Bye Bye Baby (38 page)

Cam wheezed a laugh.

‘Do you remember that?’ she prompted.

‘I do actually. How embarrassing.’

‘No, it was sweet. Like my dog — you liked him, didn’t you?’

‘Sure. He was cute.’

‘Do you remember his name, Phil?’

Cam looked wildly at Jack, who shook his head. ‘I don’t think I can, Anne. It was so long ago.’

‘Oh, come on, you loved him.’

‘That’s right, I did. Tell me his name again, Anne, or it will bug me all day.’

‘It was Buster,’ she said.

‘Buster! Of course. He was such a lovely fellow.’

Anne hung up.

Cam looked over at Jack, said the obvious. ‘She’s gone.’

Jack had no expletives left in his arsenal of curses. He banged his fist down on the table instead. His phone began to ring and he assumed it was Kate. He didn’t even look at the screen.

‘Yes!’ he barked.

‘You should give me more credit, Jack.’

The shock hit him like a punch. ‘Sophie. I —’

‘What were you planning to do? Did you imagine I’d be oblivious to how smart a detective you are? I knew you were on to me, Jack, I just didn’t know how close you were. Now I do.’

‘I suppose I should call you Anne,’ he said coldly, fighting the urge to ask her all the questions that were burning between them.

‘I suppose you should, although I’ll always treasure my time with you as Sophie,’ she said, and he hated to hear that softness in her voice and feel how her words could generate such empathy within him. He was not over Sophie, but he had to fight her.

‘Meet me, Anne. We’ll talk, no other police, I promise.’

‘Meet? Talk? What about? The body count maybe? Or perhaps you want to get more deep and meaningful, understand why I’ve killed. No, Jack. There’s nothing else to say. I’ve done my talking through my actions. Where’s Phil Bowles?’

There was no point in hiding it now. ‘He’s dead. He killed himself yesterday when he learned you were alive.’

‘Ah, I see. Well, Phil saved himself an uglier end. Clever move, Jack. You nearly had me. Who was I speaking to?’

‘DI Cam Brodie.’

Brodie shook his head. He picked up the walkie-talkie and stepped out of the room so he could let Kate and Swamp know the sting had failed.

‘Well, tell Cam from me he did a good job with replicating Phil’s manner, but he has a far nicer voice than Phil ever did and, try though he might, he can’t fully cover that Scottish accent. I heard it peep through towards the end.’

‘We’ll watch that next time,’ Jack said evenly. ‘Bowles suicided and it was through remorse, not fear.’

‘It doesn’t matter. He’s dead and I can’t say I’ll mourn him.’

‘What now, Anne?’

‘Time to go. I’m sure you’ve traced the call. Have you sent a car?’

‘No.’

‘Not sure I can trust you.’

‘I’ve never lied to you.’

‘That’s probably true but there’s always a first time. I must head off now.’

‘After Pierrot, you mean?’ He heard the hesitation. ‘Is he next?’

‘Goodbye, Jack. For what it’s worth, for all my anger, all my ruthlessness, the cynical way I entered your life, all the lies and deception, you should know that everything that happened between us was real. I think you’ll have guessed already that I prepared meticulously to rid the world of these criminals, but I wasn’t prepared for you, Jack. You were meant to be something to use and cast aside. I wasn’t ready for you to be so special, so easy to be with . . . such a good fit. In another lifetime, who knows what could have been . . .’

As she trailed off, Jack was reminded of his conversation with Kate, when he’d offered her a similar platitude.

‘Is that meant to comfort me?’

‘No. It’s simply my way of letting you know that although I didn’t think I could ever respond to another living soul after all that’s happened, I was surprised by you. And it was a delicious surprise. Perhaps if we’d met before I set all this in motion, I might never have gone down this path.’

‘Then stop, Sophie!’ He hadn’t meant to call her that again.

He could sense her smile of regret. ‘I can’t. The worst of them is yet to meet his fate.’

‘When I find him, I intend to put him behind bars for life. I promise you, he will never see the light of day.’

‘I can promise you the same but it will be infinitely more final.’ She gave a sad laugh. ‘No, I think I’ll go out swinging, Jack. Festering in a jail isn’t for me and you can’t protect me from that. And I want Pierrot to
pay. He’s really the person responsible for the deaths of all these men, and certainly for the ruination of my life. Justice won’t be served unless I mete it.’

‘Please let me —’

‘Take care of yourself, Jack. All of my stuff is yours — it will look lovely in your apartment, I’m sure. You could even sell up and move into mine! By the way, I’ve mailed you the address where you can pick up the photographic series you liked so much, in case the Yard won’t let you keep my things. I have no one else to give them to. Think of me when you look at them.’

‘Sophie!’

The line went dead in his ear. Jack yelled and hurled his mobile phone across the musty-smelling sitting room.

39

Superintendent Martin Sharpe glared at his visitor as he reluctantly welcomed him into the office. He had already asked Helen not to offer coffee.

‘So, this sounded pretty urgent, DCI Deegan. How can I help you?’

‘Straight to the point, as I like it, sir,’ Deegan began.

‘We are balanced rather precariously on the edge of a major operation here. Holding meetings about my staff is not my highest priority right now. We need to make this brief.’

‘I understand completely, sir, I’ll take no more of your time than I have to. I’ve called this meeting about DCI Jack Hawksworth because I’m recommending a formal internal investigation surrounding Operation Blackbird during 1997.’

‘I presume this is connected with the death of DS Paul Conway?’

‘It is, sir, yes.’

‘My understanding is that all staff involved in that operation were interviewed and no case was brought to bear on anyone. Conway’s death was pronounced an accident.’

‘Yes, but there is now more information coming to light.’

‘What new information?’ Sharpe demanded, angry now.

‘Well, sir, it seems that the information DCI Hawksworth originally gave about where he was on the evening in question may not be accurate. I’d like to reopen the inquiry and make it a formal internal investigation.’

Sharpe took a breath. He depressed a button on his intercom. ‘Helen?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Hold all calls,’ he requested, knowing this would cancel his original instructions to Helen to interrupt him if this meeting stretched beyond ten minutes. ‘Now, Deegan, start from the beginning, please.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Deegan oozed sincerity. ‘I’ll keep it brief.’

Anne sat in her rental car feeling sick. Hearing Jack’s voice had unnerved her, made her feel distracted and sad when she needed to find the anger again. Garvan Flynn was still out there, probably smiling to himself that he’d got away with all that he had while she’d dealt with those who might point the finger at him. They were all gone now — Billy, Clive, Mikey and Phil. Only she was left. Her voice alone could accuse him of a range of crimes that any judge would happily put him behind bars for. She couldn’t walk away, not now. She was a serial killer. She would be hunted down. What would one more death by her hand mean . . . life in prison was life in prison. You couldn’t serve it over and over.

No. Garvan needed to pay — with his blood.

She had no more time to think on this. Jack and his team were close enough to smell her perfume. And if Phil Bowles had given them Pierrot’s name before he died then all was lost. Anne suspected this hadn’t happened though, because Jack would have already got to Flynn if he knew who or where he was. He wouldn’t have wasted time on the ruse at Bowles’s house with the remaining target still in a position to be saved.

She shook her head. Scotland Yard had no idea who Pierrot was. They were waiting for her to lead them there.

She needed to throw away her mobile and leave Patcham quickly, she decided, turning the key in the ignition. She had to buy a new phone, and there were some important arrangements still to make if she was going to pull off what she hoped.

She stared at the number in her notepad. She would wait until she was at Rottingdean a few miles out of Brighton proper, before she rang. First, she had to get to the seafront.

Kate and Brodie sat in the pub silently, uncomfortably, watching Jack as he stared forlornly at his battered phone. Swamp had left to make some calls. Around them, people were enjoying leisurely post-Sunday-lunch drinks. Their own table held the debris of their lunches, waiting to be cleared. They had no more leads to follow, and no one was sure whether to head back to London or stick around in Brighton. Jack didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave and it was getting close to three.

‘Did she give you any clues?’ Kate said finally, knowing Brodie wasn’t prepared to trample into Jack’s space just yet.

‘No. Except I don’t think we should imagine for a moment that this is over. She’s got nothing more to lose. She’ll go after whomever this Pierrot is, and we have to presume that she knows his identity.’

‘You think she got the information from Fletcher?’ Brodie said, sliding into the conversation now that Jack had stopped brooding.

‘Yes, I think we can hazard that guess.’

‘What do you want us to do now, Hawk?’ Brodie went on. ‘Swamp’s just checking in with Sussex. He said he’d call the ops room as well.’

Jack sighed. ‘Let the forensics boys back into Bowles’s house — we have no further need for it. Although I’d like you to nip back and hunt down that clown mask Bowles spoke of.’

Brodie nodded, glad to have something specific to get on with. ‘I’ll do it now.’

Jack’s phone rang. It was Sarah. ‘How come you’re still there?’ he asked as he answered. ‘The occupational health and safety stalkers will have my guts.’

‘I did get a couple of hours’ shut-eye but their rules don’t apply to us,’ she said archly. ‘Especially when I have some good news.’

Jack felt his heart lurch. ‘Tell me.’

‘I spoke with Rowe, the angler who discovered Anne McEvoy on the pier.’

‘And?’

‘To cut a long story short, there could have been a person on the graveyard shift that night — a guy called Garvan Flynn. According to Rowe, no one was
fishing that night because of the storms that were threatening. He said Flynn had cut his own key for emergencies and had offered to keep an eye on the place during the winter months.’

‘No one followed it up?’

‘Remember the crash at Chanctonbury Ring? That grabbed a whole load of police time and some of the details of Anne McEvoy’s case got lost amongst the drama. Colin Moss did try to follow up but this Flynn guy disappeared and then Moss had a heart problem, retired early. Anne McEvoy was forgotten. As I said, there was nothing formal about this security arrangement, sir, it was more like an understanding between the Pier Trust and the anglers. So there aren’t records to consult — we’re dealing with people’s recollections.’

‘Okay, I understand. So what do we know about this Flynn?’

‘This is the good bit, sir. Rowe says he’s of Irish descent. Didn’t Bowles mention something about Pierrot sounding like Val Doonican?’

‘Bloody hell,’ Jack breathed. ‘What else?’

‘Rowe reckons in 1974 Flynn was around twenty-seven, perhaps twenty-eight, so that fits the profile. I asked if he smoked and Rowe said he seemed to remember that Flynn rolled his own.’

‘The tobacco tin,’ Jack murmured.

‘That was my thought,’ Sarah said, unable to keep her own excitement in check. ‘Rowe thought he was married but had no kids.’

‘Is that it?’

‘No, sir, the best is yet to come.’

‘You’re killing me, Sarah.’

‘I heard it’s been a bad day.’

‘I’ve had better. Go on.’

‘After Rowe found Anne McEvoy early on that morning, not only did no one from the Brighton angling gang, who were quite a close-set mob, see Flynn again, they heard on the grapevine that he’d resigned from his clerical job and moved house. He was effectively gone from their lives within a week or so of that event. No one put two and two together at the time, but the clues are in the detail and you only have to step back a short way to see the picture coming together.’

Jack could barely believe what he was hearing. ‘The timing’s so neat.’

‘Definitely too much of a coincidence to ignore, whether Rowe’s memory is dodgy or not. We have to go after this Flynn guy.’

Jack wanted to blow a huge kiss down the phone and hear Sarah laugh, but he daren’t, not with Sharpe on his back. Instead, he asked her to listen while he put his mobile onto loudspeaker. Then he drummed the table and made cheering and whistling sounds. It was the first time any of them had had anything to grin about in a long time. He picked up his phone, flicked it back to its original setting. ‘Find me an address for Flynn,’ he said. ‘And, Sarah . . .’ He waited, knowing she was probably blushing from the drumroll and catcalls.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m very proud of you. That’s a great morning’s work.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Keep us in the loop, okay? Cam’s heading over to Bowles’s place, and Swamp — well, I think he’s still
with us but sorting out a few things with the Sussex boys.’

‘Back soon, sir.’

Jack flicked the phone closed. ‘A break,’ he said and quickly filled Kate in.

‘Brilliant.’ She was relieved just to see Jack on top again. She knew his guilt was weighing heavily on him. ‘I’d have Sarah on any team of mine,’ she added, knowing it was the right thing to say.

Jack eyed her as he drained his glass. ‘Then reassure her that there’s no hard feelings.’ When Kate frowned, he added, ‘She’s feeling awkward about mistrusting your judgement earlier.’

‘Really? What did you say?’

‘That I know you’re not the kind of person to hold grudges and that I’d count you amongst the best detectives I’ve worked with.’

Kate flushed. ‘You said that?’

‘I’m not lying. How’s Dan?’

She looked down. ‘We haven’t talked.’

‘Don’t write him off.’

‘I haven’t, but until we close this case I can’t focus on anything else.’

‘Come on. Fancy some fresh air? We’ve got to kill some time until Sarah calls back.’