Larisa gazed at him seriously for a while, as if trying to decide whether he was telling the truth, then she said, ‘Yes. Yes, that will be nice. I will cook for you myself.’
Annie and Winsome managed to fit in a quick sandwich at Pret with Blackstone and Gwillam before they got a call from Leeds General Infirmary saying that Gareth Underwood wanted to talk to them. It took a moment for the penny to drop: Gareth Underwood was Curly.
There was a police guard on the private room in which Curly was being kept for observation after a bullet had been removed from his left side the previous evening. As far as the doctor was concerned, it was nothing but a flesh wound, having missed all the important organs, though it had done some minor tissue damage, and one always had to keep an eye open for infection.
Curly was lying propped up on his pillows, connected to various machines that displayed his heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen levels and other bodily functions comprehensible only to doctors and nurses. Annie swallowed as she walked into the room, her mouth dry. It brought back too many memories, most of them bad. Curly was also hooked up to an MP3 player, with his eyes closed. He had a large glass of water with a bent straw on his bedside table.
Neither Curly’s doctor nor Blackstone wanted to crowd the room, so only Annie and Ken Blackstone went in, leaving Gwillam and Winsome outside. Gwillam seemed put out by his exclusion, perhaps because he felt it was because he wasn’t a real copper, being Trading Standards, but Winsome took it in her stride.
Curly seemed to sense someone in the room. He opened his eyes and took out the earbuds. ‘Woz is a goner, isn’t he?’ he said, as they sat beside the bed in the hospital chairs.
‘Woz?’ said Blackstone.
‘Mr Corrigan. Warren. It’s what I called him. Woz.’
‘Yes, Curly, he’s a goner.’
‘Would you mind calling me Gareth? I always hated Curly.’
‘What do you want, Gareth? We’re busy.’
‘It’s that copper who came to see Woz on Monday I want to talk to. Where is he?’
‘DCI Banks?’ said Annie.
‘That’s his name.’
‘I’m afraid he’s out of the country,’ said Annie. ‘I’m his partner. You can talk to me.’ She checked with Blackstone, who nodded. Her dry mouth had turned into a tightening sensation in her chest when she entered the hospital room, and she wondered whether it meant the onset of another panic attack. They happened sometimes when she skirted too close to her recent experiences. Careful, slow breathing soon brought it under control. This was nothing like what happened to her, she told herself. Curly, or Gareth, seemed fine. He’d be back out in a day or two, right as rain, not spending months in and out of places like this, having operations, fearing for his legs. But she was past that now, she told herself. It was over; she was fine. And Gareth might well be spending the next few months and more in a place even less pleasant than a hospital room.
‘First off,’ said Gareth, ‘before I tell you anything, I want to do a deal.’
‘What sort of deal?’ Blackstone asked.
‘I want immunity. I know all about Woz’s business. I even know where he keeps his books. I can name names. I know a lot, and I’m willing to tell it all, but I don’t want to go to jail. And I want protection. A new identity.’
‘I don’t know about all that, Gareth,’ said Blackstone. ‘It’s not up to me. We can put in a word for you.’
‘You’ll have to do better than that.’
‘Gareth,’ said Blackstone, ‘you haven’t been charged with anything yet. You’re not even under arrest. No doubt you have done many bad things, but they’re not our concern at the moment. Corrigan’s shooting is.’
‘It’s not as if you don’t know who did it, and why.’
‘Tip of the iceberg, Curly, tip of the iceberg.’
‘Gareth. And some of these bad things you think I’ve done might just become your concern if I start talking.’ He rested back on the pillow and grimaced with pain. ‘Bloody painkillers they give you around here are useless.’
Annie could certainly relate to that. There never seemed enough painkillers available when you were really in pain.
‘Why don’t you just tell us, Gareth?’ Blackstone pressed on. ‘You know it can only count in your favour. Otherwise, you’ll be spending countless hours in detention, in smelly interview rooms. No painkillers there.’
‘You can’t fool me, Mr Blackstone. I know my rights, and medical attention is one of them. But I’ll admit you’ve got a point. See, the thing is, I want to go straight. I’ve had enough of this.’
‘Of what?’
‘This life. Woz, and what he was doing. Robbing the poor to pay the rich. It’s disgusting. He was scum. I’ve got a conscience, you know.’
‘A bit late for that, isn’t it?’
‘It’s never too late to repent.’
‘Don’t go all religious on us, Gareth.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t. I just think that every man should be given a second chance, that’s all. I want to go straight. I want to go back to my old line of work.’
‘What was that?’
‘Club bouncer.’
‘That’s a step up in the world.’
‘At least it’s honest work.’
‘That’s debatable.’ Blackstone leaned forward. ‘Gareth, I appreciate your change of heart, I really do. But I’ll appreciate it a lot more if you actually tell us something useful.’
‘What did you want to talk to DCI Banks about?’ Annie added.
Curly paused for a moment. The mental turmoil was clear for even Annie to see, as he debated whether to open up or not. ‘I want a lawyer first,’ he said. ‘I’ll make a deal, but I need some guarantees. On paper.’
‘So what do you think of it all,’ Joanna asked Banks that evening. They were dining alone this time, and as it had been a long day, and the weather had turned a little chilly, they had decided to eat at the hotel, but changed their minds when they heard the noise from the Karaoke Bar. Instead, they skipped over to the steakhouse at the bottom of Viru, near the gate, away from most of the parties and noisy groups. They found that wearing jackets or sweaters, and with the help of the well-placed heaters, they were fine outside, and plenty of others seemed to agree. The steaks were a bit more pricey than Clazz, but excellent quality.
‘I liked her,’ Banks said.
‘I expect most men would agree with you.’
‘Hey, now, wait a minute before you start getting all women’s lib on me. I admire what she’s done. She was on a downward slope — drugs, sex clubs, bad boys, the lot — and she pulled herself up by the boot strings. She’s got guts, and a fair dollop of common sense. Not a bad-looking broad, either.’
Joanna nudged him playfully. ‘Bastard,’ she said.
Banks drank some more wine. ‘You don’t believe her story?’
‘Most of it,’ Joanna said. ‘I’m inclined to think she abridged it, and censored it a little here and there for general consumption.’
‘Oh, you’re such cynics in Professional Standards. Don’t you believe anybody?’
‘I’ve always found it’s a good starting point.’
‘So what are you going to put in your report?’
‘Which one?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The one on Bill Quinn, or the one on you?’
‘If you’re planning a report on me, I can guarantee you’ll have met with a mysterious accident before you get to the airport.’
Joanna laughed. ‘Oh, you’re not as bad as you like to make out. There’d be no point doing a report on you. Nothing to put in it. Boring.’
‘I don’t know what’s worse,’ Banks said, ‘being a fit subject for you or not.’