‘No you haven’t,’ Henry said, his sphincter relaxing. ‘It could be very useful.’
They looked at each other and a beat of silence passed. Then Bernadette said, ‘Can I offer you a drink?’ It was said shyly, but her eyes were sparkling.
‘I must get going,’ Henry said, ‘but thanks anyway.’
A wave of disappointment washed over her face. Henry could see loneliness in her. ‘What you’ve told me is very interesting,’ he assured her. ‘It could well have some bearing on David’s death.’
She nodded, mouth rigid.
Henry rose and walked to the front door with Bernadette behind him. He reached for the lock, but she stretched past him and placed her hand over his, then manoeuvred herself between him and the door, placing her body between him and the exit.
‘I see you’re not wearing a wedding ring,’ she said quietly, her eyes playing over his face. He swallowed. ‘Please stay. . for a while, at least.’
‘I can’t,’ he said equally quietly, in spite of the surge of blood. He gave her a sad smile.
‘I’m lonely,’ she said simply.
‘And I’m very sorry, but I’m a cop investigating your husband’s murder and I’m also a professional. And I’m in a serious, happy relationship.’ The words sounded clumsy but were the best he could come up with.
‘I’ll fuck your brains out,’ she promised.
‘Excuse me.’ He reached for the door and squeezed past her, his face coming within inches of hers. He could see the glistening of tears in her eyes now. ‘That said, I’m very flattered. You’re a really nice lady.’
‘OK,’ she gasped and relented. ‘You don’t know how hard that was for me.’
‘I think I do.’
He opened the door and sidled out, not even daring to glance back, trying his best to walk in a straight line. As usual, his penis seemed to be acting in contravention of his thoughts, and the subsequent unheralded erection was caught at a very obtuse angle in his underpants.
Henry was speaking to Jerry Tope via the Bluetooth connection in his car. ‘Can you see if you can find the name of the headmaster or headmistress of the school in Belthorn at that time? Find out if they’re still alive or whatever and if we can get round to see them as soon as. And it was a church school, wasn’t it? What’s the name of the church it was connected to? And is the vicar still the same one. . you know the score.’
Tope, who was at home now, swigging his home brew, said, ‘Yes — and are we still on for Liversage tomorrow, too? He’s definitely in Accrington.’
‘You want to go for him?’
‘Yes please.’
Henry grinned at the thought of the change in Tope, who had suddenly turned into an adrenalin-fuelled super cop. He ended the call and readjusted his underwear again.
He arrived at BVH at nine thirty and took over from Lisa. His mother was asleep after an unsettled day with lots of chest and stomach pains. She had tried to eat but could not keep anything down. A nurse said she was deteriorating after the rally and her body was closing down, organ by organ.
He had a long talk with Lisa about the DNR issue without coming to a conclusion. then, sitting down next to the bed, and in spite of his determination to get back to Kendleton that night, he closed his eyes and was asleep within moments.
The vibration of his mobile phone in his pocket roused him groggily from the deep slumber he had instantly fallen into. He fumbled for the device, blinking rapidly, standing up and stumbling towards the corridor to take the call. By the time he got there, it had cut off.
He saw that he had slept through three other missed calls and the arrival of two texts. He cursed, saw it was only 10.45 p.m. — he’d thought it was much later — and scrolled through the phone to find out what he’d missed.
The texts were from Rik Dean. One read: ‘THINGS R KICKIN OFF — CROMER V COSTAIN.’ Another just ‘CALL ME!!!’
‘It’s like a Fast and Furious film,’ Rik said as he and Henry hurtled in Henry’s car towards Blackburn.
‘Just tell me,’ Henry said.
‘OK — two cars pull up outside Shady Lady’s club in Blackburn, which is operated by the Cromers. Four guys get out, tooled up, shotguns, handguns, bats. They open up at the doormen, who are Cromer employees. Big shoot-out. One guy is hit in the leg. The visitors pile back into their car — stolen, incidentally, from Blackpool, duh — and there’s a bloody big baddies’ car chase. Guys hanging out of car windows, shooting. One pedestrian clipped, plus loads of parked cars. Next, an unsuspecting cop car gets embroiled and has shots fired at him. Then there’s a foot chase through Blackburn centre, like bloody Jason Bourne. .’
Henry held up a finger. ‘Cut the cinematic references please. . where do we stand now?’
‘All seems to have quietened down for the moment.’
‘Injuries.’
‘Just the doorman, a pedestrian flipped over but OK. .’
‘Arrests?’
‘None.’
‘Brilliant.’ Henry’s mouth twisted.
They had reached the outskirts of Blackburn from the M65 side. Henry came off at the exit, but instead of heading towards town, he went to Belthorn.
He was going to pay the Cromers a visit. It was time to crack some heads together.
SIXTEEN
‘You let me in now,’ Henry demanded angrily of the intercom, feeling stupid shouting at a wall. There was no response. He continued, ‘Because if you don’t, I’ll come back mob-handed and tear the fucking house apart in pursuit of a wanted criminal, namely Terrence Cromer.’ With that, he lifted his finger off the speak button and stared through the wrought-iron gates at the Cromer house up the driveway. Lights burned. A couple of cars were parked outside. He squinted to see the numbers, but couldn’t make them out.
Petulantly he jabbed his thumb three more times on the button. He could be very nasty with his thumb if riled.
A moment later, with a hiss of static, came a tinny, female voice he recognized. ‘Wait there. I’ll be out in a moment.’ Janine Cromer.
He leaned, arms folded, on the front wing of the Audi, next to Rik.
‘I’m now getting sorely pissed off with this lot,’ Henry said through gritted teeth. ‘Not least because I haven’t had enough sleep.’
Rik remained silent, brooding. His evening of flesh-based pleasure with Lisa had been rudely interrupted by events and he too was a teensy bit cross.
The front door of the house opened. The two German Shepherd dogs surged out and bounded towards the gate ahead of Janine, who was pulling on a top coat.
The dogs reached the gate and patrolled back and forth, criss-crossing each other’s path with a sinuous movement, all the while looking through the railings, teeth bared, growling under their breath at the back of their throats.
‘Yes?’ Janine demanded. She gripped the gate and the loose sleeves of her coat fell back down her arms, revealing the pale skin of her inner forearms.
Henry pushed himself off the car and strutted across. ‘Who’s in charge?’ he demanded.
‘Of what?’
‘The family business.’
‘We don’t have a family business. It’s in your imagination.’
‘OK, OK,’ Henry relented, not wishing to get into an argument on the semantics of the organization of a crime family. ‘I need to pass a message to whom it may concern. . so if it gets to your dad, all the better. Two messages, actually.’
Janine continued to grip the railings, one dog either side of her. Henry glanced briefly down at the dogs, then as he lifted his eyes, saw her white forearms.
‘And they are?’ she asked.
‘First — give yourself up, Terry. We’ll get you sooner rather than later.’
Janine yawned mockingly.
‘Second, this shit stops. Right fucking now.’
‘And that shit would be?’
‘Turf wars. Guns. Killings. Blood. Your lot and the Costains. It stops now,’ Henry reiterated. ‘Before anyone else gets killed. We’re going to take a very hard line against you as it is, don’t make me step that up any further. Because I will, I promise you, Janine. We will not take any more crap and we will do everything to keep the streets safe from scumbags intent on violence. If there’s even a hint of anything further, we will screw you to the floor. . do I make myself clear?’