Ramage’s face didn’t register a flicker of recognition at the mention of the piece of paper, and Paddy guessed he didn’t know. Knox hadn’t told Shug Grant after all.
“No sign of him? Is he following you, going to your house?”
“No.” She paused. Ramage might make her go home. “Not so far. I haven’t seen him anyway.”
“Was he the guy at the front door?”
“No. The guy at the door’s prints are on the paper but not on file.”
“So they’d need to arrest him first before they can take his prints for comparison?”
“Yes,” she said, forgetting to disguise her surprise that Ramage wasn’t an idiot. He noticed it, his right cheek twitching in irritation, so she hurried on. “Anyway, the police are dragging their heels about going for the right guy and keep trying to pin Burnett’s murder on other people. Someone’s definitely protecting him.”
“And the investigation team? They clean?”
She thought of Sullivan taking abuse from the officers in the inquiry, holding his stomach in for her because she’d done the right thing. “As a whistle. The officer in charge knows something’s fishy and he’s meeting me alone, giving me tips.”
Ramage pointed at her quickly, as if she had followed his suggestion. “Good contact. Keep him quiet, Meehan. Don’t tell any of the dogs upstairs about him. He’s yours.”
Relieved that her execution had been commuted, she smiled eagerly at Ramage. “Top tip,” she said, “thanks.” As if she needed a warning to be cagey around other journalists.
Ramage sipped from his coffee again and looked a little sick, pressing his lips together and sucking his tongue hard. She guessed the coffee smelled better than it tasted. “And how did the inquiry go?”
“They seemed determined to avoid all the important questions.”
He nodded slowly. “So it’s someone on the board of inquiry?”
Paddy was impressed again by how astute he was. “Could be.”
“They do that. I’ve seen it before. Get themselves onto the board of inquiry and try to steer it.”
“Really?”
“Sure, same thing happened in a story we covered in Liverpool ten years ago. So, how much longer d’you think you’ll need to pin it?”
She had no idea. “A few days,” she said, and wondered why she had. “At most.”
“Good. Good.” He put the cup down, glancing at it resentfully. “I’ll only pay for the hotel for another two days and I want it done by then.” He flicked a hand to the door. “Out.”
Paddy smiled at him, a genuine smile. He was smart and prepared to pay for the hotel and he wasn’t going to sack her. “Cheers, Boss.”
Out in the stuffy corridor her tired mind sagged again. She only had two days left. Trying to marshal her thoughts, she felt in her pocket for the crumpled photocopy of the funeral photo, pulling it out and unfolding it as she walked along the pavement outside.
The dusty black toner was crumpling on the folds but Kate Burnett’s face was still clear, a mess of blond hair and a small smile perched on her lips. She tied the whole thing together. Paddy had to find her.
THIRTY. THE SEA IS SO WIDE
I
Bed swallowed her, sucking her down into a coffin sleep. She dreamed of Kate coming alive in the photocopied picture, smiling, throwing her head back and laughing at a funeral, her big hair bouncing on her shoulders. Ramage held Kate’s elbow to support her and suddenly she was on fire, her hair burning as she laughed and nodded, burning hair flailing around her shoulders, spitting vicious little sparks.
Paddy sat up suddenly to the sound of the telephone burring next to her, the heat of a low winter sun spilling through the window, burning her face.
“Hello?”
The switchboard had a call for her, a man called George Burns, should they put it through?
“Meehan.” He didn’t sound friendly but she had just woken up and was too disoriented to be cold back.
“Oh, hiya, how are ye?” She checked her watch. She had only slept for three hours and it was lunchtime.
“Eh, fine, yeah, fine. I called to tell you that Tam Gourlay and his partner McGregor have been suspended because of the inquiry. I saw Gourlay leaving the Marine just after he heard. He’s a shirt full of sore bones this morning.”
It took her a moment to work out why she would be interested in Tam Gourlay’s shirt. “You beat him up?”
Burns hesitated but she could hear a smile when he spoke. “Aye, but I’m telling you in code, for the purposes of being sneaky.”
“Did you do it in secret?”
“Em,” he sighed, “no. I did it in a car park full of policemen.”
“So, why are you being sneaky?”
“I don’t know, really. I thought it might impress you.”
They giggled down the phone for a moment and Paddy rubbed her hot face. “God, it’s boiling in here.”
“Anyway, you won’t have any more trouble from him.”
She thought of Knox. The trouble ran deeper than Burns could possibly know. “Thanks.”
“It’s okay. I’m not far away, just round the corner, actually.”
He left a heavy pause. She could have invited him up to her room but she had two days left and felt too delicate for a repeat of yesterday’s gymnastics.
“Burns, could you do me a favor?”
“Anything.” He sounded certain, thinking she was going to ask him up.
“Could you get Chief Superintendent Knox’s home address for me?”
She could feel his annoyance carrying down the phone line. He clicked his tongue.
“Sure,” he said briskly. “Sure. I’ll get that for you.”
“Ye did say anything.”
“Yeah. I did. I said that.”
After she hung up the red light on the phone continued to flash at her. She thought it was a mistake at first, but picked it up to check Burns wasn’t still on the other end.
“There’s a visitor for you in reception.” The receptionist sounded resentful. “You requested that no one be sent up to your room.”
She imagined Gourlay dripping blood onto the marble flooring, Lafferty standing by the desk, grinning and holding a firebrand. “Who is it?”
The receptionist sighed and put her hand over the receiver, asking a question of someone. She came back on.
“It’s your mum.”
II
The lift doors opened and Paddy saw Trisha standing, looking lost, in the middle of the reception hall. She was wearing her poor beige going-into-town mac, clutching crumpled reused polythene bags in front of her. The heavy bags, stretching at the handles, pulled her rounded shoulders down. She looked scared.
As Paddy approached, Trisha saw her and almost bowed. The handle of one of the overfilled bags snapped and Paddy’s clothes spilled onto the gleaming marble floor. When Trisha saw the knickers and sweater on the floor in front of her she almost cried.
“Don’t worry about that,” said Paddy, and knelt to scoop the items back into the bag. She stood up, uncertain how to greet her mother, going for a kiss on the cheek but missing as Trisha turned to receive it and hitting her awkwardly on the ear.
“Hello, pet,” said Trisha quietly. “Hello.”
“Will we get a cup of tea?”
“Well-” Trisha looked around as if they might be having it in the reception area. “It’s a bit of a bother…”
“No, it’s not a problem, we can go in here.” Paddy took her arm and led her across the floor to a set of stairs leading down into the bar.
Trisha looked shocked. “Well, please God, no one’ll see me sitting in a pub at lunchtime.”
Paddy smiled and squeezed her arm. “Have you ever been in a pub?”
“Of course I have. When your father and I were courting. Chapman’s.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t like it.”
The bar area doubled as the hotel breakfast room, then turned into a lunchtime pub and at night served as a restaurant. As such it had a large steel server in the corner to keep greasy breakfasts hot and juice cold. It was dark now, the steel base of the hot-plate scrubbed and sitting ready for the morning. The bar in the middle of the room was served by young men in white shirts and waitresses skirted the tables on the floor. Chairs and benches were upholstered in purple and yellow, matching the carpet and textured wallpaper. The room smelled of cigarettes and vegetable fat.