It was late in the night when Billy and Earl were finally released. By way of a final insult, the cops drove the two of them and a third prisoner into the heart of a Spangler-controlled area and kicked them out, confident that they would be identified as the enemy and treated accordingly. They were saved by an old woman, who, in an extraordinary act of charity, realised their danger and took them into her home.
The next morning they set off together for the relative safety of Tivoli Gardens, where Earl lived, but on the way a car overtook them and stopped in the street ahead. Two men got out holding guns and began firing at them. Their companion was hit immediately in the head, clearly a fatal wound, while Billy and Earl jumped over a fence and ran, pursued by the gunmen. Trapped in a small yard, they grabbed whatever lay to hand and waited for the men to pass by. They heard one run past, but then the second stopped and came into their hiding place. Earl hit him with the stick he’d picked up, but it was rotten and snapped across the man’s shoulder without doing any damage. The man turned to shoot and Billy, behind him, hit him on the head with the brick he’d found. The man fell, and Earl picked up his gun and fired it at the second gunman,who had heard the commotion.He ran back to his car and fled. The man on the ground was dead. When Earl emptied his wallet he found a police badge.
They knew that they wouldn’t be safe now in Tivoli Gardens, and Billy persuaded Earl to come with him to Riverton City. They caught a bus and went straight to Father Guzowski and told him their story. He hid them for several weeks until he was able to put them both on a plane to London.
‘That’s the truth,’ she said with a sigh.
Brock didn’t doubt it. Like everyone else, he had been tempted by the notion that Michael Grant’s fall had been well deserved, that someone who had been just too good to be true had been exposed as a huge fraud. All of the newspapers had accepted this line, whether guardedly or with vicious relish, but it had never squared with Brock’s own assessment of the man,despite the fact that Grant had lied to him about not knowing Joseph Kidd in Jamaica.
‘I know that’s how it happened because his grandmother got her friend to write to tell me the whole story, and to ask me to look out for him if he got to London. Then Father Maguire told me he was coming and I said we’d take him in, despite . . . well, despite experience.’
Brock gave her a quizzical smile over the rim of his teacup.
‘We’d already had dealings with the Forrest family comin’ over here that weren’t so happy, but I thought I knew my little Billy, and I wasn’t wrong.’
‘There are other Forrests here?’
‘Just the one, Billy’s older brother, or half-brother you would say-same mother, but who knows who their fathers were? Sailors passing through. He was quite a bit older than Billy, closer to my age, and he came over a couple of years after we did.’
Abigail had become reluctant and subdued in telling this part of her story, and Brock said,‘Trouble, was he?’
She nodded.‘Good-looking boy,and a great one for the ladies. He even . . . well, I was an attractive woman in those days. Mr Lavender had to tell him to get out. But it wasn’t just the flirting. He brought his bad ways over with him, the drugs, and got in with a bad crowd. It was on account of him that Mr Lavender got hurt. When he fell out with him, my husband threatened to go to the police about his drug dealing,and he told his friends,who came and beat Mr Lavender up bad.’
‘The Roaches?’
‘Mr Lavender never said a word, not even to me, but I’d seen Billy’s brother hanging around with them. I didn’t want to see Billy-Michael, as he now was-goin’ the same way. It tells you what a good man my husband was that he agreed to take him in, God bless his soul.’
‘What happened to this brother?’
‘I don’t know. He moved on, thank goodness, and Michael fulfilled all my hopes for him.’
‘What was the brother’s name?’
‘Robbie, Robbie Forrest. He was a rascal, that one.’ She shook her head, but the memory stirred something warmer than disapproval, and she smiled to herself. ‘He had one gold tooth.’ She tapped one of her front teeth.‘Lost it in a fight back home, he said, and forced the man who’d knocked it out to give him a new one, in gold. The man with the golden kiss, he used to say. I sometimes wonder what ever became of him.’
‘So where is Michael now, Abigail?’
‘I really don’t know.’
‘I can understand your reluctance, but I may be able to help him.’
‘But it’s true, I don’t know.’ She hesitated. ‘He did phone me on Monday evening. He said that things were impossible and he couldn’t go home. He said that he and Jennifer were goin’ away for a while, till things settled down. He didn’t say where . . .’
Brock nodded patiently.‘But?’
‘Well, they’ve been away before, when Michael said he couldn’t stand London any more and wanted to “go to ground”- that’s what he called it. A cottage that belongs to a friend of his. I don’t know if that’s where he’s gone, but it’s possible.’
‘Whereabouts?’
‘Somewhere in the country.’
‘Didn’t he mention where it was, or send you a postcard?’
‘No.’ She saw the frustration on Brock’s face and added,‘The friend who owned it was someone he knew from his days in the
building industry. A builder, I think.’
Kathy met them in the corridor as they were leaving the station. Martin started at seeing her, then recovered and gave a cautious smile. Vexx, at his shoulder, glowered.
‘Do you have a moment, Mr Connell?’ she asked.
He glanced at Vexx, then reached into his pocket for his keys. ‘All right. Do you want to wait for me in the car, Teddy, while I have quick word with DS Kolla here?’
Vexx took the keys and shouldered past Kathy with a casual roll to his stride. Kathy showed Martin into an unoccupied interview room. They didn’t sit down. Kathy folded her arms.
‘You’re very trusting,’ she said, ‘giving your keys to a bastard like that. He’s probably driving your car back to your home right now, to steal your Georgian silver and rape your lovely wife.’
‘Don’t be like that, Kathy.’
‘He drove a six-inch nail into a kid’s head because I tried to talk to the lad,who never told me a thing.It’s amazing the boy isn’t dead.’
Seeing how angry she was, Connell replied carefully, trying to sound calm and reasonable.‘They can’t prove that.’
‘I know, I was watching. Interesting that you put it like that, Martin. Interesting that you don’t say he’s innocent, because of course you know he’s not.’
‘He’s innocent until proven guilty.’
‘I don’t know how you can do it, how you can live with yourself.’
He seemed about to frame a response, then simply shook his head and said wearily,‘Is that all you wanted to say?’
‘Not all, no. I wondered if Tom Reeves had been in touch with you.’
Martin looked alarmed.‘Christ, no. Has he spoken to you?’
‘No. I just wondered, that’s all.’
‘Well, when you do see him make sure he understands that nothing happened between us and he must keep his trap shut. That’s the last thing I . . . either of us needs right now.’
‘Don’t worry, Martin,’ Kathy said softly. ‘We’re innocent, remember? Until proven guilty.’ She walked out of the room.
As she paced down the corridor her phone rang. She opened it and heard Brock’s voice.
‘Kathy, what can you tell me about that builder friend of Michael Grant’s?’
Kathy led the way across the mud towards the hut where she’d met Wayne Ferguson before. The site looked different now, with steel framing erected on the concrete slab. The site manager was standing talking to a man with a roll of drawings. He waved when he saw them and came over.