Bad Catholics (17 page)

‘I'm listening.'

‘So now you'll all have to go down, and you'll all have to go down heavy so that someone high up on our side can show Denny that it wasn't a set-up. If we let you walk away, Denny will know for certain we weren't really interested in what we got. Don't take my word for it though, ask Harry or Reg.'

Nat was thinking again.

‘Still don't want to talk to me?'

Nat thought some more.

‘Suit yourself, there's not much anyone can do on this one anyway.'

‘If something could be done, how much would it cost?' Nat asked.

Jimmy was fishing. That's what he had been doing, a little careful fishing, and now he knew he had the beginnings of a bite.

‘I dunno. But it would probably have to be more than money.' Keep it sounding real, Jimmy, don't lose the fish. He grinned again. ‘Although money would be nice.'

And he waited.

The float went under.

‘If I had something to use, how do I know I get to walk?'

‘You don't get it, do you? You just don't get how hard it is to fix. If you walk, then you all have to walk. If it's just you that walks you'll be dead meat, because whatever you give me I'll use and when I use it somebody will make the connection and then everyone will know it came from you.'

‘Why so sure?'

‘Because if it's any good, if it's going to make me run for you, it's got to be something bloody good and something I can't get anywhere else. It has to be something only you can give me, or why do you the favour? See it now? Remember, none of your mates out there need proof. They're judge, jury, and hangman on their own. If you have something worth getting me on board, great, I'll try to save your black arse. But when I use it, if they think they've made a connection, that's it, you're dead.'

Nat thought about it. He took his time. Jimmy liked that. He liked working with people who took their time, clever people.

‘And can you do it so we all walk? So no one makes any connection.'

‘I don't know, maybe. It's a big ask.' Now Jimmy took his time. He wanted to wrap it up, he could feel in his stomach he was close to something good. But he had to wait, it had to look right.

He took a turn around the room. He could feel Nat's eyes watching him. Then he went back to the table and sat down. ‘If I did sort it, the price has to be right. It's got to be something really special. It's got to be someone from the top, someone like Denny Morris.'

‘That's special, OK.'

Jimmy was nearly wetting himself in anticipation. Please, God, make it good, make the name a top fucker.

‘So? What can you give me?'

‘I can give you Denny Morris, and I can give him you for life.'

Jimmy nearly jumped from his chair punching the air. The jackpot, only the fucking jackpot. He wanted to run around the room shouting. What he actually did was try to make his face look as if nothing had happened, as if he was thinking it over, but it didn't need to take very long, this boy was no mug, he wasn't farting about. He could deliver, for Christ's sake, he could deliver Denny Morris.

‘Go on then, give me Denny for a cast-iron life stretch. I want him served up on a plate with watercress round him and no chance of a slip up. Go on, Nat, Denny on a plate.'

Nat looked at him. Then he began to tell him his story, and Jimmy listened very carefully. At the end he nodded appreciatively. It was all there, dates, times, names. Jimmy knew where the body was buried now. He had Denny on a plate, just where he wanted him. One day he would use his information, a day when using it would finish Denny, permanently.

‘OK, Nat, I'll take it, and if I can swing it, everyone walks. That's Gospel from me to you.'

Nat got up.

‘It had better be, sunshine, I'm not a forgiving person.'

Jimmy smiled at him. ‘Don't threaten me. Just now I'm the only friend you've got.'

Nat left.

Jimmy saw the last one and then left the interview room. He found Eddy Clarke.

‘Finish them off, Eddy, what they want and what they'll take. I've got to go and talk to a man about a dog.'

‘OK, Jimmy.'

Jimmy went to a phone and dialled.

‘Hello, Tommy, I need to see you. No, now.' His voice hardened. ‘Now, Tommy. It's important and I'm not talking about it on the bloody phone, or maybe you want me to take what I've got to someone else? OK, in twenty minutes.'

Jimmy went to the nearest Tube station. Twenty-five minutes later he walked into The Rose and Crown. He went past the bar into a small back room where Tommy was waiting with a large whisky on the table. He was trying to look as if nothing was bothering him, but he wasn't fooling himself or anyone else.

‘Nothing to drink, Jimmy?'

‘No.' He sat down.

‘All right, what's so fucking urgent?'

‘We were supposed to get Denny Morris, weren't we?'

Flavin didn't answer.

‘It's OK, I can work it out. Denny's on the up and Monk's losing his touch. Who would anyone back?'

‘I don't bet. Just tell me what you've got.'

‘Monk tried to give us Denny, but Denny's too smart and he screwed it. For God's sake if this sort of thing keeps happening we'll have a fucking war. Monk's making mistakes and that means everyone has to be careful, very careful.'

‘You're not giving me anything, Jimmy.'

‘OK, smart-arse, I'll give you something. I'll give you a big, flashy old girl called Bridie. She dresses like a tart and gets driven around in a big Merc by clever boys who know what they're doing and she comes from Glasgow. Is that anything, Tommy?'

Flavin got up, left the room, and came back with another stiff short which he added to the drink in his glass.

‘Fuck me,' he finally said when he'd had a strong pull at his drink and settled. ‘That's Bridie McDonald you're talking about? Where does she fit into all this?'

‘No, Tommy, not yet. I've told you something, now you tell me something. That's how this is going to work.'

Tommy finished the rest of his drink in one go.

‘OK, Jimmy. This is what I've got. Denny starts pushing Monk so Monk arranges for Denny to be picked up. I'm given the tip and told not to use it myself but pass it on. I pass it on to you because if it's Denny in the frame I know you'll get it organised. But like you say, there's two sides to this question and I'm told to make sure Denny can get wind of it and then we wait and see who comes out on top. For Christ's sake, this is all being dealt with from way up. You and me, we're just foot soldiers, we don't count for shit in this.'

‘Look, Tommy, I don't know who's running this comic strip but it's all gone arse up. Now Denny knows he's been targeted we'll have a war on. Monk's still good but he's slipping, it all needs managing. He needs easing out and Denny needs easing in. We can't just sit about and see who comes out on top, too much blood will get spilt.'

Flavin wanted another drink. This was too rich, and far too fucking dangerous.

‘Why don't you look for promotion? I tell you what, why not miss out all the in-between bits and go straight for Chief Superintendent? It's easy to say what needs doing, but it's not so fucking easy to get it done.'

‘Listen, you've got a pipeline to the man upstairs who set this up and whoever he is he needs telling that you don't fuel a war.'

Flavin thought about it. He didn't want to get into this deeper than he had to, but what Jimmy was saying made sense. Maybe saying it to the man upstairs would do him a bit of good.

‘Tommy, don't be on the wrong side when the last man's standing. He'll pay off debts.'

Flavin stopped thinking. It was hurting his head and Jimmy had always been better at it than him.

‘So, what do you suggest?'

‘Throw the book at the lads we picked up, go for it big-time. But square the briefs so that the defence can get a result on entrapment.' He paused and then made his big throw. ‘And give the Internal boys your man upstairs as the one who set it up. If he's backing Monk he's on a loser and if he makes another balls up like this we're all in the shit. A10 will eat it up, that way it's a big score for Internal. The lads get off on a technicality and everything looks kosher, everything can be squared. Lenny can get early retirement and go and live in the Costa del Crime and Denny goes to the top of the class and stops being pissed off and looking to chew people's legs off.'

Tommy liked it. It might work.

It might work all round. Jimmy was a clever bastard all right. Maybe too clever. Giving A10 the man upstairs was risky. It was a nice touch, but it was risky.

‘I'll see. It's over my head but I'll see. I don't say you're wrong and I don't say it doesn't sounds good to me, but I'm just a poor fucking DI and there's a limit to what I can do.'

‘I know, Tommy, life's fucking hard.'

Flavin looked at Jimmy. He was known for not swearing as much as everyone else, he was fucking odd about it. If Jimmy was using strong language, well … Why worry. Jimmy's problems were his own. He's a good copper, though, thought Flavin. Why the hell was he still only a fucking sergeant?

‘Look, Jimmy, seriously, why don't you go for promotion, you've got the brains, if it's just the exams …?'

‘It's not the exams. I'm OK as a DS, and I don't want to get out of my depth.'

Flavin looked at Jimmy the way Jimmy was looking at him.

‘You mean like me?'

‘Just like you.'

Flavin's head dropped and he stared at the empty glass on the table. Eventually he spoke, and when he did it was with an honesty he hadn't used for a very long time.

‘Fucking hell, where did it all go wrong, Jimmy?'

Jimmy sat and thought for a moment.

‘A long time ago, Tommy, a long fucking time ago.'

EIGHT

Paddington, February 1995

Philomena found Jimmy cleaning the kitchen floor. ‘Jimmy, that sergeant who came and interviewed us with the inspector called on the phone and told me they have arrested someone for Mrs Amhurst's murder.'

‘That's good.'

‘I think so. Apparently he's an addict and a dealer. It's good that he'll be off the streets. If he's found guilty, maybe they can help him in prison.'

‘It's possible.'

Philomena seemed vaguely dissatisfied about something. ‘It didn't take them that long to find him.'

‘Well, they know where to look, don't they, and they know who to talk to.'

‘I suppose they do.' She looked around. ‘Have you finished everything?'

‘Everything, even the toilets. I would use them myself now if they had doors on.'

‘Have you seen Janine? She should be back by now.'

‘No. Where is she?'

‘Visiting. She went out earlier this morning. She goes out to see some of the clients who don't have anyone to talk to, she pops in when she can. She's a good girl. I should go as well, but I never seem to have the time.'

‘You do enough, Sister.'

‘Oh well, she'll be back when she's back I suppose. I have a heap of papers in the office. Jimmy, will you stay out here, please, and keep an eye on things?'

‘Sure.'

Philomena left the kitchen and Jimmy went into the dining room and stood on his own behind the counter beside the steaming urn. The rubbernecks had faded away and the day shift had thinned back to regulars. Only three or four remained, preferring the loneliness of the silent dining room to the loneliness of whatever they called home. He went round with a tray collecting cups, went into the kitchen, and began washing them.

Philomena came up behind him quietly. ‘Jimmy.'

He started and dropped a cup into the sink.

‘Shit.' He turned. ‘Sorry, Sister, but you gave me a fright. I didn't know you were there.'

‘Janine is in hospital.'

Jimmy wiped his wet hands, put an arm around her, took her to a chair and sat her down. She was in a bad way, he could see that.

‘Take it easy, Philomena.'

‘I think she's all right. She phoned and said not to worry. She's in the Accident and Emergency. She wouldn't phone herself if it was serious, would she?'

‘Of course not.'

Philomena worked too hard and worried too much and now this on top of everything else. Jimmy didn't know much about these things but he guessed that when someone like Philomena folded, they folded right over. He looked at her. She seemed very fragile and far away, like a weak candle flame before it flickers out. Then she seemed to give herself a little shake and she was Sister Philomena again, small but tough as boots. She sat up straight. ‘Well, you'll have to go. I can't.'

‘Why not close up and we'll both go?'

‘Jimmy, I work all the hours God sends to keep this place open. Shall I close it now to suit myself? You go, bring Janine home if she's fit. See what she needs if she has to stay.'

‘You could go and I could stay.'

‘This afternoon I have to phone the diocese and my superior. The bank manager is phoning me and I have to arrange for the Health and Safety officer to come. There are letters on my desk that should have been answered weeks ago …'

‘Enough, I'm on my way.' And he was gone.

Left on her own Philomena sagged in the chair, tears forming in her eyes. Then she stood up, wiped her eyes, blew her nose loud and long, and went into the dining room.

‘Everyone all right?' she asked brightly.

‘Yes thank you, Sister.'

‘I'm in my office. Knock if you need me.'

Jimmy took the nearest Tube to the hospital, went into the Accident and Emergency department and asked for Janine at the reception desk. He was sent to a nurse, who disappeared for some minutes and then returned to tell him that Janine had gone. He made his way to the coffee shop and snack bar run by the Friends of the Hospital. He knew the place. This was the hospital in which Bernadette had spent the last days of her life.