Snarl (11 page)

“Yeah, well, it’s not the weirdest thing about him by a long shot, take it from me.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Guy. Guy Something. Guy Ward? Something like that. Don’t know, really.”

Rosie tapped the screen of her phone. She was casting suggestive glances at her empty pint glass. Stuart knew he should keep questioning her, but he was already late for Anderton. Besides, get her any drunker and she’d be incoherent anyway.

“Listen, Rosie, I’ve got to go. Got to see someone about a dog.”

She smiled lopsidedly at that. He took pity on her and handed her a ten pound note.

“Get yourself another drink. Only one more though, okay? Get yourself a taxi home.”

She pouted but took the money. He had a moment’s qualm that he was leaving a vulnerable girl to drink by herself in a not-too-salubrious pub. There was an older woman behind the bar though, and he thought she’d probably keep any eye out. He chucked Rosie under the chin and left, the name running through his head. Guy Ward. Guy Ward. I’ve got you.

Chapter Fifteen

Whenever Kate and Olbeck got together outside of work, they had a kind of informal rule that they didn’t talk shop. If Jeff was there, being a polite man who was interested in other people, he’d sometimes ask Kate about her work and she’d happily tell him what she could. But, most of the time, the three of them talked about other things: art and music, films and politics, and funny anecdotes from their past. Kate was unsure of what was going to happen tonight, with Stuart there as well. Would he even be able to talk about the case, given that what he was doing was so secretive?

He was the last to arrive and although he was smartly dressed
, in a suit and white shirt, accompanied by a really good bottle of wine, Kate was quite shocked at the look of exhaustion on his face. His eyes were ringed with shadow and his cheeky grin, that had so annoyed her on first meeting him, was nowhere to be seen. It must be tiring, she thought, having to pretend to be someone else all the time. Never able to let your guard down. Not knowing who you could trust. No wonder she’d heard that undercover officers tended to burn out quickly. A few years and they were out of the game. Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a great career move for her, after all.

Mark and Jeff were charming hosts and Kate could see Stuart gradually relaxing as he was plied with food and drink
, and kind attention. She took a back seat, maintaining a civil silence while the men chatted. She wanted to do full justice to Jeff’s excellent cooking, too – Kate really did hope Mark appreciated his good fortune in having a partner who was so skilled in the kitchen. Andrew is too, she reminded herself, dutifully.

After a short period of inattention, Kate came back to the present
, realising Stuart was actually addressing her directly. He was asking her about the serial killing case last year, asking her about her injury. She felt a flash of annoyance that, for once, she’d actually managed to forget about that for half an evening, only to be rudely reminded.

“I’m fine now,” she told him, trying not to sound too cool.

“It’s not easy though, is it?” said Stuart, actually sounding rather humble for a change. “I got shot once. That took years to get over.”

“Well, it would, wouldn’t it?” said Kate, trying not to let her eyes widen. She struggled for a moment, not wanting to indulge her curiosity – she was sure he was just saying it to show off – and then gave in. “What happened?”

“It was a drug-ring case. Only my second job. Working alongside a lot of bad people and I ran into the wrong one, one night.”

“Bloody hell,” said Olbeck, topping up Stuart’s glass. “Where did you get shot?”

“We were down on the docks—”

“No,” said Olbeck, laughing. “Where physically?”

“Oh, right.” Stuart smiled, a ghost of his previous grin. Kate assumed that it was a memory that probably wasn’t a great deal of fun to recall. “In the chest. Shattered my collarbone on this side.” He indicated with his hand. “I was lucky, though. He was going for my heart.”

“You must have been out of action for a while,” said Kate, thinking of her own long, slow recovery.

Stuart nodded. “I was. It was worth it, though. We smashed the ring. Good job too – these people were scum.”

He looked grim, suddenly, truly forbidding. There was a short silence and Jeff got up to clear the plates.

“It’s why I joined the force,” Stuart said suddenly. He was looking down at the table, his brows drawn together. “My brother was a heroin addict. He died young.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kate said. She felt a sudden and genuine surge of sympathy for him. One of her older siblings had died in a car crash at eighteen. Kate had barely known her half-brother, born years before she was, but she still remembered the devastation that
his death had caused her family. That was when her mother’s drinking had taken a distinct turn for the worse, not that it had ever been very good. Kate hadn’t spoken to her mother in almost two years. They were estranged, she supposed, and despite her awful childhood, despite everything, she was swamped by a sudden wave of depression.

She and Stuart were briefly alone at the table as Jeff took plates into the kitchen and Olbeck
went to find more wine. Their eyes met and Kate was shocked again by the sudden connection she felt with Stuart – not a sexual feeling, but a brief flicker of emotional closeness. It only lasted a moment, before his gaze dropped away and Olbeck came back with an opened bottle, but the small glow of warmth remained.

They all talked about other things and police work wasn’t mentioned
again until right at the end of the evening, when Olbeck asked if there was any progress. Stuart nodded. “We’ve got a name. A name with a history. I expect Anderton will brief you all tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s great,” said Olbeck. He was helping Kate on with her jacket. “Does that mean you’re back with us
, again?”

Stuart half laughed. “I wish. Not yet. There’s still a lot of work to do
, so…”

Kate picked up her handbag.
“Just as well the boys had you over for dinner tonight, then,” she said, smiling. “Sounds like you won’t be joining us for after work drinks, any time soon.”

“No, that’s right. And thanks,” said Stuart holding out a hand to Olbeck. Jeff was lounging in the kitchen doorway, a tea towel slung over his shoulder. “Thanks very much, guys. I enjoyed it.”

“Our pleasure,” said Jeff.

Kate and Stuart left the house together, waving to Olbeck and Jeff
, who were framed in the doorway.

“Can I give you a lift?” asked Kate and caught herself, realising that she wasn’t even supposed to be seen talking to him in public.

“No, I’m good,” Stuart said, absently. “My car’s just up here. Listen, Kate…”

He trailed off. Kate waited and then said
, “Yes?” in an encouraging way.

“Doesn’t matter. Forget I said it. Thanks
, Kate, good night.”

And with that, he was gone. Kate walked slowly to her own car, pondering. What had that been all about? She got the impression that he’d wanted to confide in her. Was that possible? Confide in her, a virtual stranger, because of that odd little moment of connection
they’d experienced? He might have been about to ask you out, she told herself; but that was vanity talking. It wasn’t the impression she got. Dismissing her inner musings, she unlocked the car, got in, re-locked the doors and drove away.

*

You fool, Stuart told himself as he unlocked his own car. For a second, he’d almost told Kate about Angie; how much he missed her, why he had no idea how she had so strong a hold over him. The words had come surging up his throat and, for a moment, he’d actually thought about saying them. You fool. Why would Kate even be interested, anyway? He liked her, although he got the impression she didn’t think much of him. In a funny way, Kate reminded him of his kid sister, Charlotte – Charlie. Physically they weren’t much alike, but Kate had that same sort of doughty scrappiness he associated with Charlie – a kind of ‘screw you, world, I can take care of myself’ type aura that shone out over her neat exterior. It was clear to see that she’d been pretty shaken by that knife incident last year, but that wasn’t surprising. Theo had told him the whole story, the second day he’d joined the Abbeyford team, and then when Kate had finally made it back to the office, Stuart could see the vulnerability that lurked under her cool manner. Of course, it was hard getting back on the job, he really did know that.

He drove back to his bedsit slowly, tired after a long day and
somnolent with Jeff’s good food. That Mark Olbeck was a lovely guy, too. It was funny, but he’d never had a gay mate before; not that he was homophobic or anything like that, it just hadn’t happened. Stuart wondered what it would have been like for Olbeck, declaring his sexuality to the rest of the officers in the station. Pretty nerve-racking, and that was from someone who’d put their life on the line on more than one occasion.

Stuart parked the car, switched off the engine and sat for a moment, rubbing his eyes. He was bushed. He
wearily climbed the dank little staircase to his room and opened the door, realising a second too late that it was already ajar. He stopped dead, nerves singing. There was someone in his bed.

A second after the adrenaline kicked in, the bedside light snapped on. It was Angie, resting on one pale arm. He could see she was naked. She said nothing, but looked at him with a heavy-lidded gaze, that incredible face wearing that same indefinable look of challenge that he’d first noticed about her.

“Evening,” said Stuart, his tone belying the thudding of his heart. “How did you get in?”

Angie smiled.
“Your neighbour was kind enough to help me out.”

“My neighbour?” Stuart had barely seen any of the other occupants of the adjoining rooms. And how the hell did his neighbour have a key to his – Stuart’s – room?

Angie’s smile grew. “Okay, he didn’t. I picked the lock. It’s only a Yale one – quite simple, really. You really ought to get a stronger one fitted.”

“So I can see.” Stuart hadn’t as yet made any move towards the bed. That faint warning bell was ringing louder this time, like an increasingly loud siren in his mind.
Danger ahead
.

Angie twitched the covers a little and he could see a little more of her. He swallowed. He thought he’d missed her
, but up until this moment, with Angie present before him, he hadn’t quite realised the depths of his longing. It was visceral.

“Come on, then,” said Angie gently, almost maternally. As he stumbled towards the bed, Stuart’s last coherent thought was of his dead brother, lost back there in the past. I miss him,
he thought, and then Angie’s arms were around him and he didn’t think of much else for what seemed like a very long time.

Chapter Sixteen

The sunlight woke him, streaming through the curtains that didn’t quite meet in the middle, lancing through the gap like a spear of molten gold. Stuart lay there quietly, watching the dust motes spin and dance in the beam of light. He was conscious of Angie, breathing quietly beside him. It was the first time they’d slept together, in the literal sense of the word. Perhaps he hadn’t so much fallen asleep as much as passed out, exhausted by the long day and by Angie’s voracious demands.

Moving quietly, he eased himself out of bed. He’d spotted Angie’s handbag over by the chair against the wall. Stamping down on
the last remnants of conscience that still remained, even after years of undercover work, he extracted her phone and, keeping a wary eye on her sleeping form, scrolled through the large list of names and numbers stored in the Contacts section. He went straight to the ‘Ks’ and, despite knowing he’d find it, there was still the drop and twist of his stomach as he saw Kitten’s name and a mobile number underneath it. Quickly, he scribbled it down. Angie made a muttering, sighing sound from the bed and Stuart, heart thumping, put the phone back, noting as he did so that the top contact in Angie’s phone was a number stored with no corresponding name. He had no time to investigate further – Angie was waking up. He moved swiftly away from her bag, busying himself at the little table where he kept an electric kettle and instant coffee.

“Morning,” said Stuart casually, handing her a mug of coffee. He realised he had no idea how she like
d it, but guessed she would drink it black with no sugar. She took it from him with no comment but a smile. She sat up in bed quite unselfconsciously to drink it. Stuart tried not to be distracted by the sight of her breasts, something he was still unused to.

Angie drank her coffee in several fast gulps, put the cup to one side, yawned and stretched like a cat.

“I wondered what had happened to you,” said Stuart, trying not to sound accusing. Angie smiled.

“I’ve been busy. I’m working on a big piece at the moment.”

“Piece?”

“A new multi-media project. It’ll be the best thing I’ve ever done.” She went far away for a moment, her eyes looking at something that Stuart couldn’t see. “It’s
consumed
me.”

Stuart felt embarrassed when she talked like this. It sounded, what? Pretentious. Phony. She believed it
, though, and that was somehow more embarrassing than anything else.

“That’s good,” he said, rather limply.

Angie came back to life. “I can’t show you anything yet,” she said. She smiled. “Soon you’ll be able to see.”

“Can’t wait,” said Stuart, grinning. “Will this be the piece that makes you famous?”

“Oh yes,” said Angie, seriously. She cocked her head on one side for a moment. “I can’t show you
that
at the moment, but have a look at some of my early work.”

Oh God… Stuart pinned an interested look in his face whilst Angie scrambled out of bed and hunted in her bag. He could feel the scrap of paper with Kitten’s number
on it burning a hole in his pocket.

If he had put the phone back in the wrong place, Angie didn’t seem to notice. She retrieved her phone and flung herself back on the bed next to
him. He kept that interested look on his face as she scrolled through a variety of photographs. He didn’t know much about art – and I don’t know what I like, he finished with an inner grin.

Angie’s stuff was a mixed bunch; some sculpture, some paintings, an enormous collage that seemed to incorporate a television screen that showed the same loop of film over and over again, a wom
an riding a bicycle with a large fish in the front basket. Stuart said ‘fantastic’, ‘that’s incredible’, ‘I like what you’ve done there’ and other such inanities. He had the feeling that Angie was barely listening to him anyway; she was absorbed in her pictures.

“This is my last but one project,” she said eventually.

“Oh yes?”

“Yes.”

She held the screen in front of him. It was another collage, with an integrated screen, but this time, the film shown was – Stuart blinked – a montage of scenes of animal cruelty. A fox disappearing under a yapping flood of beagles. A cow, stun-gunned, its freshly cut throat glistening as the blood pumped away. A blurry shot of someone beating a cow at what looked like a market.

“Far out,” he said faintly. He could tell Angie was looking slyly sideways at him, wondering whether he was going to react. “That’s… um…
powerful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” said Angie, with satisfaction. “Really makes you look twice. I got some very interesting reactions to that one.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“That was a commissioned piece.”

“Really?” said Stuart, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “So, people actually
buy
your stuff then?”

A
chill settled upon the room. Stuart mentally kicked himself and tried to make amends. “It’s fantastic, though,” he said hastily. “Really powerful.”

Angie said nothing. She slid her finger across the screen of her phone in one slow, deliberate swipe, hiding the pictures from view.

Stuart knew when to stop. This was a bad time to ask what he had to ask, but he had the feeling that it wouldn’t make much difference now, anyway.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m trying to get hold of someone and I think you might know them.”

“Oh yes?” she said, indifferently. Her features had settled into a beautiful but stony mask.

Stuart swallowed, trying to get some liquid into his dry mouth.
“His name’s Guy, but everyone calls him Kitten.”

The pause was there
; infinitesimal, but there. His heart sank. Then Angie said coolly, “Kitten? I haven’t seen him in months. What do you want him for?”

It was an innocent enough question
, but there was something in her inflection that made Stuart’s heart spike again.

“Nothing much,” he said, as casually as he could. “
I knew him a long time ago, at HQ. Just wanted to catch up with him, if he’s around.”

“HQ? What’s that?”

His heart dipped again. He remembered Rosie’s photograph of her, with Kitten by her side.

“Just a place. So, you haven’t seen him
, or anything? I used to have his number, but I lost it.”

Angie
got up and started pulling on her clothes, the same white vest and black combat trousers that he’d seen her wear before. “He changes it all the time,” she said. There was a tiny mirror hanging by the door and she took a brief, assessing look into it, smoothing her flat cap of hair back into place.

Stuart knew when to not push things.
“Thanks for coming over,” he said. “Your art is fantastic.”

She gave him a brief smile
, which he saw in her reflection in the mirror. Then she snatched up her bag and was out the door, closing it behind her in a movement that wasn’t quite a slam.