Dan nodded, impressed. “Yeah. I caught that too.”
“And I don’t think she’s going home, either,” said Joanne. “I’m think she’s staying there full time, sleeping in Joe Clancy’s bed and Daddy Clancy doesn’t seem to know it. There’s nothing prudish about that. It’s just what I saw.”
“I think you may be right, Joanne,” said Eva. “Which means she would have been there during the break-in. Even if it was possible that Joe Clancy is such a solid sleeper that he didn’t hear the break in, how likely is it that Georgie didn’t hear it either?”
“Not likely in the least,” said Joanne.
“Which means we just might well have our first suspect,” said Eva. “Did you see all their coded communications when we asked them about the burglary?”
“No,” said Mark. “She didn’t do it. I went to school with Georgie too. She was top of the class, just too quiet to get the recognition the head girls did. She would never ever do something like that. I think she was acting coy because you almost outed her as sleeping with Joe.”
“That’s another theory,” said Dan. “But people change, Mark, and not always for the better.”
Mark didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.
“And what about Carl Renton?” said Joanne. “Which way do we go with this?”
“We don’t know the full story, but we do know this,” said Eva. “The break-in and robbery happened last night, not long after Carl Renton disappeared off the radar.”
“It sounds like you’re suggesting Carl Renton is a suspect as well,” said Dan.
“It’s possible he was involved. Maybe he had some kind of cash-flow issue with his rehab operation. Who knows? But I don’t buy the idea that it’s a coincidence that the theft happened the same night as he goes missing. When is it ever just a coincidence?”
“But I lived a year getting help from people like Carl Renton,” said Dan. “It’s hard for me to see someone like that behind a serious crime.”
“Dan,” said Eva. “You’ve told me a lot about what happened during that year. Was every single one of those people – the volunteers, the helpers at the foodbank – was every single one of them totally scrupulous and trustworthy?”
“No. But any place like that is going to have a few bad apples in it. A few of them were probably on the take for food freebies.”
“And what about the Christian ones? Were they always pure as the driven snow?”
Dan blinked in thought. “No. Most of them were good people. But one or two... they seemed a little too intense. They seemed like they might have had an ulterior motive. Not all of them by any means.”
“But that’s what I mean. Nobody’s a saint, not even the saints,” said Eva. “This investigation is about finding Aaron Clancy’s lost treasures, but I think it’s also about finding one lost Renton too. Carl Renton might well be involved in this somehow. Find Carl Renton and we might well find Aaron Clancy’s treasure too.”
“Treasure?” said Dan. “I never thought of it as treasure. Just a load of shiny junk. It might be worth a fortune, but I’d never want it in my house. Keep it in a safe somewhere or sell it instead.”
“I think Aaron Clancy is a different type of man. He clearly loves the stuff. It’s certainly treasure to him.”
“And there I was thinking we were going to have a good old-fashioned day out at the beach.”
“The beach will have to wait.” Eva turned to Joanne and Mark. “What about you? You were expecting a day off.”
“Why? Where are you going now?” said Joanne.
“There’s a good chance that Joe Clancy hasn’t told us everything we need to know about Carl Renton. We need to learn a lot more about him if we’re going to find him. I think the best place to start would be his rehab project.”
Joanne’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of another adventure.
“We’re coming with you,” she said. “This day’s just getting more and more interesting.”
“We’re going to a rehab,” said Dan. “Interesting would be an understatement.”
Eva pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and handed it over to Dan in the passenger seat. “Find me an address for the rehab, will you? Whatever it takes.”
“Should be easy enough,” said Dan.
Dan thumb-swiped the screen and typed in Eva’s four digit pin. He knew it off by heart. He was about to thumb the web browser when he saw Eva had unopened messages waiting for her. Being on the nosey side of helpful, Dan dabbed the missed call button and saw the call had come in about an hour ago. Next he dabbed the message button and found a new unread message. His eyes scanned it in a few seconds.
Hey, Eva. I know we had some problems before, but I really hope that’s all water under the bridge. I’m trying to get in touch with you because I really need your help. I’d like to patch things up too. Here’s hoping you’ll give me a chance. Call me back when you can. Lauren x.
If that wasn’t a cry for help, Dan didn’t know what was. He looked at Eva and she glanced back.
“What?” she said.
He was suddenly aware of Mark and Joanne in the back seat. “Nothing,” said Dan. “I’m just looking it up now.”
“Okay. My guess is it’ll be in central Southend.”
“Coming right up,” said Dan.
His eyes hung on the last couple of lines of the text. ...give me a chance. Call me back when you can. Whatever had happened between them, he knew Eva was all about second chances. Eva had to call the girl back. If she didn’t, her conscience would only plague her. Dan parked the thought, thumbed the web browser app on the screen and began to type in ‘Renton...’
Six
As soon as they arrived, Eva got the distinct impression that any lingering sense of taking the day off needed to stop right there. The rehab’s houses looked lively, to say the least.
Carl Renton had opened two rehab houses under the project name of Restore. No doubt a scriptural reference, as well as from the sentiment about restoring a person to health, second chances, and all that. One house specialised in drink rehabilitation and one in drug rehab. The houses were found on the same densely terraced Westcliff street, tucked away between Southend Hospital and the busy vein of West Road. Here, Westcliff was a grid of terraced houses, some of which had slipped into disrepair, and multiple occupancy properties. The pavements were busy and most of those walking around in the sunshine seemed to be people on the wrong side of the tracks. Eva’s Alfa bounced over a few harsh speed bumps before she found a suitable space. She parked up and all four of them stared down the street. Further down, beneath the canopy of the trees lining the street, two guys and a young woman leaned against a wall outside one of the houses. Behind them, the front door was open, and another man leaned out, wearing a hoodie pulled up over his head on a hot summer’s day. Eva didn’t even need to check the house number. A place like that, people like that – it just had to be Renton’s house. Eva glanced in her rear-view and saw a similar gathering further back up the street. If she hadn’t known these houses were rehabs, Eva might have had them down as drug dens. The people looked the same ilk and had the same vibe.
“On second thoughts, maybe we should have dropped you home,” said Eva. “This doesn’t look like the kind of place we should take you,” said Eva. “Either of you.”
“But Mark’s your apprentice,” said Joanne. “Shouldn’t he go with you? And if I’m going to be of any use I should go along too.”
Mark sighed. He looked reluctant about Joanne’s suggestion.
“Sorry, Joanne,” said Eva. “But you could still be of help.”
“How?” said Joanne.
“Keep a look out,” said Eva. “See if anyone is doing anything unusual around these two houses. If something has happened to Carl Renton, one of these people might have been involved.”
Joanne’s face turned into a dour frown and she sat back. “I get the picture,” she said.
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with here
,” said Dan. “Eva’s right. If Clancy’s treasures have found their way into one in these houses, the thief really will fight tooth and nail to stop us getting near them. There’s a lot of money at stake.”
“I helped you at Clancy’s didn’t I? I might be able to help you again,” she said.
“And you will. But not yet.” Eva got out of the car before Joanne had the chance to hassle her again.
Dan followed suit, leaving Joanne and Mark alone in the backseat. Joanne folded her arms as Eva and Dan walked away. “Just when things were getting interesting,” she said.
“There’s interesting and there’s dangerous, Joanne,” said Mark. “We should do as they ask.”
“Sometimes, Mark, I wonder how you ended up working for them in the first place.” After a long moment, Joanne grinned. Mark looked at her with a quizzical eye. Joanne answered his unspoken question by reaching for the door handle.
“What are you doing, Jo?”
“There’s two houses here, and two sets of us. Eva and Dan do need our help, they just don’t know it. Come on. We can go and talk to the people at the other house. If we find something to help move the case on everyone will be happy.”
“And if we get into trouble?” said Mark.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Mark. You can loosen up when you want to.”
Joanne got out into the bright sunshine as Eva and Dan began talking to the people standing around outside the house up the street. Mark clambered out after her and shut the car door behind him. Before he could protest, Joanne marched down the street towards the second house in the near distance. A couple of people in the distance had already turned to watch their approach. A pang of anxiety began to stab at Mark’s chest. The rabble ahead were too far away to see well, but it was clear they were a different breed. Mark hoped the housemates were on the more reformed side of the rehab spectrum. Following in Joanne’s wake, hoping was all he could do.
Eva pulled up short of the group standing by the front wall of the house. She checked the house number by the door, while Dan took in the faces, manner and potential threat level of those ranged before them. The group turned one by one to look at Eva and Dan. They didn’t seem hostile, not yet, maybe just curious. But they didn’t seem friendly either. Dan had them down as edgy. Twitchy even. This was the drinkers’ house. He thought about the tract leaflet he’d seen at the Clancy residence, thought that it was designed for people who looked as desperate as these. He wondered whether any leaflet could ever penetrate the fog of their personal addictions.
“Hi,” said Dan, attempting to break the ice only because it was there. Because they had questions to ask too.
The young woman of the group had an ashen, pinched look to her face, and her eyes were tired. Her hair looked extremely greasy. It was red like Eva’s, only the woman was much thinner and hard living had given her pretty face a mean aspect. She wore a vest over a skeletal frame. There was a tattoo of radiant sun on her thin bicep. She looked at Dan with a faint sign of interest, while the men of the group spent all of their curiosity on looking at Eva. Compared to the women they were used to dealing with, Dan reckoned Eva must have looked close to a film star. It was amazing what an almost healthy diet and a tweed suit could do for a person. He ignored the girl and sized up the men. The man on the door looked to be in his forties, shaven headed, and shaky. He was sweating profusely. The two men leaning on the wall in front of the girl seemed more stable, and one was clearly posing to impress. He looked cocksure of himself, the type who wouldn’t mind trading insults or slapping a weaker man to make himself look like the main guy. Dan knew the type well. And in the end, this was where that type always ended up. A drunk house, a drug den, or a prison cell. It was a logical progression of total jerkdom. Dan concentrated his attention on this guy, just in case something went wrong too soon. The man saw the readiness in Dan’s eyes and shifted on the wall, but to make up for any sign of weakness, this guy made sure he was the first to respond.
“You here to tell us where he is then, are you?” he said, all cocky as hell. Dan felt his mood changing, his old stomach wound pulling tight around the scar. It still hadn’t healed perfectly, but his gut was strong enough for most eventualities.
“Actually,” said Eva, “We’re here to ask where Mr Renton might be. Presuming we’re talking about Carl Renton, that is.”
The cocky guy’s little eyes landed on Eva once again and lit up like a fruit machine jackpot. Meanwhile the rehab girl’s eyes tracked back to Dan and with a swish of her hair, she tried to appeal for his gaze. He looked back at her once more and quickly moved on.
“It’s the only thing worth talking about, ain’t it?” said the guy on the door. His voice was a nasally whine. Like a human weasel. “Carl disappeared on us, right when we needed him the most. He bailed out on us but he said he’d always be here.” The guy was a motormouth of panic. “He said we never had to worry about our meds, about our food, all we had to do was be here and we’d be okay. Fat lot of good that is when he doesn’t bloody turn up, know what I mean?!”
“Shut it, Steve. You haven’t stopped bitching and moaning since before sun up,” said the girl.
“I’ve got a right to moan, haven’t I?” said Steve. “We all have. We’ve been let down! What are we supposed to do now? Someone like me, I could start fitting if I don’t get my pills sorted. I could go into full withdrawal. People die from that, you know!”
“Look. If you help us maybe we could help you,” said Dan, keeping his voice level and calm. “We want to find Carl. We need to talk to him. It’s urgent.”
“What about?” said the girl. “You’re not police, are you?” The woman eyed Eva. “She might be, but you, you’re way too street to be a rozzer. Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked.
The girl took the opportunity to give Dan another look in the eye. Dan hoped she didn’t say she remembered him from his fallow year at The Refuge foodbank. Too many of those types still hadn’t moved on in the five years since he’d left it all behind.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Just got one of those kinds of faces, that’s all.”
“He’s probably just plain clothes, Sal,” said Mr Cocksure. “Trying to fit in so he can get more information.”
“It doesn’t matter who you think we are,” said Dan. “If we find Carl Renton then your problems still get solved, don’t they?”
The man shook his head. “Their problems you mean, not mine. I’m virtually clean now. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
“Then maybe you should move out and make way for someone else who does need the help,” said Dan.
Eva gave Dan a sharp look. The girl smiled.
Cocksure tried to smile. “I don’t see any hurry, do you? Especially now,” said the guy. “People like big Carl Renton, they don’t just drop everything and run off, do they? No, that’s not him at all. Which means there’s a problem. Carl would have told everyone long in advance exactly where he was going and who was going to cover for him. Which means he didn’t plan this at all. Which means something bad must have happened to him.”
“And you’d know something about that, would you?” said Dan.
“What are you implying?” said the man.
“Nothing at all. You made a statement,” said Dan. “I asked a question. It’s called a conversation.”
“It’s only a conversation if I want to talk back,” said the man. “To you? No thanks. But to the lady here...”
“Careful,” said Dan. “I don’t want to make you look bad in front of your friends here.”
“And think you could do that, do you?”
Dan took a breath and hit the pause button on his escalating mood.
“I know I could,” said Dan. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll find him without your help. What about the rest of you? Does anyone else here know anything?”
The shaky guy on the doorstep nodded for Dan’s attention. “Robbo there,” he said, nodding at the cocky guy, “I know he’s not got the g
reatest bedside manner—”
“Shut your mouth, Steve,” said the cocksure guy.
“But he’s not far off the mark. Carl runs the whole show – that’s both houses. He’s always shown up on time and done the necessaries. Meds, counselling, paperwork, the lot. With him gone like this, you have to think something could have happened to him.”
“And?” said Dan. “What do you think could have happened?”
“A car crash maybe? An accident of some kind...” The guy shrugged.
Both Eva and Dan saw some other speculation was there hiding behind the nervous man’s eyes. He scratched his bald head before he carried on.
“And you know,” he went on, “people can have all kinds of accidents, can’t they? Genuine ones, and the not so genuine ones. Acts of God and all that and then there’s the ones someone might have arranged.”
“Arranged?” said Eva.
“Steve!” said the girl. “What are you on about now?”
“I’m just saying what you all think. Carl couldn’t help himself, could he? The man didn’t know when to stop. If Carl had just left it at going to church and giving money to the poor and running his rehab houses, he would have been alright. Everyone would still have loved him. But the way Carl spoke, he thought he was living in a war, didn’t he? He thought he was a soldier.”
“Steve?!” said the cocky man, sending him a hard look. “You’ve got verbal diarrhoea, son. Ignore him. That’s just the withdrawal talking.”
“No. I always spoke to him. You never did. Carl called it spiritual warfare. He said he was in a battle with the enemy for the souls of the people, for the soul of this town. I know what that sounds like, but he meant it. And he hated what those new class A’s were doing to the kids. Those Uber things. Carl said that was the work of the devil, pure and simple. He said he was going to work non-stop to bring it to an end. He was even going out on these vigils down to the beach and to the docks to try and catch the people doing the importing. It was nuts. You think about it. These Ubers are big bucks, right?”
Between Two Thieves Page 8