The Ladykiller (53 page)

Kate was glad he stayed because he took over the main thrust of the conversation and she could think.

The Criminal Investigation Bureau.

Bugger Danny Burrows!

Patrick was sitting at the dining table just finishing his meal when Willy announced that he had a visitor. He wiped his mouth with an Irish linen napkin. When he heard the name of his visitor, his left eyebrow rose a fraction.

‘Show him in here.’ Willy nodded and left the room.

Now what would Peter Sinclair want visiting his house?

Sinclair walked into the room. He was small, wiry, and held out a perfectly manicured hand to Patrick. He stood up in greeting then offered Sinclair a seat, poured him a brandy and sat back in his own chair.

‘To what do I owe this honour?’

‘I had to come here, Patrick. It’s about the piece of skirt you’ve been running around with.’

Immediately Sinclair knew he had said the wrong thing.

Patrick’s face hardened.

‘And what piece of skirt might that be?’ As if he didn’t know.

‘Detective Inspector Kate Burrows, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Patrick’s voice was low and the menace in it was not lost on Sinclair.

‘So, Peter, how’s things at the Home Office? Lively by the sound of it. Actually doing some work, are you? Well, wonders will never cease, will they?’

Sinclair took a sip of his brandy.

‘You’ve gone too far this time, the CIB are in on this. She’s compromised herself. As much as I like you, Patrick, you’re a known villain . . .’

He leant forward over the table. ‘To be accurate, Peter, I’m an alleged villain. My brief would have kittens if he heard you talking like that.’

Sinclair grinned. ‘Come on, Patrick, let’s cut the crap. You’re going with a senior police officer. The CIB are having kittens.’

‘The police officer you’re talking about is working on my daughter’s case.’

‘I know that, and I’m sorry about what happened to Mandy, Patrick. But Kate Burrows is another matter altogether. She’s got an ex-husband who’s kicking up a stink and threatening to go to the papers about this.’

Suddenly, it was as clear as a bell why Sinclair was here. They wanted him to sort out Burrows.

‘Supposing I was to talk to this Danny Burrows, make him see the error of his ways, what then?’

Sinclair smiled.

‘Provided he can be made to admit he was just trying to cause his wife embarrassment, everything will be fine.’

Patrick nodded and poured himself out some more brandy. ‘Would you like a cigar?’

Sinclair smiled again, happier now that he had accomplished what he came to do.

‘No, thanks, but I wouldn’t mind a piece of that excellent Cheddar.’

‘Help yourself. I’ve just got to make a phone call.’

He left the room.

Caitlin was in the middle of a very funny story, about a case he had been on as a PC, when the phone rang and Kate went out to the hall to answer it.

‘Kate, it’s me, Patrick. I must see you.’

‘I wanted to see you, actually.’

He could tell, just by the inflection in her voice, that she also had had the bad news.

‘I can get to you for seven thirty in the morning, how’s that?’

‘I’ll come to you, Pat. Lizzy’s home now.’

‘Fair enough. I’ll see you in the morning then.’

When Kate replaced the receiver she felt a shiver of apprehension go through her body.

It was going to be a choice between Patrick and her job and she wasn’t too sure who would win.

She went back to the kitchen and sat through the punchline of Caitlin’s story, but her laughter had a hollow ring to it.

Kate got up the next morning with a feeling of dread. She knew the CIB’s reputation. She also knew that a female officer, consorting with a criminal - even an alleged criminal as Patrick liked to call himself - was just their cup of tea. They would crucify her.

A few years before she had been witness to one of their jobs. It concerned a detective sergeant with a taste for exotic holidays and even more exotic women. He had been on the take. Kate had had to stand by with the rest of her colleagues as the man was set up and routed.

It had not been a pretty sight. She had felt sorry for him because most officers used their status for something, whether it was the odd free meal or a few pounds extra for a hobby. She was not saying that she agreed with it, just that it went on, a perk of the job. The ones the CIB should be looking out for, to her mind, were the officers who raided a flat, found a couple of weights of cannabis and stashed half of it before they made the collar. The cannabis would make its way back on to the street and the officers would pocket the money. To her that was a crime, not going to a restaurant for a nice meal on your wedding anniversary and getting a bottle of decent champagne thrown in because you knew the owner ran an after hours card club.

Some laws were just made to be broken, and when you finally realised that, you became a much better officer. Why go after the silver plate when you could get the twenty-four carat gold? She wanted the criminals, the real lawbreakers, not the flotsam and jetsam that made up the majority of collars.

It was like when police visited convicted felons and said to them, ‘We’re going to go back to court and you’re going to admit to another thirty burglaries. It won’t affect the time you’re doing, they’ll be classed as TIC.’ Taken into consideration. Which made the figures at the end of the year look great. On paper it looked as if they had solved more crimes than they really had. Except the perpetrators of the crimes the convicted man had put his hand up for were still getting off scot free. Case closed, thank you very much.

Kate drove to Patrick’s house with a heavy heart. Her job was her life. At one time, it was all she had had, except for Lizzy.

Patrick gave her a cup of coffee and told her about Sinclair.

‘Caitlin had already told me about it, an old friend of his had tipped him the wink.’

He looked at her. She seemed worried, her usual happy expression was strained.

‘Well, I have a solution to our problem, but I thought I’d get your say so first.’

‘What is it?’ Kate’s voice sounded hopeful and Kelly was glad about that because he wasn’t at all sure how she was going to take what he had to say.

‘Well, it’s your husband who’s shoved a spanner in the works, isn’t it?’

Kate nodded, taking her cigarettes from her pocket.

Patrick lit one for her and continued. ‘Well, if I was to go and see him like, he might be encouraged to change his story, admit he was just trying to cause his ex-wife a bit of aggravation.’

Kate drew on the cigarette and looked into Patrick’s eyes. ‘You wouldn’t hurt him?’

Patrick held out his arms in a gesture of denial. ‘As if I would!’

Kate was tempted, sorely tempted, but a little part of her was not sure. She could be condoning an act of violence. Because for all Patrick’s charade of being the big benevolent boyfriend, if he had to give Dan a slap to achieve his ends he wouldn’t even give it a second thought.

‘Let me think about it, Pat.’

‘What’s to think about? I go see him, give him the bad news and he shits himself and puts his hands up to the CIB. Sweet as a nut.’

‘Have you got an answer for everything, Pat? A violent answer to everything?’

Her voice was flat and that was not wasted on him. ‘Listen, Kate, we’ve got a lot going for us, and I don’t want that geek of a husband . . .’

‘Ex-husband, Pat.’

‘All the better, ex-husband, to bugger it all up. Where there’s a villain there’ll always be an Old Bill. Our kind of partnership goes back to the start of skulduggery, my love. You know in your heart that you’re not doing anything wrong. We are friends and lovers. I’m not asking you to tell me the secrets of the Serious Crime Squad. I’m not asking you to tap out on your little computer what they’re trying to fit me up with next. We just enjoy each other’s company.

‘I love you, Kate, and I’m trying to help you that’s all. I know that if you lost your job over me, we’d be finished for good. Because you’d always hold it against me.’

‘We could finish it now.’

Patrick frowned. He was getting annoyed. He’d thought she felt a bit more for him than this.

‘Well, that’s entirely up to you, darlin’!’

Kate put her cigarette out and went to him. She sat on the arm of his chair and touched the lines of his face.

‘I didn’t really mean that, Pat, it was unfair.’

She could no more leave him now than she could walk past an injured child on the street. He was a part of her, a big part. But to keep him she had to let him do something that went against the grain.

‘Let me think about it, please. Give me a couple of days?’

Patrick saw the confusion in her eyes and grasped her hand in his.

‘I don’t want to lose you, Katie. You’ve come to mean an awful lot to me.’

She kissed the top of his dark head.

‘Same here.’

He pulled her on to his lap and kissed her hard. He wanted her to have something else to think about as well, just in case she forgot for a second what she would be giving up.

It was Friday 16 February 1990, and the blood testing had been going on for four days. The police were amazed at the response from the public. The men of Grantley seemed to be positively eager to have themselves eliminated from the inquiry. Thames News gave a report every day and even News at Ten had shown a film of the ‘phenomenal’ testing of a whole community.

There were already problems. The sheer magnitude of the task had caused a large backlog. The number of people taking the blood tests far exceeded the capacity of the people who carried out the testing of the blood. Still, even with this problem, Kate was happier than she had been for a long time. It was a chance to try and nail the man responsible and she was glad for that alone.

The fact that Leonora Davidson had been dead for two weeks now frightened her. She felt that with the closeness of the previous attacks the killer would be striking again soon.

The phone broke into her reverie and she answered it.

‘DI Burrows here.’

‘Kate? It’s me, Dan.’

She had been expecting his call, and now that it had come she felt an overpowering rage. He had been visiting Lizzy when he knew Kate was gone from the house. Since his little escapade with the CIB he had been keeping a low profile where she was concerned.

‘What can I do for you?’

Her voice was chillingly polite.

‘I want to see you.’

‘But I don’t want to see you, Dan, not now, not ever. You went too far this time.’

The phone went quiet and Kate realised that she had let the cat out of the bag. She should not have let on she knew about what he had done. He would get in touch with the CIB and they’d know she was already on to them. It would damn her immediately.

‘Dan? Are you still there?’ The line was very quiet. Please God let him be there. Don’t let him have gone. ‘I think we should meet, talk this thing over.’

‘I’ll meet you tonight at the Bull in Bulphan, Kate. Eight o’clock.’

The line went dead and she felt herself exhale.

‘You all right, Katie?’ Caitlin smiled at her.

She nodded.

‘I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation - only your end, of course. If I was you now, from tomorrow I would carry out all other communication with him from a public pay phone. Know what I mean?’

Kate nodded again, and picking up her handbag from the floor she left the office.

So they were tapping her phones now. At work and also at home. It figured. She left the station and as she walked out wondered how many of her colleagues were in on this thing. Suddenly she was worried. Very worried indeed.

George had had a long bath and was sitting on the toilet, with the seat down, cutting his toenails when Elaine burst into the room.

‘How long are you going to be? I’m off out in half an hour.’

‘Not long, dear. Where are the girls taking you tonight?’

George smiled as he said ‘girls’, and pictured a crowd of big fat till girls drunk on Pernod and black, their raucous laughter escaping from heavily lipsticked mouths.

He stared straight into Elaine’s face as she spoke and was grudgingly impressed with the way she lied so convincingly.

‘Oh, I don’t know yet, we don’t decide till we get to the pub, bingo probably.’

She smiled back at him.

‘I’ve run the bath for you anyway. Why don’t you jump in it quickly? I won’t be long now.’

Elaine hesitated for a few seconds and then slipping off her dressing gown dropped her eyes from his and put a foot gingerly into the water. She slowly climbed in and then relaxed gratefully into the hot steamy water. Her red hair was piled up on her head and George watched with morbid fascination as she closed her eyes and breathed regularly and deeply.

She looked dead.

She looked happy, dead.

Her breasts were rising and falling with each breath and the nipples had hardened at the sudden cold then heat. They were pointing up at the ceiling, big rosy tips that George suddenly longed to touch. The milky white skin that was once her best feature was jutting from the water in different places. Her pubic hair, that vivid red hair that had once driven him wild, was sparser now but still more luxuriant than most women’s. He had seen a naked and relaxed Elaine many times since the New Year. He guessed that it was the man she was seeing who had given her a new lease of life.

George quite liked him, he thought. For making her happy. He could not make her happy.

‘Are you staring at me again?’

The voice that could crack glass was back.

‘I was just thinking how you would look on the beach in Spain, dear. You’re looking ever so well, you know.’

Elaine squinted at him. Whenever George paid her a compliment she was never sure if he was really laughing at her.

George sat back on the toilet seat and grinned at her. ‘Not long now until your hols. I bet you’re looking forward to them? I know I would be if I was you.’

‘Yes, I’m looking forward to them, George. What will you do while I’m away?’