Road Closed (24 page)

When they were younger, Geraldine had envied Hannah her looks. Geraldine watched her now, slightly overweight, her face puffy from crying, and sighed, remembering the girl she had met at school. Nothing had seemed to dent Hannah’s high spirits back then. As best friends, they had gone around pretending to be sisters. A fierce longing threatened Geraldine’s self possession; Hannah was the only person with whom she could share the terrible secret of her birth.

It was an effort to focus on her friend’s problem. ‘You have to talk to him, Han. You’ve come too far to let it all go. You have to talk.’

‘I’ve tried. He won’t.’

‘Have you tried mediation?’

‘He won’t. I know he won’t.’

‘Have you tried? Have you asked him?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘What if he’s met someone else? Someone younger. Someone who isn’t cluttered with children.’

‘They’re his children too. He’s hardly going to think of them as clutter. Please, Han, stop crying. It won’t help. It’ll only make you feel worse. Now think about it. You don’t know he’s met someone else. It’s hardly likely. And even if he has, even if he’s going through some pathetic midlife crisis, you’re still his wife. You’ve got children. Even if you’re right, and it all
turns out to be as bad as it could possibly be, life still goes on. He’s not going to leave you.’ She rambled on uncertainly, but it didn’t matter what she said. Hannah wasn’t listening.

Geraldine cleared the table, removed the wine glasses, and brewed coffee. When she returned from the kitchen, Hannah had calmed down. Geraldine’s relief was short lived.

‘Geraldine, I’ve got a plan.’ Geraldine poured the coffee. ‘You can help me.’ Geraldine handed Hannah a cup and waited. ‘I need you to find out if there’s someone else.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to ask him yourself? He’s hardly going to tell me.’

‘I don’t mean ask him outright. I mean I want you to find out.’

‘How am I supposed to do that?’

‘I don’t know. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Detective work. That’s your job, finding out about people.’

Geraldine put her cup down. ‘You expect me to spy on Jeremy?’

‘Exactly. Who else can I ask? It’s perfect. You’re a detective –’

‘Stop saying that,’ Geraldine interrupted. ‘You know I can’t.’

‘Why not? You’re a detective, aren’t you? That’s what you do.’

‘No, that’s not what I do. I work in serious crime, Hannah, not checking on people who might or might not be cheating on their wives.’

‘Geraldine, you’ve got to help me.’

It took Geraldine some time to convince Hannah that there was no way she could deploy police resources to set up round the clock surveillance on Jeremy.

‘I was always there for you,’ Hannah kept repeating. It was past midnight by the time Geraldine left, promising to call Hannah the next day.

‘I’m sorry, I really do have to go. I’ve still got some reports I need to reread for tomorrow.’

‘You always put work first.’ Geraldine winced at the bitterness in Hannah’s voice.

‘You’re tired and you need to get some sleep,’ she answered gently. ‘You’ll have to be up for the kids in the morning.’

At the thought of her children, Hannah’s face relaxed into a tearful smile. ‘Ben’s got a football party tomorrow. You’re right, Gerry, life goes on, I suppose.’

‘Life goes on,’ Geraldine agreed. Mark had left her and she hadn’t heard from Craig. ‘Life goes on,’ she repeated firmly. But not for everyone. Not for Evelyn Green, or Thomas Cliff, white faced in the mortuary. A memory of her mother’s funeral whipped unexpectedly into her mind and she blinked. ‘Reports to read,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Work to do.’ Men might dump her but she could always rely on work to be waiting for her.

43

Fire

Brenda squirmed. The sheets smelled warm and sweaty. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep. Downstairs she thought she heard a door close. Apart from that the house was quiet. She glanced up. It was a moonlit night. Through a gap between the curtain and the edge of the window she could see the rooftops over the road, sparkling in the rain. She pulled the duvet tight under her chin, snug and warm in bed. Too warm. She flung the covers off and wriggled her toes. Her legs were aching. A sudden cramp gripped her in the guts. She sat up clutching her stomach and gasping. The pain eased as quickly as it had started and she lay back down on the bed, relieved. Even without the covers she felt nice and warm, as though she was lying in a hot bath. There was a familiar smell she couldn’t place.

‘Cal?’ she whispered. She called his name again, slightly louder this time. ‘Cal?’ He didn’t answer. ‘Why can’t I go with you?’ she asked out loud. It was too late. He had already gone. She remembered stumbling upstairs to get dressed so she could go with him. As she was searching for underwear, she had heard the front door slam. Cal had gone for a drink without her. He was always going out without her. ‘He’ll be back soon,’ she told herself. ‘He never stays away for long.’ She half sat up and pummelled her pillow. ‘He always comes back.’

She lay down and began to cry, snuffling into the duvet. She wiped her runny nose with the edge of her pillow case. Cal went out all the time. He hardly ever took her with him.
It wasn’t fair. Cal spent more time with Ray than he did with her. She was glad Ray couldn’t walk. It served him right. She wished he would go back where he came from and leave her and Cal alone. They had been fine without him. They didn’t need him in their house. He didn’t belong there, not like her and Cal. ‘We belong to each other,’ she whispered.

Whenever she went downstairs Ray was there. And every time she and Cal went out, Ray was at Cal’s side, his head hunched down as he hung on Cal’s words. The pavement wasn’t wide enough to walk three abreast so Brenda had to tag along behind them. It was as though she didn’t exist.

‘He can help out with the bills,’ Cal had explained when he had first brought Ray home, but they didn’t seem to have any more money now that Ray was sleeping in the spare bedroom. ‘It makes sense,’ Cal had told her. ‘The room’s empty, he needs somewhere to live, and he can pay us.’ She had nodded. At the time it had seemed like a clever idea. Now she wasn’t so sure.

‘Where’s the money, Cal?’ she had asked him once.

‘What money’s that then? What are you talking about, you daft cow?’

‘The money, Cal. You said there’d be more money for us, with Ray sleeping in the spare room.’ Cal hadn’t answered. ‘Where’s the money, Cal?’ she had repeated.

He had turned on her then. ‘What do you want with more money? I give you everything don’t I? What more do you want? Ungrateful cow.’

She wasn’t ungrateful. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, but she couldn’t stop crying.

‘Cal?’ she called out again, as though saying his name would make him walk through the door. It was growing warmer. The
smell was stronger. Like burnt toast. She wondered where Cal was and what he was doing. She opened her eyes and listened. From downstairs she thought she could hear someone calling. She pulled herself out of bed and hobbled to the top of the stairs.

‘Cal?’ she answered. ‘Is that you, Cal?’ Perhaps he had come home and wanted a cup of tea. ‘Do you want a cup of tea, Cal?’ She heard a voice. It didn’t sound like Cal. ‘Is that you, Cal?’ There was no reply. She blinked. Her eyes were going funny. Everything looked misty, as though the hall was full of smoke. Brenda had wanted to get her eyes tested, but that cost money.

‘Everything looks blurred,’ she had complained.

Cal had told her not to fuss. ‘Ignore it, it’s just the dope, you silly cow.’

Brenda coughed. She didn’t dare tell Cal she was scared of losing her eyesight. One of the girls at Bronxy’s had gone blind. Cal would only laugh at her fears. Worse, if he believed she was going blind, he wouldn’t want her any more. The best thing she could do was have a good sleep. When she woke up her eyes would be all right again.

‘You’re just tired,’ she told herself. ‘That’s all. Just tired.’ When you needed to sleep she knew it went to your eyes first. That was why her eyes were going funny.

‘Look at you,’ Bronxy had complained the last time she had seen Brenda. ‘Your eyes are all bloodshot and you’ve got bags under there you could carry the shopping home in. You look like you haven’t slept for a week. Go and get some rest for fuck’s sake. I couldn’t put you on the stage looking like that.’ Bronxy called it a stage although it was more like a platform. Bronxy liked to talk about her show, as though the Lagoon was a proper theatre. Somewhere with a bit of class. Brenda smiled at the memory and then winced as she stretched out on the bed again.

She was feeling really hot now. Her eyes had gone funny again. She tried to go to sleep but her head hurt and the smell was bothering her. She wished Cal would come home. He had been gone for ages. She wondered where he was and what he was doing. She hoped he had only gone to the pub for a quick drink, and not out for the night on a job. In the distance she heard a siren wailing and shivered. She hoped they weren’t out there looking for Cal.

PART 4

‘I have
sent
to
seek
him
and
to
find
the
body.
How
dangerous
is
it
that
this
man
goes
loose!’

Hamlet
- William Shakespeare

44

Arson

The Incident Room was bustling on Tuesday morning. The duty sergeant was rushing around, keeping everyone up to speed with developments. Geraldine arrived early and reread the latest reports before the briefing began.

‘You’re all aware by now of last night’s incident in Garden Street,’ the DCI said, looking round the room. ‘The Fire Investigation Team have given us their initial report.’ He paused. ‘We’re looking at arson.’

‘Is that definite?’ someone asked.

Ryder nodded. ‘It seems there’s no doubt about it.’ He looked down at his notes. ‘The fire started in the back room downstairs, used as a living room.’ Geraldine and Peterson exchanged a glance. They had been in that room the previous afternoon, interviewing Raymond Barker just hours before the fire started. ‘The Fire Investigation Team found traces of accelerant. The carpet was doused in petrol and set alight. This was deliberate.’ Someone whistled. Ryder ran his hands through his hair. ‘On Saturday there’s a gas explosion and Thomas Cliff dies of smoke inhalation in the ensuing fire.’ He glanced at the victim’s picture on the Incident Board. ‘Sophie Cliff believes Raymond Barker’s responsible. The day after she sees him here, he’s assaulted in the street by a woman, according to his statement. Of course he may be lying to protect someone.’

‘By someone you mean Callum Martin,’ Bennett said.

The DCI nodded before continuing. ‘The hospital patched him up and sent him home and now, two days later, while
he’s unable to get about easily, someone sets fire to his house. He was lucky to survive. He’s in hospital now, still unconscious. They’ve promised to call us as soon as he’s fit to be questioned. That’s two attacks on Barker in two days. I’ve put him under round the clock surveillance for the time being. The moment he comes round we need to see what he can tell us.’

He rifled through his notes. ‘The Fire Officers found him in the back room where the fire started. He only survived because his armchair tipped over, trapping him underneath it. The chair offered him some protection from the heat and flames, and being on the floor he managed to escape the worst effects of the smoke, in a kind of air pocket beneath the chair. The chair crushed Barker’s foot. He’ll never walk properly again. But he survived. They’re still examining the scene. In the meantime, while we’re waiting for him to come round, we need to speak to the other person who was in the house at the time.’

‘Someone else was in the house when the fire started?’ Bennett sounded shocked.

‘Brenda was upstairs. She escaped the worst of it. The other resident of the house, Callum Martin, claims to have been in the pub the whole time. So he was coincidentally out of the way, like when Barker was attacked the first time.’

‘Convenient,’ Peterson muttered.

Geraldine was at her desk when the DCI walked in. His face was already so familiar that Geraldine could hardly believe they had only been working together for a week. When he had first arrived at the station she had been taken aback by his habit of dropping into her office without knocking. She had grown used to his frequent visits and was flattered that he chose to bounce his ideas off her. He had given no indication that his interest in her was anything other than professional. Geraldine couldn’t help speculating about what her life might
become if that were to change. She had long since determined never to become involved with a colleague, but she had never been seriously attracted to another officer before. If James Ryder were to approach her, as a woman, she wasn’t sure how she would react. She wished Craig had seemed more interested in her since their return from Dubrovnik.