Fall From Grace (20 page)

‘It’s okay, mate,’ said the guard, ‘I understand. You probably don’t want to say. I’ll go and fetch those cutters. The police and the ambulance shouldn’t be long.’

The security guard was true to his word and came back minutes later with a giant pair of cutters that released Paul from the cuffs. Before he paid any attention to the broken skin around his wrists and ankles he took his mobile out of his pocket and checked for calls. If there’d been any he would’ve heard them but he wanted to make sure. There were no missed calls which meant that he hadn’t missed anything to do with his father, thank God.

But where the hell was Jake?

The police followed Paul to the hospital and once the medical staff had cleaned him up, the uniformed officers took a basic statement from him and passed it on to Joe Alexander and Steve Osborne when they turned up soon after to question him more thoroughly.

‘How are you feeling, Mr. Foster?’ asked Joe.

‘Like I’ve been hit by the Piccadilly to Euston train at full speed,’ said Paul as he struggled to pull himself up in the bed. He had a broken rib but the rest was down to some painful cuts and bruising; the damage usually associated with being kicked about and beaten up.

‘You’re okay, sir,’ said Joe, holding up a consoling hand. ‘We won’t keep you long. If you’re more comfortable lying down that’s fine.’

If Steve didn’t know better he’d say that Joe would be better off training as a priest and giving up life as a police officer. But he’d worked with Joe long enough to realise that although their styles clashed he didn’t doubt Joe’s ability as a police officer.

‘Thanks,’ said Paul. He gave up the fight to sit himself up straight. That could wait until the painkillers they’d given him had really kicked in. He flinched as his injuries reminded him why he was there.

Paul took them through all the events that made last night the longest of his entire life and how it had all scared him half to death. But he left one important detail out. He said he didn’t know who’d shot Glenn Barber. All he’d heard was a voice.

‘And you didn’t recognise the voice?’ asked Joe.

‘No, detective,’ said Paul. He’d never taken to lying. He was the sort who wore his heart on his sleeve and he found it difficult to hide his feelings. It had got him into no end of trouble in the past. But he couldn’t drop Jake in it. He didn’t know where the hell Jake was and it worried him senseless but he just couldn’t drop him in it. He’d been over and over it again and again in his mind. And he just couldn’t, even though he couldn’t get his head around what Jake had done. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t.’

Paul was horrified at the thought. ‘No,’ he said emphatically, ‘I was not. I’ve been trying to organise a credit union for the residents on the Tatton estate and naturally, Glenn Barber didn’t like it because it would’ve taken some of his trade away.’

‘I see,’ said Steve, ‘so trying to help people led to you lying here.’

‘I wouldn’t make such a direct connection, detective,’ said Paul.

‘Well what kind of connection would you make? I mean, it seems fairly direct to me. You tried to muscle in on his trade and you paid for it by ending up here.’

‘You could’ve easily been killed yourself, Mr. Foster,’ said Joe.

No, thought Paul. He knew one thing for certain. Jake would never have killed him. But then again, how could he be so sure? He never thought he’d ever kill anyone else unless it was on the battlefield of war.

‘I suppose I could’ve been,’ said Paul, ‘but thankfully, I wasn’t.’

‘However, Mr. Foster,’ said Steve, ‘a man was murdered in your presence last night even though you say you couldn’t see anything. That is right, isn’t it? You didn’t see anything?’

‘As I said to your uniformed colleagues, Detective, the bag was kept over my head the entire time. I saw nothing. I didn’t even know where the hell I was.’

‘But are you sure you didn’t recognise the voice of the third man there?’

‘Yes, detective,’ said Paul. ‘I’m quite sure I didn’t recognise it. I’m sorry.’

‘Mr. Foster, we only know of one man who worked for Glenn Barber on a regular basis,’ said Steve, who got the feeling that Paul Foster knew a lot more than he was letting on, ‘his name is Jake Thornton.’

‘Is that name familiar to you, Mr. Foster?’ Joe asked.

‘No, detective,’ said Paul, feeling very uncomfortable about the lies he was telling. He hated himself. He hated Jake too at that moment. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can add to what I’ve already told you.’

*

Lady Eleanor had some decisions to make following the news of Glenn Barber’s death that had come to her on that morning’s Granada Reports.

‘New arrangements will have to be made,’ she said as Dieter sat beside her holding her hand, ‘I’m putting you in charge of things now, Colin.’

Colin Bradley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. In the past he had run errands for her that would’ve put him in a court of law if he’d been found out and he’d even beaten people up for her when her usual associates were busy. But this was moving things up quite a notch and he didn’t think he could do it.

‘Hey now, wait a minute…’

‘…Colin, there simply is nobody else,’ Eleanor insisted. ‘You know the addresses, you know all the clients and you know all about the financial side of things. I’d say you were perfect to step into Barber’s shoes.’

‘Lady Eleanor, I’ve got a wife and two children, I’m trained as a butler and now as head of your household I think I do a good job. I know I’ve done some things for you in the past but I didn’t sign on to become involved in murder.’

‘Colin, you’re up to your neck in it already,’ said Eleanor. ‘All it would take is one phone call and I’d be able to summon up a team of gentlemen who would be anything but gentle in their methods of persuasion. Now I don’t want to have to do that to you, Colin. You’ve been a loyal servant. But I will resort to those tactics if I’m pushed.’

Colin Bradley wished he was anyone but himself at that moment. He had no doubt that this twisted old bitch would carry out her threat if he didn’t comply with what she wanted. Anybody who’d ever crossed her had paid the price for it, usually with their life. He couldn’t risk anything happening to Monica or the boys. He’d never be able to live with himself. He wished he had enough money for him to take them off somewhere Lady Eleanor couldn’t find them but he didn’t. And she knew that. How the hell did he get in this state? One too many credit cards, repayments on a loan on top of two others that stretched the finances so much every month that he was nervous all the bills would be paid. Now he was going to end up in hock to this evil witch and her Nazi. There had to be some way out but he was damned if he could find it.

‘I will give you all the necessary details with regard to who you need to collect the payments off,’ said Eleanor. ‘I’ll arrange for you to have some muscle with you when you do. But to reduce the risk of anyone finding out about our other operation, I’m going to have to ask you to consider murder a solitary act.’

‘It’s really not that difficult, Colin,’ said Dieter. ‘Once you’ve done it once you can do it time and again without any thought at all.’

You might’ve been able to, thought Colin. But I’m not you. He felt sick.

‘Now Colin, you’ll be making a lot of cold, hard cash by agreeing to what I ask and you could be spending it on that wife and family of yours. Can I take it you’re in, Colin?’

‘I don’t think I have much of a choice, Lady Eleanor.’

‘I’m glad you’ve been sensible,’ said Eleanor. ‘Now if you go to the property you’ll find a girl called Michaela Cowley. She earned us a lot of money in the short time she’s been with us but now she’s outlived her usefulness and needs to be dealt with. She’ll be your first, Colin and seeing as it’s your first time, I’ll give you a week to get the job done.’

‘Or else?’

‘I think I’ve already spelt out my terms in as clear a way as I can.’

‘Come and see me when you’ve finished your shift here, Colin,’ said Dieter. ‘I’ll show you a particularly effective strangulation technique. It’s been a while since I practised it but it’s like riding a bike. You never lose the touch.’

‘Well if you do agree to work with us then I’ll have no need to tell your wife about your affair with the barmaid of your local pub,’ said Eleanor. ‘What’s her name? Cheryl, isn’t it? We’ve got pictures and I think she looks rather common compared to your wife Monica, but who am I to judge?’

‘Alright!’ Colin snapped. ‘I’ll do it. Just don’t tell Monica about me and Cheryl. Please, don’t ever do that.’

‘Then listen to instructions and listen good,’ said Eleanor. ‘I’m not good at repetition.’

*

Tim and Sara had settled into a kind of suspended animosity of late. They weren’t exactly bosom buddies but they weren’t barely concealing their mutual contempt whenever they were together either. Both of them knew that the rest of the squad had noticed and that was the point when they’d had to get a grip on the situation, doing whatever they could to put their personal feelings aside.

They’d been through the employee records of Gatley Hall going back to the early 1970’s. Out of the many names they could’ve started with they decided the most obvious choice was the man who’d been head of household for Lady Eleanor at the time of her husband’s murder and her daughter’s disappearance. He lived in Stockport and they drove over to see if he’d be able to shed some light on the identity of Clarissa Harding’s mysterious boyfriend.

‘You did,’ said Tim, ‘I’m just struggling to come to terms with them. I was the father. I should’ve had a say. It wasn’t all down to you.’

‘I suppose it hit me harder because Helen and I have been trying for a baby for the last two years,’ said Tim, ‘she wants us to go for tests.’

‘And now you know there’s nothing wrong with you?’

‘Yeah,’ said Tim, ‘and I don’t know if I should front up or go through with the tests and wait for the results to give her the answers. I’m between a rock and a hard place, you see. Either way she’s going to be hurt.’

‘I’m sorry, Tim,’ said Sara.

‘Yeah, me too.’

They waited almost a minute after they’d rung the doorbell before the door was opened. The man standing in front of them was tall, well over six foot and he had a mop of neatly combed white hair parted on his left hand side. He was neatly dressed in a shirt and tie, sharply pressed trousers and shiny black shoes. He was from another generation that believed in always looking your best and he reminded Sara of her dear old Granddad who she still missed even five years after he’d passed away.

‘Leonid Sulkov?’ Tim asked as he and Sara held up their warrant cards.

‘Who is it who wants to know?’ asked Leonid.

‘I’m DCI Norris and this is DI Hoyland, sir,’ said Tim, noting Leonid’s soft but unmistakable East European accent. ‘Greater Manchester Police. We’re re-opening an investigation into the death of Ronald Harding at Gatley Hall and the disappearance of Clarissa Harding, Lady Eleanor’s daughter. You were Lady Eleanor’s head of household at the time and we wondered if you could help us?’

‘It was a long time ago,’ said Leonid, ‘but there’s a lot I can tell you. Please come in.’

Tim and Sara looked at each other before following Leonid into his council semi and through to the living room. He gestured for them to sit down.