Absently, I bent down and picked up the paper. It was a sheet from a writing pad, folded in half. On the outside, in unfamiliar writing, I read: ‘Kate Brannigan’. Before I opened it, I knew what it was. I closed my eyes until the wave of nausea passed, then, slowly, apprehensively I unfolded it.
The hand was uncertain but perfectly legible. ‘Kate — I came round Monday afternoon but there was nobody in. I asked the boys where they got the transfers from, and they told me who’s handing them out. I spoke to the lad and found out where he’s getting them from, and there’s more to it than the drugs. You’re right, it shouldn’t be going on, and I’m going round tonight to tell him so. If you want to come with me, come to my flat about seven o’clock. Yours sincerely, Cherie.’
I slid down the wall till I was crouching in a tight bundle. I’d let Cherie down. I’d been so busy running around being a hero for Richard that I hadn’t made the time to check back with her. And now she was dead, all because I hadn’t managed to prevent her from sticking her head into a hornet’s nest.
I’d probably have stayed like that forever if I hadn’t heard wagons roll from the living room. Davy was shrieking with delight over some movie or other, Alexis’s rumble of enthusiasm a lower counterpoint. ‘Come on then, I’ll race you to the car,’ I heard her say. I forced myself into an upright position and I’d managed to find something approximating a smile by the time Davy was close enough to notice.
‘See you later, super troopers,’ I said as they passed at a run.
‘We’ll be at our house,’ Alexis said. ‘Phone Chris and tell her, would you? Only, don’t tell her why, she’ll only get fear of loss. I’ll tell her when she gets home.’
I watched them drive off in the car. I don’t think I’ve ever been so sorry to see Alexis leave. I pulled myself together with the assistance of a strong vodka and grapefruit juice and cut through the conservatory to my house. I didn’t think I was up to approaching from the front. What amazed me was that the place wasn’t crawling with police. But then, my bungalow’s on the end of the row. No one overlooks the front of it, and even though it’s got a postcode that whacks my insurance up into the stratosphere, it’s still the kind of area where people assume a loud bang is a backfire from one of the MOT failures that sit on bricks all over the council estate, and not the shoot-out at the OK Corral.
From the inside, the front door looked just about as lethal. Time to call in a favour. I rang the office, and told Shelley I was on my way in. ‘Oh, and Shelley? I’d like to make a contribution to your household budget.’
‘You what?’
‘I need a new front door. Pronto monto. I mean tonight. Can you get Ted to see to it?’ Ted Barlow is the man Shelley strenuously insists she’s not actually, technically, living with. They fell in love when he turned up in our office looking forlorn, with the bank about to foreclose on his conservatory business. While I was busy sorting out the mess, the pair of them gazed into each other’s eyes and whispered sweet nothings. Now Shelley’s got a conservatory that takes up a good half of her back garden, and Ted tends to answer her phone first thing in the morning.
‘What’s happened? Have you had a burglary?’
‘I wish,’ I said with feeling. ‘Unfortunately, it’s a little bit more personal than that. I’ll tell you all about it when I come in.’
‘What about a key? Shall I get him to come by the office and pick one up?’
I pictured the door. ‘I think a key’s a bit academic,’ I said. ‘If I can get the key in, I’ll leave the outside door unlocked, OK? So if it’s still locked, he’ll know just to kick it in.’ I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. I was instructing someone to kick my door in? Sooner or later, somebody was going to pay for all this. For scaring me, for killing Cherie, for giving drugs to little kids.
I felt safer in the office. Illogical, I know, but fear and logic are hardly ever on speaking terms, never mind pals. I perched on the edge of the leather sofa in Bill’s office and told him all about the latest crisis. ‘I’m sorry to lay it all on you,’ I apologized, ‘but I need to talk it through.’
His blue eyes smiled. ‘We’re partners, aren’t we? In my book, that makes this as much my business as yours.’
‘I know, but, I feel like it’s always me that’s in the shit up to the neck. I seem to be accident-prone these days. I remember when this agency never did anything more dramatic than prowling through somebody else’s database. Now I seem to spend half my life in a state of panic.’
Bill chewed his beard and shrugged. ‘So walk away from it.’ He saw my look of instant outrage and grinned. ‘You see?’ he teased. ‘You like answers too much, Kate. But this time, I think we really should walk away from it. This is one for the cops.’
I shook my head vehemently, my nervous fingers plaiting the streamers from the waste basket of his shredder. ‘No can do, Bill. Sorry.’
Bill prowled the room like a huge blond bear who’s forgotten where he left the honey jar. ‘It’s too much of a risk,’ he insisted. ‘These people are serious, Kate. They’ve given you a warning. If they think you’re ignoring that, then they won’t hesitate to give you the same treatment they dished out to that poor woman. And frankly, I haven’t got the time to find another partner right now.’
‘I can’t go to the police, Bill. I’m not just being bloody-minded!’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ he said, a wry smile counteracting the bitter edge to his voice.
I stood up, his restlessness infecting me. I walked across to his desk and perched on the edge of it and explained. ‘Bill, the Drugs Squad are supposedly checking out the info I handed over to them, and if it stands up, Richard will be released on bail on Thursday morning. If I go to the bizzies now and say, “Excuse me, some drug dealer’s hit man’s just taken a shotgun to my front door, but it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’ve got my partner locked up on drugs charges,” they’re going to fall about. There’s no way they’re not going to connect it to what’s happened to Richard, and that’ll be the end of any chance he’s got of being turned loose.’
Bill stopped pacing and threw himself down on the sofa. He breathed out deeply through his nose. ‘Kate, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but hadn’t you considered the possibility that it just might be connected to Richard’s case rather than Cherie’s death?’
‘It’s hard for me to get my head round the idea that there were two lunatics with shotguns wandering round Ardwick at the same time. The only credible explanation is that when Cherie fronted up whoever is pushing these drugs to kids, she mentioned my name. She might even have used me as an insurance policy. You know—“if anything happens to me, Kate Brannigan knows where to come looking”. If that’s what happened, then hiring some psycho with a sawn-off to kill Cherie gets even more cost-effective. It not only gets rid of someone who knows more than the dealer wants her to, it also serves as a warning to me to keep my nose out and to stay away from the cops investigating the shooting. And it lets everybody else who’s involved with the racket know just what’s coming to them if they step out of line. A real bargain, when you think about it,’ I added angrily.
Bill said, ‘But I don’t necessarily think that there were two psychos driving round Ardwick with a shooter. Manchester isn’t LA. Having a gun in your glove box or under your car seat so the girls all know you’re a big man and the yobs all know to give you a wide berth is a different kettle of fish from being a hired gun. It could be that while there was only one gunman, there were two paymasters. That would explain why Cherie was killed and you were only warned.’