‘When she’s played me for a mug.’
‘Max – I haven’t.’
‘Yeah, you have.’
‘So divorce me then. Only you don’t name him as co-respondent or whatever the fuck they call it – you never name him, OK? Think about it. Because on paper? He’s dead. And because Alberto’s still alive, and he’s with Layla – and Layla means the world to you, I know she does. So you mustn’t stir up anything that involves them. You can’t.’
‘Piss off,’ said Max furiously, and stood up and left the room.
Annie watched him go, her face creased with anguish.
This time, he wouldn’t come back. She knew it.
83
Jackie Tulliver turned up at the house on Sunday, clutching several sheets of paper, looking pleased with himself and slightly less drunk than usual.
‘You would not believe the stuff I’ve found,’ he said as Annie showed him into the study at the front of the house. Then he paused and glanced nervously around. ‘Mr Carter not here then?’
‘No, he’s not.’
‘Right! Look at this lot.’ Jackie spread the sheets out on the desk. Annie saw copies of birth and death certificates, copies of newspaper cuttings. ‘Checked out the parish records, got the copies. And the woman at the local newspaper was very helpful. Nice lady. Showed me how to work the microfiche thingy and everything. Helped me work the fucking photostat machine too, those things are a bastard. Look.’
Annie looked. Jackie had been busy; there was a lot here to look through. She picked up a death certificate.
‘That’s Dolly’s dad. Samuel Farrell. Look here.’ Jackie shoved a copy of a newspaper clipping toward her and there it was:
Tragedy of Local Worker
Samuel Farrell of Limehouse died yesterday in a tragic accident on the railway. Mr Farrell worked as a shunter for many years but suffered fatal injuries when he fell and was trapped between an engine and a carriage. The driver is being treated for shock.
‘He shouldn’t have been there,’ commented the driver, who has asked not to be named. ‘I thought it was all clear.’
Mr Farrell leaves behind a wife and five children, who are devastated at his loss.
‘What do you know about shunters?’ asked Annie as she stared at the obit, her mind buzzing.
‘Nothin’. You?’
‘Not a damned thing.’ Annie looked at him. He smelled OK today. He’d made a bit of an effort, she could see. Taken a bath. Even had a shave, although his hands were so unsteady that he’d nicked himself with the razor. Bits of tissue dotted his face like white measles. But he’d tried.
‘You went to see Sarah?’ asked Annie.
‘That cold-blooded cunt. I said I knew Dolly, I was upset at her death, and you know what? The twat didn’t even offer me a cup of tea. Said she’d rather not discuss it, went to shut the door in my face.’
‘But you didn’t let her.’
‘Course not. Stuck my size nines in, didn’t I, got the old waterworks goin’, said I was so upset, I’d come miles, could I just have a drink of water? And she bought it.’
‘And…?’ she prompted.
‘And nothin’. She don’t give out much, that one. Halfway through what was a pretty one-sided conversation, she went upstairs to go to the loo, then by the time she came back downstairs the brother had pitched up. I’m guessin’ she phoned him. She seemed relieved to see him, anyway. Like I was a danger to the old tart or somethin’. I mean, do I look like a fuckin’ rapist?’
‘Nope,’ said Annie. ‘She did the same thing to me. Looks like she don’t even take a shit without his say-so.’
‘Exactly. And he ordered me out, thin little stick of a cunt he was, so I went. So not much gained there, really.’
‘Hey, Jackie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You done well, boy. Never mind about the brother and sister, they’re bloody hard work, I know that. But all this? This is good stuff, this will help.’
‘Good,’ he said, chewing his lip. ‘That’s what I wanna do, I wanna help.’
‘So how’s it going with Redmond Delaney?’
‘I told you. I’m workin’ on it.’
‘Jackie?’
‘Hm?’
‘You’re not pissing me about, are you? You are trying to find him?’
Jackie squirmed. ‘He’s an animal, that man, you do know that, don’t you? Had a real cold look in his eye back in the day, like he’d chew your heart straight out of your chest and swallow it, still beating.’
Yeah, but he’s a priest now. Or at least he was, the last time I saw him. Wouldn’t a priest have turned his back on wicked ways?
She hoped so. But this was Redmond Delaney. And you could never be sure about him. Still – he was the only link left to Dolly and her nonce of a father. So she had to speak to him.
‘Look – find him. But I want you to be careful around him. You hear me, Jackie? Take it easy.’
‘And what are you goin’ to be doin’?’ asked Jackie.
‘This and that.’ Annie fished in her bag and handed him a small wad of fivers. ‘Here you go.’
The fivers were quickly snapped up. Jackie tucked them into the pocket of his battered denim jacket. Then the bell rang at the front door.
‘Leave all this with me,’ said Annie, and showed him out. Standing on the front doorstep was DCI Hunter. Jackie gave him one startled look and then shot past him like a whippet. Hunter’s eyes followed Jackie down the steps, then he turned.
‘Spare a minute?’ he asked Annie.
‘Sure. You working weekends now?’
‘On murder cases, I always do.’
He stepped into the hallway like a nun entering a crack den, looking around at the chandelier, the marble tiles, the showy ostentation of great wealth.
Mafia money, thought Annie.
She knew that’s what it was, and so did he. Crime had paid for this place. Crime had paid for a whole lot more, too. More than he would ever know. She led the way into the study, and Hunter followed.
‘Am I interrupting anything?’ he asked, glancing at the papers.
‘No, nothing,’ said Annie, scooping them up and neatly shoving them into a drawer.
‘Mrs Carter?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve had another complaint about you.’
Annie looked at him in genuine surprise. ‘From who? I haven’t done a bloody thing.’
‘A Mr Nigel Farrell says that you’ve been calling at the home of his sister, Sarah Foster, harassing her.’
‘Harassing? That’s a bit strong. I went to see her, sure, to give her my condolences.’
‘She says you were asking about personal details, and she found it all very intrusive and distressing.’
‘Oh. Well then, I’m sorry. I was just chatting, that’s all. About Dolly. You know.’
‘Yes, I do know, Mrs Carter. Or rather, I know you.’
‘Meaning what?’ Annie was glad now that she’d overcome a momentary urge to show him the papers Jackie had brought her. She was glad now that she’d swept the papers out of his sight. If he’d seen the death certificates and newspaper clippings, he’d have freaked for sure.
‘Meaning, leave it.’ Hunter’s dark eyes grew hard. ‘Just butt out, Mrs Carter.’
‘Noted,’ said Annie with a shrug.
‘I hope it is noted, because the next time we have this conversation, I promise you, there’ll be a formal charge and a night in a cell to look forward to. Don’t push it.’
‘Also noted,’ said Annie. Well, she’d been in a police cell before. No big deal there.
‘This is an official warning, Mrs Carter.’
Annie gave him a radiant smile. ‘Noted,’ she said again.
84
Annie went out, got a few supplies in, phoned ahead to Sunnybrook, then took a very interesting call from Jackie Tulliver.