Strangers (29 page)

‘My investigation at the club?’

‘Into the Lay-by Murders.’

‘You told him
that
?’

‘Why should it upset you? He doesn’t want this murderess on the prowl any more than you do?’

‘Why! Seriously, Mum …
why!
’ A chill like white ice sped through Lucy’s body. ‘Because … because you’ve blown my cover? Just casually and totally blown it all to Hell?’

‘Lucy, I had to protect you …’

‘
Protect me!
’ Lucy didn’t want to shout again, but suddenly she couldn’t help herself. ‘You’ve probably killed me. What do you think would have happened if I’d gone back there tonight?’

Cora shook her head. ‘Frank’s not like that.’

‘Frank’s exactly like that, Mum! He’s a thug and a maniac, and I’m sure you know that deep down, because that’s why you were crying when I came in here … because it suddenly struck you what you’d damn well done!’

‘Lucy …’

‘You’ve just thrown God knows how many hours of police surveillance right down the sodding drain! You’ve exposed the entire bloody operation!’

‘At least you’ll be safe.’

Despite the heated atmosphere, this last comment was delivered with a certain degree of frozen calm, as if this one factor alone outweighed all other considerations.

‘Ohhh,’ Lucy said slowly. ‘So that was your real plan? To make
certain
I couldn’t go back there? I mean, that
must
be it. Because if you’re really such a worldly person, mother, that you used to rip your knickers off in front of a baying crowd, you’re not seriously going to believe that a hardcase mobster like Frank McCracken would tolerate me being in that club purely for old time’s sake! I mean, you’re not that fucking dim, are you!’

‘Lucy … how dare you speak to me like that!’

‘Oh, pardon my language … bloody hell.’

‘Lucy!’

Lucy stormed to the kitchen door. ‘Don’t bother. I can’t talk to you right now.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘You think I’ll tell
you
? That’ll be the next fucking thing Frank McCracken knows.’

‘For God’s sake, you don’t understand …’

Lucy tottered through the kitchen, but spun round at the back door. ‘I understand that you just demolished the very best chance I’ve had to get back into my bosses’ good books. In revealing your past to me the way you have tonight … in a way I can’t ignore and will now have no choice but to report, you’ve just ensured that I will
never
get promoted. That I will
never
get a transfer that’s beneficial to me. That there’ll
never
be a whisper behind my back that isn’t hostile. So thanks, Mum! You weren’t just a star back in the good old days … you’re a bloody star now as well!’

Ignoring all further protests, she stalked out into the yard, snatched her helmet and climbed onto her bike.

Chapter 22

‘Hello, this is Tammy. Or Tamara, if you like … if you think that’s sexier, if it tickles your fancy.’
A girlish giggle.
‘Anyway, I’m working at the moment. Busy girl, me. But please leave a message and I’ll get back to you …’

Lucy took another sip of brandy and coke and cut the call. This wasn’t something she could do by answerphone. However, the next time she called, a few seconds later, Tammy’s real voice came chirping through.

‘Hi Hayley!’ It was almost nine o’clock in the evening, but she didn’t sound drunk as yet.

‘Tammy, thank God you’re alright,’ Lucy said. ‘Where are you?’

‘Where I usually am, on the East Lancs. Business is slow tonight. This murdering bitch is keeping all the johns indoors. Anyway, where are
you
?’

‘Never mind where I am. Listen, love … you’ve got to drop out of sight for a while.’

‘What?’

Lucy glanced along the bar. It was some fleapit in the middle of Crowley, but given that this was a Wednesday evening, it was virtually empty. Only a couple of other customers, a boy and a girl, sat facing each other in a seating bay near the front door, while the barmaid was at the far end, fiddling with her iPhone.

‘You’ve got to disappear,’ she said again.

Tammy chuckled as if this was all some daft misunderstanding. ‘I don’t follow.’

‘Get off the streets. Go home … right now.’

‘Hayley, what’re you talking about?’ Finally, there was a hint of concern in Tammy’s voice.

Lucy swilled more brandy and coke. ‘You’re in trouble, love … and it’s my fault.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Firstly, my name’s not Hayley, it’s Lucy.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Secondly, I’m a cop.’

A long, disbelieving silence followed, and then came a harsh but whispered: ‘Fucking bitch … you absolute fucking bitch!’

‘Listen to me, please …’

But Tammy hung up. Lucy sagged on her stool. She was tempted to bang her half-empty glass on the bar-top and signal for another, but drunkenness was no solution at a time like this. Besides, it was already her second and she still had to ride her bike across town. Instead, she tapped Tammy’s number in again. It went straight to voicemail. So she tried again, and again, until at last, very abruptly, it was answered.

‘What do you want, you cow?’
Tammy demanded.

‘You’ve got to get off the streets!’ Lucy asserted. ‘And I’m not joking when I say that!’

‘Have you set me up, or something? Are you here to nab Digby, is that it?’

Lucy almost laughed. ‘Nothing so bloody mundane, love …’

‘You bitch! I trusted you, I was a friend of yours when you didn’t have anyone! I even stopped you getting knifed!’

Lucy didn’t quite remember the knife incident that way, but this was no time to split hairs. ‘Tammy, listen …’

‘So, are they going to lock
me
up too? I mean, my understanding is that it’s not even a crime to be on the game these days. All I’m trying to do is make a living …’

‘For God’s sake, shut up and listen! This is a lot more serious than you and Digby getting banged up for lowering the tone of the neighbourhood.
A lot more
.’

There was another long silence, this time broken by heavy, nervous breathing.

‘Seeing as you haven’t got the guts to tell me face to face,’ Tammy eventually said, ‘I suppose you’d better tell me now.’

‘Tammy –’ Lucy drained her glass ‘– it was
you
who put me into SugaBabes, remember?
You
were the one who got me the job there?’

‘Oh … oh my God!’ Tammy whispered, as the meaning of this finally dawned on her.

‘They’ve sussed me,’ Lucy added. ‘And I can’t go back.’

‘
Oh, Jesus wept!
You telling me Suzy McIvar knows? You’ve got to call them! You’ve got to call and tell them I didn’t know what I was doing!’

‘You think they’ll listen?’

‘Oh, Jesus. And they’re protected by the Crew.’ Tammy sounded tearful. ‘That means the heavy mob know about me as well! They’ll all think I’m in on it!’

‘That’s why you’ve got to disappear.’

‘Just going home won’t be enough. There’re people who know where I live …’

‘Is there anywhere else you can go?’

‘What does it matter to you, you bitch? You’ve slaughtered me, you’ve ruined my life!’

Lucy would have liked to reassure her at this point, to advise her that it would only be temporary, that pretty soon all the bad guys would be inside, but that would be yet another bare-faced lie. ‘Where exactly are you?’ she asked.

‘I’m not telling
you
, am I? Talk about a fucking security risk.’

‘Just disappear, Tammy. I doubt they’ll waste too much time looking for you.’

‘How am I going to live, eh? What’s Digby going to say when I stop earning for him?’

Lucy shook her head. It was truly amazing, given every other problem facing Tammy at this moment and in general, that what Digby thought could ever be a priority. How the girl had ever become so enthralled to that cowboy-booted loser was beyond understanding. But there was no constructive advice she could seriously offer. Lucy had known so many prostitutes attempt to make it on the straight and narrow – sometimes because they’d had a kid, or because they’d had a health scare, or perhaps because it had always been their long-term plan. And yet almost none of them had ever succeeded. There was too much against them and too little in their favour.

‘The best thing is to relocate,’ she said bluntly.

‘Relocate!’ Tammy retorted. ‘To where? I’ve never lived outside Manchester.’ Now it sounded as if real tears were flowing. ‘You vicious, venomous cow …’

‘Tammy, it wasn’t intentional.’

‘No, it never is with you coppers. You don’t set out to stitch us up, you just use us and discard us, don’t you? And whatever happens to us after that, tough shit, that’s our fucking problem.’

‘All I can do is give you this heads-up.’

‘Thanks for nothing.’

‘You’re going to do it, though? You’re getting off the street?’

‘I don’t have a clue where I’m going to go. But I’ll tell you this, Hayley – or whatever your fucking name is – you’d better hope I don’t find you there.’

And she hung up.

There was clearly no point calling her back this time, so Lucy finished her drink and, again resisting the urge to order another, exited the bar through the rear to where her bike sat alone on the pub car park. This whole thing was a nightmare that she still couldn’t believe. Beforehand, while things hadn’t exactly been under control, at least they’d been running smoothly. This part of the investigation had been moving towards an outcome, which, while it might not necessarily have netted them Jill the Ripper, would have been some kind of result, and then –
POW!
– the whole thing had blown up in their faces.

She slid her helmet on, kicked the Ducati to life and cruised back out onto the road.

The worst part of all this was that she didn’t know how much her mother had confided in Frank McCracken. Cora knew very little in truth. But she’d divulged to him that Lucy was involved in Operation Clearway, which would almost certainly have set the mob boss’s alarm bells ringing. It was impossible to imagine that he wouldn’t have made SugaBabes his next port of call, and wouldn’t immediately have asked some searching questions.

What kind of info was the undercover cop looking for? Who did she make friends with? Was there anyone on staff she showed particular interest in? And there was only one response to that last question, which they’d no doubt put to Delilah with maximum force.

It was Charlie. She’d been asking questions about Charlie.

What would happen after that, Lucy could only surmise. At the very least, Charlie would be warned that she was in the police crosshairs. She would surely disappear, drop out of sight. It wouldn’t be hard for her. She was a mystery woman as it was.

Lucy’s despondency grew as she headed across town. She finally banked onto the Brenner estate, and then onto Cuthbertson Court, drawing to a halt at the end of the drive attached to her bungalow. She took off her helmet, but remained astride her bike, head hanging. Once again, the awful predicament ate through her.

‘Mum,’ she muttered. ‘What have you done?’

She’d have no choice but to go straight to the MIR in the morning and hold her hand up. And she couldn’t leave anything out. To do that would be the biggest risk of all. Police officers who told lies to their own supervision were walking the highest tightrope imaginable. But seriously, it would hardly look good … that Lucy Clayburn, the eager beaver young copper who specialised in getting her own gaffers shot, also happened to have a really garrulous mum, who, bizarrely beyond belief, was a friend of the underworld!

Okay, you couldn’t blame children for their parents. But why had Lucy said anything to her mum at all? That was the question Slater and Nehwal would want answering, no doubt while they fast-tracked the paperwork consigning her back to Division – if she was lucky.

She slumped over the handlebars. The first big job she’d been involved with since Michael Haygarth, and she’d bolloxed this one too.

Only after several minutes was she able to climb off the machine. For a moment, her legs were too whackery to stand on. She could only hope and pray that Jill the Ripper was someone else, that Charlie would turn out to be nothing more than a red herring, and that the enquiry would not be damaged in any significant way.

She took her helmet off, shook out her hair and turned to face the bungalow. Her home. Even though she viewed it more as an investment, as a long-term project; somewhere to do up as and when she could, while living much more comfortably with her mother. Though by the looks of things, that plan would now need revising, and pretty damn quickly.

It was a pleasant enough structure: small and detached; lace curtains in the windows; grass on the front lawn; a wrought iron side-gate, with fir trees hemming the paved path behind it. Typical suburbia. But indoors it was a horror show. There were no carpets down, there was minimal furnishing, the decorating was only half completed – and there was no phone or computer link, she realised with a groan. But if nothing else, at least there was a bed with a mattress on it, and a linen box containing some sheets. It would suffice. It would
have
to, as she was going nowhere near Saltbridge for the foreseeable.

The mobile bleeped in her pocket. When she checked, it was a text from her mother.

Call me. Please.

Lucy deleted the message and tucked the device back into her pocket. And then heard a noise, like a scuffling of feet – which drew her attention to the side-gate and the dimly visible passage beyond. The gate was still closed, but Lucy could have sworn the dark outline of a man had just ducked away down the side of the house.

A chill ran through her. Several times she’d wondered if leaving the bungalow unoccupied for so long might attract problems: vandals, burglars, addicts. She’d always then managed to dismiss this possibility, mainly because it was too discomforting to dwell on. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t something she could damn well deal with if she had to.