Six Dead Men (17 page)

*****

“So you liked Madi despite the evidence against her. That must have warred with your desire to implicate her in the deaths of those men." Joe looked at Deed carefully. "You still like her. Do you dream about her?”

Deed couldn’t speak, so he nodded instead. He dropped his head, suddenly wary of Joe's scrutiny. It might have been a lucky guess on Joe’s part, but it had made him catch his breath.

“I would like to meet her. Since I’ve met you it’s the first time I’ve seen you rendered speechless. Apart from sounding intriguing I suspect everything must weigh heavily on her. She would not have run otherwise. Why didn’t you speak to her before you left Manchester?”

“I felt compromised.” Deed replied honestly. “I obtained information about her whereabouts in a way I'm not proud of and..."

"And you were, still are, attracted to her.”

Deed opened his mouth to protest. He shut it again, knowing there was no point. "Am I that transparent?"

"Oh no, you've hidden your feelings very well. Even from yourself I think, but it's getting harder to do. Am I right?"

Deed nodded. There was no need to vacillate around Joe. He always hit on the heart of the situation no matter how much evasion was involved.

“ I sense she’s very vulnerable right now. It’s a shame you didn’t maintain contact with her somehow. You were too shaken by what you found out. That's natural. She's in a dark place right now Robert. A really dark place.” Joe’s lips were pressed together in concern.

His heart pounding in his rib cage Deed wanted more. A fleeting thought.
What if she needs me?

*****

Joe and Deed were in The Lantern. They had just spent three hours in a harrowing interview where a mother had to view the clothing and belongings of her ten year old son before identifying his body. It was a situation that tore at both Deed and Joe despite the fact their professions had forced them to view dead bodies for more years than either cared to remember.

Deed placed a pint of Guinness in front of a glassy eyed Joe.

“Do you want some nuts or a bag of crisps? You haven’t eaten since midday.”

“Are you my mother now Inspector?”

Joe only called Deed, Inspector when he was feeling out of sorts. Deed did not let this churlishness bother him. Of the two of them, Joe had by far had the worst day. The grieving mother had begged Joe to tell her that her son had died quickly, that there had not been much pain; that he had not suffered. Joe had lied, because her pain was already too much to bear.

“What images did you get from the effects?” This had become a ritual for the two of them. It had started with Deed's natural curiosity about how Joe's gift worked. He always took extensive notes and viewed these sessions as a debriefing. Even though they had been working together for several months, Deed was always amazed at how Joe’s information tallied with report notes from the scene, the coroner’s input and the forensic evidence even though Joe never got to read or see them before hand.

Rather than go into detail as he often did when questioned in this manner by Deed, Joe said querulously, “You’ve been thinking about her again Bobby. When you think of her so persistently it intrudes on my work. It makes the images I receive murky and unreliable. I'm constantly trying to filter out what's her and what's the case we're working on. Your emotions for her are so bloody strong.”

Joe finished his tirade with a sigh of deep weariness.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things more difficult for you Joe. I saw someone I thought looked like her today. I guess it brought back a lot of memories. I won’t think of her again. I promise.”

Joe chuckled. “Do you think you can just switch it on and off? You clearly have deeper feelings for her than you are prepared to admit.”

Deed tried to interject.

“I know what you’re going to say Bobby. You’re going to tell me it was a difficult case and you were embroiled in it up to your neck. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I see a strong link between the two of you, an invisible cord that ties the two of you together. It’s stretched pretty thin at the moment, but it’s shining pretty bright. That’s why I keep getting such strong impressions. You need to find her. You need to find her soon. I believe she wants you to find her and if she wasn’t so afraid I think she would try to contact you.”

Deed no longer questioned the validity of Joe’s gift.

“I’ll make some calls and check the force’s bulletin board.”

Joe stared at Deed insistently.

“Okay, I’ll do it right away.” Deed drew his Blackberry from his pocket and began tapping into it.

Joe sat back in his armchair, raised his pint of Guinness to his lips and took a long gulp then rested his head on the back of his chair. There was a tired but satisfied smile on his lips.

“Bobby, I think I’ve found your Madi.”

Deed had long since stopped saying she wasn't his Madi. “That’s impossible. I’ve been trying for days now without any luck. What have you done that I haven’t?”

“Checked my e-mails.”

Joe raised his hands in supplication to still Deed’s protest. “Only kidding. I got an e-mail from a medium in Manchester. She relates a strange tale told to her by a young woman convinced she has killed several people simply by touching them.”

“Kissing them.” Deed said.

“Well, it appears now she only has to lay her hands upon them for the
deed
to be done. Sorry Bobby.”

“Yes, very amusing. So where is she?”

“If I was you, my first port of call would be St Luke’s Church in Manchester.”

Deed turned his back on Joe and walked over to the window overlooking Joe's courtyard garden. Joe could see Deed’s shoulder muscles bunch into massive knots with each step he took. His shoulders rode high as he leaned his fight ready fists against the window ledge. The tendons in his forearms and neck began to bulge. When he turned back to face Joe his jaw was granite.

“Take a break Bobby. You’ve been working non stop since I’ve met you. I thought I was a workaholic, but you beat even me.”

Deed smiled weakly. His green eyes shifted in colour. He shoved his hands hard into the pockets of his jeans and rested against the window sill.

“It’s time to stop running from this. I’ll come with you if you want.” Joe said gently.

Pulling his hands from his pockets Deed pushed himself away from the window ledge restlessly. “How do you know she won’t just run like she did before Joe?”

“There’s no real guarantee, but I’m sensing she wants to see you as much as you need to see her.”

“Are you certain?”

“Nothing’s ever certain Robert. You’ve worked with me long enough to know I wouldn’t spin you a line. Besides, tell me in all honesty you never want to see her again.”

Joe watched the body language of his tall, capable friend. Deed was once more slumped against the window sill and his shoulders drooped. His hands hung neanderthal-like by his sides. He sighed heavily before he spoke.

“I can’t.”

*****

Deed sat on the 16.30 from London Euston to Manchester Piccadilly. He was pretending to read. His mind kept drifting back to the memory of another train journey earlier in the year which had not ended as he had anticipated.
Was it really only six months ago?
Would this trip be any different?

Joe came back from the toilet with his lips pursed. “Did I mention I hate public transport of any kind, but more particularly trains?”

“No you didn’t Joe. Why are you telling me this now? We could have come up in the car.”

“Ah, but then I would have lost the opportunity to bitch at you repeatedly.”

Deed closed his book with a snap and leaned forward, the beginnings of a heated argument on his lips. He stopped because Joe was smiling broadly.

“What’s got you so tickled?”

“You. It's so obvious you’re not actually reading that book. Half the train knows, and the majority of them are not psychic.”

Deed sat back in his seat. He was so wound up about finding Madi. He thought he had been hiding it well, but clearly he had not. Ever since he had read Sylvia Rose’s e-mail to Joe he had felt as though he was at the edge of a cliff waiting to jump. Thoughts of Madi always left him feeling this way; one minute riding air currents with eagles, the next falling into the abyss. He felt as though his sense of equilibrium was dissolving into a kaleidoscope of confused shapes and colours.
What if she doesn't want my help? What if she hasn't been thinking of me as obsessively as I've been thinking of her? What if this is another wild goose chase to nothing? What if my trust in Joe is misplaced?
He had accepted the events as presented to him so easily. Was this because he wanted to see her so badly?

Deed knew his doubts clouded his face. He wasn't able to hide his feelings from Joe. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth.

"Bobby, you're the younger, impetuous brother I never had. Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking. I damn sure know what you're feeling, so there's not much to hide."

The tension in Deed’s jaw eased. It was good to have someone to confide in. Joe made it easy. He closed his eyes and swallowed. "I'm sorry. I get so... so damned confused about her. I was in her presence a total of three times Joe. Three times. How the hell can she have affected me so much in so little time? The thing is, I think I love her. I mean, really love her."

With the words finally spoken out loud a peace descended over Deed. He sighed and smiled gratefully at his friend. "I'm really glad I've got you to do this with."

Joe shrugged his shoulders amicably and picked up his newspaper.

Manchester (ii)

“So she’s in there?” Brian and Garry were sitting in the back of the unmarked surveillance vehicle. Brian hated having to be Ire’s lapdog, but there were consequences if he failed to deliver. Not for the first time in his short career he was cursing the fact he ever got himself into the situation where he owed Terence Ire a favour. The trouble with favours owed to Ire was that they were always favours times infinity cubed.

“Yeah. According to the neighbours she’s been shacked up with this old biddy for over a week now.”

As Brian looked at the pulled curtains hiding, he imagined, the cosy interior of the Victorian semi, he wished he was inside his own house, nursing a beer and watching telly on this miserable winter’s evening.

“Did the neighbours give a positive ID?”

“100% boss. I wouldn’t have called you otherwise. How do you want us to proceed? Should we bring her in? What’s she done anyway?”

“Who knows. Look this is a favour for Terence Ire okay. Just keep her under surveillance. For God’s sake, don’t try to get this collar Gaz. This is Ire’s baby. You know how vindictive he can be.”

Garry gawped as a large breasted girl walking her dog passed the car.

“Gaz, I hope I’m getting through to you. I don’t want you to cock this up.”

“Boss, just relax. All you had to say was this is Ire’s baby. I know better than to mess with anything the terrier’s into.”

Brian breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t let him hear you calling him that he’ll bite your head off.”

“Oh, very good boss.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me a bit about the old girl who owns the house.”

“Well the old bird is some sort of psychic so there are people going in and out of there all the time. I checked her out. She’s even got a website. Would you believe it? The same priest has been seen more than once. Wouldn’t have thought a priest would go for that sort of thing. He stayed in there for hours. Do you think he was talking to God?”

“Good observations Garry!”

“Sorry boss.”

“Just stay on top of things okay. For God’s sake, don’t lose her. Ire went totally mental when we couldn’t find her before. I heard there was some sort of incident at the shooting range. Sometimes I think he’s totally out of control.”

“Somebody should do something about that boss.”

“He’s got too many friends in high places. While that’s the way it is there’s not a lot we can do about it. One day Gaz, one day, he’s gonna do something that’s not gonna be so easy to push under the carpet. But you and me, we may be long dead before that happens. Let’s just do this for him and get back to what we do best eh.”

Garry nodded solemnly. Brian let himself out of the unmarked car and walked round the corner to where he had parked his own car.

Brian's sigh hung in the air and his reluctant fingers hovered over the keypad of his phone until the biting cold forced him to action.

“Ah, the bastard can wait a day or two. She’s not going anywhere.” Shoving his phone back into his pocket he thought. “I’ll say we got a bit swamped and I forgot to call him. It won’t really be a lie.”

Sylvie and Father Andrew were sat at the half circle table by the window in Joe's hotel suite. When Deed walked past Father Andrew, a faint hint of incense emanated from him and his otherwise composed exterior was betrayed only by the tense steeple his fingers made underneath his flabby chin.