‘It would be a big favour to me if you could lay off with the crash. I mean, you asking around is making life difficult for a lot of people.’
‘Difficult how?’
Boston sighed.
‘You haven’t changed, Alex. You never could leave well enough alone.’
‘It’s not in my nature, Scott. I mean, I don’t like getting fed bullshit. Especially by people who I thought were friends.’
‘Maybe I deserved that.’
‘There’s no maybe about it. Why don’t we start again and you tell me what’s really going on.’
‘Don’t push it.’
Cahill was pissed at that.
‘So, what you’re telling me,’ he said, trying to keep his voice level, ‘is that it’s okay for everyone to lie to Melanie Stark about how her husband wasn’t on that plane and let her think he was into something illegal.’
Boston said nothing. Cahill heard him breathing.
‘And you and I both know that Tim Stark was as clean as they come.’
‘He was,’ Boston agreed.
‘So, tell me, Scott. What’s this all about? Why did you fire Tim? Why was he on that plane using a different name?’
‘Who told you-’ Boston stopped himself from saying any more.
‘You forget I know how all of you guys operate. I’ve been around the block more than most.’
‘I can’t tell you anything.’
‘But you can tell me to back off, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Scott…’
‘Alex, you know me. I’ve always been straight with you, haven’t I?’
‘So far as I know, yes. But there’s always a first time.’
‘Well, this isn’t that time. Believe me.’
It was Cahill’s turn to sigh. ‘Is that all you’ve got?’ he asked. ‘Riddles?’
‘People’s lives are at stake, Alex. You have to leave it alone.’
Cahill heard the strength of feeling in Boston’s voice. ‘This is nothing to do with the Service, is it?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘So why are you calling me?’
‘I’m the messenger, that’s all.’
‘What, they thought it would sound better coming from you?’
‘I suppose.’
‘And what exactly is the message? I mean, let’s not be coy about it.’
‘Fine. You push any harder and life will get difficult.’
Cahill closed his eyes. ‘What about Melanie?’ he asked.
‘You told her he was on the plane? That he’s dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then she knows what she needs to know. For now.’
‘Christ, Scott. What’s fair about that?’
Boston laughed, a harsh sound. ‘When has this kind of thing ever been fair, Alex?’
Cahill knew that he was right. But it didn’t stop him feeling anger bubble inside.
‘Can we rely on you, Alex?’
Cahill stared out into the night through the windows of his study.
‘Alex?’
‘I won’t tell Melanie anything else.’
‘That’s not exactly what I asked.’
‘That’s all I’ve got for you.’
5
Cahill went to bed but couldn’t sleep after the call with Boston. He pulled back the covers and swung his feet out of the bed, listening to the steady rise and fall of Sam’s breathing beside him. He turned and put a hand on her shoulder, feeling her skin warm under his fingers. Her breath hitched and went back to its steady rhythm.
He went down to his study and called Melanie Stark. It was early evening in Kansas. He had no idea what he was going to say to her.
‘Alex,’ she said, her voice a flat monotone.
‘How are you holding up?’
‘You know…’ She faded into silence.
Cahill did know.
‘It takes time,’ was what he said.
A cliche. Still, it was true.
‘Why are you calling? It must be late there.’
Cahill looked at the clock on his desk. ‘It’s after one. But that doesn’t matter, I was working anyway. Have you spoken any more to the police or anyone else?’
‘No. There’s no reason to, is there? Tim’s dead. That’s what you told me.’
‘But don’t you want to know why, or what he was doing on that plane?’
‘I thought I did. But I’m not so sure any more. What good would it do? I mean, what if I find out he was mixed up in something… bad? Then what?’
‘That won’t happen. I know Tim.’
‘Maybe nobody really knew him.’
‘Melanie…’
‘Bye, Alex.’
He sat at his desk, clenching and unclenching his fists, wanting to hit something. He’d known too many people who had died. And he couldn’t shake the anger he felt about this. About what they were doing to the memory of a good man. And his family.
He didn’t like not knowing. Hated being lied to and bullied, which was how he felt now after the call from Boston. It wasn’t just Melanie Stark’s problem now. It was his.
And maybe he would make it someone else’s problem.
6
Tuesday
Irvine went to Liam Moore’s room and knocked on his open door. He beckoned her in with a wave of his hand, not looking away from his computer screen. She sat and waited while he typed something on his keyboard. Irvine had not yet worked out if Moore was always in the middle of something when she wanted to speak to him or if he pretended to be so that he could make her wait. Maybe he was checking his Twitter account.
‘How did it go yesterday with the SCDEA thing?’ he asked eventually, pushing the keyboard forward and resting his arms on the desk.
‘It was a long day.’
‘Anything you need from me?’
‘No. It’s too early to really know where the investigation is going.’
He watched her silently.
‘They’re retaining overall control of the investigation, right? I mean, the SCDEA.’
‘Yes. They’re happy for me to lead on the latest victim. The girl.’
‘Territorial boundaries and all that. Plus, they think they’re better than regular cops. Hand-picked, you know?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I appreciate that boundaries are not your strong point, Becky.’
She smiled. He did not.
‘Try to play nice, okay? Stay out of trouble.’
‘Sure.’ She frowned. ‘Of course I will.’
Armstrong had changed and washed his hair but the stubble was still in place, grown heavier overnight. It looked like he didn’t need much time for a full growth to develop.
‘You going for a beard?’ she asked.
He rubbed at his chin.
‘If it was good enough for Serpico…’
‘So what’s the plan for this morning?’ she asked.
‘Chase up the lab results,’ he said. ‘Talk to the uniforms. See what shakes loose.’
‘ See what shakes loose?’ She squinted at him. ‘Kenny Armstrong, LAPD.’
‘You’re a little weird. And potentially very annoying.’
‘Thanks.’ She beamed at him.
Armstrong took a large bite out of a chocolate muffin. Crumbs stuck in his beard and he wiped them away with his hand.
‘Uniforms are here,’ he told her. ‘They’re downstairs.’
‘When were you going to tell me this?’
‘I just did.’
Irvine called down to the main reception and asked them to direct the officers to her desk. When two men came on to the floor she raised a hand in greeting and they started over.
‘DC Irvine?’ the taller of the two male officers asked.
‘That’s me. And this is DS Armstrong.’
Nods all round. The uniforms took their hats off and set them on the empty desk next to Irvine’s then pulled up two spare chairs to sit down. It looked to Irvine like the taller man was probably in his mid-thirties and the shorter one not yet out of his twenties. They were both lean, with short brown hair.
‘You responded to the call-out yesterday morning, right?’ Armstrong said. ‘The body in the river. Joanna Lewski.’
‘Yes,’ the taller one answered again. ‘She called herself Tanya. For the punters, you know. I guess she thought it was exotic.’
‘And you arrested her before. When was that?’
The taller man lifted a plain file and placed it on the desk in front of Irvine. She hadn’t even noticed he had been carrying it. She opened the file and skimmed the arrest report.