‘Yeah, I did actually,’ snarled Costain. ‘Now I’ve done my bit. . what about my merchandise?’
‘The gun and the drugs?’ Costain stayed tight-lipped. ‘Got rid of them for you. Nasty, nasty things.’
‘You got rid of ’em? You mean you haven’t got ’em any more?’ Henry shook his head. ‘I might as well have not told you anything,’ Costain protested. ‘I got all that information thinking I was being blackmailed and you’d already dumped the gear?’
‘Cruel world, innit, Troy?’
Costain was glad to get out of Henry’s company and head back to his seedy haunts in Blackpool. Henry was happy to see him go, leaving him alone in the pub to mull over what had been said. The big question in his mind was: how many Spaniards were operating in Britain? Henry knew there were a few, but they were pretty rare commodities. So who was the Spaniard that Andy Turner had met on that night, two years earlier by the name of Lopez?
What Costain’s meagre information did do was confirm to Henry that Jo Coniston and her partner had latched on to Turner in Rusholme and that their disappearance was definitely connected to this.
He walked back into the pub and ordered an espresso. He was feeling cold and needed a shot of something hot and black. He took the drink outside, shivering slightly. Using his mobile — a new one, with a new battery — he called Karl Donaldson on his mobile down in London.
‘Henry — how are you?’
‘I guess you have a pretty good idea how I am if you’re still in contact with the cops up here.’
‘Yeah, true. You had a rough time again.’
‘Goes with the territory. Karl, can I be cheeky?’
‘Cheeky? Why yes, pal. Why change the habit of a life time?’
‘I need a favour.’
It was just before seven o’clock the following evening in Henry’s home. He and Kate were sitting at the dining table, all the dinner things between them, each fingering the stem of a wine glass. They had just eaten with both daughters, a rare but pleasant occurrence, who had both vamoosed to leave the washing-up to their parents. Thank heavens for the dishwasher, Henry thought.
‘That was good, the whole family,’ Henry observed. He had made the meal and they had all said how much they enjoyed it.
‘We should do it more often.’
‘We’d have to chain the girls down.’ They smiled at each other. ‘I love you, y’know,’ he told her, then shook his head as he thought bitterly of the bad times he had put her through over the years. And yet, here they were, still together. Nothing short of a miracle, he thought. She had stayed with him through thick ’n’ thin, all his idiotic times, and though she had wavered once or twice (only to be expected), she’d clung on and been there for him, even through the divorce.
Henry opened his mouth to ask something very important, but the sound of the doorbell kept him silent.
‘I’ll go.’ Wearily he got to his feet.
He was surprised to see Tara Wickson there. She looked almost back to normal, though on close inspection her eyes were tired and drawn underneath the make-up. She was wearing a hat, cocked at an angle, covering her shaved head.
‘Could I speak to you?’
Henry looked beyond her. A Jaguar was parked up on the road. Charlotte was in the back seat. Behind the wheel was the man Henry had seen Tara meet at the Hilton Hotel. Her lover.
‘Yes, do you want to come in? What about. .?’ He pointed to the car.
‘They’ll wait.’
‘OK.’
Henry led her into the house and introduced her to Kate, who greeted her warmly.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Christie, but could I just have Henry’s ear for a few minutes?’
‘Be my guest. Can I get you anything?’
Tara refused politely. Henry took her into the conservatory, pulling the patio door closed behind them. She sat on the settee, Henry opposite on a chair.
‘First of all I want to say I’m sorry for dragging you into this whole, sorry mess. I should never have asked you.’
‘What’s done is done. You weren’t to know how it would escalate.’
She inspected her nails. Henry could tell she was far from recovered and that she was still close to the edge — a position he knew well, but one he had decided to avoid in future. ‘I suppose it’s only right that you know all the ins and outs of things, as far as I know them.’
‘I am curious. That’s the detective in me, but you don’t have to tell me anything you’d rather I did not know. I probably know more than you think, anyway.’
‘I think it’s only right and proper — after all, you nearly got killed twice,’ she said and took a deep, thoughtful breath. ‘Mmm,’ she said, ‘a potted history: John and I married young, too young, both of us pretty immature, even though we believed different.’
‘I can relate to that.’
‘Anyway,’ she shrugged sadly, ‘he was just starting out in business and I wanted to be a homemaker. He spent all his waking hours dedicated to being a success. I was neglected day in, day out, or so it seemed. I fell into an affair with a man who made me feel good about myself, something John could never do. Unfortunately I got pregnant to him. I convinced John it was his, although how he fell for that I really don’t know. The marriage continued. Charlotte’s birth brought us closer together for a time, but then business took over again. I decided to make the best of a bad job. . We had money, cars, houses, so I lived a material life and brought Charlotte up pretty much single-handed.’
Tara sniffed back some tears, pulled herself together.
‘Can I get you anything?’ Henry asked.
‘No, I’m fine.’ Her voice was frail. ‘He never knew Charlotte wasn’t his. It was a well-kept secret.’
‘Until recently.’
Tara nodded. ‘Our relationship was increasingly bad. I knew things weren’t right with the business, but I never took much notice of that side of things. What he did to make money didn’t actually interest me, that’s why I didn’t know what he was up to. I just knew that he was at his limit financially and he was desperate and now I know he resorted to desperate measures to get back on line. I still don’t know the details, only that some very iffy-looking characters started turning up to see him.’
‘He was involved with the Mafia,’ Henry blurted, regretting it immediately.
Tara’s face dropped. ‘My God,’ she uttered. ‘They bailed him out?’
‘Yeah — and then they had him by the short and curlies. He tried to break free, but they wouldn’t let him go. He was far too useful for them. His engineering import business was ideal for drugs trafficking — importing crushers, then building them here. Lots of places to secrete drugs in the crates. His fuel laundering gave big profits that they wanted a percentage of — and, above all, he was on the periphery of the regeneration of Blackpool. If it came to fruition, he could have made over fifty million. They wanted a piece of that, too.’
‘My God,’ she said again. ‘Anyway, it was obvious the whole thing was getting to him and to me and we argued and argued until, one day, during a ferocious row, I blurted it out about Charlotte. .’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Trouble was, she was listening in at the time.’
‘Ah,’ Henry said knowingly. Kids and ears and doors.
‘I’ve spent the last few months trying to keep her on the straight and narrow.’
‘Hence the horses?’
‘She’s always been into them, but she started drifting. . started doing rebellious teenage stuff, times two. The horses kept her normal, that’s why we started going for lessons again. It gave her focus. That’s how she met Leanne, who she adores by the way, and that’s how I met you.’
‘And then the horses started being mutilated?’
‘I even thought it could have been Charlotte doing it.’ Tara closed her eyes painfully and winced.
‘How’s the head?’ Henry asked.
‘Very, very sore. My brain’s still a bit woozy,’ she said. ‘On the night they burned down, I caught her coming back from the stables. She said she was just checking on Chopin. I’m still not sure if I believe her. Was she mutilating the horses in response to what was happening to her?’ Tara looked desperate for an answer.