Ashes by Now (10 page)

27

When we woke up the next morning, we were still in each other's arms, and I had a huge erection that was sticking through the material of my shorts into the soft flesh of her belly. We opened our eyes at exactly the same moment. It happens like that sometimes. I could actually see hers trying to focus through the gum that coated the lids. When they did and she realised where she was, she shot away from me over to the far side of the bed so fast that I thought she was going to keep going and fall on to the floor.

She tugged the sheets up to her throat, and said in a rusty little voice, ‘What happened?'

‘You got drunk,' I said. ‘We got drunk,' I added.

She looked under the sheet at her nakedness. ‘Did we… ?'

I shook my head, which was not a good idea, as it felt like my brain had got loose and was bumping from one side of my skull to the other.

‘How come I'm here, then?' she asked.

‘It was your idea,' I said in a voice that sounded equally as rusty as hers. ‘I was the perfect gentleman.'

I saw realisation dawn on her face, still creased and puffy from sleep and too much alcohol.

‘I told you, didn't I?'

I nodded. It occurred to me that communication by sign language was favourite until I'd had at least three cups of tea.

‘And you believed me?'

I nodded again, then threw back the covers and got out of bed. Jacqueline averted her eyes. But at least my erection had subsided.

I took my robe off the back of the door and threw it to her; then I put on yesterday's T-shirt, and pulled on my jeans, went to the wreckage that had once been my kitchen, and stuck on the kettle.

‘Tea?' I asked. ‘Juice?'

‘Juice please. I've got to use the bathroom. Don't look.'

I turned my back and heard the rustling as she got out of bed, pulled on the robe, and ran to the bathroom.

By the time she got back, the kettle had boiled, and I'd put a glass of mixed orange and grapefruit juice on the breakfast bar for her.

She drank it down greedily. She looked better, having combed her hair and washed her face. She found her glasses and put them on, sat on a stool and said, ‘So what are you going to do?'

‘Blow the whole thing open,' I said.

‘After all this time?'

‘Of course. Time doesn't matter. Not in a murder case.'

‘How? Go to the police?'

‘No. Better than that.'

‘Tell me.'

I told her. I told her what I planned to do. I told her about the evidence I'd gathered and how it had led to her.

When I'd finished, I said, ‘Of course it all hinges on you being prepared to tell the truth. It's not going to be easy. A lot of people are going to be hurt. A lot of important people. People dead, and people alive. Reputations are going to be ruined. There'll be pressure on you to deny that it happened. Can you handle that?'

‘Yes,' she said, ‘I can. I'm tired of living like this. Living a lie, and watching guilty people walk around free.'

‘So do I do it?' I asked.

She nodded. ‘Christ,' she said. ‘What's the time?'

I found my watch. ‘Ten to nine,' I said.

‘I'm late. Sod it. I feel lousy. I'm going to go home and call in sick at work.'

‘Good idea. Hangovers can get you real bad.'

‘Especially if you've never had one before.'

‘They don't get any easier,' I said.

28

Jacqueline got dressed and left, and I showered, shaved, put on clean clothes, and called Chas at the
South London
. He was at his desk.

‘What can I do for you?' he asked.

‘Keep your voice down to a dull roar, for a start,' I said. ‘I'm suffering.'

‘I hope it was a goodnight.'

‘Depends what you call good. And it's what I can do for you.'

‘Seems I've heard that song before.'

‘You want a permanent job at Wapping, don't you?'

‘Yeah.'

‘I've got a story that'll guarantee it.'

‘Tell me.'

‘Not on the phone.'

‘That good?'

‘Plus.'

‘Lunch?'

‘When?'

‘Today, if it
is
that good.'

I thought of the remains of the red wine and the brandy swilling around inside me, and one of Chas's lunches, and all that entailed, and my stomach almost rebelled. But there was no time like the present.

‘How's the expenses?' I asked.

‘
You
wanted to see me,' he said.

‘Believe me, when you hear this, you'll beg to pay. And let's go somewhere quiet. I don't want the whole world and his wife listening in.'

‘Let me think,' said Chas. ‘Chinese – no. Indian – too heavy for lunch. Greek – you hate. Italian – too noisy. I know – how do you fancy West Indian cuisine? There's a good Caribbean restaurant opened up just round the corner.'

‘Whatever,' I said.

‘Right. West Indian it is. I'll book a table. One o'clock do you?'

‘Fine.'

He gave me the name and address of the place and terminated the call.

I made more tea.

At twelve-fifteen, I wrapped the exercise book with the galleon on the cover in a brown paper bag, and took it and myself for a slow stroll to Streatham. I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early. It looked OK from the outside, and I went in. A charming black woman checked the reservation, told me that I was the first to arrive, and led me to a table for two behind the sound-system speakers and a huge cheese plant that made it so private I might have been in my own front room. She recommended a frozen daiquiri, and I succumbed.

Mind you, it
was
damn good.

Chas turned up spot on time and joined me at the table. He ordered a similar drink; the waitress left the menus and went behind the bar to prepare it.

‘You look rough,' he said.

‘Thanks,' I replied. ‘The next time I want to feel good about myself, I'll be sure to search you out.'

‘Do that.'

His drink arrived and he said, ‘What do you want to eat?'

‘Christ knows.'

‘Mind if I order for both of us?'

‘Not at all.' Right then, I couldn't handle the responsibility of choosing a meal.

The waitress came back, and Chas ordered coconut soup to start; then for the main course: doctor fish, whatever the hell that was, chicken and rice, ackee, black-eyed peas in gravy, with a green salad on the side. It sounded enough to feed an army. But it was on his bill, so he could order what he wanted.

The waitress vanished again, and as we sipped our drinks Chas said, ‘So what's this amazing story?'

‘It's a long one.'

‘I love long stories.'

Just then the soup arrived. It was laced with rum up to the legal limit and above, and its warmth finally began to make me feel better.

I started the story over the soup, and finished it over coffee and sweet rum liqueurs.

I told it to Chas in strict chronological order as I knew it. Starting the day of the rape, and ending with what Jacqueline had told me the night before.

‘Christ,' said Chas, when I'd finished. ‘That
is
a story.'

‘Think the paper'll be interested?'

‘I should say so. Just one thing though: I'm going to need corroborating evidence.'

I took the exercise book out of the bag and gave it to him. ‘In there,' I said, ‘are the present whereabouts of everyone involved – those that are still alive, that is. Plus everything I knew up until last night. Jacqueline Harvey knows I'm seeing you, and has agreed to talk to you about what happened. And I think there's something else. The piece of paper they talked about – if I just knew what it was and where it is. But I'll find out. Now, be careful, Chas. She and I are the only ones you can talk to. The others are dangerous. Except for Jackie's dad. He's just fucked up. If Collier and Millar learn what's going on, they might do to you what they did to me. Or worse. That's why I started investigating. I'm scared they'll come back one night and finish the job.'

I didn't mention what Collier had said about Dawn and Tracey. I didn't like to think too much about that.

‘I always wondered what all that was about,' said Chas.

‘Now you know. And do you want to know what the funniest part of it is? If any of it's funny at all.'

‘What?' he said.

‘If Collier hadn't phoned me the night Sailor topped himself, none of this would be happening. I'd blanked him. I wasn't going to lift a finger to help him clear his name. If Collier had just thrown that letter away, I would probably never have known that Sailor was dead at all.'

‘That's the way it goes.'

‘Isn't it just?'

Chas sat and stared into space, but I knew exactly how his mind was working.

‘So was it worth lunch?' I asked.

‘I'll say.'

‘Told you,' I said.

‘Jee-sus,' said Chas. ‘An Assistant Commissioner of the Met: a child abuser and a murderer. This is too much.'

‘Isn't it?'

‘You were right,' he said. ‘This
will
get me the job I want.'

‘Enjoy it,' I said as drily as I could.

‘How much?' asked Chas.

‘How much, what?' I said.

‘How much do you want for the story?'

‘Fuck off, Chas,' I said. ‘I'm not interested in money.'

‘You're the only one who isn't then.'

‘Christ. You belong in fucking Wapping,' I said. ‘With all the rest of the cheque-book journalists.'

‘How about Jacqueline Harvey? Would she be interested?'

‘Fuck knows, I don't,' I said.

He took a Vodafone from his inside pocket and switched it on. ‘Sorry,' he said. He punched in a number, then said, ‘Bob. Chas. Listen, I'm tied up here. Can you cover for me this afternoon?'

He paused. ‘Nothing much. Just an interview with that bloke who found those bodies buried on his allotment. You'll do it? Great. I owe you one. Yeah, and I need some time off.' Another pause. ‘Course it's important. Would I ask if it weren't? I can? You're terrific. I'll be in day after tomorrow. See ya.'

He killed the phone then punched in another number. ‘Give me Tom Slade,' he said, when it was answered. Then, after a moment's pause, ‘Tom. Chas Singleton. Listen, I've got a story here you'll kill for.'

He paused.

‘It's a biggun'. I don't want to talk about it on the phone. It could be dangerous for several people, including me. Can I come in tomorrow before lunch and see you?'

Another pause.

‘Great. See you.' He switched off the phone again and put it back in his pocket.

He winked at me, and called for more liqueurs. ‘Great stuff, Nick,' he said. ‘I think we've got a goer here.'

29

I called Jacqueline Harvey the same afternoon.

‘He went for it,' I said, referring to Chas. ‘Mind you, he's got to convince the hard-nosed editor of a national Sunday tabloid yet. But I think he'll do it. If he can't, no one can.'

‘I hope so,' she replied. ‘In fact, I'm counting on it.'

Me too, I thought, but didn't say so.

‘When and if he does,' I said, ‘he's going to need to have a long talk to you. I mean a really long talk, with everything going down on tape. Now, I know you told me, but he's not me. Is it still all right with you?'

‘I told you I wasn't made of glass. I'll be fine.'

‘No second thoughts?'

‘None.'

‘Good.'

‘But I'd like you to be there when I do it. It's not going to be easy, not after all this time, and I need someone on my side.'

‘You will have. Myself and Chas both. I'll be staying in close touch.'

‘You're very thorough, Mr Detective.'

‘I could have been more thorough at the start of all this,' I said. But I didn't want to go into all that again.

‘Listen,' I said. ‘Whatever happens, we've got to keep this close to our chests. I don't want Collier and his mates catching on to what we're doing. They play dirty, believe me; I've had more than enough experience of that. And there's more of them than there are of us. And they've got the might of the Metropolitan Police behind them. So don't tell anyone, and I mean
anyone
, what we're up to.'

‘I understand. I haven't got anyone to tell anyway. And don't forget I've had experience of them too. Probably more than you.'

It was debatable, but I let it go.

‘Sorry,' I said. ‘I wasn't thinking.'

‘That's all right.'

‘We'd better meet soon, and discuss strategy. When are you free?'

‘I'm not exactly overburdened with social engagements at the moment; I can probably fit you in when you want.'

I was beginning to get to like Jacqueline Harvey.

‘Let me call you soon,' I said. ‘I'll wait to hear from Chas first. When I hear something positive, we'll get together, OK?'

‘Sounds good.'

‘I'll buy you a drink after work one evening,' I said.

‘I don't –'

‘Don't say you don't drink,' I interrupted. ‘I know better.'

‘Can we keep it our secret?' she asked.

‘Sure,' I said. ‘My lips are sealed.'

And that was how we left it.

The next afternoon, Chas called me up at home. ‘It's a good 'un,' he said. ‘The news editor lapped it up. He's talking front page. But only if we can come up with some hard evidence. What you've given us so far is great. But he's scared of the libel lawyers. He'd be taking a big chance printing anything on what we've got right now.'

‘Fair enough,' I said. ‘I've spoken to Jacqueline Harvey. She's agreed to tell you everything. But she's a bit nervous. She wants me there when you do the interview. Is that OK with you?'

‘The more the merrier,' said Chas. ‘But I've got to do some ferreting of my own first. It's Thursday today. I'm going to have a dig around. Speak to some people I know. I'll talk to you if I come up with anything. All right?'

‘You're the boss,' I said. ‘But remember what I said, Chas. When you're out ferreting, just be careful. These boys play for keeps.'

‘So do I,' he replied. ‘Talk to you soon.'

I phoned Jacqueline at work and told her what Chas had said.

‘That's good,' she said.

I agreed with her, and promised to let her know when I'd heard more from my pet reporter.

I felt a whole lot better after Chas's call and my brief chat with Jacqueline, both mentally and physically. At long last I thought that I was finally going to lay the ghost of Sailor Grant, and a whole load more besides.

The less ghosts there are in your life, the better it is, I figured.

But some ghosts just won't lie down.

Chas called me on Saturday afternoon.

‘Christ,' he said. ‘What kind of police force runs this town?'

‘What do you mean?' I asked.

‘I've seen a few contacts. Called in some favours. Been told a lot of stories. It seems that your mates Collier and Millar are well known.'

‘Yeah?' I wasn't so sure I wanted to hear.

‘Yeah. Seems like they've had
carte blanche
to do exactly as they please for the last decade or so. They've settled down in Peckham running a two-man private police force that can get away with pretty much what it wants.'

‘Like?'

‘Like copping backhanders from local businesses. Taking care that whores don't get nicked, for a nice lump of their profits. Protecting drug dealers from prosecution. Likewise for a nice cut. You name it, those two boys have got a finger in it. Literally in the case of some of the brasses. Apparently, if there's ever any complaints, someone with a lot of clout comes to their rescue like the Lone Ranger.'

‘It's nothing more than I expected,' I said. ‘I hope you've kept your head down.'

‘Sure I have. I'm not silly, am I?'

‘I hope not, Chas, for your sake,' I said.

‘Trust me. I'm going to get some rest now. I've been up since Thursday night. I'll talk to you Monday, OK?'

‘Fine,' I said. ‘Just take it easy. Remember what I said.'

‘I will,' he replied and hung up.

I got straight on to Jacqueline. Apparently she'd just come back from Sainsbury's with the weekend shopping. I told her what Chas had told me.

‘Is that good?' she asked.

‘Not bad,' I said. ‘Not bad at all. It pretty well confirms what I thought was happening. It makes our case stronger, which
is
good.'

‘It is, isn't it?' she said.

‘Yeah,' I agreed. ‘I'll talk to you again when I've spoken to Chas on Monday. Take care.'

We said our farewells and I put down the phone.

On Sunday evening, Dawn came round by herself. I was getting to rely on her more and more as that year trundled towards its close. She was different with me when we were on our own than she was when anyone else was around. I felt sorry for Tracey. No, not sorry, but sad. I could see a chapter in both their lives ending. I think it would have happened whether I'd come along or not. I'd just been the catalyst. It was obvious that Dawn wanted to get back to the straight life.

Christ knows why. What had the straight life ever done for her?

Anyway, she came round. She bought a Chinese takeout: chop suey and chow mein, with a side order of ribs and a portion of fried rice.

I supplied the soy sauce.

We sat and ate the food out of the tin foil containers it came in, with the plastic chopsticks the restaurant supplied, and fought over the last rib.

We talked about what Chas had told me, and what had happened on the Lion the night I'd been beaten up, which was pretty depressing, and she talked some more about the babies she wanted to have. I didn't want to disillusion her, but the thought of changing nappies again didn't exactly fill me with the joys of spring.

We ended up in bed together, just like in the storybooks. A paperback novel, where everything always works out in the end.

Not tonight, Josephine.

The bell to my flat rang at about two a.m. I came awake straight away, looking up into the darkness, with only the sound of Dawn's breathing disturbing the silence of the room, and I wondered if I'd imagined the noise. Then it rang again, ragged and urgent in the quiet of the night.

I got out of bed, pulled on T-shirt and jeans and went barefoot down the stairs. I didn't want to open the door, but I did. Chas was leaning against the porch wall outside. His face was a bloody mask, and as I pulled the door towards me he collapsed into my arms. He was such a dead weight that I almost dropped him. As it was he slid halfway down my body before I caught him securely, and he left a trail of blood down the cotton of my shirt, like a long red tyre track.

I held him up and it wasn't just his face that was a mess. He'd been given a right going over by the looks of it, and I would have put money then and there on who'd given it to him.

I sat him down in the hall with his back to the wall, and ran upstairs to call an ambulance. Dawn was coming to and I told her what had happened, but all she seemed to take in was the stains on my shirt.

The ambulance arrived twenty minutes later. Not bad. Poor Chas was mumbling and moaning and thrashing around on the floor by then, and a couple of times I had to hold him down as he tried to get to his feet. I asked him what had happened, but I might as well have been talking to myself. Perhaps I was.

I went with him to King's. At the rate I was going, pretty soon I'd have a life membership to casualty. A gold card.

The staff there wanted to know what had happened. I didn't enlighten them. When they took Chas away for X-rays, I stood outside in the chill night air and smoked a couple of cigarettes I'd bummed off the charge nurse.

Eventually a doctor came out to find me.

‘Your friend took a pretty bad beating,' he said. ‘Have you informed the police?'

That was a hoot. If Chas hadn't taken the hammering
from
a couple of the thin blue line that is all that stands between us and anarchy, I was a monkey's uncle. And I didn't have any brothers or sisters. Not any more.

‘No,' I replied. ‘I don't know what happened. He just turned up on my doorstep like that.'

‘Well, take my word for it,' said the doctor who scowled at the cigarette I was holding, ‘he didn't get those injuries by walking into a door.'

‘Can I see him?' I asked.

‘Out of the question. He's under sedation. He might even need surgery.'

‘Tomorrow?' I asked.

‘You can always try,' said the doctor, and he turned on his heel and left me alone.

I went back home by cab.

On the way, I decided to go out and get some form of protection for myself.