Broken Faith (24 page)

‘What else went on. There were a couple of silences I didn't like.'

‘I wrote a note to him,' Jimmy pulled out the notebook and handed over his and Harry's notes. Santos read them. ‘Harry needed to know I was still bent, still on the take. It was the only way I could get him to trust me. If I'd stayed on the level he'd never have believed me enough to grass up George.'

Santos read the notebook. Jimmy held his hand out.

‘Am I supposed to give you these back? It looks to me like you asked for money to lie at the trial and he's handing you twenty thousand to fix your testimony.'

‘That's right, he is, and if you think I'm leaving evidence like that in some foreign copper's hands, one I hardly know from Adam, you're stupider than Harry, and Harry's very stupid. Hand it over or my memory will go very funny indeed, just like it says.'

Santos hesitated but the notebook came back and Jimmy pocketed it.

‘What do you want it for?'

‘What do you think? Harry won't need the money, not where he's going. It doesn't belong to anyone else and it's sitting there doing nothing.'

‘But you'll need the key to the deposit box and that will be in his villa.'

‘I know. But you can get me that.'

‘Me?'

‘Get me that key and I'll give you Jarvis's murderer.'

Santos stood silent for a moment.

‘You know who it is?'

‘I do, and if you get me the key I'll not only give you the killer but I think I can throw in the motive as well.'

Santos didn't like it but if he could get Jarvis's killer with sufficient motive to get a conviction everything would be neatly tied up.

‘Will it get me a conviction?'

Jimmy had to think about it.

‘Let me put it this way, if I'm right the sentence should be about as bad as it gets.'

‘I don't need games. Do I get a conviction?'

‘Do I get the key?'

Santos decided.

‘OK, if it's there.'

‘It'll be there and there'll be a guilty verdict as sure as God made little apples.'

‘All right, but I want you gone. Until the trial I don't want you round here or even near until you're needed. But then I want you back with your memory working or –'

‘That's OK, I don't want to hang about, I've had enough of this place, it's too bloody hot and too much happens. I'll give you a bell from the airport as soon as I know when I'm flying out. Now clear off into that interview room and listen to Harry sing. And get the fucking Met. to lift George before he disappears up his own –'

‘Don't try and tell me how to do my job. Mr Costello.'

Jimmy watched Santos as he walked away to interview Harry. Then he left the police station and walked out into the mid-morning heat. He stopped and said to nobody in particular.

‘Why not? Somebody fucking needs to.'

Chapter Thirty-four

Jimmy and Santos were sitting in one of the bars at Santander airport. Both had beers. Santos hadn't wanted to sit and have a drink but Jimmy insisted so he agreed, but he was still impatient.

‘You've got your safe deposit key, now give me the killer.'

‘I don't need to; you've got her already, or at least you've got her body. You got it yesterday after she blew her brains out.'

‘Mrs Henderson?'

‘That's right.'

Santos was surprised and it showed.

‘Why would she kill Jarvis? If this is just some wild theory you made up to get that key, because if it is –'

‘Right, I'll tell you what I think happened and how I think you can prove it. If you don't like it you can have the key back'

If you can break all my fingers to get it out of my hand, thought Jimmy.

Santos sat back in his chair.

‘I'm listening, but it better be good.'

‘It goes back to something Harry's publisher said. He said the first book was rubbish but they'd got better and the last one had something about it. Jarvis had no employment, nor any hobbies that we know of. What does a man like that do with his time?' Santos shrugged, it was Jimmy's story. ‘He wrote the books Harry needed but I think he didn't just write Harry's books. I think he wanted to be a proper writer, that's how he filled his time, writing. I think Jarvis had been working on something of his own and I think it turned out to be worth publishing. If I'm right there'll probably be a copy of it on his computer and if you look through his papers there might even be a letter from a publisher in the UK, a proper publisher, maybe making him an offer or saying they're interested. If Jarvis suddenly saw the chance to be a real writer he'd want to be out of the porn game. As I once said to someone, you can be a hard-porn wholesaler or a successful writer, but not both, not at the same time. Jarvis was frightened of Harry and knew he wouldn't let him leave, not alive anyway. So if he wanted to negotiate his way out he wouldn't have gone to him, which leaves Henderson. He must have decided to try and get out through Henderson, told him that he would keep quiet about everything if they left him alone. He probably wanted Henderson to deliver that message to Harry and he'd arranged to be on his way before Harry could do anything about it. Suarez told me his passport and some money were by his bed and an airline ticket to Paris. He was about to run out on them.'

Santos was interested now.

‘But if you're right that would give Henderson the motive, he wouldn't want Jarvis running out on them any more than Mercer and Henderson's no killer.'

‘No he's not.'

‘So what you're saying is that Henderson went to Mercer and –'

‘No. I think when Jarvis went to Henderson and told him what he was going to do they argued. You've seen Henderson, he doesn't take pressure well. Being the one to have to tell Harry that Jarvis had skipped wouldn't appeal. It's easy to see how they'd argue. One way or another Henderson's wife must have found out. Maybe she heard them arguing or maybe Henderson spilled the whole thing to her after Jarvis had gone, either way she decided Jarvis had to be stopped. You've seen her, she liked her lifestyle and wasn't about to have it threatened. She knew if Jarvis skipped anything could happen. She couldn't sit still and risk her comfortable little life falling apart. She took the gun and paid a call on Jarvis. Jarvis wouldn't be afraid of her so when she asked for a cup of coffee or something he walked into the kitchen and she followed, probably talking. When they were in the kitchen she took the gun out of her handbag, put it to the back of his head, pulled the trigger and blew the top of his head off. She had a strong stomach, I'll give her that. Then she went home, put the gun back in the drawer, and waited to see what would happen.'

They sat in silence while Santos went over it.

‘No. She wouldn't have risked it.'

‘You saw her. You don't think she'd have risked killing Jarvis to save the life she had here? Look what happened when we asked about the gun and she knew it was over. She didn't think twice about topping herself.'

‘No, she didn't.'

‘Once she knew Jarvis was trying to walk away, why not kill him? He could be replaced. A new writer could be found and her comfortable, respectable life could all gone on. And there was no time to think of anything else.'

Santos thought about Dorothy Henderson. He hadn't seen much of her but what he had bore out Jimmy's description. She was not an ordinary sort of woman. But he still didn't buy into Jimmy's story.

‘No, you're wrong. She shot herself because she would lose everything when Henderson went inside.'

‘The cow shot herself because I told her I knew she'd done it.'

That really got in among Santos.

‘How? How did you tell her that? I was there, I heard everything, you never said anything …' Then the penny dropped. ‘It was when you asked to see the gun.'

‘That's right. There was no reason to see the gun, it didn't fit into any of the crimes you were hanging on Henderson. If I asked to see it then it could only be about Jarvis.'

Now Santos bought it.

‘God, why didn't she throw it away?'

‘Because, unlike Harry, she wasn't a professional. The gun Harry used on Suarez was in the ocean in short order after he'd used it, but she was neat and orderly and probably as mean as sin. She wouldn't throw away a pricey item like that. Anyway, if anyone had heard the shot or seen her and the police came asking questions she had already decided what she would do, and it certainly wasn't going to prison.'

Santos looked a bit shocked.

‘You mean you knew she would blow her brains out but you still asked to see the gun?'

‘I didn't know for sure, but it was a pretty safe bet.'

‘For God's sake, why not wait and tell me and we could have got her and the gun?'

‘Because she was an arrogant bitch. When we got there I wasn't going to say anything, I didn't care who shot Jarvis or why. I was only there because you made me go. I was satisfied to let her watch her husband get banged up and her lovely lifestyle melt away round her. But when she looked at me, when she told us to leave, I knew she'd planned something. Somehow, I don't know how, she would have seen to it that Henderson never got to court. She wasn't about to give it all up, she'd already killed to keep it, she'd find a way. So I asked my question and when I did she knew the game was up. Check the gun, ballistics will confirm it.'

‘But how did you know, how did you work it out?'

‘I used to be a detective, remember.'

‘But there was no evidence, no forensics. You couldn't have known Jarvis had an offer from any publisher, you never went near his house. How could you be so sure it was her?'

Now it was Jimmy's turn to shrug.

‘Who else was there? There was no theft so it wasn't a break-in. The bullet went in low and came out high so whoever was behind him was shorter than him. She is.'

‘And that's it? On that you let Dorothy Henderson blow her brains out?'

Jimmy felt a small knot of anger form against Santos in his guts, but he had the key and was almost on his way so he fought it down. Let Santos play the sanctimonious prick. It didn't matter. He took a drink.

‘If it had been my case I would have checked who, among those who might in any way be connected to Jarvis, and that would be all British ex-pats, had gun permits. That would have given me the Hendersons. I would have got the gun, checked it and that would have given me the murder weapon which made it either him or her. I doubt she cleaned it so the prints on the gun would make it her. It's how you catch villains and get convictions. It's called fucking police work.'

Santos had the good grace to look sheepish.

‘Maybe I was out of line saying I didn't need you to tell me how do my job. If you're right I needed you quite a lot.'

The knot in Jimmy's guts unwound, he looked at the departure board and saw his flight number had come up as ready for boarding.

‘Proceed to gate four. That's me.' He got up. ‘Well, do I give you back the key?'

‘No, keep it,' Santos got up, ‘but one last thing. Mrs Henderson's already dead. Why did you say we'd get a guilty verdict? Why lie?'

‘I didn't. She was a practising Catholic. She committed suicide, she was prepared to put herself outside God's mercy. She was guilty as hell and refused to seek forgiveness ,so hell is where she'll be now doing hard time and she'll go on doing it for ever. Happy endings all round.'

Santos obviously didn't see it that way.

‘I'm not sorry to see you go, Mr Costello, but as you are going, have a good trip.'

‘Thanks, I will.'

Jimmy walked away and Santos watched him go.

Neither had felt the need to shake hands.

Chapter Thirty-five

Jimmy walked into the Hind. He'd arrived in London the previous day but decided to find a hotel and get fully rested before he went to see George. He didn't want to be tired when they met. It was one o'clock and the pub was busy with lunches but George was sitting in his usual place with a cup of tea in front of him, reading his paper. Jimmy went to the table and sat down. George lowered the paper and smiled.

‘Hello, Jimmy, nice to see you.'

He waved a hand at one of the bar staff then pointed to Jimmy.

‘Will she remember it's Directors?'

‘Oh yes, they're good girls, keen and clever with it. Why they come over here to do bar work is a mystery to me. They've probably both got degrees but they come here to do bar work. It's a funny old world.'

‘They're not the only ones with degrees who do funny work, remember?'

‘I wouldn't know, Jimmy, I just take people as they come.'

‘How's things, George? Business still doing well?'

‘Oh, so-so, you know. Make a bit, lose a bit. Much as usual. How's it been going with you?' He took a closer look at Jimmy's face. ‘You been in the sun? You look a bit red round the edges.'

‘I've been in Spain.'

‘Oh yes. You went to Gibraltar, didn't you?'

‘No, I went to Santander. I met a couple of your friends there, Harry and Rosa.'

George shook his head. The beer arrived but Jimmy let it stand on the table.

‘No, sorry, Jimmy, means nothing to me. I don't know any Harry or Rosa. I don't even know anybody called Henderson and I can prove it.' He gave Jimmy a grin. ‘Go on, have a drink, there's nothing in the glass but beer.'

Jimmy picked up the glass and took a drink. Still the same old George.

‘They both sang and they both used the same song sheet. Have the police been round?'

‘The police? They visited and asked a few questions but I told you, I'm legit now. Almost.'

Jimmy watched him. So, he was clean, he'd made sure his end was all tidied up.

‘You sorted out that property firm then?'

‘Property firm? I think you'll find there is no property firm, not any more. There's nothing, Jimmy, you've wasted your journey if you've come to try and make trouble for me. Harry was never bright and Rosa, whoever she is … well ,I don't know what she said of course, but I doubt she can back it up with any hard evidence.'

‘What if I back her up?'

‘Hearsay and circumstantial, nothing a court could do anything serious with. Any half-good brief would get it thrown out. Now if the police had something substantial, some real connection like a mobile phone of mine with a call record. But they haven't, have they?'

‘Haven't they?'

‘No, I don't own a mobile phone, don't like the things.'

‘What was that you gave me in Ebbsfleet?'

‘Did I give you anything in Ebbsfleet? I don't even remember going to Ebbsfleet with or without you. In fact I'm pretty sure I've never been to Ebbsfleet in my life.'

‘And you can prove it.'

‘No, but nobody can prove otherwise can they?'

‘The CCTV cameras might help.'

‘Think so?' Jimmy nodded. ‘Wrong. What they'll show is my Jag with someone in it and you walking away. I doubt they'll have any kind of clear picture if the driver's face, but even if they did it wouldn't do them much good would it? Mind you, I hope I'm wrong. I hope they can identify the driver because the Jag was stolen that night. One of my staff reported it the next day. I was away myself, on business. They found the car a week later, but it was burned out. Pity, it was a nice motor. Still, it was insured, so no real loss.'

‘I can say it was you driving.'

‘Of course you can. And I can deny it. No, Jimmy, there's nothing solid in that direction.'

‘The Spanish police have the mobile, I gave it to them, and inside it will say it's yours.'

‘No, now there you're wrong, Jimmy. The inside will say it belongs to my cousin Eamon Doyle, he owned the Hind before me. My mother's older sister married an Irishman called Doyle.He was their son. You know I never even knew I had a cousin until someone told me that the Hind was owned by someone who looked dead like me so I came and had a look and it turned out we were cousins. Funny old world isn't it? I bought the pub off him just after Nat got given wings and a harp.'

Jimmy sat back and laughed out loud. One or two people looked.

‘George, that's the biggest load of bollocks I've heard since I was told wanking sent you blind.'

George grinned.

‘Of course it is, but you know the game, Jimmy, don't go for black and white in things like this, go for as many shades of grey as you can get. Tie the fuckers in knots and spin it all out. None of it will stand up but none of it can be knocked straight down or shoved out of the way. Not so much lies as endless half-truths. They've got Harry, Henderson and Rosa bang to rights, why drag me in and risk the whole bloody shooting match? I got pulled by the local coppers and told my tales and pretty soon, when they saw what they'd got, what they could actually take into a court of law, we all went home. And that's how it will all pan out in Spain as well, Jimmy, I'll get left out of it and things will carry on pretty much the same as before. I never went inside because I was always careful. You don't …'

‘I know, you've told me before, you don't need to be violent if you're clever.'

‘And it's still true, not very violent and not often, only when necessary, when someone sticks their noses in where they're not wanted. When people do that they have to take what's coming to them don't they?'

Jimmy picked up the beer and took another drink. It was still good beer.

‘I suppose so.'

‘I knew you'd be sensible about things, you always knew the score and didn't bear a grudge. So, you staying in London or passing through?'

‘Passing through. I thought I'd pop in and say, hello. Maybe ask a favour.'

‘Ask away, Jimmy, anything I can do, you know that. Always ready to help a mate.'

‘I need to prove I'm Harry.'

George didn't respond for a second.

‘You need to prove you're Harry Mercer?'

‘That's right.'

‘Who to?'

‘A bank.'

Jimmy could see he'd got George's interest.

‘To do what?'

‘Free information, George? That's a novelty. I need to be Harry for a visit to a bank. I can pay if you can make me into Harry for a day.' Jimmy waited a moment. He didn't want to hurry this, to seem too pushy. He took a drink. ‘How much would it cost to make me Harry?'

George smiled.

‘That depends on the money.'

‘Who said anything about money?'

‘You did, you told me it was about money when you said you needed to be Harry to visit a bank. Why would you want to be Harry except for money?' Jimmy said nothing. ‘If I do this I'll do it on a percentage basis, not a straight fee.'

George waited and let him think. The way George looked at it, Jimmy was a long time out of it and London wasn't a place he had any friends. He could try elsewhere but he doubted he would want to deal with strangers. And he was probably keen to get the money and get out. It had to be a fair sum to make Jimmy come all the way back to get it.

George knew he held the stronger hand so he waited.

Finally Jimmy spoke.

‘What per cent?'

‘Well, it's got to be a fair sum for you to be here, and I can guess what you're going to do for Harry, you're going to fix the evidence and you always put a high price on doing that. Mind you, it was always something you did well, I'll give you that, you gave value for money. With your evidence wobbly Harry might even get off the murder. It has to be a neat sum doesn't it, you never came cheap and Harry really needs help on this one. I don't think you'd do anything for him for less than,' he thought for a second, ‘fifteen grand.'

Jimmy gave him a smile.

‘In your dreams, George, try and think with your brain not your wallet.'

‘No, I'm close. I know Harry and I know you. Harry's in deep shit so you'll have screwed him.  Don't try to kid a kidder, Jimmy, you've been out of touch too long to be any good at it.'

‘Maybe I've been out of touch too long to know the value of things. Ten grand, in a safety deposit box. I need to prove I'm Harry to lift it. Well, what's your end going to be?'

‘Only twenty-five per cent. Cheap really, but like I said, always happy to do a good turn for a mate.'

‘Two and half grand for a passport? I really must be out of touch. When can you have it?'

‘Twenty-four hours after you give me a decent likeness of that ugly boat race of yours.'

Jimmy stood up.

‘Where can I get one?'

‘There's a booth in the WHSmith down the road. Five minutes' walk.'

‘I'll be right back.'

George watched him leave the pub. He got up and went through the door marked ‘Staff only'. Just over fifteen minutes later Jimmy came back and George was back at his table. Jimmy came and sat down and pushed a strip of four photos of himself across.

‘These OK.'

George left them on the table.

‘You won't need them, Jimmy.'

‘Oh yes, why not?'

‘Because I'm going to do like I said, I'm going to do you a favour. I'm going with you to the bank and I'll collect your money for you.' He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a passport and threw it on the table. Jimmy picked it up. The face looking out was George's but the name was Harold Reginald Mercer. ‘I sometimes needed to be Harry for business reasons and Harry couldn't always be popping across to London or wherever, so I had that made up a while back. It'll do the job.'

Jimmy put the passport down, George leaned across, picked it up, put it away and sat back. Jimmy picked up the strip of photos and pushed them into his jacket pocket.

‘And what if I don't want you to pick it up for me?'

‘Then you don't pick it up at all.'

George waited, he still held all the cards.

‘No, nothing doing, George. I'll find somebody else.'

He started to get up.

‘Sit down, Jimmy, and use your brains. You must have the key to the deposit box and you know which bank. But I've got the ID. If we do it now we both know where we are. Neither of us can pull a fast one. If you walk out of here I'll find you and send a few lads and have them take the key off you and get the name of the bank. Knowing you, you won't co-operate so you'll get hurt, maybe badly hurt. I'll get the key but maybe not the name of the bank; if you get stubborn you might even finish up in a box. All that does is get you dead and me a useless key.' Jimmy sat down again. ‘That's better, that's using your brains. So, do we go and get our money.'

Jimmy sat for a minute. George let him think, even though there was nothing to think about.

Jimmy stood up.

‘We'll go now and take a cab.'

George stood up and came round the table.

‘Sensible man. How much is it really?'

‘Twenty.'

That got a big smile.

‘Sneaky bugger. But I'll still only take twenty-five per, after all we're mates, aren't we?'

And they left the pub to look for a cab.

The bank was busy, there were queues at all the cashiers' windows and a queue at the information desk. Jimmy stood in the middle of the bank at a sort of table with forms and pens on it. He had a form in front of him and held one of the pens trying to look inconspicuous. Every so often he wrote something on the form. Nobody looked in the least bit interested in him. He looked at his watch. George had been gone ten minutes. He should be back soon. Jimmy watched the door George had gone through with one of the staff. It opened and George came out with a carrier-bag. He walked towards Jimmy, smiling. Two men detached themselves from the information queue and quickly walked to George, two others left the table where Jimmy had been fiddling with his form. They went to George and stood each side of him. George stopped as one of them took hold of his arm. Jimmy put down the pen and joined them. George wasn't smiling any more but Jimmy was. One of the two form filling men took out his warrant card.

‘Chief Inspector Hatcher, sir. May I see what you have in the bag?'  People in the queues waiting to get to the cashiers began to take notice.  George looked round but there was nowhere to go.  He held out the carrier bag.  DCI Hatcher took it and looked inside.   People in the queues waiting to get to the cashiers began to take notice.  George looked round but there was nowhere to go.  He held out the carrier bag and the man who had shown him the warrant, DCI Hatcher,  card took it and looked inside.

‘Can you explain how you came by this money?' George didn't reply. His eyes never left Jimmy's face. ‘May we see some identification, sir? A passport perhaps.' George took the passport from the inside of his coat and handed it over. Hatcher opened it. ‘And are you Mr Harold Reginald Mercer, sir? It says here you are.'

George didn't answer. There was nothing for him to say. But Jimmy felt like talking.

‘You're clever, George, but you're a villain which means you're also greedy. Harry believed I'd take his money and it made him trust me because he thought he could buy me. You made the same mistake and it's going to put you away for a long time. You're clever, George, but the trouble is you're too clever.'

‘Fuck you.'

Now the men beside George had both his arms held firmly.

‘No, George, you're the one who's fucked this time.' Jimmy turned to Hatcher. ‘I'm off now, Chief Inspector. You've got all you want.' He turned back to George. One of the men had a pair of handcuffs out. ‘See you, George, or, on second thoughts, no, I probably won't.'