by A P Bateman
Hodges frowned and took a leather-bound note pad from his jacket pocket, opened it to the relevant page, then shook his head in negation. “No, that’s not what I’ve got written here. I spoke to the managing director last night, a David Brown. He owns the principal share in the company. Keith Parker was in charge of accounts. He was their head clerk. He recently became their health and safety officer. According to Mr Brown, your husband...” he paused, realising that he had made the same mistake again. “Sorry, partner, had no financial decision making authority, not to speak of anyway. That is why I did not feel it necessary to interview him today. I had prioritised the main people, Keith Parker was due for a visit tomorrow or the next day, merely a routine inquiry.”
Lisa Grant bowed her head to the floor, somewhat perplexed. Keith Parker had never divulged any business details to her, and once it had become obvious that they had no real future as a couple, she had not made any motion to talk to him, other than what she had deemed necessary to avoid a beating.
Keith Parker had not always treated her so poorly. For the first year, he had treated her like a princess. Keith Parker was her first love. She had bumped into him by chance, cried on his shoulder. It happens. Now she looked back on it, Keith had fuelled the fire of her anger at Simon. He had cleverly manipulated her, guided her decision to end her relationship with him. She had regretted it soon afterwards, but life is never easy and mistakes are the easiest things to make. Keith had been able to provide her with everything she could reasonably have hoped for, in the material line. A nice home, money, a loving atmosphere for her young son and above all, the stability and love that she craved.
But not for long. And she’d been trapped ever since.
Parker had changed, almost overnight. He made sure that he always got what he wanted, but soon he developed an uncontrollable jealousy of her estranged husband - and more worryingly, a deepening contempt and hatred towards young David.
She had attempted to leave him, but only once. That had been enough. Lisa had ended up in hospital from her injuries on that occasion, but for the medical staff and the police she had concocted a story about falling downstairs. She decided that it would be safer to do so. Since then, she had been a virtual prisoner, accounting for her every move, often before she had even made it, and always answerable to Parker’s wrath.
“Mrs Grant?” WPC Leith soothed a hand over her shoulder, looking at her with concern. “Mrs Grant, are you alright?”
Lisa raised her head, somewhat bewildered, as she pulled herself back to the present. She looked at the young policewoman and forced a smile. “Yes. I… I just drifted off, sorry.”
“Please, don’t be sorry Mrs Grant.” Hodges paused, satisfied that this time he had managed to address the woman correctly. “I understand that this must be a terribly traumatic time for you, but we must find out as much as we can, before the trail becomes cold.”
“I understand.” Lisa pulled herself straight in the chair and rested her hands around the cup of tea, taking great comfort in its warmth. “I was just shocked to hear that Keith had been deceiving me. As far as I was aware, he was the owner of the company, and was under stress because of the overall responsibility he had; trying to make deadlines, meet quotas and seek new contracts.”
“I see.” Hodges mused quietly. “So, today… You were out all day?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I took my son, David, to Hamleys. I bought him a remote controlled car he had been promised.”
Hodges nodded. He was studying her face intently. “Did you go anywhere else?”
“Regent’s Park,” she shivered. “He used the car for hours! He’s wanted it for so long…”
“And you got back, when?”
“Two-hours ago. We went to the zoo. London Zoo.”
“Was it your son’s birthday?
“No.”
“Lucky boy.” Hodges frowned. “Should he not have been at school? They break up tomorrow, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do,” she replied. “But he needed his mummy. Keith got it into his head that a private school in Scotland would be good for him.”
“And you didn’t?”
“Of course not!”
“So…”
“So we decided, or rather I decided it wasn’t suitable. When I left, Keith was going to call the school and retract the application. The treat was because David had been so upset about going.”
Hodges nodded. “Which school?”
“Lord knows,” she said, like it wasn’t even on her radar. That it was the last thing she would have done. But she knew enough about the police, and that was you never left out anything. She knew what Keith had really done for the company, but she had needed to create a smokescreen. They would not look at Keith Parker in an honest light after her little show of surprise. “It was Keith’s idea, but he wound David up about it.”
Hodges slipped the notebook back into his jacket pocket, then pushed the chair back from the table and rose to his feet. “Well, I can make further inquiries, but I had a thorough check done on the company today, and I can assure you that Keith Parker was not on the board of directors. I am sorry,” he said, feeling a little awkward. “Thank you for your co-operation, Mrs Grant. WPC Leith will stay with you for a little while longer, until forensics have finished their investigations.” He glanced at her swollen eye-socket and frowned. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get that?”
“When I arrived home and found Keith, I felt light-headed,” she lied easily. She was free now, only this last hurdle remained. “Before I could help myself, I wobbled and fell into the door frame.” She rubbed the slight swelling gently with her fingertips, then bowed her head into her hands and started to wail. “I can’t believe this is happening! Oh my God... Who would do that to him? Who?” She started to cry and pictured Keith shoving David to the ground, pictured his face as he forced himself into her. Pictured him looking down at her, dominating her, devaluing her entire being. She closed her eyes, feeling the guilt that she hadn’t left sooner, hadn’t taken her son out of harm’s way, had left him exposed to such abuse. When she opened her eyes again she was sobbing, tears running down her face and dripping off her chin.
The policewoman wrapped her right arm around Lisa’s shoulder to comfort her, but no sympathy appeared on her face. Hodges looked at the emotional woman for a moment then stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. The lounge had become a hive of activity, with teams of forensic technicians and detectives combing the entire room for any tell-tale clue.
Keith Parker’s pose was probably not as photogenic as he would have preferred but then again, he had no choice in the matter. Nor did the technician wielding the camera, who was taking photographs of the body from a variety of different angles.
Hodges peered into the lounge and watched the officers at work, then glanced briefly at the corpse. Parker’s body was still seated upright in the chair, his eyes wide open, the gag still tucked generously into his gaping mouth. Hodges turned to the nearby Detective Constable who was being briefed by a forensic officer. He waited for the forensic officer to walk back into the lounge, then nodded towards the carpet. “What have you got?”
The detective looked up, then flicked a wispy tuft of blonde hair away from his eyes. “A few blood splatters. Consistent with a beating. Nothing more than fists, according to forensics.” He stood up and pointed at two thick lines in the carpet’s pattern, then glanced at his tatty-looking notebook. “And drag marks, running against the grain of the carpet. Proof…”
“No.”
“Sorry, an indication, that Mr Parker was dragged from here, and into the lounge.”
“Good, what else?” Hodges asked. He let his officers run, but corrected them as they went. Proof wasn’t a word he let people use in his earshot. It was up to them to prove it after they had all the facts. He had learned this from his former Chief Inspector, and he intended to keep the practice going, especially as
he was all but Detective Inspector now.
Hodges adjusted his tie, as was his habit when he needed a moment for thought, then turned to the young detective and followed the distinctive trail with his eyes. He turned back to him and frowned. “You were first on the scene, weren’t you?”
The detective shook his head. “No. A mobile unit responded to the call, they were the first officers on site, put the cordon up.”
“You spoke with Mrs Grant straight away?”
The detective nodded. “Yeah. Well, sort of. I gave her ten minutes or so, she was pretty hysterical when I arrived.”
Hodges nodded. “What did she say?”
“She had been out with her son, I gather they went out for the day, then went to get something to eat before returning home at around seven o’clock,” he said, then stared at him intently. “You don’t suspect her, do you?” He pointed at the deep drag-marks in the carpet and shook his head. “She must weigh about nine or ten stone. Parker was well over six-foot tall, and must have weighed thirteen stone! There is no way that she could have beat him to a pulp, dragged him into the next room, then lifted him into the chair and tied his hands.”
“I know, I know...” Hodges nodded in agreement, looked around the hallway, then peered up the staircase. “Where’s the boy?”
“The woman sent him around to the neighbour’s house, just before I arrived.” He looked down at his notebook then turned over to the previous page. “A Mr and Mrs Palmer. At Holly Acres, number eleven.” He slipped the notebook back into his pocket and perched himself on the edge of the coffee table. “Do you think this is connected? I mean, Parker worked for the security firm which had one of their vans held up yesterday, seems too much of a coincidence, doesn’t it?”
“I’m positive that it’s connected.” Hodges nodded emphatically. “It is just a matter of how, who and why. Parker must have been involved with the heist in some way, and whoever else was involved must have seen him as a loose end.”
“What about the woman, do you think she’s involved?”
Hodges shook his head. “She knows nothing,” he said. Lisa Grant had been an innocent. Right up until she had whisked the boy out and given him a grand day out. He knew fist marks when he saw them. Women always slipped down the stairs, or banged their face on a door or tripped over the cat. He knew desperation too. He knew the look of someone truly on the edge. And the edge was the point where it went either way. You slipped into oblivion, or you clawed your way out. He recognised Lisa Grant as someone who had clawed her way out. One slip, one false hand of hope, and she would fall to the bottom. She knew nothing of why Parker had died, but she knew everything about the moment. She had lied, he knew that. But he also knew she hadn’t been involved in the man’s death. Her crime? Leaving the scene and failing to get help. Her punishment? Well, Hodges had seen the bruising and newly cut lip. Maybe she had paid her punishment forward. Help wasn’t always there for some. Sometimes it was more dangerous to seek help, than to stay in harm’s way. He had seen it a hundred times, been to the scene when a beating had gone too far. Nobody ever meant to kill their partner, but it happened a few times a week. He had the suspicion that Lisa Grant had been close to that outcome. As close as it gets.
“You okay, boss?”
Hodges looked up. “Sorry,” he said. “Lost in thought.”
“Terrible world we live in,” the young detective said.
Hodges nodded and left the room. It was. He had seen the world at its worst, and its best. He had seen things to keep him awake at night, things that would never leave him. He knew Lisa Grant had too. And by proximity, so would her son. He knew he was a good police officer, and that his actions made a difference. He would never take a bribe, and he would never create evidence. But he also knew how to play cards. He knew when to play his hand, when to fold and when to get up and walk away. He looked into the kitchen, saw Lisa Grant nursing a cup of tea between trembling hands. She wasn’t play acting. She was a woman on the edge of the precipice. Fall or claw herself back? Part of that was up to Hodges.
42
Alex King kept his eyes on the house, occasionally catching a glimpse of Frank Holman in silhouette, as he walked past the lounge window.
Only minutes earlier King had brought the BMW down onto the beach road and parked it on the sandy ground behind a small copse of pine trees. Now, both he and Grant lay prone among the thick layer of sand and pine needles, within the tree line.
“What happens now?” Grant asked quietly, though somewhat impatiently. King rolled over onto his side and looked at him. “We wait.”
“But what about me?”
King reached into his pocket and extracted a small piece of folded paper. He reached it across to Grant, then smiled. “Here, take this. In case anything happens to me. It’s your wife’s address and telephone number, at Keith Parker’s house. If you try to contact her, be careful. If the Irish haven’t already caught up with Parker, they soon will. Forsyth won’t want him around either.”
“What about my family? They’re at risk!”
“You might want to get them away,” he paused. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea if you got the hell out of Dodge either…”
“What do you mean?” Grant asked. “Why would I have to be careful?”
King shook his head. “Let’s put it this way; you have been extremely helpful, but this whole operation has gone south. Just disappear for a while. Don’t become a loose end for the likes of Forsyth.”
“But surely that wouldn’t apply to me?” Grant protested. “I’ve helped turn the situation around for him.”
King stared at him coldly, the whites of his eyes clearly visible in the darkness. “He messed things up. Not entirely his fault, but he had the chance to nip this in the bud. We both did. Instead, innocent people were killed. I am just advising you to stay out of sight. The fact that you were coerced will not make any difference to a man like Forsyth.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Yes. What happens when the job is done?”
King chuckled. “I’m not so sure after all this shit. I’ve had my taste of the shadowy world of intelligence. It’s all a load of bollocks.”
“And it will be that simple?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, all this loose ends rubbish. Where does it end? Will you know too much?”
King thought for a moment. “You let me worry about that,” he said. But it had given him something more to think about. Maybe it was time to give himself a bargaining chip, some security. He had heard of people collecting data, official orders, times and dates. It was called a security blanket and it prevented being hung out to dry. It didn’t seem such a bad idea.
***
Danny Neeson downed the remnants of his beer and waited for O’Shea to emerge from the toilets. The pretty brunette behind the bar smiled at him, as she polished another glass and placed it back onto the shelf. Neeson sighed to himself, then looked up as O’Shea appeared in the narrow doorway and walked over to the table.
“Did you get the directions?”
Neeson nodded, glancing briefly at the barmaid, who smiled then placed another glass on the mirrored shelf. “Aye, and very helpful she was to. Gagging for a bit of foreigner, so she was. Must be my Gaelic charm.”
“Aye well, another time, another place.” O’Shea said philosophically, then placed a pile of francs on the table and made towards the door.
Neeson got up and followed, without so much as a parting glance for the pretty barmaid. They walked out of the bar, aptly named L'Atlantique because of its seaward location, and back towards the cobbled area where they had parked the Saab. As they reached the vehicle, Neeson glanced at O’Shea, who was staring out across the sea at the tiny lights of a group of fishing trawlers in the distance. “Where are you going with your half?”
O’Shea looked at him dubiously, then broke into a broad smile. “I like the thought of South America, they’re gen
erally good to people like us. Argentina, or Patagonia to be more precise. I’ll get myself a llama farm.” He laughed. “Or just sit in the hills and grow old.”
“Whoever would have thought the likes of us would grow old?”
“What about yourself?”
“Australia. Beach front property and spend the days watching tits and arse.”
“That’s just another bloody Britain, and they’re big on extradition. You’d be better off somewhere like South Africa.” O’Shea stared at him grimly then grinned. “Wherever you end up, remember, you’ll have more than the authorities after you. You’ll have the bloody cause as well.”
Neeson shook his head. “Bloody lost cause, so it is now. Agreeing to the peace agreement, handing over weapons and Lord knows what else. Christ, what will they have next? Adams and McGuinness in Westminster?”
***
King turned to Grant and pointed to the far side of Holman’s property. “If you wait here, I’ll go around the house. I want to watch from a point where I can see both sides of the building and check that they don’t approach from the rear.”
“What if this is all a waste of time, what if they don’t come tonight?”
King shook his head. “Forsyth said that they were right behind Holman. He didn’t telephone to let me know if there was a problem, so we can take it for granted that they’ll be here soon.” He pushed himself swiftly to his feet and jogged quickly across the road and parallel to Holman’s property. As he drew near to the boundary of thick bushes and young pines, he could hear the sound of an approaching vehicle. He pulled back a thick branch, then charged through the bushes, just as the approaching vehicle’s headlights swept around the corner, its headlights cutting a swathe of light through the darkness.
***
Neeson slowed the Saab to a crawl as they passed the house on their right. “This looks promising,” he said. He drove a little further past the entrance, then glanced back towards the driveway. “That’s his Mercedes! This is it!”