Hider/Seeker (8 page)

Harry thought Eudoxia had changed her mind about throwing him out of his flat as just under a fortnight had passed since her ultimatum. But he was wrong. When he came through the front door late one evening in the middle of the week he found four large cardboard boxes piled in the corridor. His name was scrawled on each one. Standing next to them, waiting to explain, was Mr Charalambous.

‘I had no choice, she made me do it,' his landlord said apologetically, unable to maintain eye contact.

‘Oh come off it Charlie, I'm dead beat. I've just spent three hours getting my car back from the police compound. They said it was as clean as a whistle.'

‘That's good news for you, but I can do nothing when Eudoxia makes up her mind. You know that.'

‘But I've got nowhere to go,' said Harry. ‘Have some compassion here. I've been on my feet all day.'

‘Don't worry about your record collection, I took good care,' said Mr Charalambous, nodding at one of the boxes by his feet.

‘Let me stay a bit longer.'

‘You think I want to commit suicide?'

‘I'll talk to Eudoxia.'

‘No, no, no, you go Harry. She make me sleep in the back room if you stay.'

‘But it's Christmas Eve.'

There was nothing doing. Mr Charalambous gave a long Greek shrug and reluctantly went over to pick up one of the boxes. Harry was about to stop him when his eyes caught those of Eudoxia's at the top of the landing with a bucket and mop. She stood firm with a stare as cold as a nuclear winter.

After loading all of his belongings into the Volvo, Harry hugged Mr Charalambous awkwardly and told him he had no hard feelings.

As he was about to turn away, Mr Charalambous suddenly remembered something important. ‘Polecat was here, looking for you.'

‘What did he say?'

‘The usual, Harry. He wants his money.'

‘You told him I was out of the country?'

Mr Charalambous became tongue-tied, moving on the spot as if his bladder was about to burst. ‘Eudoxia spoke to him before I could even open my mouth.'

Harry didn't need any further explanation and patted his old friend on the shoulder before opening the car door.

He drove a few blocks to a row of railway arches where he rented a lock up, large enough to swallow up his Volvo. It smelt of grease, car oil and old rubber tyres. He closed the garage doors behind him, and switched on two strip lights that flickered into life.

Harry climbed into the back of the car, catching a whiff of his sweaty body. He began to rummage through one of the boxes. His hand fumbled through jackets, trousers, belts, books, CDs, trainers until it gripped something cold and smooth. He yanked out a full bottle of whisky. It was the first drink he'd had in days, and he thought he deserved it under the circumstances.

Twenty minutes later he was sprawled out on the back seat, calling Bethany about whether she could put him up for a few nights until he found somewhere to live. After a slight hesitation she agreed he could stay a short while with her, adding that she had some news she wanted to tell him.

There was something different in her voice, more in control. She didn't seem frightened any longer of Detective Inspector Gemmell or what he might do if he found Harry staying with her for a few nights. Bethany wasn't even bothered what her mother would say. Her new voice didn't rest well with Harry. It was as if she was somewhere else, somewhere in the future – without him.

He dialled Angela Linehan's number and put the mobile to his ear. It went straight to voicemail, and he hung up. It had been a while since their row in the café that night, and he was getting anxious about being paid. He still had a lot of collateral in his hands, her son's passport, but he wanted cash.

Thoughts about his cash flow were eased away with each throat-load of Scotch, and the glug-glugging of the bottle in his hand. He stopped drinking for a second, and examined the remaining contents of the bottle with one eye. Why was her voice so different, and so detached? Another throat-load of liquor provided no answer.

When Bethany opened her apartment door, the reek of whisky on his breath and clothes made her drop her smile. His eyes were on fire and he had a ridiculous gaping grin. There was nothing in his hand apart from a bottle of Scotch he'd bought on the way over. No suitcase, no toiletries, no toothbrush, no change of clothes, no pyjamas, no nothing. He tripped up on her soft fluffy carpet on the way in and she caught the large round copper plate he knocked off the wall.

‘Bridger, you're drunk,' she shouted.

‘Where are you pushing me to?' he asked as he felt her two hands prodding him in the back.

‘Into the shower,' she said, bundling him through the hall and into the bathroom. ‘You stink to high heaven. You're going to stay in the shower until you sober up.'

He stared down at her as she pulled off his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt.

‘You can take that stupid grin off your face,' she said looking up through a fringe of hair that reminded him of when they first met. She yanked off the shirt, causing a few buttons to pop and scatter across the tiled floor. She got on her knees and began to unbutton his belt. ‘Don't even think about it.'

‘I wasn't thinking anything.'

‘Really?'

‘I'd forgotten how beautiful you are and –'

She stopped to unzip his flies and got off the floor. ‘Enough. You can finish off the rest yourself, and don't forget to take off your socks in the shower.' She turned on the mixer and tested the temperature of the water with her hand. ‘Right, get washed,' she ordered, before slamming the bathroom door behind her.

Harry was stark naked when she re-opened the door a few minutes later, holding out an Egyptian cotton bathrobe. ‘You can put this on when you have finished.' She slammed the door shut again.

After he'd sobered up in the shower, he found her in the lounge sitting by the fire. She looked up at him, his face had lost the grin. ‘For a moment, I thought you were Eddie, standing there in his bathrobe.' She shook her head and smiled. ‘God, you could be brothers. My girlfriends used to think I left you for him because he was the closest man to resemble you. But a more reliable version – a man I could make a home with. It could have been you, I wanted it to be you, but you kept spoiling everything. Always fighting, making enemies, arguing with everyone, including me – never sober. Too much trouble for you to ever bend with the wind? Frightened it might snap you in two if you started making allowances for the rest of us?'

She stopped and invited him to sit down opposite her. He did so, his head still throbbing.

‘It wasn't Ed who'd changed, it was you,' she continued. ‘He'd stopped calling you because he thought you were a lost cause.'

‘That's not true. He threw something my way again, you know.'

‘When?'

‘Recently.'

She thought it over and continued. ‘He never mentioned anything to me about it. I never knew what Eddie got up to at work, but what you told me before about him is simply untrue.'

‘And what do you know about his business partner, Linehan?'

‘Nick?' she said with surprise. ‘Hardly anything. I only met him at those corporate dos I told you about.'

‘And his wife?'

‘She was usually with him.'

‘When I asked you before about Eddie's business, you didn't say anything about them?'

‘Because I knew you'd go troubling Nick about Ed and that would not be a good idea.'

‘Meaning?'

‘Eddie told me that Nick was a dangerous man to know. That's why he never wanted me to become involved with his business.'

‘Did Nick come to see you?'

‘This morning. He told me if I ever needed anything to call him.'

He was about to tell her that Nick Linehan didn't want him to see her ever again when she snapped at him.

‘I don't want to hear any more about this. You understand?'

‘But –'

‘You always spoil things. Whenever you get your hands on something, it ends up getting smashed.'

‘In my book, things are either black or white.' Something his late father would always say.

‘Sometimes you have to leave them unsaid and walk away.'

‘Where are we going with this conversation?'

‘Bridger, you've not changed. Still wanting to take on the whole world – I'm not getting dragged down by you ever again.'

There was a moment of silence between them. Then she took a deep breath and said, ‘The other night was all my fault. We have to put it behind us as if it never happened.'

‘But it did and you liked it.'

‘You know how confused I was. Don't hold it against me.'

He nodded.

She looked at him with forgiving eyes as she prepared herself to make an announcement. ‘Something truly wonderful has happened.'

He looked at her in bewilderment as he couldn't possibly imagine what it might be in her current circumstances.

‘I'm expecting Ed's child.'

The news came like a sucker punch. He fell silent as she continued to gush with excitement.

‘I thought I was late because of shock. But we had been trying for ages and it just occurred to me I should test myself.'

‘I don't know what to say.'

‘Congratulations?'

‘Of course, congratulations.'

‘Eddie wanted so badly to have a family. He was mad on the idea of taking a son to watch Arsenal.'

‘How long had you been trying for?'

‘A year, maybe more. Eddie was always talking about how we would bring up our children together and never spoiling them. You should have seen him. Could you imagine Eddie as a father?'

He couldn't, if he was going to be brutally honest. Nor could he have imagined Ed fathering two kids at the same time. What were the odds on that happening? The world was becoming a strange place.

‘Eddie never had a family when growing up,' Bethany said, ‘but now he's going to.' She looked at Harry, his head bowed. ‘Can't you be happy for me?'

He made a big smile, but with a baby coming along he knew there would be no room for him in her life.

She appeared to read his mind. ‘You never wanted children with me. You told me so.' Bethany then started to giggle, ‘Seriously, you a father?' She continued to laugh.

What was he thinking? She was right. How could she ever trust him bringing up a child with her when he only thought about himself? He started to laugh with her, and when they both stopped he said, ‘If you ever need anything?'

Before she could respond, the intercom phone buzzed.

She told him she was not expecting anyone. There was a second buzz and she got up to answer the phone by the front door. It was the porter informing her that he had Detective Constable Kinnear in reception to see her. She said to send him up and while she waited for the detective to arrive, Harry changed quickly back into the clothes he had left in the bathroom.

Kinnear sat in the lounge with Bethany and brought her up to date with the police investigations as part of a courtesy call. She looked disappointed by the lack of progress and he reassured her that everything possible was being done. He suddenly stopped talking when Harry walked in on them and sat down opposite the detective.

Kinnear turned to Bethany. ‘We did strongly advise you to avoid seeing Mr Bridger.'

‘He's an old friend and I resent your continuing insinuation that there is something going on between us, as we have both made abundantly clear, there isn't.'

‘All the same, we think it best he should not be visiting you.'

Harry interrupted him. ‘I came over to offer my congratulations to Bethany.'

Kinnear stared at her for an explanation.

‘Yes, I'm expecting Eddie's baby.'

The young detective moved uncomfortably on the sofa. ‘Your husband's?'

‘Yes, her husband's,' confirmed Harry. ‘Aren't you going to say something to Bethany?'

‘Of course, congratulations Mrs Parker. This is good news,' he proclaimed without any feeling in his voice. ‘I'm sure you will take much comfort from having a child in your life. In fact, it makes it easier for me to inform you that we shall be releasing your husband's body for burial.'

After the detective left, Bethany poured herself a large brandy and was about to offer Harry one, when she remembered she had only just managed to get him sober. Two mouthfuls and her glass was empty.

I don't think I'm up to arranging a funeral,' she said, putting the glass down on the sideboard.

Harry told her he would take care of all the arrangements and got up to leave.

‘Where are you going?'

‘I don't think it's a good idea me being here.'

‘It's Christmas Bridger, everywhere is shut. Where are you going to go? Stay over…it will be just the three of us.'

‘Three?'

‘Me, you and dear old Mother.'

Just over a dozen mourners had turned up to pay their last respects to Ed Parker. The service at East Finchley Cemetery was short, with a brief eulogy read out by Bethany's younger sister, Jo. The words penned by Bethany were simple; she praised her husband as her steadfast rock, and vowed she would make him a proud father.

Harry watched from the back of the chapel as the coffin, draped with lavender roses and fuchsia orchids, was lifted high on the shoulders of the pallbearers. Bethany, dressed in black, followed them out with her mother and sister. Harry recognised some relations of Ed, and a few old friends from the council estate where they were brought up.

The reverend said a few words over the hum of traffic from the nearby North Circular, before the coffin was lowered. A fist of earth was thrown first by Bethany, then by others. Harry waited to the end to cast his.

He was just a small boy when he first met Ed kicking a punctured football at the rec. A life-long friendship was made over a game of three-and-in. But as he stood at the foot of Ed's grave, Harry didn't know what he felt at that precise moment. Ed had thrown their friendship away when he lied about Angela Linehan. He even managed to take Bethany away from him for a second time, now that a child was on the way. Harry bid his farewell to a man he thought he knew, and then nodded to the cemetery workers in thick boots and donkey jackets to close the grave.

Most of the mourners had disappeared, and he returned to the car park at the top of the long path. He found Gemmell waiting for him by his car. The detective acknowledged Harry with a short nod as they came face to face.

‘Mrs Parker asked me to wait for you,' said Gemmell. ‘Always a relief when these things are over.'

‘I'm surprised to see you here.'

‘It's part of my duty to attend the services of the deceased. Hopefully, she'll get closure when we find who killed her husband, although she may not like learning what he got up to.'

‘Sounds like you're onto something.'

‘Maybe.'

‘Nothing to do with a property deal that went sour?'

‘Don't suppose you would like to elucidate on that?' Gemmell didn't blink while he waited for a reply.

‘That's all I heard,' said Harry, hoping he'd planted a big enough seed in the detective's head where to look.

‘I wouldn't hold back on anything, if I were you.'

Harry was tempted to hand Nick Linehan on a plate, but decided against it as it would create too many complications for himself. He remained silent.

Gemmell looked disappointed by the lack of cooperation and stepped aside. ‘Don't let me keep you.'

Harry opened the car door.

‘I heard you moved,' said Gemmell, continuing. ‘Where can I find you?'

‘At a B&B called the Shangri-La in Finsbury Park.'

‘Sounds real classy.'

Bethany's sister had provided too much drink at her flat in Chalk Farm. The mood was already boisterous by the time Harry arrived. Ed's old pals, which were also his old pals, had loosened their ties, along with their tongues. They made a small cheer as Harry stepped into the flat, vexing Elizabeth who had expected a little more decorum at a wake. But it made Bethany smile. It was like old times, seeing the boys all together again. She sat in the armchair with a gin and tonic in her hand, waiting for Harry to finish chatting to his mates. Bethany finally caught his eye, and he went over to see her. He kissed her cheek.

‘Should you be drinking that in your condition?' he asked.

‘I've just buried my husband.' She sounded a little tipsy, a little edgy, as if supressing her anger about something.

‘How much have you had?'

There was a titter from her sister who was about to top up Bethany's glass, but Harry put his hand over it to stop Jo.

‘Gemmell's onto something,' he told Bethany.

She emptied her glass down her throat and said, ‘About time. I can't stand this not knowing any longer.'

‘You might find out things you won't like.'

With all the hubbub in the room it was difficult to hear each other. She pulled Harry's sleeve so that he would come closer to her. ‘Was Ed seeing someone?' she asked.

It caught him off guard, but at least it explained her mood. ‘What makes you say that?'

‘Because it is the only thing I haven't considered, and now I can't get the thought out of my head.'

‘Well, he wasn't,' said Harry.

‘Liar.'

He shrugged his shoulders, pretending not to understand.

‘I can tell from your reaction. You know something, don't you? Who is she, Bridger? Who?'

Harry made an excuse to get a drink. She followed him to the kitchen where there were bottles of spirits and kegs of Becks. He poured himself a whisky and she grabbed his arm, preventing him from drinking.

‘Tell me,' she demanded.

Three of Jo's friends grazing on a pile of sandwiches on the kitchen table looked across and decided to leave them on their own.

Harry stared down at her hand gripping his arm and she removed it. He knocked the drink back, and put the empty glass on the counter. ‘You're going to have to trust me.'

‘What's this all about?'

‘I have to go.'

‘Harry wait.' She ran after him to the front door, spilling the drinks of a couple standing in the hall. But he didn't stop, and slammed the front door as he left.