The Ladykiller (73 page)

Amanda sipped her Scotch and looked at the statement again. George Markham’s handwriting was spidery, barely legible. Then she sat forward in her seat with a jolt. As she scrambled through the paperwork in front of her, her heart began to pound.

Then she found what she was looking for: George Markham’s blood testing statement. He had signed it in a large childish script.

She held the two signatures together, her hands shaking. Then she downed the Scotch in one gulp and picked up the telephone. Kate’s mother answered. Leaving her home number, Amanda told Evelyn that Kate was to ring her as soon as she got in.

Kate was home at one thirty, the day’s events a blur, except for Patrick’s lovemaking. She walked into the house and straight up the stairs to her bedroom. The note on the table by the phone went unnoticed.

She heard the alarm go off at six and pulled herself from bed. Her mouth felt dry, as if it was full of cotton wool. She pulled on her dressing gown and padded into the bathroom. She needed a good hot shower and at least one pot of coffee to get herself set up for the day ahead. After yesterday’s fiasco, she knew that today was not going to be a good one.

In the shower she soaped her body absentmindedly. Patrick had made her feel good. He had held her and told her he loved her, and she had needed that so much. He had been so understanding with her that she felt almost as if he knew what she was going through, as if he had an affinity with her, a special knowledge.

She was so lucky to have him.

She wrapped herself in a large bath towel and, pushing on her slippers, walked down the stairs to make her coffee. It was six fifteen.

As she walked past the telephone she saw the piece of paper that her mother had left for her and picked it up and read in the hallway light.

She dialled the number.

‘Hello, Amanda?’

‘Oh, Kate, I’ve been worried out of my mind! Look, I think George Markham
is
our man . . .’

‘What!’ Kate’s voice rose.

‘I went back through his files. The signatures on his statements are different. He must have had someone take the test for him.’

As the enormity of what Amanda was saying penetrated, Kate felt a surge of excitement.

‘Who else have you told?’

‘No one.’

‘Oh, Amanda, you’re brilliant! I’ll see you in about twenty minutes, OK?’

‘OK.’

‘And, Amanda . . . thanks a million.’

‘Any time. Oh, and one last thing. I put a call out for his car again. I told them to concentrate on the Kent area. That’s obviously the last place he was.’

‘Great, Amanda. You’ll make DI yet, my girl.’

The two women laughed and said goodbye. Kate put down the phone and did a little jig. She had known he was the man. She had known it in her heart. He was wily. He must have a very good friend if he would take a blood test for him. Especially a blood test on a murder case. A man who could arrange a bluff like that was obviously not lacking in imagination.

She threw on her clothes, pulled on her coat and picked up her bag, her coffee left by the phone to go cold. Forgotten now.

She would find George Markham wherever he was. Find him and put him away.

The earlier depression had disappeared. Kate felt wonderful.

Chapter Thirty

Ratchette and Caitlin were both looking at her expectantly.

‘I have proof that George Markham is our man.’

She watched their eyes widen.

‘Last night, Amanda Dawkins checked through George Markham’s file. It seems the signatures on his statements for the blood testing and his previous arrest differ. I can only assume he had someone else take the blood test for him. He’s definitely our man.’

Caitlin’s face lit up.

‘I knew he was the bugger we were after. I just knew it in me guts.’

‘Well, we have Amanda Dawkins to thank for this. She saw what was under everyone else’s nose. I think she deserves to take full credit.’

Ratchette smiled gently.

‘Another good woman coming up in the ranks, eh, Kate? This is excellent news. I’ll get on to Flowers immediately.’

‘Make sure he knows it was Dawkins. I think she did an exceptional job.’

‘I will. So where will you go from here?’

‘Amanda Dawkins put another call out on Markham’s car. This time she asked them to concentrate on the Kent area. That was obviously his last port of call. I can only guess his wife was on to him, he murdered her, and now he’s trying to disappear. At some point someone would have wanted to know where she was. She’d been dead a few days so he has a head start on us. My guess is he picked on Cynthia Redcar while in Kent. God knows where he’ll strike next.’

‘Well, you follow up any avenues you have to. And tell Dawkins well done. I’ll see her myself later. Now I think you’d better tell all the officers on the case. A bit of morale boosting wouldn’t go amiss today.’

Caitlin left the office with Kate and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Sure you women like to stick together. If it had been me and Ratchette you’d have accused us of pushing you out.’

Kate grinned at him.

‘Kenny?’

‘What?’

‘Up yours. That’s how you would have answered me if I’d accused you of pushing me out!’

Caitlin laughed out loud. ‘You’re learning, Katie, and that young Amanda did good. It’ll be one in the eye for Spencer anyway.’

They walked into the incident room and Caitlin called for silence.

‘I have an announcement for you all that I think will take the sour expression off your faces.’

Everyone stood staring at him.

‘Thanks to a certain young lady,’ he pointed to Amanda Dawkins, who went red with embarrassment, ‘we have reason to believe that George Markham
is
our man.’

There was a murmur of surprise.

‘It seems he got someone to take the blood test for him. The signatures on his statements don’t match. We must concentrate on finding out who that was, and on looking for George Markham. One can only lead to the other.’

The telephone rang and Amanda Dawkins picked it up, glad of something to do. Everyone was grinning at her.

‘Today we will concentrate on people who knew the Markhams: workmates, friends, relatives. Anyone at all. Let’s get going!’

The excitement was back in the air. Cigarettes were being lit with a flourish, the disappointment of the night before evaporated. Kate watched the change in her team and felt the adrenaline in her own veins.

They would find George Markham. She was convinced of it.

Patrick ate a hearty breakfast and went into work. He had managed to shrug off his feelings of despondency over Kate. Had convinced himself that what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. Once George Markham was out of the way, he would be able to relax once more. His debt to his daughter would be paid in full. He could live again.

He smiled at the men in his office and they smiled back, wondering who had put the smile on his face in the first place.

‘Gentlemen,’ he announced, ‘I am officially calling off the hunt for the murderer of my daughter. The man who gave me the information will be paid in full in a few days.’

He saw the men’s faces drop.

‘Now then, down to business. Larry, I want you to go down to Colchester today and repossess a Jag. The owner is a Paki and he ain’t paid more than one instalment on it.

The credit company think he may have ringed it. I want you to find out.

‘There’s also a large warehouse in Surrey that needs to be cleared out, mainly colour tellies and video equipment. The whole lot is to be moved from there and impounded. I’m saying this only once, so listen good. Only a telly or a video apiece can go astray. If I hear that any of the stuff’s being sold on the side there’ll be trouble. Right, Jimmy?’

He hung his head. Pat sussed all right. Everyone laughed.

‘Now we’ve got a lot of furniture snatchbacks today, you know the score. Council flats with leather settee suites and solid oak dining tables, mainly catalogue collection, so look after the gear right. There’s a list outside for each of you, with a route map. Take the big removal vans. It’s the after Christmas rush at the moment so there’s plenty of work. Don’t hassle the occupants of the places unless you have to. I heard through the grapevine that Dinny Morris’s lot slapped a young bird the other week, I don’t like that kind of behaviour. You’d throw a paddy if someone came to take your furniture away, try and remember that. Have a bit of sympathy for them.’

The men looked at Jimmy again.

‘I don’t know why you’re all looking at me! I’d never slap a bird.’

‘Not unless you was living with her anyway.’

Ronald Baker’s voice was hard and the men looked uneasy. Jimmy lived with Ronald’s youngest sister.

‘All right, keep your family feuds outside this office and this company. Lastly, I want you to tell your teams that when they are debt collecting I want all the money paid in pronto. I keep hearing how the men are keeping the Saturday collections at home until the Monday morning. That’s got to stop from now on. I know every scam in the book, and a couple of the collectors have pissed money up the wall by Monday then sworn black was blue they never collected it. Any more stories like that and they’re out, along with their team leader which will be one of you.’

He lit himself a cigarette slowly to let his words sink in. ‘Other than that, I don’t think I’ve got anything else to say.’

The men stood up and began making their way to the door.

‘Can you stay behind for a minute, Ronnie?’

He resumed his seat and waited for the room to empty.

‘I’ve got a special job for you.’

‘What kind of job?’ Ronnie’s voice was neutral.

‘A very lucrative job. Are you game?’

Ronnie nodded his head. His thin-lipped mouth had a tight roll-up stuck in the corner. It moved up and down as he spoke. Kelly could never remember seeing it lit.

‘In Spain there’s a certain old lag who owes a considerable amount of money to a friend of mine. He wants the debt collected this week.’

Ronnie nodded again. ‘How much is my bunce?’

‘Your take will be ten per cent as is usual in these cases. The amount to be collected is eighty grand.’

Ronnie nodded again.

‘Who’s the lag?’

Patrick took a deep breath. ‘William Carlton.’

Ronnie’s taciturn expression never wavered. ‘Tell the bloke I want twenty per cent and he supplies the shooter. I’ll bring the money back by boat.’

‘That can all be arranged. You’re to go tomorrow morning.’

‘Fair enough.’

Ronnie stood up. ‘One more thing, Pat. Jimmy will be out of work for a good few months soon. I thought I’d let you know so you could replace him.’

Patrick nodded. ‘What’s the rub?’

‘He gave me sister a kicking Saturday, thinks no one knows about it, but she phoned me mum. I can’t swallow no more, Pat. She’s only twenty-two and five months pregnant. The slag won’t even marry her.’

‘What about your sister, can’t she leave him?’

‘She won’t. Thinks the sun shines out of his arse.

She’s only a kid, Pat. Don’t know what’s good for her yet.’

Patrick stood up and shook the man’s hand.

‘Thanks for letting me know. I’m sorry to hear about Clare, she’s a good kid.’

‘Thanks, Pat. I’m glad you found the scumbag who done your Mandy. Fucking real, ain’t it? The shite that’s knocking about these days. No one’s safe.’

Patrick saw him to the door and sat back at his desk. Well, the piece of scum who’d killed his Mandy had had his card marked for sure. His days were numbered.

Patrick began to whistle through his teeth as he studied his books.

Hector Henderson was worried. Very worried. He had not heard from Elaine for over a week. He had gone round to Margaret Forrester’s house and been informed that Elaine was off work ill. Some kind of flu. Except she’d had all day to ring him while George was out at work, and nothing. Nothing at all.

He chewed on his thumbnail, his big fat face shining with a film of sweat. Suppose she didn’t want to see him any more? He chewed harder at the thought, causing his ill-fitting teeth to make tiny popping noises as they rattled against his gums. Since the New Year he had become fond of Elaine. More than fond in fact. He would even go so far as to say he loved her.

Yes, it was no use denying it, he thought the bally world of her.

She was a good handful was old Elaine, a good laugh, and a very accommodating woman. Bet she could cook too. Stood to reason, the size of her. If only she wasn’t married to that George chap.

He sighed. Elaine might leave him, though. The only thing was, how was he going to convince her to throw the man out? He looked around his little bedsit. They couldn’t live here. Perhaps if Elaine sold her house they could buy a nice flat. He nodded to himself. That would be the best bet. After all, he didn’t want to see her husband with nothing. The last time he had seen her she had been like a ripe plum, ready for the picking, and he had picked her all right. He smiled to himself. Surpassed himself in fact. She did like the old one-eyed snake did Elaine! That was another of her attractions.

He settled himself back in the large armchair. He was worrying over nothing. Elaine had told him in no uncertain terms that she loved him. She was probably lying in bed at this very moment, half dead with flu and a raging temperature. He pictured this in his mind. That was why she hadn’t been in touch, bless her heart. He scolded himself for his earlier, unworthy thoughts. His Elaine was a diamond, a 24-carat diamond. She would see him all right. She would get him out of this dump.

She had to. He was depending on it.

He was startled by a knock on the door. He sat quietly for a few minutes. If it was that old bitch for her rent money she usually gave a warning shout. Nothing. He felt his panic subside. Perhaps it was Elaine?

He leapt from his chair as the knocking began again, his eyes taking in the chaos of the room. He could have kicked himself, he should have tidied up a bit. He glanced in the piece of broken mirror on his mantelpiece. Hurriedly tidying his hair, he opened the door with a flourish, a big smile on his large round face.