The Business Of Dying

At ten past five, I tried John Claire's number again. This time he answered immediately. I explained who I was and why I was phoning.

'Yeah, I was dealing with one of your colleagues, DC…?'

'Hunsdon.'

'That's right. I was trying to get together some information for him. Telephone records.'

'Yeah, I know. How far are you down the line? It's just I need them pretty quickly.'

'I've already sent them,' he said, sounding surprised. 'I emailed them to him this morning.'

'No, we've got the actual numbers; it's the people they belong to we need to know. Who the phones are registered to.'

'Yeah, I know. That's what I sent him. I sent him a list with the numbers on it yesterday. I had to chase down the names of the people and it took a bit of time. I said as soon as I got the information I'd get it across to him. And I did. This morning.'

Clearly, Hunsdon hadn't been checking his mail. I lit a cigarette. 'Maybe the network's down here today or something. Can you send it again?'

'Yeah, no problem.'

'I'll give you two places to send it to, just to make sure it goes through.' I reeled off my work and home addresses, and waited while he wrote them down. 'And can you do it immediately, please?'

'Yeah, of course,' he said, sounding a little nervous. 'No problem, officer.'

I thanked him, and hung up.

The mail hadn't arrived when, ten minutes later, Capper phoned through and asked to see me in Welland 's office for a quick chat. He was sitting behind Welland 's desk looking far too comfortable when I went in.

'I understand you've been told the news,' he said, making only a cursory attempt to contain his pleasure.

'That's right. Congratulations.'

He swung round slowly in Welland 's mock-leather seat. 'Thank you. Now, I want us to work together, Dennis. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye in the past, had our ups and downs, but it's important we all pull in the same direction.'

'I agree,' I said, avoiding calling him sir.

'How did it go this afternoon at the newsagent's? Do we know who did it?'

'I can't say for sure, but I think the one with the knife's Jamie Delly.'

Delly was the fourth and youngest boy in a family of petty criminals, all of whom possessed a nasty streak. He'd first been nicked at the age of eight for trying to set his school on fire; ten years earlier his mum had assaulted me with a frozen leg of New Zealand lamb when I'd tried to arrest her for shoplifting.

'That little toe-rag. Bit out of his league, isn't it?'

'Well, he's growing up now. Time to move on from nicking kids' dinner money and shoplifting.'

'Didn't his mother-'

'Yeah, yeah. Leg of lamb…'

'You're lucky you didn't get the chop.' Capper grinned at his wit, showing an unruly set of stained teeth. I would have grinned too if I hadn't heard the joke at least a hundred times before. 'Can we get him for this?' he asked, becoming serious again.

'I should think so, if the proprietor's missus can pick him out in an ID.'

'Get one organized, will you?' he said in a tone that almost begged him to round off the sentence with a 'there's a good lad'. I nodded, and said that I would, keen not to rise to the bait, although wondering how long I was going to be able to put up with this man as my boss. 'Another thing, Dennis, before you go. I understand you were trying to take over Hunsdon's end of the Fox inquiry, telling him you'd chase up the information on the phone records. Is that right?'

'I thought there might be something in there somewhere that could be of use.'

'And you didn't think DC Hunsdon was capable of finding it?' He eyed me closely.

'I was just interested in seeing what I could find. Hunsdon had to make a couple of phone calls, I offered to make them for him.'

'We've charged someone, Dennis, all right? That's it, end of story. I can't have officers of mine going over old ground. We haven't got time. And if for some reason you're not busy enough, I can always assign you some more cases. Because we've got plenty of them.'

'OK, point taken.'

'Have you chased up these records?'

Instinctively I decided not to tell him. 'No. No, I haven't.'

'Good. Don't bother. Concentrate on the stuff that's assigned to you, OK? And if there's anything I can do to help, let me know. Like I say, I want us to work together.'

I asked him if that was all. He said it was.

'I'll get back to work, then,' I said, but I didn't. I got my coat, told Malik I'd see him in the morning, and headed out of there.

16

I stopped at the Roving Wolf for a quick pint, then caught the bus home through the rush-hour traffic. It was half past six when I walked in the door, and I rang Danny's home number as soon as I'd shut it behind me.

He answered after three rings. 'Right,' I said, without preamble. 'Do as I say. Go to the nearest phone box, get its number, then phone me with it. Stay where you are and I'll phone you back.' He started to ask what it was all about, but I cut him off.

Five minutes later he called back and gave me the number. I wrote it down, then called it using Raymond's mobile.

'Christ, what the hell's this all about?' he asked, picking up the phone. 'What's all this cloak-and-dagger stuff?'

'I wanted to be able to speak freely,' I said. 'I got a call this morning, Danny. From your sister.'

'Oh, shit.'

'Yeah, that's what I thought. Now, tell me something. What the fuck are you phoning her for? I told you to just keep calm and let everything blow over.'

'I know, I know. It's just that it's fucking difficult, Dennis. You know, I can't stop thinking about what happened. I'm even dreaming about it. I was in the pub last night and there was even talk that it had something to do with the Holtzes. Do you know anything about that?'

The Holtzes, for those who've not heard of them, are the shadowy North London crime family few people tend to know anything about, but whose name is usually linked to any so-called gangland crime where there are no immediate suspects. I'd have bet my life that Raymond had never even met one of the Holtz family, let alone agreed to commit murder for them.

'Don't be fucking daft, Danny,' I told him. 'Do you really think I'd get involved with people like that? And do you genuinely believe that people like the Holtzes sub out this sort of thing to blokes they don't even know? They've got plenty of resources of their own. So, who was saying all this shit, then?'

'There was a bloke called Steve Fairley in there. He was saying it. I wouldn't have taken much notice if it had been anyone else, but he's a bit of a player. Knows about these things. That's what worried me.'

I knew Steve Fairley. Tomboy had told me about him. If he was a player, then he was very much Vauxhall Conference. 'And you reckon the Holtzes decided to tell him all about it, do you? You know, make sure as many people know about it as possible?'

'Look, I know it sounds stupid-'

'You're right. It does.'

He sighed. 'It's just getting to me, that's all.'

'But telling your sister, Danny, of all people. I mean, what the hell's she going to do to help you out of your predicament? Give you a character reference? Now she's been on to me saying she thinks you're in trouble, and can I go and visit you and find out what's wrong, and then get back to her. I don't need this, Danny.'

'I'm sorry, I really am. It won't happen again.'