated with the Holy Blood; someone who was careful to conceal their identity,’ Eden said. ‘What if that research was to find a weak link: someone who could be bought to get hold of the Holy Blood. Two weeks before he died, Lewis was paid thirty thousand in cash. He immediately paid over every penny to his mother, even though he was in debt to his eyeballs. That suggests he knew that more, lots more, was coming in. What if he was paid to steal the Holy Blood, was given a down payment, and was going to get a shed load of money when he handed it over? But Lisa pinched the Blood from Lewis, the deal goes sour, and Lewis ends up dead.’
‘So we’re looking for a relic collector with plenty of cash who is drawn to physical artefacts,’ Aidan said. ‘We’ll ignore the people who collect icons and statues for now, unless the statues weep blood or something.’
‘Sounds good,’ Eden said, opening a search engine. ‘Let’s start there.’
It was painstaking work, but as Aidan reminded her, they were both used to handling large sets of data and to sifting and analysing detail. When they took a break, they had a list of fifteen names who regularly spent huge sums on artefacts when they came up for sale in auctions. Twelve men and three women who handed over thousands on scraps of cloth that had draped saints’ bodies, little finger bones, tears of the Virgin Mary, and fragments of the true cross.
‘Why do they want this stuff?’ Eden said. ‘Surely they know it’s fake?’
‘They don’t, that’s the point. When people went on pilgrimage to places that had relics, they truly believed that it was a finger bone of that saint, or a piece of the Virgin’s robe, and they knew absolutely that seeing it would give them time off in Purgatory,’ Aidan said. ‘That belief didn’t just switch off because Henry VIII said so. I’ve found a Catholic house near Winchcombe during Elizabeth I’s reign. They risked death every time they heard Mass, but they ran that risk because they knew what they were doing was right. That’s belief.’
Eden chewed the side of her thumbnail. ‘Faith,’ she said, at last. ‘We always used to say if you want motives look for money, love and lust. But I forgot about faith.’
And as she knew from when she used to recruit agents, belief, faith and patriotism were much stronger motivators than fear or money. As Aidan had just pointed out, people would risk everything for faith.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Monday, 2 November 2015
08:02 hours
There was a parcel waiting for her when she came back from her morning run: a slender brown rectangle poking out of her pigeonhole. The label was printed and gave no clues as to the sender. Inside was a box of chocolates, her favourites, and a card that read, Lovely to see you again, kiss kiss.
Nick. He never wrote crosses for kisses, always wrote ‘kiss kiss’. It was his thing, his special way of signing off every card he sent her. And her favourite chocolates. She was touched he remembered.
She tucked the parcel under her arm and smuggled it into her flat, wondering how to explain it to Aidan. He hadn’t been best pleased to see Nick, the blast from her past, the other day, and now there seemed to be a truce between them she didn’t want to upset it with a spike of jealousy. Fortunately, Aidan was asleep when she went in, so she left the chocolates in the kitchen and dumped the label and card in the bin.
‘I’ve arranged a babysitter for you,’ Eden said, when he woke. He was still pale and sick-looking. He never should have discharged himself from hospital.
‘What? I’m fine.’
‘Tough, it’s sorted.’ The doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be her.’
‘Not Judy!’ Aidan cried, swaddling himself in the duvet and trailing after her. ‘She pervs at me when she thinks I’m not looking.’
‘The poor deluded woman thinks you’re sexy,’ Eden said, opening the door. ‘Come on in.’
‘Oh bloody hell!’ Aidan said.
‘Morning, Aidan,’ Mandy said, bustling in, a furry teddy-bear backpack slung over her shoulder. ‘You look terrible.’
‘How are things at the office? Was the place in a mess?’
‘Don’t worry about that now,’ Mandy said, unwinding her long, stripy scarf. ‘Me and Trev went and checked it all over with the police on Friday night, and locked everything up.’ She fixed Aidan with a look. ‘Why don’t you go back to bed, or have a nice long bath or something?’
Aidan shot Eden a murderous look, which she feigned to ignore.
‘Let me show you where everything is, Mandy,’ Eden said. ‘It’s really good of you to come and keep an eye on him.’
‘No problem, Eden. I’ve brought some work to do.’
‘For me?’ asked Aiden.
‘No! You’re sick!’ Mandy cried.
‘Fucking hell! I’m going berserk here!’
‘Could he help you with what you’ve brought?’ Eden said, showing Mandy into the kitchen and opening the cupboard doors to point out where the mugs and tea and coffee were kept.
‘It’s only background research on Catholic families,’ Mandy said.
‘Perfect. Let him do some of that. He’s impossible otherwise.’
‘I can hear you, you know.’
‘Mind if I make a cuppa to get me started?’ Mandy asked. Her mouth tugged down a little at the corners. Eden had never seen her miserable.
‘You OK Mandy?’
Mandy lifted and dropped her shoulders. ‘I’ve been a prat.’ She turned her back to Eden and filled the kettle at the sink. ‘I was seeing this bloke and he dumped me and I feel humiliated, s’all.’ When she faced the room again, tears welled in her eyes.
‘Hey, Mands,’ Eden said. ‘That’s the pits.’
‘He was too good for me, really, kind of cool and I’m …’ she glanced down at her jumper and jeans. ‘Trev says if I smarten myself up a bit I might have a chance of getting a boyfriend.’ Her eyes met Eden’s. ‘I’m nearly forty and look at me. No guy my age is going to be interested in me.’
Eden studied her for a moment. Nothing hurt like unrequited love. It could
brighten the dullest day, or it could be a torment until your heart found someone else. ‘You’re you,’ she said. ‘When someone comes along, he’ll like you for you, not because you’ve dressed yourself up as someone you’re not.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Would you like to come out with me and my friend Judy some time? Judy’s a good laugh, and she’s got good man-antennae. Though she did spot Aidan so she’s not infallible.’
Mandy smiled. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’ It’d be a blast, her, Mandy and Judy on a night out. Eden had often socialised with Aidan’s team and knew they all threw themselves wholeheartedly into having a good time. And Judy was always up for a giggle. ‘I’ll ring Judy and we’ll make a date.’
Her eye fell on the box of chocolates. Dropping her voice so Aidan couldn’t hear, she said, ‘And if you need cheering up, help yourself to these chocolates. Only don’t let Aidan see them.’
‘Why?’
‘Present from an ex.’ Eden pulled a face.
‘No probs. Thanks, Eden.’ Mandy’s eyes fixed on the chocolates. Eden gave it two minutes before the wrapper was off.
‘Right,’ Eden said. ‘Here’s my phone number if you need me. I’ll pop in later and make sure you haven’t throttled him. He’s a terrible patient.’
‘Don’t worry, Eden. I know what he’s like: I work with him every day, remember.’
Eden squeezed her arm. ‘Your reward will be in heaven.’ She went back into the sitting room, where Aidan was watching the TV news with the sound turned off. She kissed the top of his head. ‘I’m off to work. Be a good boy for Mandy, won’t you.’
He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear but was probably rude, and she scarpered. First stop Lewis Jordan’s mother, then to Birmingham and private investigator Bernard Mulligan.
09:26 hours
Tracey Jones opened the door a fraction and peered through the crack at her.
‘Miss Jones? We met a few days ago. I wondered if I could ask you a few questions, please?’
‘You’re the detective, aren’t you?’ Tracey said, standing aside to let her in.
‘I was working for Lewis … Lee, I mean.’
Tracey’s sitting room was stifling, the windows running with condensation. Despite the heat, Tracey wrapped herself in a leopard print fleece and tucked herself into a corner of the sofa.
‘Can I ask you about the money Lee gave you, before he died?’
‘He was a good boy, always looked out for me,’ Tracey said.
‘He gave you thirty thousand pounds?’
‘I’d run up a few debts,’ Tracey said. Understatement of the century. ‘Lee came into some money and gave it to me.’
‘Even though he had debts of his own?’
Tracey rubbed her sleeve over her face. ‘He said we’d be alright, both of us.’
‘More where it came from?’
Tracey shrugged. ‘I didn’t ask. I was just glad he was there.’
There was another matter to clear up. Eden pulled a picture out of her bag, a screen shot from the hotel CCTV. ‘Do you know this person?’ she asked.
‘She’s aged,’ Tracey said, unable to hide the triumph in her voice.
‘You know her, then?’
‘Another Holy Josephine,’ she said. ‘Her and her sister.’
‘Sister?’
Tracey blinked at her. ‘Her sister’s Rose Taylor, Lee’s foster mother.’
10:37 hours
The M5 was clogged and she had plenty of time to think as she made the journey to Birmingham. Bernard hadn’t sounded surprised to hear from her when she’d called him early that morning. In his measured, dry voice he simply said, ‘Hello again, what can I do you for?’ and confirmed he was free to see her.
She parked again in the multi-storey in the jewellery quarter and walked to his office. Bernard was ready for her, the kettle steaming and the cups waiting with teabags inside them.
‘NATO standard minus two,’ he confirmed when she came in.
‘You remembered,’ she said, taking off her electric-blue leather jacket and folding it over the back of her chair.
‘Very important in the Forces, how people take their tea,’ Bernard said. ‘I bet you’ve drunk some horrible cuppas in your time, eh?’
He fixed her with a direct gaze that told her he recognised exactly what she had been: a ghost, an undercover officer.
‘Oh yes, plenty of those.’ She looked again at him, noting the careful way he regarded her. ‘You were in Intelligence, weren’t you?’
Bernard nodded. ‘Takes one to know one.’
‘We spot each other, us spooks,’ she said. ‘Which is partly why I’m here.’
Bernard took the chair opposite hers and waited for her to continue.
‘You did background checks on everyone who came into contact, even remotely, with the Holy Blood of Hailes,’ Eden said. ‘I wondered if I could look at the list again, please?’
‘Who are you looking for?’
‘Someone who works at the hotel where Lewis Jordan stayed.’
Bernard went over to a filing cabinet and pulled out a folder. He slid it over to Eden and she ran her eye down the list of names.
‘Him,’ she said, jabbing at a name towards the bottom. ‘What did you find about him?’
Bernard hunted again in the filing cabinet and extracted a flimsy document. He turned the pages slowly. ‘I remember this one. It was a bit odd. On the surface, he checked out, was who he seemed to be. But when I tried to dig further, I couldn’t get anywhere at all.’ He handed the paper to Eden. ‘He doesn’t really exist.’
She skimmed the pages. It was as she’d thought. A bubble of excitement rose in her chest: she’d found one of her targets. She handed back the document, unable to conceal a smile.
‘You’ve got what you needed then?’ Bernard said.
‘For one bit of my puzzle, yes.’ She dug in her bag and drew out a sheaf of papers. Each one had a photograph taken from the Internet. ‘Could you look at these please, Bernard, and tell me if you recognise any of these people?’
Bernard took the pages and went through them one by one, frowning as he discarded them to one side. Finally, he looked up at her. ‘This one,’ he said. ‘He’s the one who asked me to do the background research.’
‘The shy client who paid in cash?’
‘That’s him.’
‘You’re certain?’
Bernard gave her a look that reminded her he was ex-Intelligence and ex-copper, a man who had an eye for detail and understood the need for caution and certainty before acting.
‘Who is he?’ Bernard asked.
Eden turned the page over. She’d written the names and brief details of each person on the back of each sheet. ‘Him,’ she said, showing him the name.
As soon as she left Bernard’s office, she made a phone call. ‘Will? It’s Eden Grey. Can you meet me tonight? And bring someone from your side who is authorised to make an arrest. I’ve found who stole your gloves.’
13:03 hours
Lunchtime, and as Eden approached Simon Hughes’ office in Rodney Road, Gwen came down the steps and hurried down the street. Eden let her get ahead, then followed at a distance, careful not to stare at Gwen’s back. She tracked her through the town centre and along a side street to a Catholic church. She waited until Gwen was inside, gave her a few moments, then slunk in at the back.
The scent of incense wrapped itself around her, teasing her not to sneeze. The walls were opulently painted in blue and gold, and richly coloured statues peered out at her with heavy-lidded eyes.
It took a moment to locate Gwen. She was in a side chapel presided over by a statue of the Virgin Mary. A bank of candles flickered against one wall. Gwen was in a pew towards the front of the chapel, and beside her was Rose Taylor. Eden crept in and took a seat behind them.
‘I did it for you!’ Gwen was muttering.
‘I never asked you to!’ Rose replied, her voice ripped with anguish. ‘How could you?’
>
‘You let me use your key, though.’
‘Not so you could kill him!’
‘I didn’t!’ Gwen hissed. ‘I did what we agreed.’
‘If I’d thought for one moment you’d kill him …’ Rose began.
‘She didn’t kill him,’ Eden said.
Both women started and whipped around in their seats. Gwen’s face was white and furious; Rose’s twitched with fear.
‘I wondered how it was you knew all about Lee’s brushes with the law, when you’ve only worked in the solicitor’s office for a few months,’ Eden said. ‘Now I know you’re sisters, it makes sense. But what I want to know is why now? Over twenty years after Lee left your lives for good.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Gwen began, but Rose spoke over the top of her, ‘He wasn’t fit to see the Blood of Christ.’
‘So you decided to blind him.’
‘Not blind him, just … hurt him a bit,’ Rose said.
‘It was oven cleaner in his eye drops,’ Eden said. Rose shot a look at Gwen. ‘Nasty, eh? I’ve seen the burns it causes on arms and hands. Goodness knows what it’s like to get it in your eyes.’
‘I thought you said you were …’ Rose began.
‘Shut up, Rose! She doesn’t know anything!’
‘Only someone who knew Lewis, and knew about his drops, could doctor them. And it had to be someone who could get into his hotel room, because it was the drops in his washbag that were poisoned, not the ones in his jacket.’ Eden shifted her gaze to Rose. ‘Naturally I assumed it was you. You fostered Lewis, have a grudge against him, and you have a pass key to all the hotel rooms. But you didn’t go into the hotel that day.’
Rose’s mouth worked silently. Gwen crossed her arms and tutted in fury.
Eden continued. ‘You’re pretty careless with that pass key, Rose. I borrowed your overall the day after Lewis died and there it was in the pocket. Anyone could have borrowed that overall and got into as many rooms as they wanted.’ She turned to Gwen. ‘Couldn’t they?’
Gwen tried to stare her down. ‘This is ridiculous.’