by Alan Gorevan
Joe’s phone buzzed. He took the device out of his pocket and checked it. Another text from the anonymous number.
Get me €100,000 in cash. Not traceable. You have six hours. Instructions will follow. If you do what I say, your secret is safe with me.
The demand was impossible. Completely impossible. But Joe had a sudden feeling of elation. The person texting him wanted something and that meant there was hope. Joe could walk away from this. That is, if he could find the blackmailer in the next six hours, before his deadline expired, it might still be possible to walk away from this.
Dunne was at the back of the Honda, feeling for the button to open the boot. She was seconds away from finding John Kavanagh’s corpse.
“Wait,” Joe called.
But Dunne had just found the button. She pressed it and the lid of the boot popped open a centimetre.
Joe sprinted to the car.
“What?” Dunne said, starting to lift the lid of the boot with one hand. Joe caught a glimpse of the plastic wrap covering the body.
He reached her just as the top of the boot was reaching her line of sight. He grabbed it, pushed it down. Made sure it was shut.
“Never mind,” Joe said.
She gave him a quizzical look.
“Come on,” she said. “What’s in the boot?”
Joe said, “I have something I wanted to show you, but it doesn’t matter.”
“What is it?”
Think fast, Joe.
“A present for Christopher, but you know what? I’ll show you later.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay. Forget it.”
Dunne still looked confused, but she said, “Where are we going now?”
“Good question.”
Another text message. Joe checked it.
Catch you later, Joe.
Not if I catch you first, he thought. He had about fifty euro in his bank account, so he wasn’t going to be able to get the money. But he had six hours to track this bastard down.
Joe said, “I don’t know about you, but I need a coffee.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
“I’m starting to feel better.”
*
He took Dunne to Bean Machine, a café on Upper Leeson Street. The place was a regular haunt of Joe’s. He knew Derek and Iris, the couple who owned the place. There was only room for ten small tables. The glass counter was at the back, where Iris displayed her freshly baked pastries.
They served strong coffee in generous cups, always accompanied by a dark chocolate with mint filling. The menu was full of crepes and omelettes.
Derek was behind the counter today. Joe gave him a wave and sat down. After a moment, Derek brought over a couple of menus. He was a tiny man with jet-black hair and small, pink features.
“Hello,” he said, drawing the word out as he looked at Dunne, flirting even though his wife was on the other side of the room. Joe made a quick introduction, then asked for a pain au chocolat with his Americano. Dunne ordered herbal tea, then went to use the bathroom.
While she was gone, Joe started thinking.
If Christopher didn’t kill John Kavanagh, then who did? Barry Wall had to be top of the list. He was just out of prison. If he’d found out that Joe was a father, he might have gone after Christopher, seen him walking through the park, then killed the wrong boy by mistake.
Since Joe had no other ideas for the time being, he’d have to think of Wall as his number one suspect. In that case, Joe’s primary goal hadn’t changed, merely intensified. He still needed to recapture Wall, but now his motivation was personal. Even more personal.
But was the killer the same person as the blackmailer? Would Wall really be looking for money? The questions were mounting.
Joe was so deep in thought that it took him a moment to realise that Derek was at his side with the order.
“Your friend is gorgeous,” Derek said as he put Dunne’s pot of tea down on the table, along with Joe’s coffee and pastry.
“Derek.”
“I’m just saying. She looks like just what you need.”
Joe rubbed his eyes. “I was thinking of trying again with Lisa.”
Derek straightened up, put his hands on his hips. “Forget about Lisa.”
Joe nodded. “Turns out she’s dating someone. A real asshole too. But I keep—”
“Forget Lisa. She had her chance with you. For goodness sake, Joe, it’s been sixteen years. How can you still be hung up on her? After what she did to you? You could have had a thousand girlfriends since then. You’re wasting your life.”
“But there’s Christopher.”
“So what? He grew up without you. She never even told you about him until you came back here.”
Joe nodded, remembering that evening in Tesco the previous summer.
“Keep the change,” he said, handing over ten euro.
Derek slapped him on the shoulder and walked off to look after another customer. Joe took a sip of coffee and began munching on the pain au chocolat.
He turned his mind back to the blackmailer.
Maybe the money was an excuse, a way to lure Joe to go somewhere. Perhaps Wall just wanted to torture and kill him.
Wall must have killed John Kavanagh, then hurried away when he realised that the dead boy wasn’t Christopher. Then Joe had come along, like an idiot, and hidden the crime. Wall had probably been hiding somewhere nearby.
Joe took out his phone. He sent a text to the blackmailer’s number. Who is this?
Unsurprisingly, there was no reply.
The bathroom door creaked as it opened. Dunne appeared in the doorway.
Joe forced himself not to stare at her. Instead, he tapped out another text message to the blackmailer.
This is bullshit. You’ve got the wrong number.
If only he could get rid of Kavanagh’s body, and clean out his car, there’d be nothing to tie him to the crime, even if someone made allegations to the contrary. Especially if it was Barry Wall telling people Joe had hidden a crime. Who’d believe him?
Dunne took her seat, her movements as graceful and economical as those of a puma.
“I’ll get this,” she said, nodding at their order.
“I already paid.”
Joe poured tea from the pot into her cup.
“A gentleman.” She smiled. “It’s unexpected to come to the big city and find a gentleman. I guess it’s one of those weird things that happens in life. You know what I mean?”
Joe laughed. “Not really.”
Dunne leaned forward. “You know, sometimes something unexpected happens. Like you crash your car, but walk away from it in one piece, and you feel this thrill. You feel so alive.”
“Okay,” Joe said slowly, still not sure he got her point.
“Something surprising and beautiful. Like the kindness of…”
She broke off.
“The kindness of what?”
“Never mind.” An enigmatic smile played at the corners of Dunne’s mouth. “You’ll understand what I mean when you experience it.” She took a sip of herbal tea. “So what’s next?”
“We need to find where Wall is hiding.”
“Nothing new about that,” she said.
“I’m thinking of Ken Wall.”
“He’s not exactly cooperative.”
“Maybe we could try his office again. Maybe he won’t be there this time.”
“Try his punk secretary?”
“She was nice. We could have another crack at her. Or maybe there’ll be another member of staff there this time. If you have a better idea, I’m listening.”
She shrugged. “That stuff’s all going to be on a computer, right? The company’s holdings?”
“Right,” Joe said. “On a computer hard drive or on the cloud.”
“Wherever it is, it’s going to be in digital form.”
“Obviously.”
“We could see if there’s some way to get at
that information.”
“No judge is going to give us a warrant. We don’t have grounds for one.”
Dunne shrugged. “Maybe the information isn’t very secure.”
She took a sip of tea.
Was she suggesting that they should find someone to hack into Ken’s computer systems? The only person Joe knew who might be able to do that was Lisa.
He gobbled down the last bite of pastry, finished off his coffee, brushed the flakes out of his lap and wiped his hands on a napkin.
His phone buzzed.
There was no text in this message. Just a photo. It was a little dark but Joe realised what he was looking at pretty quickly. It was a photo of Joe, rolling John Kavanagh’s body up in plastic.
A second photo arrived. The next shot in the sequence. Joe stuffing Kavanagh’s body into the boot of his car.
The photos weren’t great quality. It looked like maybe whoever took the pictures had been standing far away and zoomed in.
Joe texted back, Who is this?
He waited half a minute for the reply. Never you mind.
Another buzz.
Your deadline has been brought forward. Now you have two hours to get the money. That’s what you get for pushing me.
Joe broke out in a sweat.
He wrote, That’s not enough time.
A reply came.
I’ll give you instructions in one hour.
Joe looked at the photos again. They weren’t great, but they were good enough to ruin his life. He deleted them.
Dunne leaned forward in her chair. “Who’s texting you?”
“What?”
“Is that O’Carroll?”
“Um, yeah.”
“What did he say?”
“He said…” Joe swallowed. “He said time is running out.”
Chapter 72
The Highfield Academy’s room called the Geranium Addendum reminded Christopher of an oversized cupboard. It was the school’s “green room” for the purposes of the day’s recital, the area where hushed Highfield Academy students preened before mirrors and prepared for performances, which always took place in the Orchid Suite. That was another small room, but it was the largest one in the building so by default became the Highfield Academy’s amphitheatre.
Clara Fry sat in the corner of the Geranium Addendum tuning her cello. She glanced up when Christopher came in.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
Christopher went over to a seat on the other side of the room. He opened up the case of the violin. The instrument was borrowed from one of his Mum’s friends. It wouldn’t be the same as playing his own instrument, but of course it was better than nothing. And he had no choice. Kavanagh had probably thrown Christopher’s violin in a bin when he took it off him.
Clara gazed out the big bay window onto the road.
Just talk to her. There’s no one else around. This is the perfect time. Say something.
“Are… are your parents coming to hear you?” Christopher asked.
“No,” Clara said. Her London accent crisp as a peach.
“Why not?”
“My mom is busy working. My dad is travelling for work. I think he’s in Brazil this week. Or maybe it’s Mexico. It’s hard to keep track.”
“Oh, cool.”
“Not really. He just arrives at the airport, and then he’s driven to an office and has meetings. And then it’s back to the airport. Then he’s home for like an hour. And then he has to go away again.”
“Oh. That sucks.”
“How about you? Are your parents coming?”
“My Mum is coming.”
“Nice.” Clara said.
Silence.
Think of something. Say something, for god’s sake.
Christopher thought desperately. Before he could come up with anything, Clara got up and walked out of the room. Christopher watched her go.
What the hell kind of crappy conversation was that? She’d never talk to him again. That was for sure. The door opened again. Christopher was surprised to see the secretary poke her head in.
“Mr. O’Malley, there’s someone here to see you.”
Someone. Not Mum. Not Joe. Not a teacher. Then who was it?
The secretary backed away and a man stepped into the room. He wore a sharp shirt and very shiny shoes. His bald head reflected light from the chandelier overhead. Christopher could smell his aftershave from across the room. The man fixed Christopher with a hard stare. He slowly removed his aviator sunglasses, tucked them into his shirt pocket, and walked over. His steps were firm, decisive. He stopped in front of Christopher. Quite deliberately, he looked Christopher up and down.
“Are you Christopher O’Malley?”
“Y-yes.”
“Christopher, I’m here to talk to you about something very serious.”
“Is it Mum? Is she okay? What’s happened?”
The stranger held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“Your mother is fine, as far as I know. I work with your father.”
“Are you a detective?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Can I see your identification?”
The man shot him a surprised smile.
“Yes, you can, and I’m glad you asked that. Very sensible of you.”
He took a badge out of his pocket. Christopher just had time to glance at it before he put it away again.
He said, “You’re in danger, son.”
“What?”
The man held up his hands.
“But it’s okay. I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”
Chapter 73
Joe pressed the doorbell three times before Lisa opened up. He’d driven straight back to her house, after leaving the café. He needed to ask Lisa something. It was about money. Joe figured that Lisa was the wealthiest person he knew. She and her parents had a lot of money padding their bank accounts. He wondered if he could borrow some.
Enough to keep the blackmailer happy, and buy himself more time. If she didn’t, Joe didn’t know where he could find that kind of money.
Lisa opened the door, showing eyes that were bloodshot and cold. She crossed her arms as if to give herself support. Her voice was steady, though.
“What are you doing here again?”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Why not?”
“You look …”
Lisa crossed her arms. “I had an argument with Graham.”
“What?” Joe said, suddenly distracted.
“No, not an argument. It’s just… Who’s she?” Lisa said, squinting past Joe, to where Dunne was parked.
“Surveillance.”
Lisa tilted her head to the side, and took another look at Dunne. “What do you mean?”
“Barry Wall is still out there. My boss thinks he might target me.”
“So they’re using you as bait?”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Why then? I don’t have much time. Christopher’s recital is going to begin shortly.”
“I have a personal question. Can I come in?”
Lisa stood aside. Quickly Joe stepped into the hall.
She said, “Go on into the kitchen.”
“Are you working?” Joe asked as he made his way down the hall. He noticed another one of those awful paintings hanging on the wall. Another naked lady.
“Yes, I’m trying to work.”
“Sorry for interrupting.”
He sat down at the kitchen table. Lisa sat across from him.
“So what’s up, Joe?”
“Was Christopher upset when he came home from school yesterday?”
“Why do you ask?”
Joe shrugged. “I wondered if there were any more bullying incidents.”
“You already asked him about that.”
“I know. But I have to ask again. John Kavanagh has gone missing.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, missing?”
> “He never went home last night. His mother came to the station this morning. She’s worried something may have happened to him.”
“Oh my god.”
“Christopher said he doesn’t know anything about it. But I feel like he might be holding out on me.”
“He would never hurt anyone. You don’t think he has anything to do with it, do you?”
Joe felt a flash of shame at his earlier suspicion. “I know he wouldn’t hurt anyone. But I feel like he knows more than he’s saying.”
“He wouldn’t lie to you.”
“No.”
You’re the liar of the family, Joe thought. You never told me I had a son.
He wondered if Graham was upstairs. A bitter smile spread across his face.
“What?” Lisa asked.
Joe shook his head.
Just ask for the money.
Now.
“I thought you had a personal question,” Lisa said.
For some reason, Joe was momentarily consumed with anger at her. It happened like that sometimes – thoughts of the past hit him from out of nowhere, and knocked him for a loop. This was one of those moments.
She’d gone and had Joe’s kid and never told him. Never answered even one of the letters he sent her when he found out she was pregnant. And she just let him believe that the baby was someone else’s. She never told him the truth. He had to wait so many years for his own kid to tell him he existed.
“How are your parents?” Joe asked. “The company is doing well?”
“They’re fine. Why?”
“The money is rolling in?”
A bitter, mocking tone had crept into his voice.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Joe needed a lot of cash, and this was the only place he could get it, so he struggled to put his feelings aside. To swallow his pride and ask for the money that would save him. But when he looked at Lisa, and her indifferent expression, he couldn’t do it. He’d been running around trying to save her son. But did she care at all about him?
He stood up, the chair screeching as he pushed it back.
“You know what?” Joe said. “Never mind. You go and patch things up with your new boyfriend.”
He walked down the hall, went out and slammed the door behind him.
Chapter 74
In the Highfield Academy’s “green room”, the bald detective held up his hands, a peaceful gesture that somehow alarmed Christopher.