Sins of the Fathers (15 page)

‘Maybe you could take him out for a beer, have a chat.’

Nooo! Carlyle scrunched up his face.

‘You need to talk to him, John.’

‘But—’ He was just about to start whining like a five year old when he realized that he’d completely forgotten about Naohiro Ninomiya.

Bed would have to wait.

Then an idea percolated through his brain; a way he could kill two birds with one stone.

Misreading his thoughtful expression, Helen thought that he was trying to weasel out of his obligations. ‘John . . .’

‘Okay, okay.’ Kissing her on the forehead, he went to get his father.

*   *   *

The Garden Hotel was one of those super-cool, super-expensive places that always made Carlyle feel super-uncomfortable. Waiting for Naohiro Ninomiya to come down from his room, Carlyle pointed to a nearby sofa.

‘Why don’t you take a seat, Dad?’

‘I’m fine.’ Alexander stood staring at a couple of young women – a redhead and a brunette, sheathed in improbably short dresses – as they strolled through the lobby, heading for the Light Bar at the rear of the building. Their hard bodies and hard faces said ‘Russian hookers’. Watching them go past, Carlyle idly wondered how long it had been since his dad had scored.

Not your problem
, he told himself, quickly shaking the question from his head.

‘I’ve got to speak to this guy about his missing daughter for a couple of minutes and then we’ll go to the pub across the road.’ The Robber Baron was a crappy tourist trap, always overcrowded, but at least the inspector could afford to buy a couple of drinks in there. Just about.

‘Sure.’

One of the hookers caught Alexander staring at her and gave him a predatory smile. The inspector winced. She was definitely well beyond the Carlyle budget.

‘Get your tongue off the floor,’ he hissed, ‘or I’ll have to arrest you.’ He was still glaring at his father when Naohiro Ninomiya appeared from nowhere to shake his hand.

‘Inspector Carlyle,’ he said pleasantly, ‘I thought that you had perhaps forgotten about me.’

‘My apologies, sir, for being so late,’ said Carlyle, not wanting to sound too deferential in front of his father. ‘It has been a long and difficult day.’

Ninomiya nodded sympathetically. ‘Have you made any progress?’

‘Some.’

‘Good,’ Ninomiya smiled. ‘And who is this?’

‘Alexander Carlyle.’ Not waiting to be introduced by his son, the old man shook Ninomiya’s hand and, the inspector was amused to notice, gave a small bow. ‘I am John’s father.’

‘Naohiro Ninomiya.’

‘We are going for a drink,’ the inspector explained.

‘In that case,’ said Ninomiya, gesturing towards the bar, ‘let’s talk in there.’

Carlyle shook his head. ‘I don’t think . . .’ But his father was already heading off in the direction of the Russian hookers.

Ninomiya signalled for the inspector to follow. ‘Come.’

‘Okay.’ Carlyle reluctantly followed after his father, hoping that Ninomiya would put the tab on his room.

They squeezed around a table near the bar. Waiting to be served, Carlyle noted that the place was about two-thirds full; attentive serving staff flitted from table to table to ensure that the drinks kept coming. Over the chatter, he could just make out the strains of ‘Sing’ by My Chemical Romance coming from the speakers on the wall. The lights were kept low, to add to the atmosphere, but in the far corner, at the back, he caught sight of the Russian hookers canoodling with a couple of shady-looking blokes. Carlyle smiled to himself. They were never short of interesting folk at the Garden. Maybe he should ask the concierge about them afterwards.

After a few moments, a harassed-looking waitress came over and took their order. To Carlyle’s relief, Ninomiya gave her his room number and indicated that he would indeed run a tab. Suddenly the delights of the Robber Baron were looking considerably less appealing.

Once the waitress had disappeared behind the bar, Ninomiya turned to the inspector. ‘So, you haven’t really found anything?’

‘The investigation is ongoing,’ Carlyle said blandly.

Ninomiya gave him a small smile. ‘You will have to excuse me, Inspector. I am just an ordinary man. I have no particular understanding of these things. What does “the investigation is ongoing”
mean
?’

Carlyle glanced at his father for some moral support. All he got back from Alexander was a look containing equal measures of amusement and disappointment. It was the kind of look he’d seen a lot of, over the last forty-plus years. ‘I spoke to your daughter’s flatmate,’ he offered. ‘She is back in London and expecting your call.’

Looking decidedly unimpressed, Ninomiya was about to say something when the waitress appeared with three bottles of Tiger beer, three glasses and a small bowl of miniature rice crackers. Placing them on the table, she got Ninomiya to sign the bill and then moved on to the next table.

‘Miki is looking forward to meeting you,’ Carlyle lied.

‘But she has no idea what happened to Ayumi.’ The Japanese lifted a bottle and began carefully pouring its contents into a glass.

Carlyle watched in dismay as his father shovelled a handful of rice crackers into his mouth and then washed them down with beer straight from the bottle. Telling himself that he had to be as patient as possible, he took a deep breath. ‘Miki has not come up with any more ideas about where Ayumi might be,’ he said, choosing his words carefully, ‘but she will do what she can to help.’

‘Children.’ Shaking his head, Naohiro Ninomiya smiled at Alexander Carlyle. ‘They bring nothing but trouble and suffering.’

Still chugging down his beer, Alexander nodded sagely. ‘That’s very true.’

Maybe you were just bad parents
, Carlyle thought sourly.

‘This one,’ Alexander gestured with his bottle, ‘was always causing his mother no end of grief.’

Bollocks.

‘She died yesterday, by the way.’

By the way? Carlyle was shocked by his father’s casual admission.

‘Your mother?’ Ninomiya’s eyes widened.

‘Yes,’ Carlyle mumbled.

‘My condolences.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And you are still at work?’

The inspector shrugged.
What else am I supposed to do
, he wondered. His body ached with tiredness. Dumping half of his beer into a glass, he took a large mouthful. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking but it tasted good.

‘He was always very dedicated,’ Alexander said. ‘Never off sick, never using up his holidays.’

‘Dad—’

Ninomiya caught the eye of a passing waiter and signalled for more beers. Lifting his glass to his lips, the Japanese man said softly, ‘Ayumi’s mother died three years ago. She had a stroke.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Alexander patted Ninomiya on the arm. ‘And now your girl’s disappeared. That’s really terrible. Things have been really tough for you.’

Ninomiya nodded. It looked like he was about to burst into tears.

Sweet Jesus
, Carlyle thought,
I can’t take much more of this. I should leave them to it.
At the very least, he should call Helen and tell her what was going on. This had been her idea – kind of – but Carlyle knew that he would get the blame if he brought the old fella home too late or too intoxicated.

Pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, the inspector was just about to hit his wife’s number when the mobile began vibrating in his hand. With no number displayed on the screen, he would normally have let it go to voicemail. This time, however, he hit the receive button with alacrity and barked into the handset, ‘Carlyle.’

The voice on the other end of the line was almost inaudible.

‘Hold on a minute.’ He got to his feet and gestured at the phone. ‘Excuse me, but I have to take this.’

Naohiro Ninomiya nodded.

Alexander Carlyle effortlessly finished his beer in anticipation of the next round.

Moving through the hotel lobby, Carlyle headed towards the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that looked out on to the street.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said.

‘Inspector, it’s Brian Sutherland.’

Sutherland was Crime Editor at
The Times
. The inspector had known Sutherland for long enough to deem him okay, for a journalist, which wasn’t saying much.

‘Can you talk?’

‘What can I do for you?’ Carlyle asked brusquely, knowing what the answer would be.

‘It’s about Simon Collingwood.’

‘Right.’ Carlyle stepped away from the bouncers at the hotel’s main entrance.

‘Everyone’s going crazy for this story. I hear it’s your case.’

Normally, when approached by a journalist, Carlyle would have just said ‘no’ and ended the call. This time, however, he hesitated.

‘Inspector?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘I’m on that.’

‘Good,’ said Sutherland. ‘I just wanted to check a few things.’ On deadline, he was all business.

‘Background,’ Carlyle said.

‘Of course.’

‘No quotes.’

‘Fine.’

‘No attribution.’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘There can be no fingerprints on this,’ Carlyle insisted.

‘Absolutely,’ Sutherland agreed. ‘Nothing comes back to you.’

‘Good.’

‘But I will make a note of it in my favours book.’

‘So will I,’ Carlyle chuckled. ‘So, what do you need?’

The inspector spent the next ten minutes talking through the Collingwood case and answering Sutherland’s questions. When he had finished, Sutherland asked: ‘What do you reckon?’

‘About what?’

‘Collingwood. Is he a psycho? Or a hero?’

Carlyle pawed the limestone floor with a shoe. ‘Do you have any daughters?’ Outside, on St Martin’s Lane, a couple of taxi drivers were standing on the pavement, stretching their legs and sharing a joke as they waited for their next customers.

‘Yes. Two,’ the journalist replied. ‘Seventeen and twelve.’

‘Well, then,’ Carlyle said gruffly, ‘what do
you
think?’

Back in the bar, he found the two old men chatting happily, as if they had known each other for years. As he approached the table, his father started laughing. With some considerable embarrassment, Carlyle realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his old man in such a happy mood.

‘What are you guys talking about?’

‘Och,’ Alexander waved an almost empty bottle in front of his face. His eyes shone and he was clearly well on the way to being pissed, ‘just this and that.’

Carlyle turned to Naohiro Ninomiya. The Japanese also looked somewhat tired and emotional. ‘Sorry about that,’ he told him. ‘I had to take the call.’

Ninomiya tried to clear his thoughts. ‘Was it about my daughter?’

‘No,’ Carlyle said honestly. ‘Another case.’ He saw the disappointment in the man’s face and looked away. The hookers were still at the table in the corner but the men had gone.

Alexander finished his beer and burped loudly. ‘Pardon me.’

Trying to ignore his father’s terrible manners, Carlyle focused his attention on Ninomiya. ‘I will continue to make Ayumi’s case a priority.’

Ninomiya nodded. His eyes were bright with the effects of the alcohol but he seemed to be holding his booze rather better than Alexander.

Carlyle spoke slowly but with a certain passion. ‘I have more people I need to speak to. I don’t believe that they have been interviewed by the police before. I cannot promise you that we will find anything new, but I
do
promise that things will be done properly.’

‘Properly,’ Ninomiya repeated.

‘Yes,’ said Carlyle firmly. ‘As I would expect if it was my child.’ It sounded trite but he meant it.

Ninomiya’s eyes began to tear up. ‘Thank you.’

‘If I could just ask you one more thing,’ said Carlyle quickly.

‘Yes?’ Ninomiya enquired.

‘I know that you told my colleagues that Ayumi didn’t have a boyfriend.’ Carlyle took a mouthful of his beer and immediately regretted it; in his absence it had grown warm and flat. Ninomiya looked at him expectantly. ‘But I wonder if she ever mentioned any male friends that you think I should talk to.’

Ninomiya shook his head rather too quickly. Clearly it was something that he didn’t want to talk about.

‘She must have known some men,’ Carlyle persisted, ‘even just as casual social acquaintances.’ There had been remarkably few friends listed in the original report and they were all women.

The Japanese gazed at his beer bottle. ‘She didn’t mention any.’

She didn’t mention much
, Carlyle thought rather impatiently. ‘Thank you for the drink, sir.’ Getting to his feet, he tapped Alexander on the shoulder. ‘Let’s get going.’

His father, who had given the appearance of being half-asleep, jerked awake and scowled. ‘It’s not that late.’

‘It is if you have to go to work in the morning,’ Carlyle snapped.

With the air of a cheeky eight year old, Alexander grinned at Naohiro Ninomiya. ‘I think I might stay for one more.’

Ninomiya nodded enthusiastically. ‘Good idea.’

Hands on hips, Carlyle cursed under his breath.

‘If it’s a problem,’ his father said sulkily, ‘I can go back home tonight.’

‘No, no, no,’ Carlyle said wearily, knowing that, once again, he would get the blame for allowing the old fella to slink off to his bedsit when he was supposed to be enjoying the comfort and support of his immediate family.

Alexander grinned malevolently. His son had always been completely under the thumb at home and the old man knew that, drunk or not, he would be able to milk the goodwill of his daughter-in-law for a while yet. He patted his jacket pocket. ‘I’ve got a key.’

‘Fine,’ Carlyle said, his voice terse. ‘But don’t be too late and don’t make too much noise when you get in.’

‘Don’t you worry about me, son.’

‘If you wake me up,’ Carlyle hissed, ‘I’ll kill you.’

Ignoring their spat, Naohiro Ninomiya signalled to a passing waiter for more beer, leaving the inspector to head off into the night, in search of his bed.

Sprawled out on the sofa, Helen looked up from the TV news as he walked into the living room.

‘Where’s your dad?’

‘I left him drinking nine-quid beers and leering at Russian hookers on St Martin’s Lane.’