A Half Remembered Life (The Lakeland Murders Book 9)

by J. J. Salkeld

  ‘Aye, I was. I admit it, I do. But was that so wrong, really, Mr. Hall? They were hard times, remember, very hard. And for a few of us local lads, who hated the idea of a bloody great big hole in our home ground, it was a way that we could have a wee bit of cake, and eat it too, just for once. We got to stop them buggering the place up, and we generated a nice bit of cash for ourselves too. I’ve never felt guilty about that, to tell you the truth. Not for one second, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘But a man died, because of what you did. A police officer died. And he never would have been sent if it wasn’t for you making the whole situation worse. You must see that, surely?’

  ‘I do, and I’m sorry. But I didn’t know any of that at the time, I swear I didn’t. And I didn’t know about Pete Spedding either, not until, well, very recently.’

  ‘ACC Winter told you?’

  ‘I was told, aye. Our little go at the play-acting job must have been a bit better than we thought it was, eh? Getting undercover cops sent to watch us like that. Who would have thought it, like?’ Battersby smiled, hopefully.

  But Hall just looked steadily back, across the table. There was something unnerving about that look, Battersby thought, as if Hall was able to interrogate his memories, and his motivations, just by looking.

  ‘So why were you having the Speddings watched?’

  ‘You really haven’t worked it out, have you?’

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  ‘It was because of the lad, Mike. He’s my boy, not Cam’s. My only child, Mr. Hall, and I’m not likely to have another, not at my age. Though more power to you, obviously, for having another kid, like. But he’s my lad, is Mike, and I want to see him right, one way or another.’

  ‘You’re sure he’s your son?’

  ‘Aye, I’m sure. So Alice didn’t say anything about it, then?’

  ‘No, she didn’t. But why put a PI on the job? Why not just talk to Alice about it, and take it from there?’

  ‘And give the lad a third dad? No, Andy, we only get one of those, and Pete’s his dad now, isn’t he? I just wanted to, you know, work out what I could do for him. Give the lad a scholarship, or a house, or a car, or Christ knows what. I was hoping that having him watched would give me a clue about what to do, like.’

  Hall sat still, owlish and unblinking.

  ‘So, do you believe me, then?’ asked Battersby.

  ‘About Mike Donald? Yes, I believe you. That possibility never even crossed my mind. But as to Cam Donald’s death, and those of Stan Greig and Eric Green, well, that’s quite a butcher’s bill, isn’t it? And I believe that it should, and will, be laid at your door.’

  ‘What, you seriously think that I got Stan to kill Cam, persuaded Stan to top himself, and then pressurised Eric into going the same way, after he told me about how he’d reacted when you and your pet gorilla went to see him?’

  ‘Exactly, yes. That’s precisely what I believe to be true.’

  ‘And nothing I can say will change your mind?’

  ‘Probably not. I believe that you are the cleverest, and the most cold-blooded killer that I have ever encountered. I can’t prove any of it, of course, but it’s what I believe. I also believe that you’re a most persuasive man, of the very rare and dangerous kind that can persuade good people to do bad things, and then go on to persuade them that they’re nothing but bad. That’s a very particular kind of evil, almost an evolved kind, in a way.’

  Battersby didn’t seem to be in any way unsettled by what Hall had said. And when he spoke again his tone was thoughtful, almost wistful.

  ‘But who are we really, Andy, any of us? The person we are now, or the one we used to be, years ago, like? The one who got us to where we are today, or the person we’ve become because of the journey from there to here?’

  ‘I don’t think they’re really any different. And I do know that we’re equally responsible for everything we’ve done in life, whether it was yesterday or twenty years ago.’

  ‘So I’m a stone-cold killer, then?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘But I’ll never pay for what I’ve done, right?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On what? There are no living witnesses, and nothing whatsoever to tie me to the death of Cam Donald, all those years ago. There’s no forensics, and my financial relationship with the Greens is no secret, and never has been. There’s no smoking gun. In fact, Mr. Hall, there’s no bullets, let alone a bloody gun.’

  Hall stood up, and walked to the window. He didn’t look at Battersby as he spoke.

  ‘But never is such a long time, Mr. Battersby. An unimaginably long time. The truth will spread far and wide, given time, because it is in its nature to reach out, you see. And what is it that they say? A secret is a truth that you only tell to one person? Well your secret has been told to plenty of other people now, hasn’t it? And because of that you can be quite sure that sometime, maybe not this month, this year, or even this decade, that truth will just explode out into the world. Who knows, it might even be after your death, and your whole legacy will be destroyed utterly. Think of that, Mr. Battersby, because one day this truth will surely come out, that you’re a cold-blooded killer, and there’ll be absolutely nothing that you can do about it. So you’ll be judged, Mr. Battersby. Oh, yes, you most certainly will be judged.’