Angel Confidential (33 page)

‘That's for you to tell us, Daddy.'

She walked towards me, and I thought she was going to help pull the doors closed, but she let me do that, then leaned her back against them and crossed her legs at the ankle. She put her arms behind her back, and her breasts swelled out to fill my T-shirt. Her tongue flicked out and she moistened her lips.

‘Go to it,' she said to me, staring at her father.

I made to get back into Armstrong, the throb of his diesel louder than usual in the confined, echoing metal hall.

‘We want to know what happened to Carrick Lee,' I said to him. ‘We want to know how he fitted in whatever you and Simon Buck were doing.'

He ignored me, straining at the cuff chain, holding out his free hand as if begging, and looking over my shoulder. ‘Estelle …'

I climbed into Armstrong and strapped on the safety belt. The first car on show in the column to my right was a two-tone 1962 Zephyr Mark II. I hit its offside corner dead square with the middle of Armstrong's radiator. The Zephyr's headlight smashed and the wing began to crumple. I put Armstrong into reverse and took a run at it.

The second impact jarred my good new teeth, but the Zephyr moved this time, sideways and into the next exhibit, a black Lincoln Continental.

I reversed again, dropped into first and hit the gas. This time, I swung to the left, missing Sir Drummond and the Alvis, but clouting the Austin Healey ‘Frogeye' next to it a beauty, head on. With Armstrong's extra height and weight, it didn't stand a chance. In my mirror was the Lincoln, with the Zephyr piled into its side. I didn't fancy even Armstrong's chances against a big old born-in-the-USA gas guzzler, but next to it, third in line, was a red Triumph Herald. I'd always disliked them.

I put Armstrong into reverse and floored it. The Triumph was the most satisfying crunch so far, and my teeth hardly felt a tremor.

Then Stella was in my windscreen, waving frantically, and behind her I saw Sir Drummond was leaning on the door of the Alvis like a drunk whose legs had gone.

I eased forward a yard and turned off my engine. Typical. Just when I was really getting into it. As I stepped out, glass from the Triumph continued to tinkle onto the stone floor.

‘Stop, stop …' Sir Drummond was saying, and when he saw that I had, he began to stand up straight and recover his composure.

I walked in front of Armstrong and checked for damage. There were two or three dents that would have to be hammered out, but that was all. To my right, one of the Austin Healey's doors suddenly fell off with a satisfying crash. I let Sir Drummond see me smile, and for the hell of it I made like I was measuring the distance between Armstrong and the next car in line, a Wolseley Hornet.

‘Are you going to tell us what we want to know, Daddy?' Stella was back, temptingly just out of range for him.

He shook his head slightly. His ears were probably ringing from the collision noises. He nursed his cuffed wrist with his free hand and looked up at the steel girder rafters.

‘Estelle …' he started, then took a resigned, deep breath. ‘I took some bad advice some time ago and bought a lot of property that is now not worth what I paid for it. There were ways, people said, whereby I could get some of my money back if ... circumstances changed. Planning permissions, changes of use, that sort of thing.'

‘But there were people in the way sometimes,' I said. ‘Sitting tenants, people like that.'

I think he was relieved that I knew most of it.

‘Yes, and sometimes building restrictions to get round. It wasn't just throwing people out onto the street.'

‘That makes me feel so much better, Daddy. Go on.'

‘Simon said he knew ways of doing things, getting things moving. He knew people he could use to change the value of things, to level the playing field in our favour.'

‘People like Connie and his churchgoers?' I asked.

‘And people like her sweetheart, Lee. He was involved, Estelle. He knew what was going on. He worked for Simon, arranging things, getting families of gypsies to move into an area …'

‘And lowering the whole tone of the neighbourhood,' I said, and for the first time I think he was frightened of me. I looked again at the Wolseley Hornet, sizing up the distance.

‘Look, I'm not proud of what was done,' he said hurriedly, ‘but I was in debt, deep debt. Simon offered a way out, but it didn't work. This place is a drain, a sinkhole.'

He swung his free hand in the air. It was the most expansive gesture he could make under the circumstances.

‘I was at my wits' end.'

He was trying to appeal to me now. I could see where Stella got the acting talent from.

‘Simon must have got careless, because Carrick found out, and we knew he had been close to you, Estelle. It could have ruined everything. Simon said he would pay him off, make him go away. I don't know what exactly happened. I …' His voice faltered. ‘… I never asked. I didn't want to know.'

‘He killed him, Daddy, didn't he? Simon killed him.'

‘And buried him in the cellar of one of your houses,' I added.

He seemed to crumple then, right in front of us. It wasn't as if he was going to fall or anything, he just shrank within his skin.

‘It could have been an accident, or something. I don't believe Simon meant to harm him, but he was desperate too. He was in dire straits, just as I was, and when Carrick found out about us, that could have tipped him over the edge.'

‘When Carrick found out what?' I asked, later than I should have.

‘I don't know how he did,' the old man said reasonably. ‘Perhaps Simon was careless …'

‘What?' I shouted.

‘About Estelle's trust fund. We'd had to use it to finance the original property deals. Simon said we could replace the money after we had sold …'

‘How much of it?' I said loudly. ‘How much of it did you use?'

‘All of it,' he said, puzzled. ‘I thought that was what this was all about.'

Estelle and I eyeballed each other. ‘I think you're right,' I said.

 

‘You didn't have to come, you know,' she said in my ear as I bounced Armstrong over the grass. ‘But I'm glad you did. He wouldn't have told me – admitted it – if you hadn't threatened to destroy his toys back there. I'll pay for any damage.'

‘What with?' I asked nastily.

‘Oh, I'll get it out of him, don't worry.'

We hit the driveway and I swung towards the road. It was getting dark and I put the lights on more to check them than because I needed them. Everything seemed to be in working order. Montgomery could have done with a few like Armstrong at Alamein.

She had demanded to come with me as soon as I had turned on my heel towards Armstrong. I had flipped her the key to the handcuffs and she had released the old boy, who had opened his arms to her. She had told him to go to the Lodge and wait for her. She would be back soon; to stay and look after him.

He took it like a sentence.

‘Will he be all right?'

‘He's tough as old boots,' she said. ‘In fact, he's probably on to the insurance company right now.' She paused. ‘Seriously, he's probably phoning Simon Buck right now.'

‘I'm banking on it,' I said.

‘You are?'

‘Yes, so the bastard can run before the gypsies move into his neighbourhood.'

 

We raced through the village until I saw the hedge surrounding Old Mill Cottage and I killed the lights and drifted to a stop. I found the mobile phone and dialled Bobby, hoping he had the volume control turned down if he was anywhere near the house. There was no connection; he had turned his off.

‘Damn! What's he playing at?' I said aloud.

‘What's the problem?' asked Stella. ‘Let's just go up to the front door and confront the bastard.'

‘There are other people involved,' I said, gritting my teeth to keep my temper. ‘Buck is a lawyer. You think he'll go down for this one alone? He'll drag your father into it for sure. Think you'll see any of your trust fund after that?'

‘I hadn't thought of that,' she said quietly.

‘Well, neither had I until just now. But I'm more worried about Carrick's father, who might just be on his way here to do something stupid. And Buck isn't worth it.'

‘So what? So you want us to warn Buck? Then what happens?'

‘I don't know,' I snapped. ‘I haven't thought that far ahead yet.'

In fact, I was way behind, because Carrick Lee was already there.

 

Stella followed me through the gap in the hedge and held my hand as we stumbled across the garden, me hoping that Bobby was where we had been to see Mrs Buck's command performance.

I was aware that lights were on all over the house, but I was concentrating on making my eyes accept the gloom of the shrubbery until I was sure I could see the rose bushes Bobby and I had hidden behind.

There was no sign of Bobby, but Veronica was there, facedown on the ground. Kneeling next to her, with one knee in the small of her back, was Carrick's father. His left hand pressed down on the back of Veronica's head. His right hand held a sawn-off shotgun.

‘Shit,' breathed Stella a half-second before I could.

He took his hand away from Veronica's head and used it to wave us closer, indicating that we should keep low. Veronica looked up at us. Her glasses were at an angle across her face, but I think she recognised us.

‘Do as he says,' I whispered, pulling Stella along with me.

‘Mr Lee, it's okay,' I said softly. ‘She's with me.'

He eased off Veronica, and pointed the gun at the ground. ‘I've sent Bobby to the car,' he said to me, but his eyes wandered to Stella, who had knelt to help Veronica up. ‘You'd best go yourselves.'

‘He's going to shoot him,' Veronica said breathlessly. ‘He's just waiting for him to come out.'

‘Mr Lee,' I pleaded, ‘you don't know for sure …'

‘You tell me he didn't do it.'

‘Whether he did or not, don't you do this. You want to go to prison?'

‘Last thing I want. No Romany …'

‘Look.' Veronica had straightened her glasses and was staring at the house.

It was the same view Bobby and I had had, through the French windows, only this time, with the room lights spilling out, it had an even more bizarre theatrical quality.

Buck was on one side of the room yelling. His wife was on the other. You didn't need a volume control to know they were yelling at each other, and for punctuation, Caroline Buck was throwing anything that came to hand. A cushion, an ashtray, a CD. Not at Buck, just throwing at random.

‘What's happened?' I sank to my knees between Lee and the women. His shotgun had no butt, just a home-carved pistol grip. I wished I didn't notice things like that.

‘Buck came home about ten minutes ago,' Veronica said, almost enthusiastically now she had an audience. ‘They started to fight then but he got a phone call, and then things really hotted up. He's trying to pack his bags, and I think she's trying to stop him.'

As if to demonstrate her point, Buck suddenly charged across the room. pushing his wife out of the way. He was almost at the top of the stairs before his wife had completed a somersault over an armchair and landed on the floor.

We couldn't see her for a minute, then she appeared from behind a chair, crawling on all fours, round and round, aimless.

‘Watch, he's coming back,' Veronica said.

I took my eyes
away from the giant TV screen that was the Buck house and glanced down at Lee and the gun.

‘Don't even think it,' he whispered, and I flashed my eyes back to the house.

Buck came down the stairs two at a time. He was carrying a big leather shoulder bag, and as his wife stopped her crawling and reached up for him, he swung it at her. She jerked backwards and fell out of our sight again. Buck didn't break his stride but continued out of the room.

Buck's wife clawed herself upright using the back of a chair. She was screaming, but we couldn't hear her. But Buck did. He ran into the room, the bag over his shoulder this time. As he did so, he undid the belt of his trousers and pulled it loose. He hit her two, maybe three times, almost without stopping. Then he was through the room and pounding upstairs again.

I felt Veronica stiffen next to me on the damp grass.

‘Why don't we leave now?' she said. ‘Me, you and Stella, that is.'

Not for the first time, but for new reasons, I was lost for words at her.

‘I've got a better idea,' said Stella. ‘Give me that phone.'

I stared at her then, but before Carrick Lee could think of a reason to shoot me, I handed it over.