A Time For Justice (47 page)

She smiled.

He couldn’t believe it: a smile. He was almost overwhelmed
with joy.

‘
I’ve been pretty awful to live with these past few months,’
she admitted.

‘
You’ve had good enough reason. It
hasn’t been a problem.’ It was a brave attempt at a
lie.

‘
Oh yes, it has,’ she insisted. She put her other arm around
him and squeezed. ‘You’ve been so good to me. I’m a lucky lady.
You’ve put up with me and my moods and my medical needs, stayed
with me through everything, no complaining, nothing. I’m very
grateful to you, Joe.’

‘
You don’t have to be grateful. It’s my job - I love
you.’

‘
Do you? Even now, with a face like this and a chest that
looks like a burned turkey dinner?’

‘
Honey,’ he told her tenderly, looking straight into her eyes,
‘I’ll admit that initially I was attracted by your looks, but I
fell in love with the person behind them. I fell in love with the
way you talk, the way you drag your feet, the way you have an
answer for everything and a million more things. I’m still in love
with that person, even if she is a bit burned.’

She swallowed. Her eyes became moist. ‘I thought you’d leave.
I was terrified you’d go. I wouldn’t have blamed you.’

‘
Don’t be a dork. I love you.’ He spelled it out.

‘
I love you too, Joe.’

‘
Well, that’s all right then.’

One of her hands went to the back of his neck and pulled his
head down towards hers. They kissed. A tingle of excitement made
Kovaks curl up his toes.
It
was their first real kiss for many months. Slowly
their lips parted and became wet and they began to explore each
other’s mouths, tongues intertwining, sliding around each other
like snakes.

‘
Joe, Joe,’ said Chrissy, breaking off, slightly breathless.
‘We need to make love.’

‘
I’ll second that.’ He bent down and scooped her up into his
arms. Moments later they were on the bed and she was tugging
hungrily at the belt on his trousers.

The next time Henry Christie looked at a clock it was 11.30
p.m. He had been busy all day setting up the incident room in the
gymnasium at Lancaster police station. Then together with Karen and
Donaldson he had brainstormed the lines of enquiry their team of
detectives were going to follow the next day.

Henry was alone now; the other two had gone home. This was the
last chance they would have for some time to get a good night’s
sleep. He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the
whiteboard upon which all their ideas had been scribbled down.
There was a lot to go at. Tomorrow would be an even longer
day.

Then he thought: Tomorrow - Christ! My day off!

He picked up a phone and dialled a sleepy-sounding
Kate.

‘
Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I know it’s late. I would’ve phoned
earlier but I didn’t get a chance.’

‘
No, no, ‘sokay,’ she mumbled.

‘
About tomorrow,’ he began haltingly.

‘
You’re not coming, are you? I thought as much ... er, I
didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’ve seen the news, it’s a
dreadful business.’

‘
Yeah,’ he said, stifling a yawn of his own. ‘I’m well
involved in the investigation, so you’re right, I won’t be able to
come round. You do understand, don’t you?’

‘
Yes,’ she said.

‘
I have to catch this bastard before he catches me,’ he said
bleakly. ‘I think I may have to kill him.’

‘
Henry, that sounds rather dramatic.’

‘
He’s made it personal, love. He said he’s coming for
me.’

‘
Christ,’ she breathed.

‘
Kate, I love you,’ he said. ‘When this is all really over,
let’s get back together. No more talking, let’s just do
it.’

‘
Yeah, OK,’ she said simply.

There was a short spell of stunned silence on the
line.

‘
I love you too, Henry. Please be careful, I want you
back.’

She hung up.

Henry slowly replaced the phone and closed his eyes
gratefully.

Kate snuggled down under the duvet, next to Leanne who had
sneaked in about twenty minutes before, claiming she couldn’t
sleep. She had dropped off immediately next to her mother but the
phone had woken her.

‘
Was that Dad?’ she asked dreamily.

‘
Yep.’

‘
Is he coming back?’

‘
Yes, soon.’

‘
Does that mean I won’t be able to sleep in here
again?’

‘
Correct.’

‘
Oh, I don’t mind, so long as he’s back ... I got told off for
saying “Fuck” at school today.’

A minor arrest was about to be made on the streets of
Blackpool.

It was the end of what, professionally speaking, had been a
poor night for the prostitute whose name was Jane. She’d moved from
pub to pub, mingling and soliciting, but all to no avail. No one,
it seemed, had the money or inclination to pay for her
services.

Frustrated by her lack of success - which was pretty unusual,
but not completely unknown - she drank a good deal of alcohol. At
closing time, well inebriated, she spilled unsteadily onto the
streets and bought herself a bag of fish and chips. She then
proceeded to eat them as she walked home. Quite often she missed
her mouth when feeding it with handfuls of food and she ended up
with a very greasy, uninviting face.

This, however, did not deter her from trying her luck with
every man she walked past, whether he was attached or not. Her
approach was brash and obscene and it went well with her
appearance: a tight fitting mini skirt in cheap leather, laddered
stockings and a blouse that was unbuttoned below the line of her
freely swinging breasts, leaving nothing to the
imagination.

She managed to strike it lucky just the once. She collared a
sallow youth, a holidaymaker hardly past puberty, and all but
dragged him down a back alley. She sank to her knees on the
cobbles, placing her chips carefully down beside her, unzipped his
jeans and slid her oily mouth over his flaccid cock. Despite the
odds, she was successful in bringing about an erection followed by
ejaculation. This done, she collected her chips, claimed five
pounds and left the poor boy standing there speechless, wondering
what the hell had hit him.

Back on the streets, with a mouthful of fish to take away the
taste, she tried her luck with one or two other men who swore at
her and pushed her away.

Then her luck really ran out.

Her last few attempts at solicitation were watched by two
plain-clothed policemen, one of whom casually walked past her. He
was treated to her one-line come-on. When he introduced himself and
arrested her, she punched him in the mouth and smacked the remains
of her supper onto his head. She was forcibly restrained, put in
the back of a police van and taken, struggling and screaming all
the way, to Blackpool Central police office.

Once inside a cell, she immediately calmed down, laid herself
out on the bed and fell into a heavy, drunken slumber.

After their lovemaking, Joe and Chrissy lay interlocked for a
long time, him still deep inside her, both savouring the last
twinges of pleasure before he withdrew slowly.

Then he lay face up and she nestled into his chest.

‘
That was lovely,’ said Chrissy. ‘I’ve been wanting to have
you inside me for weeks now, Joe. Do ... do the burns matter to
you?’ she asked timidly.

‘
No - not when you can fuck like that.’

She punched him gently in the ribs and giggled.

‘
How are you going on with Corelli?’ she asked. ‘I see you’ve
brought some files home to work on.’

Kovaks sighed. ‘As ever, he evades our clutches. Like he has a
sixth sense.’

‘
Do you honestly think he was the one who sent the
letter?’

He nodded. ‘Oh, yeah. Just a warning. Business, y’know,
nothing personal. But I won’t give up on him. I’ll get him one way
or another. ‘

‘
I hope you’re not planning anything illegal,’ she said. ‘You
see, what I finally realised, Joe, was that he hadn’t destroyed my
life. If he’d taken you away, that would have destroyed it, but I
still have you, and I’m happy. I just thought, What the hell am I
doing sat here like a moron week after week, thinking about
revenge, being bitter and twisted, when I should be thinking about
the future. You and me, Joe.
That’s
my future. Corelli can rot in hell. I even feel
sorry for him. He’s a sad man without a life. I’ve got you. I know
it’s taken me a long time to work it all out and I’m sorry for what
I’ve put you through, but now I see. Let’s just forget Corelli and
get on with living.’

She snuffled and blinked the tears away from her eyes. It was
the most she had said to Kovaks for many months and she sounded
positive, like the Chrissy of old.

Kovaks felt an overwhelming love for her, and his throat
constricted as suddenly he knew she was right. Revenge wasn’t the
way forwards. It was the way to hell. He lifted her chin so he
could look into her eyes. ‘So your future’s with me, eh,
kid?’

‘
If that’s what you want.’

‘
Only if it involves marriage and kids and all that
crap.’

‘
Is that a proposal of marriage?’

‘
Yup, I suppose it is,’ he said shyly.

‘
Mm,’ she said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. ‘So let me get
this clear in my head. You’re asking me to marry you,
right?’

‘
Sure am,’ he said more confidently.

‘
In that case, I accept. But... ‘

‘
But what?’

‘
Between now and whenever the wedding day is, we’ve got a hell
of a lot of fucking to make up and I’m going to get a piece of it
right now.’

Driving exhaustedly from Lancaster to Blackpool in his Metro,
which was constantly buffeted by heavy goods vehicles as they
thundered past on the motorway, Henry Christie started to do
‘nodding dog’ impersonations. He opened a window and let the cool
night breeze waft him into wakefulness. He didn’t particularly want
to end up squashed under the back wheels of a lorry.

Unfortunately, the fresh air had the effect of revitalising
his senses and by the time he reached the outskirts of Blackpool he
was very much awake. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, but
he knew that even if he went to bed now he would be unlikely to
sleep.

So he went cruising up and down the promenade and around town
until somehow, he found himself driving into the back yard of the
central police station.

He was about to turn around and head out when he thought, sod
it. While I’m here I might as well have a look in, see a few
people. He parked and locked his car and walked to the rear
entrance of the building.

Though it was the early hours the place was still buzzing. The
holiday season was underway and the influx of tourists had had the
usual effect of increasing every officer’s workload. Henry wandered
through the corridors and into the CID office where a couple of
night-duty detectives were sat at their desks, ties removed,
scribbling away. They were glad to see him and get the inside story
on Hinksman and the escape. Henry, in turn, was happy to impart his
knowledge.

Eventually he yawned. Tiredness welled over him. He stretched,
said good night, and took his leave.

A couple of minutes later he stepped out of the elevator on
the ground floor and walked down the short corridor to the rear
exit. As he emerged, the cage door of the custody suite on his
right opened and a female tottered out in front of him. She had a
high-heeled shoe in one hand, the other being on her foot, and a
charge sheet in the other.

‘
You’re all fucking wankers,’ she screamed back through the
door. ‘Every single one of you.’

‘
You keep that up, my dear, and you’ll end up back in a cell,’
came the calm voice of the Custody Sergeant. ‘So piss
off.’

Muttering obscenities, she turned and tried to put her shoe on
in the same motion. She lost her balance and careered into Henry
who caught her and placed her upright.

‘
Let go, you cunt,’ she said absently, then: ‘My God! It’s
Henry Christie, isn’t it?’

‘
Well hello, Jane. Long time no see. Still plying the same old
trade?’

‘
How else would I make me livin’,’ she said mockingly, ‘other
than on me back - or in any other position required of
me?’

They had walked down the rear yard past all the parked police
cars until they reached Henry’s battered Metro.

‘
This heap yours?’ laughed Jane. He nodded. ‘Gone down in the
world, ain’t ya?’

‘
Certainly have. Don’t you read the papers?’

‘
No, why? Here - you goin’ my way, Cuntstable? I could do wi’
a lift,’ she stated cheekily.