The Catch (40 page)

Maybe he should include Jerry’s widow in the choice? Make the donation specifically in Jerry’s name. Now that was a nice touch ...

If
the deal comes off, he reminded himself.

A thought struck him. It seemed like a reasonably safe time to raise the issue, so he said, ‘How do you feel about Hank’s death?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Well, you haven’t commented on it. At an emotional level, I mean.’

He felt her tense, and responded by squeezing closer.

‘Gordon, it was years ago. It was sex.’

‘Good sex?’ he asked, aiming to pitch it as a light-hearted, almost frivolous query.

‘It was a mistake, you know that. But it did later pay dividends – or seemed to, at least – when he joined Templeton.’

‘Was that in your mind, right at the beginning?’
When you seduced him
.

‘I suppose I recognised some potential. Good with numbers, if not with people. Just the right degree of blustering arrogance that impresses political types. But no, it wasn’t that calculated. Hank was brash and strong and confident.’ She made a little spurting noise, which he identified as a giggle. ‘And he was really rather well-endowed.’

Nothing much to add to that, Gordon thought. He was idly stroking a rough patch of skin, just above the loose swell of her breasts.

‘You do realise, don’t you, that you needn’t have kept it secret? You didn’t have to exclude me.’

She twitched, and he sensed her confusion. ‘You mean ... physically excluded, from my affair?’

‘Yes.’ He chuckled softly. ‘For you, it could have been twice the pleasure. Twice the thrill.’ Ever hopeful, he moved his hand lower. ‘Whatever makes you happy, my darling. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.’

A relentless pounding noise drew Cate from sleep at what she felt sure must be stupid o’clock for a Sunday.

It was: twenty to eight. Last night she’d granted herself permission to sleep half the morning away if she wanted. Now someone was thumping steadily on her front door. Someone selfishly, spitefully determined to destroy her chances of a lie-in.

No prizes for guessing who
.

****

She couldn’t ignore him, because soon the neighbours would be complaining. She threw back her duvet and sat up, her head reeling. Too much wine last night, drowning her sorrows after the date fell through.

She grabbed a dressing gown, tying it tightly as she descended the stairs. No visible cleavage, in case Martin was deluded enough to believe she was trying to entice him into bed. Clearly she’d been right not to treat yesterday’s silence as a positive sign.

I’m going to report you to the police
. Those were the words forming on her lips as she checked the security chain was in place and opened the door.

‘You bitch! You couldn’t bear it that I gave him what he wanted, so you tried to tempt him back, didn’t you? Bitch. You stinking, stealing bitch whore.’

A torrent of words, slurred and exhausted and wrapped in long hours of tears cried. Even through a sliver of open doorway Cate could see that Janine was utterly wrecked, tottering on her feet, strands of wet hair plastered to her cheeks, yesterday’s mascara smeared across her temple. She wore jogging pants and a thin T-shirt that clung to the beginnings of a swollen belly. There was a violence in her eyes that belied the hopelessness in her voice. Cate had a very real impression that, had she possessed the energy, Janine would have gone for her throat.

‘What are you talking about?’

Janine thumped the door again, stretching the security chain to its limit. ‘You’ve been seeing him, haven’t you?’

‘What? Do you mean Martin—?’

‘No, fucking Father Christmas. Who do you think I mean? I bet he wasn’t even at his brother’s Friday night. He said they were going fishing in the morning, but that turned out to be a lie.’

‘Janine, you’ve got it wrong. He wasn’t with me.’

‘So what was he doing in Brighton then?’

‘No idea,’ said Cate. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

****

The silence that greeted this question was almost physical. It was as though expanding foam had been pumped into the space around them, freezing them into position. Cate saw Janine’s brain racing through a series of calculations; a glint of cruelty in the way her eyes widened, a bitter delight that it fell to her to deliver bad news.

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

‘I don’t have a clue what you’re here for. I haven’t been seeing Martin and I have no interest in getting back with him. He’s yours, Janine, and frankly you’re welcome to—’

‘He’s dead.’

‘—have him.’ Cate’s sentence was complete before she could process the interruption. If she hadn’t seen the words form on Janine’s lips she might have assumed she’d misheard.

‘Martin’s dead?’ Cate had to clutch the door frame for support. ‘Did he ... was it an overdose, or ...?’

‘He was murdered.’

‘What?’

‘Stabbed to death, in the middle of Brighton.’ Janine’s lips trembled, and fresh tears flowed. Cate instinctively removed the security chain, opening the door and beckoning to her, but Janine backed away.

‘Don’t you touch me.’ There was a crazed look in her eyes. ‘You did this.’

‘Janine ...’

‘I dunno how, but you’re part of this. They told me. They told me.’ She had to stop, swallow, and find her voice again. ‘He was still alive, in the ambulance. He died before they could get him to hospital.’

‘Janine, I’m so sorry.’

‘Shut up! They told me he kept trying to speak.
Tell Cate
. That’s what he said. That’s all.
Tell Cate
. And then he died.’

****

Cate said nothing. Into the stunned silence came the sound of a car approaching at speed. A blue estate screeched to a halt behind Janine’s car. A man of about Cate’s age got out of the driver’s side, and from the passenger seat came a woman in her sixties: Janine’s brother and mum. Shamefully Cate recognised them from her occasional late-night prowl around Martin’s Facebook page.

Janine ignored them. The emotion was roaring back, and her words were almost a shriek.

‘Were you with him? You saw him Friday night, didn’t you?’

She lunged at Cate just as her brother got close enough to restrain her. Perhaps she had planned it that way, Cate thought. No good could come of a physical confrontation, and even within the depths of her grief Janine must have understood that.

While her brother wrapped her in a protective embrace, Janine’s mother reached out and caressed her cheek.

‘Come on, darling. This isn’t going to help.’

From Janine, an incomprehensible burst of speech, while her brother stared coldly at Cate.

‘We didn’t know she’d got out. The doctor gave her something last night. We thought she was still with us.’

‘And that’s where you need to be,’ her mother said. ‘Tucked up in bed.’

She steered Janine free of her brother’s grasp and started walking her towards the car.

‘You take her, Mum,’ the brother said. ‘I’ll drive her car back.’

He glanced at Cate again, now slightly apologetic, but still far from warm. Cate thought she had perhaps less than a minute before the shock overwhelmed her.

‘I don’t understand. Is Martin really ...?’

‘Yeah. Bled to death in the ambulance.’ He shook his head. ‘Saturday afternoon, in one of the busiest shopping areas in the city.’

‘Where did it happen?’

‘In the Lanes somewhere.’

‘The Lanes?’

‘Well, not the ones with jewellery shops. The hippie ones.’

‘The North Laines?’

‘Yeah. That’s it.’

Cate felt a coldness deep in the core of herself; a lightness in her head that she’d experienced previously when she was about to faint. Janine’s brother gave her a questioning look, but Cate would have slammed the door in his face rather than respond to it.

Were you there?

For a second that question hung suspended in the air between them. Then he forgot her and hurried to the assistance of his mother, who was hugging Janine as she stood, virtually catatonic, staring at the car as if nothing in the world made sense any more.

Cate knew how she felt.

Dan woke with a pounding headache in a room that reeked of smoke. All his clothes from last night were impregnated with it. He should have left them in the garden.

Still, at least the car was now only a charred lump of metal, ready for Jed’s mate to collect. By two in the morning the fire had burnt itself out to a point where they’d judged it safe to lock up and leave.

Dan had been far too drunk to question Robbie’s fitness to drive, or to raise many objections when Robbie insisted on taking the document boxes with them. He claimed he just wanted to look through the papers, while the cash would be stored in his safe for the time being. It was news to Dan that Robbie even
had
a safe.

Once again Dan had refused to accept any of the money. It was a decision he might regret, especially when he had to explain the Fiesta’s disappearance. But his overriding instinct was to have nothing more to do with it.

He showered for five minutes, scrubbing at his body and shampooing his hair twice. Even his breath seemed to smell of smoke. After swilling with mouthwash, he dressed and took the dirty clothes downstairs, hoping to sneak them into the washing machine before anyone else was up.

****

No such luck. Joan was at the small table in the kitchen, drinking tea and reading a Lee Child novel.

‘No lie-in today?’ she asked.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

‘I was wide awake, so I got up.’ She sniffed. ‘Did you have a barbecue?’

‘Those outdoor heaters,’ Dan said. ‘I was sitting outside with Robbie. Didn’t realise how much the smoke had got into my clothes.’

‘It’s awful.’ She was watching him rather too closely. ‘From what Louis said I thought you’d be seeing Hayley last night.’

‘Change of plan. We’re meeting this morning.’ He busied himself at the unit, making a coffee. ‘And Louis shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

‘He doesn’t mean any harm,’ Joan said gently. ‘Do us another tea, will you?’

‘Sure. What time did you get home?’

‘Oh, not late. About nine. Louis rolled in at twelve, and I have no idea what hour of the day or night you came in.’

He turned, ignoring the wry tone. ‘Louis was out till midnight?’

‘A couple of his friends texted while we were eating. He went off to meet them and I got the bus back.’ She shook her head, dismissing the anger on his face. ‘I’m quite capable of finding my way home.’

‘But he was supposed to be taking you out.’

‘And he did. We had a lovely meal.’

‘Was he drunk again, when he came in?’

‘I couldn’t say for sure.’ Joan had a smile playing on her lips. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look a bit delicate yourself this morning.’

She was right enough there. Dan drank a glass of water, washing down a couple of ibuprofen. Insisting that he wasn’t up to a cooked breakfast, he took his coffee and a bowl of cereal into the living room.

Once again the news was dominated by the fatal stabbing in Brighton. The victim was described as a thirty-four-year-old local man, whose identity was being withheld until all members of his family had been informed. The hit-and-run and the e-fit images didn’t feature at all.

The world’s moving on
, he thought.

****

Robbie overslept. His phone buzzed and he reached for it, was instantly wide awake and saw the time and Bree’s name in the display and knew what was wrong.

Maureen Heath.

‘Where are you?’ Bree demanded, as shrill as his mother on a bad day. ‘Mo’s just rung me in a right state.’

‘It’s only ten minutes. I’m on my way.’

‘Bullshit. I’ve just woken you up.’

‘No, you haven’t.’

‘I know what you sound like when you’ve been asleep.’ She exhaled like a teenager. ‘This isn’t fair, Robbie. You ask me to do a big favour and then you go and let me down.’

‘All right. Tell her I’ll be there pronto.’

‘Yeah, and make sure she really enjoys it. I can’t have her getting the hump with me.’

He didn’t like the uncertainty in her voice. ‘Are you saying you don’t trust her?’

‘No, but ... she knows all about me and you. So keep her sweet, for your sake as well as mine.’

Bree was gone before he could ask what she meant by that. Robbie slapped the phone down and considered defying her wishes. Another hour’s sleep had its appeal. Then there were the document boxes, sitting patiently beside the bed like faithful pets. They could wait until he’d completed this chore, this ordeal, but he didn’t want them to wait. A full day, with a clear head, and perhaps he’d be able to unlock their secrets.

The alibi, though. Bree had made her point. One simple favour, and now she had him by the balls.

That was a rule he’d foolishly broken:
Don’t ever let them own you
.

After shutting the front door, Cate dropped to the floor and lost all track of time and space. It didn’t matter that she was squashed between the bottom of the stairs and the wooden rack where she kept her everyday shoes. It didn’t matter that there was a cold draught seeping beneath the door. It didn’t matter that she was alone.

Martin was dead. That was tragedy enough in itself. To know he had died with her name on his lips was truly grotesque. For Janine, it must be unbearable. Cate felt sure that Martin’s fixation on her would have been short-lived, but persuading Janine of that would be nigh on impossible.

A rap on the door made her jump. She looked at her watch and discovered that more than an hour had passed.