Broken Faith (23 page)

A crafty look came into Henderson's eyes.

‘Mercer, Mercer threatened me. He is a very violent man. I believe he has a history of violent crime. If someone like Mercer threatens you then of course you take it seriously.'

‘I see, only I have a problem with him threatening you.'

Henderson wasn't up to following but Dorothy Henderson was. Her hat was still in the ring.

‘A problem?'

‘Yes, you see Mr Henderson started setting up this whole operation, buying Tate and Wiston in Leamington Spa, while Mercer was still in prison.' He turned to Henderson. ‘What did you do, go and visit him in Leicester prison so he could threaten you there?' The fear flooded back and Henderson's mouth made speaking movements but nothing came out. ‘Perhaps you meant Jarvis? But Jarvis was a teacher who liked young girls. He wasn't such a frightening sort of bloke. Quite a nice bloke by all accounts, except for his little hobby, of course.'

Henderson fell back on the settee, he was sweating and shaking and now he was dribbling. Jimmy also saw a large dark stain begin to spread across the front of his trousers.

Inspector Santos took over.

‘Is there anything you wish to tell us, Mr Henderson?'

‘My husband has nothing more to say. You will now please leave. If and when you wish to speak to either of us again, it will only be with our lawyer present. Now leave, I find your presence here odious.'

She looked at Santos then at Jimmy. The look made it clear that in the odiousness stakes Santos was only a place bet. Jimmy was the clear winner. Jimmy saw the look on her face; it was a look he remembered, a look he had never forgotten. It was the same arrogant superiority that had been on the face of the nun headmistress of his primary school when she told him Terry Prosser had named him as the one who smeared shit on the boys' toilets' walls.

 Jimmy turned to Henderson.

‘Do you own a gun, Mr Henderson? Is there a gun in the house?' Henderson looked at him, confused and still frightened. Jimmy turned to the policeman and spoke slowly. ‘It would be easy to check wouldn't it, Inspector Santos, if a license had been issued?' Then he looked back at Mrs Henderson. He wanted to enjoy this so he made sure it sounded Sunday School polite. ‘Tell me, Mrs Henderson, is there a gun in the house? Or if you're not sure we could always get a search-warrant.'

The look had gone. Her face now was pale and set. Santos joined in.

‘Is there a gun, Mrs Henderson? Please answer Mr Costello's question.'

‘Yes. We bought it two years ago when those break-ins occurred in some of the British-owned villas and Mr Naismith was put in hospital. It is perfectly legal, we have a permit.'

‘May I see it, Mrs Henderson?'

‘Certainly Inspector, although what it has to do ­–'

‘Please, just get the gun.'

She got up and went to an ornate chest of drawers by a wall, pulled out the top drawer, reached in and pulled out a gun. She turned. She was holding it by the grip and it was pointing at Jimmy. Now he wasn't enjoying it any more, now he saw that it was his turn to sweat. Santos also saw where the gun was pointing.

‘Please, Mrs Henderson, don't do anything foolish.'

She gave him a look of pity.

‘I have never done anything foolish in my life, Inspector, except marry a man whom I thought could give me the quality of life I deserved, but who turns out to have been a common criminal, and so stupid that he got caught.'

And, with a quick movement, she put the gun to her temple and blew her brains out.

The sound of the shot crashed around the room as she pitched sideways, bounced off the drawers and crashed to the floor. Jimmy and Santos stood rooted to the spot. Henderson began to scream hysterically. Jimmy looked at the body. There was blood coming from the wound and he noticed that the bullet had made a hole in one of the walls and below the hole were spattered something that looked like flecks of porridge. He felt as if he was going to throw up. Two men ran into the room and stopped. They were the men from the front of the car. Both had guns. They looked at the body and then at Santos.

He spoke to them in Spanish. They put away their guns and left. Santos went to Henderson who was still screaming and slapped him across the face. He didn't stop so Santos hit him again, harder. This time it did the trick. Henderson took one look at the body, buried his head in his hands and began to rock back and forward. The smell of cordite tinged with urine came to Jimmy's nostrils.

‘I need fresh air.'

Santos nodded.

Jimmy left the villa and stood in the garden. It was a warm night, full of the buzzing of cicadas and sweet aromas from the flowers and plants. There was a full moon, the whole place was bathed in a pale silver light. It was beautiful. Jimmy walked to the nearest flower bed, bent over and vomited. 

Chapter Thirty-three

Jimmy was asleep in his hotel room when the phone rang. He had no idea how long it had been ringing. He had heard it in his dream as a school bell but he was locked in the boys' toilets with no clothes on and his mother was shouting to him from outside that it was time for him to go and say Mass. He was parish priest and the congregation were waiting to sing for him. Finally it had penetrated his mind that the ringing was the phone. He rolled over and picked it up.

‘Yes?'

It was reception.

‘One moment.'

Then Santos' voice came on.

‘Mercer wants to talk to you.'

‘Fuck Mercer, I'm knackered and I'm not the bloody Spanish police.'

‘And Mercer still wants to talk to you.'

‘Don't I get any rest?'

‘I think you should come and talk to him.'

Jimmy struggled into a sitting position.

‘I didn't do so well last time you got me to talk to somebody, remember? Or do you want me to take a gun into him so he can blow his brains against a wall as well?'

‘Forget that. Mercer says he wants to talk to you.'

‘What time is it?'

‘Just after six.'

‘For Christ's sake, I've been going non-stop for God knows how long. I don't know what day it is never mind what time it is. What good would I be? I couldn't even be sure of staying awake. I've told you all I know, you have enough now. Henderson must have coughed up his lungs as soon as you got him to the station.'

‘Henderson's in hospital.'

‘What's the matter with him?'

‘He's in a psychiatric unit. We brought him in and he fell apart, drooling, making odd noises. He's no good to anyone at the moment. The initial diagnosis is that he's traumatised, deep traumatic shock. With care and medication he might be able to talk to us in two or three weeks, but that's just a maybe.'

‘He's faking it.'

‘No, he's in a bad way. You saw him at the villa, did it look like faking to you?'

He had a point.

‘No.'

‘The truth is, no one has any idea how long he'll be like that.'

‘And if he starts to come out of it the first thing he'll think of is making it last, maybe making it look permanent.'

‘Which is why we need Mercer to talk. He doesn't know about Henderson yet.'

‘That his wife topped herself or that Henderson's gone doolally?'

‘Both.'

Jimmy sagged. He would have to go, he knew that, but he didn't have to like going. Then he pulled himself together. Self-pity, an unlovely and useless emotion.

‘What reason did he give? Why does he say he wants to talk to me?'

‘He didn't. He just says he wants to talk to you before he'll talk to anyone else. We need you, Mr Costello.'

‘Has Rosa talked?'

‘Yes. She's giving her full co-operation. We let her walk past the cell Mercer was in, the door was open. They saw each other. It was like you said, as soon as she got to the interview room she gave us everything she knew.'

‘Which was?'

‘She was recommended by a man named Joseph McNally, somebody whom she knew to be a criminal, to play the part of a journalist for your friend George, the man you claimed was the London end. Some friend by the way.'

‘I take them as they come.'

‘She said she was going to get five thousand for killing Henderson.'

That got a small laugh out of Jimmy.

‘She didn't know George very well, then, did she? So what you've got is Henderson in the booby hatch for we don't know how long, Rosa with a gun which you can prove was provided by Harry and saying she was sent by a George to kill Henderson, plus what I dug up in the UK?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you can't make a case with all that without me talking to Harry?'

‘We can make parts of some cases, perhaps. But we want it all, including your friend George.'

‘Take Harry down to a cell and stamp on his hands. He's got arthritis in both of them. He'll cough to anything if someone with boots dances on his fingers.'

‘That's not a serious suggestion is it?'

It wasn't. But the way he felt it was close.

‘All right. Send a car in an hour.'

‘Why an hour?'

‘Because I'm going to get a shower and something to eat and drink and have a piss and a crap. I've been to your interview room before. This time I want to be prepared. Harry's not going anywhere.'

Jimmy put the phone down then picked it up and dialled room service.

‘Can I get some coffee and sandwiches? It doesn't matter what sort, any sort. OK, thanks.' Then he got out of bed and went into the bathroom and started the shower. What was Harry up to? But he didn't bother to look for an answer. He'd find out soon enough, so why think about it? He tested the water and got in.

Harry was sitting in the interview room staring into space. It wasn't a new experience and he knew how to deal with it. You waited. He was wearing a loud, short-sleeved shirt with an orange, red, and purple pattern, the sort that got noticed even in Spain. He looked up as Jimmy came in.

‘You took your fucking time.'

Jimmy came to the table and sat down opposite him.

‘I'd have worn sun-glasses if I'd known you were going to wear the sunset for me. A bit loud isn't it?'

‘Was it you who grassed me up?'

‘Grassed you up about what?'

‘You know what.'

‘Harry, they've got you on the porn thing. They can probably make a good try on the Suarez killing. They've got you on supplying that bird Rosa with an illegal firearm which she was going to use to kill Henderson and as we speak she's co-operating like a good 'un in another interview room. They'll probably slip Jarvis's murder in there to tidy the books. Why not? It looks tailor-made for a fit-up. Then there's the tax you haven't paid on the money that's gone through the property business in Gibraltar and if there's any outstanding parking tickets and litter fines anywhere they'll probably add those. Which bit of all that do you think I grassed you up on?' Harry saw his point. ‘They were already watching you before Rosa arrived. All they had to do was follow you when you went to get the gun and again when you dropped her off. Harry, you were dead in the water when you missed me the second time. That was when George decided you and Henderson were expendable and he began to wrap things up.'

‘You know about George?'

‘I was stupid. I didn't for a long time, but I do now.'

Harry was silent for a moment.

‘What brought you into this? You're not still a copper. Where do you fit in?'

‘How come it's you asking the questions, Harry? You're the one being held for questioning, I'm just a visitor. Why should I tell you anything?'

It was a fair question.

‘You were always a fucking bastard, but mostly you were a straight fucking bastard, for a copper. You took your money but as I remember, you delivered what you got paid for.'

‘Thank you, Harry, I shall treasure that thought. Now stop pissing me about and tell me why I've been dragged out of bed to come and talk to a villain who's too stupid to find a chair when everyone else knows the music stopped a long time ago.'

‘Am I stitched up?'

‘Tight as an auntie's constipated arsehole.'

‘And that's straight up?'

‘Rosa's told them everything she knows and Henderson is giving them the Hallelujah chorus with you as the featured soloist. I gave them Jarvis and Leicester, Tate and Wiston –'

‘Who are the fuck are Tate and Wiston?'

‘Only your publishers, Harry. For Christ's sake, didn't you even read the books you were supposed to have written?'

‘I was never a big reader.'

‘Anyway I found you weren't making smoking money out of your books so there had to be something else and I came up with the property scam.'

‘It wasn't a proper scam. George said it made quite a bit of money even without what we put through it from this end.'

‘Oh, I am pleased. So glad it was a good investment. Now I don't have to worry what George will do when he retires. He's provided for.' But Harry didn't do satire. ‘Look, you're going down and you're going down hard. Rosa has given you to them, Henderson is giving you to them, I've given you to them, all you've got left to deal with is George.'

And that was it. Jimmy could see that was what Harry wanted to talk about.

‘I was never a fucking grass.'

‘No, you weren't. But you wouldn't be grassing him, he's well in the frame already and he's all you've got. Co-operate, give them the whole porn thing, the production end and the distribution, all of it. Henderson will give them the money side. Tell them George ordered the Suarez killing, he actually did, but they can't prove it unless you give it to them. George is closing down fast, make it easy for them and they can get him before he disappears up his own backside and they lose him. That'll be worth something, not much maybe, but like I say it's all you've got.' Harry looked round. ‘Yes, they're listening, they're getting it all, but none of it can count in a court.'

‘You sure?'

‘I was a copper, of course I'm sure.'

Jimmy took out a small notebook and wrote something then passed it across the table. Harry read it.
Make it worth my while and when I testify my memory will go funny
. Harry pushed it back and Jimmy put it in his pocket. Jimmy started again.

‘It was a good thing while it lasted, Harry. You must have been raking in a packet.'

‘It was. We made a lot.'

Harry seemed pleased with the compliment. Jimmy gave him a big smile.

‘Of course you did. But how can you spend it in a Spanish prison?'

Harry didn't like the smile.

‘You don't change do you?'

‘I change. I change my underwear every month, even if I don't need to. Well, are you ready to give me what I want?' Then very slowly and deliberately, ‘Are you ready to co-operate?'

Things were moving in Harry's head, but slowly.

‘How do I know you're on the level about George?'

‘Because who do you think fucking sent me here to give you to the coppers while he gets it away on his toes with the money, that's how you know.'

‘What?'

‘George sent me, you stupid bastard. As soon as you told him I was here he started working out how to pull the plug on the whole thing and get out with the money. And me, Hawkshaw the great detective, goes to London, calmly walks into his boozer and asks for his help. I gave myself to him on a fucking plate. I bet he couldn't believe his luck when I walked into the Hind. He'd put the word out there was money for anyone who ever spotted me if I came back to London but I came in free of charge. It was like winning the lottery. After that he used me. He put the Rosa woman alongside me and just watched how quickly the whole thing surfaced. It was always a house of cards, once one card fell the whole thing had to come down. I did the leg work for him and he sat there and worked out how to do a runner leaving you and Henderson hanging out to dry.'

Harry's brain finally got the message.

‘So when Jarvis got done it was really all over.'

‘Yes.'

‘So who the fucking hell did Jarvis?'

Jimmy threw his hands up.

‘For Christ's sake, Harry, forget fucking Jarvis. Why does everyone go on about Jarvis? George is still in London sorting things out and my advice to you, my very strong advice, is to give everyone what they want and see that George gets nailed.' Jimmy's voice changed. ‘But it only works if
everyone
gets what they want. You don't want to spend the whole of the rest of your life banged up in some Spanish gaol living on rice do you? And that's what you'll get, life. You'll fucking croak in some shit-hole of a Spanish prison cell. Give yourself a break, Harry, do the smart thing for once in your life, co-operate.'

Harry was weighing up his options. Correction, Harry was weighing up his
one
option. It didn't take him long. He made a sign and Jimmy got out the notebook and pencil and passed them across. Harry wrote something and pushed it back. Jimmy read it, put it in his pocket and nodded.

‘OK, Jimmy, tell them I'll co-operate.'

‘I think you've made a good choice. You won't come to trial for a while yet so maybe I'll come back and visit you. But I don't know what I'll be doing. I'll only come back it I find we've got more to talk about. If our business is done this should be good-bye.'

‘Then you won't be back will you?'

Jimmy smiled and stood up

‘That's all right then isn't it?'

Harry looked up at him, a big stupid man who understood violence and not much else.

‘He turned out to be a devious bastard, that George. A right fucker.'

‘He's clever, Harry, that's what George is and he always was. I should have remembered that. You were just muscle, a hard man, but violence doesn't last like brains. It gets old and it gets arthritis. But arthritis isn't something that affects the brain. George out-thought us both. In your case it wasn't difficult. As for me, I'm getting too old for this and George just pointed it out, that's all. See you, Harry.'

Jimmy left the interview room and the uniformed police officer who had been standing outside went in. Jimmy walked down the corridor. Bloody crime writer! He'd had to print the note he'd written. But then, George hadn't chosen Harry for his handwriting. Or maybe it was the arthritis when he held a pencil. Jimmy knew he should have seen it earlier, George and Harry had always run with the same outfit.

Santos was waiting. Jimmy stopped and looked at him

‘You heard?'

‘Yes.'

Santos stood there.

‘Well what are you waiting for? Go and get him.'