Blind Alley (37 page)

Brady had handed over 200 quid for the team to celebrate. They deserved it. It had been a gruelling two months with some serious fuck-ups along the way, but they had somehow managed to turn it around. He was now leaning over the bar in the Fat Ox nursing a pint and not much in the mood for celebrating.

He turned to Harvey and gave him a weak smile.

‘If I start I won’t stop.’ It was an honest answer.

‘Doesn’t sound too bad to me. It’s not as if you’ve got to be back in at the crack of dawn tomorrow, is it?’

Brady shot Harvey a look as if to say: ‘How the fuck did you know?’

‘You’re not serious?’

‘Gates has demanded to see me. His office, eight thirty a.m.’

‘What a tight-arsed bastard! You turn three bloody cases round in five days, I mean five fucking days, and he’s calling you in the morning after you’ve maybe closed the biggest investigation of your career? To what? Congratulate you?’

‘Yeah.’ There was nothing more Brady could say.

‘Surely he knows that the team . . . no, make that most of the station are here tonight getting bladdered?’ Harvey asked, incredulous.

‘Yeah, I think that’s his point.’ The last thing Brady needed right now was Harvey reminding him.

‘What the fuck is that about then?’ Harvey asked as he signalled to Gaye for two more pints.

Brady shrugged. But he knew exactly what it was about. He had kept his head down and had somehow managed to avoid Gates. He had no idea how, but he had. Then Conrad had walked into the pub with the news that Gates wanted to see him at 8:30 precisely.

‘There you go, pet. You look like you need it,’ Gaye said as she handed Brady a fresh pint.

‘Thanks, Gaye,’ he muttered.

He liked her. She always had time for a chat when it was quiet. She was a small woman in her early fifties with short blonde hair and a smile for every customer. Despite her size she had a way of handling trouble when it came in. Brady had witnessed her successfully bar four skinheads who were on the lash and out to wreak mayhem. He still didn’t quite know how she did it.

‘You want to talk about it?’ she asked, concerned at the state he was in.

She had known Brady for over ten years. The exact length of time she had run the place.

‘No,’ Brady answered with a weak smile.

‘Ignore him, Gaye. He’s just being a miserable bastard for the sake of it! Likes the job too much. That’s his problem. Look at the rest of the team, eh? Celebrating because we’ve closed an investigation and what’s this miserable sod doing? Looking depressed! Some people are never happy!’

Harvey laughed as he clapped Brady on the back again before walking off towards the raucous crowd shouting and cheering at the back end of the pub. The troublemakers belonged to Brady. It was a collection of his team members and other officers who had been called in to help work the serial rape case.

Brady looked over for Conrad. He seemed to be having a good time. He was already on his third pint. Conrad had worked up quite a thirst – they all had. But for some reason Brady was struggling to drink. He swilled the dregs at the bottom of his glass around. He couldn’t shake his mood. It was the knowledge he had to face Gates in the morning.

Shit . . .

Brady had no idea what he was going to say. Let alone how he was going to excuse his actions. He would just have to wait and find out what Gates wanted. But he knew that the outcome wouldn’t be good.

‘Hey, penny for them?’ Amelia said as she joined Brady.

‘You’d want your money back if I told you,’ he replied.

He turned and looked at her. She was leaning over the bar trying to catch one of the bar staff’s attention.

She looked as stunning as ever.

‘What? What’s wrong? Have I smudged my lipstick or something?’ Amelia asked, realising he was staring at her.

‘No . . . You look perfect,’ Brady answered without thinking. ‘I mean . . . no you . . . you’re fine. Your lipstick’s fine.’

He suddenly focused his attention on the dregs in the pint glass in front of him. He picked it up and drained it.

Brady’s awkwardness made Amelia feel embarrassed.

She turned away and tried to catch the eye of one of the bartenders again. She failed.

‘Large white wine, please, Gaye?’ Brady called out as the proprietor walked past.

‘Thanks,’ Amelia said.

‘Doesn’t say that much about me though, does it?’

Amelia didn’t get his drift.

‘That I’m on first term names with the bar staff?’

She broke into a smile. ‘I see.’

Brady handed over a tenner to Gaye as he gestured that the wine in her hand was for Amelia. ‘Keep the change.’

Gaye shot him a winning smile in return but handed him his change back.

‘Keep your money, Jack. You’ve already spent enough tonight on that lot,’ Gaye said as she looked over at the group of rowdy drinkers.

‘So, who’s this lovely young lady, then?’ Gaye asked, turning her attention back to Brady. It had been a long time since she’d seen Jack Brady with an attractive young woman. The last woman who actually suited Brady had been Claudia, his ex-wife. She hadn’t seen Claudia since they’d separated but in a funny way this woman reminded her of Claudia.

Brady’s face became flushed. ‘No one,’ he quickly answered. Too quickly.

He felt Amelia’s eyes on him. ‘I mean . . . Yes, this is Amelia. She’s a work colleague. Amelia this is Gaye – who likes to embarrass me. And Gaye, this is—’

Gaye smiled at his discomfort. ‘Amelia,’ she cut in. ‘I know. Don’t you just love him?’

Amelia turned to Brady. She bit her bottom lip, getting red lipstick on her teeth. ‘I don’t know. Is he worth loving?’

Gaye laughed. ‘The jury’s still out on that one, pet.’

Brady had his head bent down and focused on the second pint Harvey had ordered for him.

‘It’s OK. I’m going now. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.’ She shot Brady a mischievous smile before walking off to serve another customer.

‘She seems to know you well,’ Amelia commented.

‘Knows everything about me. So if there’s anything you want to ask, Gaye’s the woman.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Amelia replied as she watched Brady.

He still had his head bent down, staring into his pint.

‘You all right, Jack?’

He shrugged. ‘I dunno. Depends what happens tomorrow with Gates.’

‘Oh . . .’

‘Yeah. He wants to see me first thing.’

‘That’s shit.’

Brady turned and looked at Amelia. It was the first time he had heard her swear.

‘Yeah,’ he agreed. It was shit.

‘What do you think he’ll say?’

‘You’re the shrink. You tell me,’ Brady answered as he looked at her.

Her brown eyes were filled with genuine concern. ‘I wish I had the answer. But I don’t.’

He dropped her gaze and turned back to his pint.

‘Jack?’ she asked as she touched his arm.

It was gentle and reassuring.

‘Jack?’ she repeated, wanting him to look at her.

Reluctantly he turned.

‘Look, you’re not really in the mood for this are you? This whole end of investigation celebration thing?’

Brady looked at her, waiting for her to say it. From the look in her eye he had an idea of what was coming.

She faltered. Not sure whether she should.

But there was something in Brady’s face that told her he already knew what she was about to say – and that he was receptive.

‘Why don’t you come back to mine? I’ll open a bottle of wine and cook us some supper,’ she said.

‘You sure?’ Brady asked. ‘I don’t want to be some sad charity case.’

Amelia smiled at him. ‘Believe me, you’ll never be that.’

‘OK. If you’re sure,’ he answered, returning her smile.

Brady knew it was time to move his life on. So much had happened to him in the past eighteen months and now . . . He had no idea what the outcome of tomorrow would be. Let alone tonight. But he was willing to take a chance.

‘Great. Give me two minutes while I go to the—’ she gestured towards the toilets.

Amelia seemed nervous. As if she didn’t quite trust her luck.

‘Go on. I’ll still be here,’ Brady said, picking up his pint.

‘Two minutes?’

Brady nodded. His dark brown eyes filled with amusement.

He watched as she turned on her heels and walked over the uneven flagstones to the Ladies. He couldn’t quite believe his luck. That after all this time she was still interested.

Amelia was thinking exactly the same thing as she went to the bathroom to compose herself. She spent a few minutes reapplying her lipstick, checking her eye make-up and her hair. Then she readjusted her black woollen dress. She wished she had gone home and changed into something more seductive instead of coming straight from work.

She stared at herself in the mirror as she went through a mental check-list.

Was the apartment tidy? Shit! What about the bedroom? It looked like a bomb had gone off. Were the sheets clean? Shit!

Amelia bit her lip as she tried to steady her nerves. The last thing she wanted was for Brady to see her in this state – like some nervous teenager on her first date.

By the time she had composed herself and come back out into the pub, Brady had gone.

Amelia walked over to the bar, ignoring the sickening, ominous feeling she had.

He’s gone to the Gents. No big deal
.

The empty pint convinced her that was the case.

She took a sip of white wine as she waited anxiously for him to return.

When Gaye saw her she came straight over.

Amelia smiled, trying her best to look relaxed.

‘I’m sorry, pet, Jack asked me to pass on his apologies. Some call came in. Said it was an emergency.’ She gave Amelia a sympathetic smile before walking off.

It took a couple of seconds for Amelia to absorb the information.

She looked at the glass in her hand, resisting the urge to drink it in one go. She didn’t hear any of the cheering and clapping coming from the bottom of the pub. All she could think about was whether Jack Brady often brought women in here. And how often he had humiliated them.

Amelia put the glass down firmly on the bar and walked out.

Chapter Forty-Five

When he returned home he found Claudia in the kitchen with a large glass of Sancerre in her hand. She had conveniently let herself in and helped herself to the contents of the fridge. It had never crossed his mind to change the locks when she left.

‘You weren’t saving that, were you?’ she asked, pointing at the wine bottle.

Brady looked at the open bottle on the worktop. It was nearly empty.

She already had a glass poured for him. Brady picked it up.

‘Thanks,’ he said, raising the glass at her.

She wouldn’t look at him. And he knew why. She’d been crying. He knew Claudia – had known her . . .

‘I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t have rung you. I shouldn’t have come back here of all places. I . . . I . . . God! . . . don’t know any more!’ Claudia said as tears escaped down her face. She had been trying to rein it in; hold herself together.

Brady remained silent. He was resisting the urge to take her in his arms; to hold her wild, unruly curly red head of hair against his chest and just . . .
Just what?

Claudia no longer existed in his life.

So why the fuck was she here? But crucially, why was he?

She’d rung him while Amelia had been in the toilets. She’d been desperate. Claudia was never desperate. He knew then that something serious was wrong. She only had to say one word. One name and he left. Without hesitation.

Claudia took a large mouthful of wine. Anything to stop her crying.

It took her a few moments before she could actually look at him.

‘Shit, Jack! What happened to your face?’ she asked, momentarily forgetting her own troubles.

‘It’s nothing,’ Brady answered as he shook his head.

This wasn’t about him. It was about her. And the reason why she was standing barefoot in his kitchen, drinking his wine.

Claudia’s emerald green eyes were filled with sadness. Usually they were filled with intense irritation when she looked at Brady.

‘Claudia?’

She shrugged, still unable to get the words out.

Brady took a drink. He needed one.

He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

He couldn’t stop himself looking at her. He hated himself for thinking it. But she was perfect to him in every way. As he stood there, mesmerised by Claudia’s presence, Amelia and his promise to go back to hers melted into the background.

She was the perfect height for him. Her figure was shapely – sexy. She was the antithesis of the fashion fascists’ prepubescent ideal. She was what the average bloke found desirable; rounded hips, full breasts and a narrow waist that accentuated her voluptuousness. She even had perfectly symmetrical features. High cheek bones complimented by delicate, pale naked lips. The wild, curly red hair and vibrant green eyes just added to everything else. Then there was her searing intellect, which at times had caught Brady out. Even hurt him. She was everything he was not: middle-class background, University educated and ultimately privileged.