Bye Bye Baby (23 page)

It was the same question his sister asked regularly, and one he asked himself when he permitted self-indulgence. There would be no diverting Sophie with meaningless platitudes.

‘The job,’ he said grimly. ‘I love it but it scares me. Right now I’m heading up a major investigation to hunt down a serial killer.’ He hadn’t meant to tell her this, but her question demanded honesty. ‘I can’t imagine how I could separate that role from life in the suburbs, going to children’s school plays and picnicking at the weekend.’

She flinched. ‘I had no idea. A serial killer?’

He nodded. ‘I’m not permitted to discuss it, although if you’ve been paying attention to the news then you’ll know the case. I know you understand that I can’t say more, but we’re on this person’s trail, I think, we’re close enough to smell them. I just have to make sure we protect the next victim.’

‘But if you know who the next victim is, then surely —’

‘We think we know,’ he cautioned, then his voice softened. ‘So how, with all that on my mind, do I find the time to love a family?’

She came back with the predictable reply. ‘You can’t be the first police officer to ask that question.’

‘I wouldn’t say many of us juggle the stress of our jobs with home life terribly successfully — especially in major crime. They do try but you’d probably be saddened by the number of senior police officers who are divorced or having problems in their relationships as a direct result of their work. I don’t want to be one of those.’

‘That’s up to you then, surely?’

He frowned. ‘No. It’s not that controllable. The job spills into your life — you can’t deal with what I do and not have it get under your skin. I control it to a point, but in instances such as this case, it becomes all-consuming. Look what I did to you tonight.’ He shrugged. ‘And then there’s the danger of those I love being in the firing line, too.’

‘Are you saying you’re worried that the criminals you put away might take their revenge on your family?’

‘I’m actually more worried about those I don’t put away. Imagine us a married couple — I’d be constantly
fretting that you were going to become a target as a means of getting to me.’

He saw the incredulity flit across her lovely face. ‘Jack, you can’t live like that. You can’t miss out on life. Forget me — as I say, I’m no catch — but you’ve got to promise me that you won’t let this prevent you from enjoying what life and love is all about.’

‘You sound like you speak from experience.’

‘I do — not that it’s any of your business — but yes, I’ve had someone special in my life. He let me down, but that’s by the by. Until then he’d been nothing short of perfect. I’ve moved on. I’ve let him go.’

‘Now I’m jealous.’

‘Don’t be. I’m over him — that’s why I can sound so grown up about it . . . and why I can kiss you like this.’

She pulled his head close and he loved the feel of her cool fingers running through his hair as he lost himself again in the touch of her lips.

‘I’m not ready to . . . you know,’ Sophie whispered, embarrassed. It was the first time he’d heard her sound in any way tentative.

‘This is enough for now,’ he replied, and when he kissed her again, neither pulled apart. This time their kiss was deep and lingered long enough for Sophie to wrap her arms around Jack’s neck and for him to lift her to the sofa. Jack vaguely registered how much heavier Sophie was than he’d expected; he smiled inside that she wasn’t the frail woman he’d imagined in his dreams. He began fussing at her zip, suddenly desperate to see her naked. He’d never intended to do anything more, on this first date, than lose himself in her company, hear that seductive laugh and, just for a
few hours, remove himself entirely from fear and death. He had dreamed of kissing her but now it was real. Her soft, urgent mouth made him lose track of time and his hands became reckless explorers. Every inch of her was soft and smooth. She smelled delicious, her skin was cool, her hair silky against his face.

He couldn’t remember, but they’d ended on the floor during Jack’s grateful release when Sophie had moved her attention from his lips and focused it elsewhere. She had silenced him when he’d made the initial move to give her the same tender treatment, turning coy and pulling a blanket down to cover herself, claiming she was chilled. Jack did not press her. Sophie would choose her time and place in the same way she had decided it was the right moment to offer him such generous affection. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to feeling slightly cheated but the guilt was momentary and he surrendered to the deliciously cosy fug of semiconscious slumber that seemed to arrive once Sophie had quietened his protest and pulled his arms around her.

It was his phone that finally roused them, alerting him to a message. It was Kate. Even her texts sounded twitchy. He kissed Sophie’s ear and she smiled contentedly. ‘I should go,’ he murmured.

‘You’ve crushed my disgustingly expensive designer gown. I’ll have to exact payment.’

‘Name your price,’ he said, nibbling her earlobe.

‘Dinner again, more leisurely. Your place, perhaps.’

‘No way. I can’t compete with this lovely space, this soft carpet, so gentle on our skin with no rash for me to explain at work.’

She laughed again. ‘Alright, my place and —’

‘I’ll bring everything, including the wine, and cook for you.’

‘Done,’ she said. ‘Now go.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Er, no, not tonight. How about Sunday or Monday?’

‘You’re going to keep me waiting that long?’ He feigned despair.

‘I’m really sorry but I have to go out of town for a day and a night at least.’

‘Work?’

She shook her head. ‘My mother. I haven’t seen her in a couple of months and I’ve promised this weekend. I reckon I can be back by Sunday night though, at a push.’ She paused, then added, ‘If you make it worth my while.’

‘Pan-fried Atlantic salmon, sweet potato wedges and a spinach salad with pine nuts, followed by my exceptionally good chocolate brownies. Or, if you want a proper winter meal, I can do you a hearty lamb stew in minted cider and then the world’s best apple crumble.’

‘Good grief, I want it all!’

He laughed and pulled on his trousers. ‘Let me help you,’ he said, feeling even more shamefaced at her disarray, the empty wheelchair not so far away.

‘No, don’t worry. It’ll take a while to get some feeling back in my legs.’

‘What?’ he exclaimed.

‘It’s alright, all normal. A tumble with you on the floor is fun but not necessarily good for me. I’ll be fine. I’ll get myself together over the next few hours. And I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow
evening. Are you sure you can see me so often — I mean workwise?’

He nodded. ‘Sophie . . . listen, about last night . . . I’m sorry if I seemed distant.’

She grinned, groaning slightly as she sat up and leaned against the sofa, careful to pull the soft blanket around her bare shoulders. She shivered theatrically. ‘Sorry, I can’t afford to get too cold or stiff. Don’t apologise, last night was lovely and it was all my choice in case you hadn’t registered that. I just wasn’t sure, you know . . . didn’t want to push you somewhere you didn’t want to go.’

‘No, you misunderstand. That’s why I need to apologise. My mind
was
elsewhere in the taxi home. I was thinking about the case and something clicked into place . . . well, might have anyway. I know you were feeling uncomfortable when I brought you home and seemed so reluctant. It was the case dragging at my thoughts.’

‘The thing that clicked into place,’ she said, ‘will it help you go forward?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s such a vague element. You don’t have any insight into the significance of the colour blue, do you?’

She frowned. ‘Blue? Well, as a property developer I do know that a lot of people love the colour, but we deliberately never paint any rooms blue because many people are superstitious about it.’

‘Really? I mean, I know people used to be superstitious, but still?’

‘Absolutely. I’ve always had a love for history and so I know where it stems from, but for most people it’s probably something from childhood that their granny
mentioned and it’s stuck. Blue is a colour that’s associated with magic and it’s considered unlucky by anyone on stage, for instance.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ he said eagerly. ‘We’ve been discovering this. Clowns too, apparently.’

‘Clowns especially,’ Sophie said, dipping her chin in a nod of congratulation. ‘I’m impressed that your team is so knowledgeable about history. I’m sure I’m right in saying that the traditional clown would never use blue in his make-up.’

‘You’re right. And that’s what triggered my “moment” in the cab.’

‘You’ll have to fill in the blanks, Jack,’ Sophie said, arching her eyebrows to show him she was lost in this conversation.

‘What? Oh, sorry, well, it just got me thinking that the whole frontage of the florist where I bought your bouquet was painted blue. They’re a Chinese family — I was wondering whether they might be able to throw any insight into the use of that colour. Perhaps it has special meaning for Asians.’ She pulled a face to suggest he was reaching. ‘I know, but blue paint is significant or why else would something so odd be involved in a murder scene?’

‘Murder scene? Where was the paint?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Well, if it’s in its tin, it loses relevance in a way. Where exactly was this blue paint?’ she said, her words disappearing into a wide yawn.

‘Don’t give it another moment’s thought.’ Jack smiled, mindful of protecting facts that the public was not yet privy to. ‘I’ll get going. Is seven okay for Sunday?’

‘Already looking forward to it.’

24

As Jack rushed out of his apartment on Saturday morning and took the hill down to the tube station at a steady jog, he had no idea that he was passing Kate in a coffee shop in Highgate Village.

Anne, meanwhile, was checking her reflection in her bedroom mirror. A small overnight suitcase was open on the bed and two rolls of tissue paper that contained wigs were at its side, yet to be packed. She had banished all other thoughts from her mind; today and this evening were all about Billy. She knew the police were closing in on him — they had to be — and Phil would be next. However, with Billy changing his name to Edward, the confusion generated might just buy her the few hours she needed.

She’d already booked ahead at St Catherine’s Lodge in Hove under an alias, but had made no restaurant reservation. Billy would never make it to dinner, she thought, a fresh coldness washing over her as she began to mentally prepare for the next killing.

The jeans and hooded sweatshirt looked perfect; her hair pulled back in a clasp with wisps breaking free to
fall carelessly around her face. No make-up and that good skin of hers ensured her freshly scrubbed appearance belied her age. This morning she was a caterer and needed to pick up her van from Mrs Shannon’s garage. Anne didn’t have to send her as much money as she did but the regular cash kept the old girl’s lips tightly zipped. She was probably happily counting her latest windfall right now.

Jack’s phone vibrated next to his chest as he ordered a cream cheese and smoked salmon panini at Giorgio’s, to go with the long black to wake him up.

‘Thanks, Lucia,’ he said to the Italian waitress.

She winked as she began preparing his takeaway breakfast. Lucia liked men in uniform, and had once quipped to a co-worker that even though Jack was a plainclothes officer she’d take him in a frilly tutu, if that was what he chose to wear.

He flashed her a smile as he answered the phone. ‘Hawksworth.’

‘Did you have breakfast?’

He felt a spike of warmth move through him. ‘You didn’t offer.’

‘You were in a hurry.’

‘I’ll always make time for a quickie.’

‘Are we talking about food, Jack?’ Sophie purred.

‘I’m very hungry,’ he added and heard her laugh softly down the phone. ‘Thank you again.’

‘It was a pleasure. So where are you? It sounds too noisy for work.’

‘Ordering breakfast.’

‘I hope she offers only food.’

‘I’ll tell the gorgeous Lucia you said that,’ he
threatened and watched the waitress blow him a kiss across the counter.

He dug into his pocket and handed over a ten-pound note. ‘They do the best paninis in London here and with any filling you want,’ he said loud enough for Lucia to hear as she wrapped up his sandwich and placed a lid on the coffee.

‘Goodie, try them on baked beans and Mars Bar.’

‘Very amusing. So what time are you leaving?’

Sophie paused. ‘Pardon?’

‘Your mother. What time are you headed off?’

‘Oh! Sorry, my head’s all over the place today, I forgot I’d told you. See what a bit of long overdue sex does to a girl?’ Jack chuckled deeply. ‘There’s a Virgin train from Paddington at five past ten, I’ve got a reservation on that one. First class — I need the sleep. How about you? Will you keep awake on the case?’

‘Not sure I want to even go to work,’ he sighed.

‘Things aren’t stalling though, are they?’

‘No, not really. In fact, we hooked up with an old policeman who’s helping us with a crime that goes back several decades, can you believe. We think it has a bearing on these murders.’ He heard only silence. ‘Sophie?’

‘I’m here, sorry, trying to do two things at once. So a cold case — is that what you call it?’

‘Yes. One of our diligent diggers at the Yard dug far enough back to turn up something.’

‘Well done. Sounds like you’re on his trail then.’

‘Or hers.’

‘No! A woman?’

‘Who knows? Anyway, look, I’m not supposed to discuss anything.’

‘Who am I going to tell, Jack?’

‘I know, I know, but protocol and all that. To answer your question, I don’t want to go to work because I’d rather spend the day with you.’

She gurgled a laugh. ‘I know. I promise I won’t stay away too long. But I can’t let Mum down.’

‘Give me the landline number.’

‘Oh, just use my mobile. It might as well be an appendage anyway.’

‘Well, give me an address. I might suddenly want to send you flowers.’

‘You gave me flowers yesterday. Don’t waste your money, Jack. I’ll only be away from London for a day, really.’

‘Sophie, don’t ruin my fun, please.’

‘It’s your money. It’s called The Haven — I know, I know, and it even looks like a chocolate box. School Lane, South Molton and then just Devon will do. But, Jack, I’d rather we went to a show again than more flowers, truly.’

‘You get there safely and be nice to your mum. Can I call you?’

‘Sure. But I’ll call you straight back if you hit my voicemail. Mum can be a bit all consuming.’

‘Alright, looking forward to Sunday night, if you make it back. Speak later.’

He waited to hear the line go dead, then picked up his panini and coffee, waved farewell to Lucia and turned straight into the barrel chest of a police officer he recognised.

‘Don’t spill your coffee, Jack.’

‘DI Deegan,’ he replied, his good mood instantly souring.

‘DCI Deegan, you mean.’

‘Congratulations.’ Jack made to leave. ‘Excuse me.’

‘Er, before you go, Jack.’

‘DCI Hawksworth, you mean.’

Deegan gave him a smirk. ‘I’d like a word.’

‘Make an appointment.’

‘I thought I’d keep it low key.’

‘Why, Roy? Is this work or personal?’

‘Bit of both, Jack.’ He shrugged embarrassment, which they both knew was feigned.

‘I’m not sure if you know but I’m heading up Operation Danube. We’re pretty flat chat at the moment — breakfasts on the run, that sort of thing.’ Jack held up his coffee and made the effort to keep any trace of sarcasm out of his voice.

Deegan nodded. ‘Oh yes, I know exactly what you’re working on. In fact, I know everything you do, Jack.’

Hawksworth frowned. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want you squirming, constantly wary, and my gut instinct tells me that’s the feeling you’re going to get used to in coming weeks.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘We’re talking about your conduct, but look, don’t worry. You’re too busy, as you say. I tried to keep this a quiet chat but if you want me to come up and visit you on the twelfth floor and speak to you in front of your colleagues, by all means. I’d like to see that view.’

Jack lost all patience. ‘Deegan, what are you up to?’

‘My job, Jack.’

‘Which is?’ He knew but he was buying time.

‘Oh, haven’t you caught up, yet? I’ve been with the Ghost Squad for a couple of years.’

‘Ghost Squad,’ Jack said sardonically.

‘Mmmm, that’s right. And you know what we guys and gals like to do over at DPS.’

‘Yes, I know, but I don’t see what the Directorate of Professional Standards has to do with me.’

‘Oh, it has everything to do with you, DCI Hawksworth, because I’m going to recommend that you be put under investigation.’

Jack moved from disdain to outrage. ‘What?’ he roared.

People began to look around.

‘I thought it only fair you should know.’

‘I wish I knew what the hell you’re banging on about, Deegan. Now either make sense or fuck off out of my face. I’ve got work to do.’

Deegan grinned. It was sly and didn’t reflect in his hard, calculating eyes. ‘So have I, Jack. I’m sure we’ll be talking again shortly but let me leave you with this thought. Liz Drummond might have left the Force ten years ago but she didn’t leave it empty-handed.’

Jack stared at him open-mouthed.

‘Later, Hawk,’ Deegan said, loading the nickname with derision, then he was gone.

Kate fidgeted with the froth on her morning cappuccino. She wondered yet again what she was doing here in Highgate Village. She should be at the Yard, taking her theory up with her boss in the appropriate manner, not stalking him in his own suburb.
But then this has nothing to do with work, does it, Kate
? she thought, defiantly ripping the top off a sugar packet and tipping the contents into the cup. She stirred angrily.

She’d slept little, wrestling all night with her thoughts. Dan had come home briefly, planning to head out again after a quick change of clothes to meet up with some friends. She’d given him stick about the mess that morning and the fact that he hadn’t taken her out to dinner or a show, to a movie or even a local cafe in so long she couldn’t remember the last time. She’d asked for trouble taking that tack. It didn’t help her irate mood, of course, that Dan could remember all their recent movie outings. His terrific memory had made her even angrier and she’d asked him if he could see a pattern emerging. When he’d stared at her silently, puzzled, she’d hurled back: ‘Fantasies, Dan! No sense of reality . . . just like your life and this sham of a relationship.’

That was it, he’d stormed out. Her fury at him turning his back on her when she felt she most needed him to love her had prompted Kate to walk out of their home herself, and stay away. Her acid thoughts in the lonely hotel room had inevitably turned to Jack and the Marvin Gaye fan, and the only saving grace for the ugly evening was a fresh theory about the case that had come to her while softly weeping about her love life being such a mess and her chance at having a family seemingly non-existent.

Hours later, showered and hoping the make-up covered her puffy eyes, she armed herself with this new notion about the killer’s motives and convinced herself she wanted to run it by DCI Hawksworth but didn’t feel like airing it for everyone’s scorn. Hence the trip over to Highgate. Even she could hear the lie echoing through her thoughts.

‘Penny for them,’ a voice said. Kate looked up. It was the older waitress, who’d served her. ‘Something wrong with my coffee?’

‘Lost in my thoughts, sorry.’

‘You look miserable and it’s only just past seven in the morning. You must have got up before the birds, my girl. Want a triple chocolate dream biscuit? We made them last night — guaranteed to perk you up and unbelievably good.’

‘Not good for my hips though,’ Kate replied sternly, for her own benefit more than the woman’s. She sipped her coffee, relished the hit of sugar. ‘This is good, thank you.’

‘Got stuff on your mind, eh? Well, cheer up, girl. Being miserable won’t solve it.’

Kate gave a half-hearted grin. The woman — probably the owner, she realised — obviously wasn’t going to let her stew quietly. ‘My boss lives here somewhere — I think his place is just around the corner. I should see him at work but I’d hoped to have a private chat, and yet it feels a bit un-PC, you know, to come to his home. What would you do?’

She swallowed the rest of the coffee — it wasn’t hot any more but it was decent enough not to waste, and at four pounds she couldn’t afford to.
Bloody Highgate prices!

‘Depends how honest you are.’

Kate looked up, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well,
are
you stalking him? If you can’t honestly say you’re not, then it’s not right you visit where he lives. If you genuinely need to talk to him quietly and your conscience is clear, where’s the problem?’

Bull’s-eye. Definitely not the dumb waitress.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Kate said, standing up, deciding to head straight into the office. Her conscience certainly was not clear. Not with the way she was feeling at the moment about Dan, about Jack’s new romance, about her own life.

‘What do you do?’ the woman said, gathering up the detritus of coffee things on Kate’s table.

‘I’m with the police.’

‘Oh, right,’ she said, clearly surprised. ‘You look like you’re in fashion or something. Hang on, your boss isn’t that lanky, drop-dead gorgeous guy, is it?’

Shit!
‘Um, no, doesn’t sound like him. He’s bald . . . and paunchy.’

‘Oh, okay, ’cos there’s this dark, good-looking sort who comes in here some weekends. I saw him once being dropped off in a police wagon, and not so long ago he dropped his wallet in here and I saw the ID. I’m sure it said Detective something or other.’

Double shit!
‘I don’t think it’s my boss — wish it was,’ Kate said with a contrived air of wistfulness. ‘Thanks.’

She left hurriedly, her cheeks burning. In her disquiet, she turned in the wrong direction for where her car was parked. Rather than look like the goose she was certainly being, Kate kept walking, following the road around, hoping she could keep turning left and find her way back to her car. Except there were no left turnings and she had to keep walking, finally finding herself at an entrance to Waterlow Park. It was beautiful in the watery winter sunlight and she envied Jack his sumptuous surrounds. Some good came of your parents’ death then, she thought uncharitably. No matter how well paid he was, no DCI could live here
solely on his earnings. She’d heard rumours that Jack was very well heeled as a result of the accident. The roadster he sometimes reluctantly brought into work was testimony to that, together with his address.

She sat down on a bench to gather her thoughts but jumped when her phone rang. She wildly hoped it was Jack but could see who it was on the screen of the mobile. She pressed the button but didn’t say anything. ‘Kate?’

‘Yes?’ she said finally.

‘Where are you?’

‘That’s my business.’

‘It’s not right that you don’t come home.’

‘It’s not right that you treat me as you do.’

‘How, Kate? How am I treating you?’

She sighed. Sick of herself and her gripes and her sudden overwhelming sense of bitterness. ‘Dan, I don’t want to do this. Last night was enough, okay?’

‘Look, we’ve been building to this for ages. We’ve both felt it, so don’t tell yourself otherwise. Let’s get it out, whatever’s bothering us.’

She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to remember how close to the truth Dan had been. ‘You do recall your accusation from last night?’ she said, the memory of his words hurting her again.