Exposure (37 page)

‘They want you to go round ahead of them and soften the toms up. They know you, it might help.'

Mandy Kent said, yes, both girls did know her, but she didn't hold out much hope they'd be co-operative. She'd go and catch them at home half an hour before the CID arrived. They were staying with another girl and her boyfriend in Brixton Road. It was a heavily coloured area and they felt safer there. Mandy changed out of uniform; it made her less threatening. Tracey, with her broken jaw and multiple injuries from that beating, and Tina her friend, were the only witnesses who could tie in their ex-boyfriend with that bracelet.

She found the place on the busy Brixton Road, a run-down wreck of a mid-Victorian house, cracked walls, windows on the ground floor boarded up, a few curtains hanging drunkenly on the first-floor windows. There was no bell, only an old-fashioned cast-iron knocker. Mandy banged on the front door, and after a long wait and a second series of knocks, a young woman with a baby on her hip opened the door. Mandy said in a friendly way, ‘I've come to see Tina and Tracey – are they in, love?'

‘Upstairs, dear,' the girl said. The baby smiled enchantingly at Mandy who smiled back and touched the smooth fat cheek.

‘Sweet kid,' she said. ‘How old?'

‘Fourteen months. Always laughin' … never cries.' The girl had a West Indian lilt in her voice. ‘First floor,' she told Mandy, and stood aside to let her pass.

The bruising and swelling had gone down on Tracey's face. Her jaw was mending, but still painful. She looked haggard and miserable. Tina was always the stronger personality of the two; she had more self-confidence.

‘I thought I'd drop in and see how you were getting on,' Mandy said. Both girls were expressionless.

‘Taken up social work, then?' Tina asked.

Mandy didn't rise. ‘No. Just a routine follow up. In my own time. How's it going, Tracey?'

‘All right,' it was a mumble. ‘I'm mending.'

‘That bastard know where you are?'

‘No,' Tina answered. ‘And he's not going to find out. Soon as she gets the nod from the doctor we're going up to Liverpool. My friend's got a friend there.' She looked at the policewoman with suspicion. ‘What do you want? And don't give me any “friendly” crap. You're a copper. So why are you bothering us?' She stood with both hands on her hips. She wasn't afraid of the cow. She and Tracey were both clean. No men, no drugs, nothing since it happened. She glared at the symbol of white authority. People like her had been pushing her around since she was a skinny teenager, put into care because she was working the pubs for a few quid to feed and clothe herself after both parents walked out and disappeared, taking her little brother and leaving her behind. Mandy didn't answer. Or react. Then she opened her bag and took out a packet of cigarettes.

‘Mind if I light up? Want one?' She proffered the packet.

‘No,' Tina snapped. ‘Why don't you just leave us alone?'

Mandy Kent made a police decision. Nothing would be gained by being nice. No hearts and minds to be won with either of them.

‘Because I can't,' she said. ‘There're other police officers on their way here. They want to ask you some questions. Serious questions. You won't talk back to them, Tina. Or you'll find yourself down at the station in real trouble.'

Dealing with criminals for the last ten years had hardened Mandy Kent. It had made her the match for any of them when it came to being tough. Tina's dark skin paled. The girl, Tracey, made a frightened sound.

‘What trouble?' Tina wasn't cowed yet. ‘We've done nothing, we're not in any trouble.'

Mandy Kent said, ‘That bracelet, the one that caused the row and got you both beaten up … It was stolen. Did you know that?'

‘No,' Tina sat down suddenly. Theft. They could hang anything they liked on her. She didn't know where it came from, only that Joe gave it to her.

‘It was a present. He gave it to me. I told you.'

‘I know you did,' Mandy agreed. ‘We ran the description through on a computer and it came up. Stolen property. Part of a robbery in Midhurst. And you didn't know?'

She saw Tracey turn in anguish and Tina got up and slipped an arm round her protectively. She had suspected, and she was sure now, that in their own time, the girls were lovers.

‘We knew nothing,' Tina said fiercely, thinking of Tracey, not herself. ‘He just gave it to me one day. Said, “Here's a present for you.” I'd given him a good time the night before. We both had. He was feeling really generous … We never stole anything.'

‘If you didn't,' Mandy suggested, ‘maybe he did?'

Tina's scorn was genuine. ‘Him? Steal a crappy thing like that? He was in the money … big money. He didn't need to thieve.'

‘Well, he got it from somewhere, didn't he?'

Tina shrugged, still holding on to her friend. ‘Must have. Look, what's this all about? You're trying to scare us—'

‘I'm not,' the answer was very calmly spoken, and the look was hard. Tina had seen its kind before and she bit back an insult. ‘You wouldn't give evidence against this man Joe Patrick, would you? You let him half kill your girlfriend but you were too chicken to charge him. Not that I blame you. You were right to be scared, Tina. Shit scared of what he'd do to you. But if you and Tracey want to get back at him and be in the clear yourselves, now's your chance.'

Tina sneered. ‘On thieving a bracelet …?'

‘On thieving a bracelet,' Mandy agreed. ‘A bracelet that belonged to a sixty-eight-year-old widow who was burgled, raped and beaten to death.' She pushed back her coat sleeve and checked her watch. ‘It's murder, Tina. The CID will be here any minute. I hope you two have good memories. They'll be asking you a lot of questions.'

She got up and turned her back on them. She drew back the flimsy curtain on its sagging wire and looked down into the street below. The squad car came into view, its blue light flashing, the thin wail of the siren came through the badly warped window frame. Joe Patrick. They'd learnt a lot about him since that first check – a one-time pimp, a petty crook who had gone on to bigger and better things in the criminal world, posing as a businessman. But, elusive as an eel, never convicted for lack of evidence. He might live to regret losing his temper with his girlfriends. But she had done her part. The rest was the responsibility of the Murder Squad. She turned back to them. The girls were sitting side by side, staring at her. They could hear the loud rattle of the iron door knocker from below.

‘I'll be off now,' she said, and walked out of the door as the first steps echoed on the bare stairs up to the landing.

‘You can't stay here on your own,' Ben insisted. His daughter looked up at him. She was pale and hollow eyed, but in control.

‘Biddy's here,' she said. ‘She'll look after me.' The student she shared with had been kind and anxious to help, but she couldn't stay away from her classes to keep Lucy company.

‘I know,' Ben agreed gently. ‘And she's a sweet kid, but she can't be here in the day. Listen, Lucy, you're going to feel shaky for a week or so. The impact hasn't sunk in yet. You're still in shock. Let me take care of you. Just for a little while. Please.'

She had made a good recovery, and the medical staff felt she would benefit from living in her own environment. The sad little funeral was over, and Ben refused to go down to London and leave her to grief and loneliness. Her mother had been contacted; Ben felt she was secretly relieved at the resolution of Lucy's problem, but he didn't say so. His ex-wife was openly relieved when he assured her that it wasn't necessary to interrupt her stay with her parents-in-law. He would remain with Lucy and look after her. He had spoken to her husband for the first time.

His
mother was in her eighties, and far from well.… He didn't really feel they ought to hurry back if he, Ben, was coping with the situation. He was very sorry to hear what had happened, of course, and please give his best to Lucy. Thank God she was all right, that was the main thing …

It's my responsibility, Ben decided, and prepared to do tactful battle with his daughter for her own good. He'd let that responsibility slip all those years ago when he made the job his first priority. He was not going to fail his child a second time.

Julia was out of London, taking time off to be with her parents in Surrey. He didn't have to worry about her, and it eased his mind to think of her staying with them. She had sounded unworried about being away from the office; it was out of character but he didn't question it. She knew what she was doing; he had never tried to direct her life except when he felt she was in danger, and it had the opposite effect. And he was relieved she wasn't on her own. He didn't feel pressured. He didn't have to hurry Lucy into going back with him. Speaking to Julia he poured out his anxieties for his daughter, and even admitted to a pang of personal grief for the stillborn child. So Julia didn't burden him with the news that they were both out of a job. That could wait. He needed time to sort out his personal difficulties, and, she realized, expunge a sense of guilt for that marriage break-up all those years ago. She realized it made her love him even more.

‘Darling,' she told him, ‘Lucy can stay with us. We've an extra bedroom, and we might even take her away for a few days. Do you good as well.' And when he protested that he actually had to go back to the office before too long, she said disarmingly that he could worry about that when he was back in London.

‘All right, Dad.' Lucy had surprised him by giving in sooner than he expected. ‘All right, I'll come south with you. I can't stand seeing you doing the cooking and washing-up another minute …' She'd managed a smile at him when she said it. ‘If you're sure there's room … and your girlfriend doesn't mind. I don't want to get in your space—'

‘She wants you,' he said firmly. ‘She's been asking to meet you for God knows how long. And you'll like each other. I guarantee it. How about we go tomorrow?'

‘Day after?' Lucy asked him. ‘I want to sort things out and get myself organized. I want to go and see my Principal and make sure they'll keep my place open.'

‘Day after tomorrow would be fine,' Ben said. ‘I'll ring Julia tonight and tell her. Thanks, sweetheart. I would have missed you like crazy …'

‘I must go home,' Julia said. ‘I've been dodging the issue long enough. It's been lovely unburdening everything but it's really time to go and sort myself out. And see a lawyer. Before I go and talk to my ex-employer's contract department.'

‘You do that, darling,' May Hamilton said. ‘Don't you let them cheat you out of a penny that's due to you!'

Julia laughed. ‘Don't worry, Mum. I'm not your daughter for nothing. I won't! And thanks for being so supportive. You and Dad have been angels.'

‘Nonsense,' both parents insisted. ‘And you and Ben are coming for Christmas, don't forget. And if his daughter's still with you, bring her too. We'd love it.'

Julia drove back to London in a glow of gratitude and thankfulness for both of them.

When her telephone rang at six o'clock, she put down the ginger cat who had dug herself into her lap, delighted to have company, and rushed to answer. It might be Ben …

‘Hello, Julia Hamilton …' It buzzed in her ear before the words were out. Wrong number or misdial, she thought, and picked up Pussy who was sulking at having been put down. The porter had fed her daily as instructed, but she missed her human friends and relieved her feelings by scratching vigorously at the upholstered sofa.

She lifted her back on to her lap and stroked the silky fur. Funny how fond she had grown of Ben's cat. It gave her a feeling of calm and domesticity to fuss over her. Dogs were her parents' passion, but they lived in the country. London flats were no places for dogs. Maybe one day, if she and Ben moved …

She caught herself in surprise. Jumping the gun, as her father would say. Going far into the future. It wasn't like her to think impractically. Three days removed from the mainstream in sleepy Surrey and she'd gone soft. It made her smile. Those musings were for much later in her life. When she had finished what she had set out to do.
Harold King
.

No doubt Evelyn Western was telling the truth. There
was
an affidavit signed by a dead German mechanic exonerating William Western of the intention to murder an unarmed prisoner … Whether it was genuine was something else. But who was to disprove it? Very clever, she thought bitterly. They'd got a fail-safe, by bribery or God knew how. Then why hadn't they felt secure enough to see off King's first blackmail and shut Richard Watson's mouth? She sat up sharply.

Of course they couldn't, because the stooge in Strasbourg was still alive! Western couldn't risk a confrontation or have his witness brought into court. Now, with its signatory beyond cross-examination, that affidavit would hold up in court. Harold King was going for the jugular, and William Western had weighed the risk and decided to strike first. He'd fired her in a fit of fury, frustrated that she had opened the closet on his skeleton and failed to incriminate King. Maybe he regretted it. But she didn't. She had been careful with her salary; she had enough saved to go ahead alone.

And to look after Ben if he'd been less provident. There'd be offers pouring in for both of them. They could name their price anywhere in the media world. That was no cause for worry.

The telephone shrilled again. ‘Julia? Hi, it's me, Felix.'

‘Felix? Well, hello. How are you?' She hadn't thought of him for so long, his voice was quite a shock. Antagonism rose in her; the same cocky, casual tones grated on her, reminding her of a relationship that shamed and irritated her.

‘I'm fine. I've been trying to get you for a couple of days, but you forgot to switch on your machine.'