I’d made a promise.
And soon as I’d sorted out whoever it was that’d hurt Alice, I’d keep that promise.
Because what was the point of a man if he didn’t keep his—
Here we go.
A shiny black Range Rover growled its way up the ramp from the Blackwall Hill side, headlights sweeping the car park as it turned. I stepped out into the glow of a lamppost and raised a hand. The Range Rover swung towards me. Came to a halt, when I was level with the passenger window.
It buzzed down and Joseph smiled out, that lump of cotton wadding looking more than a bit ridiculous, perched at a jaunty angle on top of his scarred head, as he leaned on the sill. ‘Mr Henderson, while your choice of location is perhaps a touch less suitable for clandestine exchanges than the one proposed, I have to express my approbation for choosing a library. Bravo.’
Francis leaned over from the driver’s seat and gave me a nod. ‘’Spector.’
The thousand pounds made a disappointingly thin slab of slithery plastic and paper as I handed it over. ‘Count it.’
‘Oh, I trust you, Mr Henderson.’ Joseph slipped it into an inside pocket. ‘After all, we’re both gentlemen, are we not? Our word has value beyond the mere pursuit of Mammon’s favours. And in exchange, I give you this.’ He held out a small yellow-and-blue backpack, done up to look like a Minion, complete with one 3D eye-goggle and a big cheesy grin. ‘In case you’re interested in the details of such things, it contains a Walther P-Twenty-Two Q.D. renowned for its tactical styling, exquisite trigger, and second-strike capability. Holds ten rounds in the magazine, one in the breach, and the slide is textured — making it easier for someone with restricted hand mobility to “rack in a round” as our American cousins would say.’
Wouldn’t be surprised if he was sporting an erection at this point, going by the expression on his face.
‘I have furnished you with twenty-five rounds, which I believe should be sufficient for all but the most prolonged gun battles. Somehow I think you’re more inclined to precision than the “spray and pray” approach, but if you require an additional stock, please don’t hesitate to get in touch as our customer loyalty scheme is most generous.’
I lowered the rucksack. ‘Is it clean?’
‘As a nun’s conscience, Mr Henderson.’ He gave me a wave, then faced front again. ‘Francis, it’s time we were away. I believe Mr Henderson is most eager to be about whatever business instigated his purchase from us this blustery night.’
Another nod from Frances. ‘’Spector.’
‘Oh, one more thing.’ Joseph held out a crisp white business card. ‘If the occasion arises, Mr Henderson, when you feel you might benefit from the assistance of two very capable gentlemen who possess those most admirable of traits: determination, dedication, and a somewhat laissez-faire attitude to other people’s physical wellbeing, I do hope you’ll think of us.’
Well, you never knew. I accepted the card and tucked it away.
‘Excellent. Oh, and I like your new jacket.’ Then the window buzzed up, the Range Rover swung around and disappeared off down the ramp to the Blackwall Hill side of Blackburgh Roundabout again.
Twenty-five rounds would be plenty for what I had in mind.
I took my new Minion back to the pool car.
Shifty glowered at me, from behind the wheel. ‘Tell me that wasn’t who I think it was!’
‘Who we going to interview first?’
‘Ash, I’m serious — that better not’ve been Joseph and bloody Francis!’
My seatbelt clicked into place. ‘Why do you think I made you wait in the car?’
‘OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!’ Battering a fist off the steering wheel. ‘How could... Have you forgotten what they did? To me?’ Pointing at his eyepatch again. ‘HOW COULD YOU?’
I sat there in silence and let him seethe at me while I struggled my right hand into another nitrile glove.
Then unzipped the Minion’s head and pulled out a clear-plastic Ziploc bag with the gun in it. Stubby and black, almost invisible in the gloom. Didn’t weigh much, probably not even half a kilo, but that was without the magazine or bullets, of course.
‘You want to know how I could?’ The gun swung in the bottom of the bag as I held it up. ‘This is how.’
Shifty’s shoulders curled inwards as his scowl turned away from me and out of the windscreen instead. ‘I hate those guys.’
‘You don’t have to go through with this, Shifty. You can drop me back at the hospital and walk away. I’ll take care of it.’ I dipped into the rucksack again. Two more Ziploc bags: one with the empty magazine in it, the other containing a drift of small brass-cased bullets with grey tips. Like tiny metallic lipsticks, not much bigger than a finger bone. Assuming you still had all of yours. ‘But if you are walking away, I need another favour before you go.’
He didn’t look at me. ‘What?’
‘Can you load the bullets into the magazine for me? My hands don’t work properly any more.’
‘Should never have let you talk me into this.’ Shifty pulled up at the kerb, outside a classic seventies bungalow on Muchan Road. Grey harling and brown pantiles. A second-hand Audi in the driveway and a well-manicured garden out front, turned monochrome in the pale-yellow glow of the lamppost two houses down.
‘I told you, you didn’t have to come.’ The Minion joined me from the rear footwell. ‘I can do this on my own.’
‘Bloody reverse psychology.’ But he undid his seatbelt and climbed out of the car anyway.
I joined him, and we hobbled up to the front door. Leaned on the doorbell.
‘But we’re only questioning them, OK?’ Shifty jerked his chin out. ‘No violence, or shooting anyone.’ Pointing at my Minion. ‘Not unless we’re one hundred percent positive they’re the one who tried to kill Alice.’
Deep inside the house, the ringing went on and on and on and on.
‘I said that, didn’t I? God, you don’t half whinge.’ Nudging him with my shoulder and smiling to let him know I didn’t really mean it. In that manly, non-communicative way.
And still the bell rang.
‘Maybe this Dr Lochridge’s not in?’
Beginning to look like it. But of all the addresses Sabir texted me, this was the one closest to the library. Alice’s eleven o’clock appointment — Oscar Harris’s school therapist.
‘OK, who’s next on the—’
A clunk and the door swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman in a silk kimono, eyes bloodshot and unfocused, not exactly steady on her pins. Bottle-blonde hair frizzy and down past her shoulders. Orange dust on her fingertips. She licked her lips a couple of times. Sounding as if she was trying to keep the Aberdonian twang out of her slurry voice. ‘Hello? Can I... help?’ The words rode out on the sweaty-armpit stink of fresh weed, tempered with tangy cheese.
‘Dr Lochridge?’ Shifty showed her his warrant card. ‘Police. Can we come in, please?’
Her bloodshot eyes drooped a little and so did her shoulders, then she turned around and scuffed away down the hall.
We followed her in, down a tidy corridor lined with framed children’s drawings, and into a living room dominated by a saggy leather couch, covered in throws and cat hair. A big ginger tabby, sat on the coffee table, paused in the middle of cleaning itself to glare at us.
Dr Lochridge collapsed into the couch and helped herself to a fresh bag of Wotsits. Eyes drifting to the half-smoked joint perched on the edge of a handmade ashtray. ‘It’s only for personal use. And I never do anything around the children.’