Bad Blood (44 page)

‘When you returned to Plymouth last summer you got in touch with Owers and told him he owed you. Just to be sure you invited him down to stay in the caravan. Once down here you pointed him in the direction of the Lizard knowing he’d find what was on offer too hard to resist. Did you just lend him the van or did you and Chaffe actually help with kidnapping the girl? Whatever, once you knew he had Simza you let her die so you’d have something to really scare him with, so he’d go along with your plans. You had options: you could spread rumours back in Plymouth so Owers would get lynched, you could ensure Fallon found out or you could tell us lot. I bet Owers was only too keen to help you.’

‘Steaming bullshit. Besides, Owers would have killed again anyway. He couldn’t help himself.’

‘But he helped you, big time. You got the lowdown on Fallon’s secret accounts, realised he was washing a fortune in drug money through Tamar. Your Columbian friends wanted in on that and you had the means to help them. Poor old Fallon thought he had Owers by the short and curlies, that Owers wouldn’t dare cross him. He didn’t realise you had the fucker by the bollocks as well. As for the others, you simply wanted Fallon to feel some fear before you came for him.’

‘Ma’am?’ Riley. ‘There’s Marty Kemp as well.’

‘He’s here?’

‘He’s dead. We tried to escape and the dogs got him. They executed him.’ Riley put a hand to his back pocket, pulled out a scrap of paper. ‘He gave me this.’

Savage took the piece of paper. A photograph of a girl. Older than a toddler, younger than a teen.

‘Who is she?’

‘Her name is Ellie. She’s Kemp’s daughter.’

‘Fuck.’ Savage turned away from Budgeon and put her hands up to her eyes and rubbed. Thought of Vanessa Liston, another child who’d lost her dad. Then she remembered Layton pointing down to the body of Simza lying against the housebrick. Thought, inevitably, of her own daughter, Clarissa. She turned back to Budgeon. ‘Just business is it?’

Savage looked at Riley and met his eyes, sensing something pass between them. Then she flicked her thumb in Budgeon’s direction and started to move towards the door.

‘Ma’am?’

‘I didn’t see anything, Detective Sergeant Riley. And if I did, it was self-defence, wasn’t it?’

Riley leapt at Budgeon and punched him in the face, Budgeon reeled back and Riley grabbed the man’s head and propelled him forwards, slamming his face down into the workbench where it glanced off the vice. Budgeon staggered, overbalanced and fell to the floor, blood pouring from his nose.

‘Enough, ma’am?’

Savage nodded and turned and walked out into the darkness. Riley followed, pushing past Davies.

‘Like I told you,’ Davies said, glancing back into the building and spitting on the floor again. ‘It’s turning into a beautiful night.’

Mountbatten, Plymouth. Sunday 10th February. 12.30 p.m.

Sunday lunch two weeks later and Detective Superintendent Hardin was buying. Savage, Hardin and Davies sat at a table at one end of the Hotel Mountbatten bar, a big room filled with people. Families, loads of screaming kids and plenty of noise. Savage had opted for the lasagne, Hardin was tucking into a jacket potato piled high with chilli con carne and Davies had ham, eggs and chips.

‘Now,’ Hardin said, taking a slurp of his bitter and a mouthful of food before continuing. ‘We’ve been over everything and I think I am clear on most of the events. However, there are a few … how should I put this … issues? Which is why we are meeting here. Off the record. Unofficial.’

Davies speared a chip into the centre of one of his eggs, eyes moving to meet Savage’s for a moment before he concentrated on mopping up the yolk. Savage decided avoidance wasn’t going to cut any ice with Hardin.

‘Sir? I think I can ex—’

‘Shut up.’ Hardin laid his cutlery down and put both hands on the table either side of his plate. Finding that the pub hadn’t provided him with a mouse to click he turned instead to his pint, took another slurp and stared across the room to where a little girl was bawling her eyes out because her brother had knocked her coke over. After a minute or so he shifted his attention back to Savage and Davies. ‘The interviews are going well and Budgeon’s not hiding anything. He’ll cough for the murders and we might be able to get him on an accessory charge for the Simza Ellis killing too. On the other hand what have we got out of
Sternway
? Bugger all. Fallon is home free and unless a bundle of cocaine falls into our hands we won’t get anything to stick.’

‘No sign then?’ Davies said, casting a half-glance at Savage and then biting the yokey end of a chip.

‘Not a whiff,’ Hardin said. ‘In addition, SCD are furious that the Columbians got away, say we’ve blown the entire operation. God knows how much money wasted. They caught up with one of the little men – the guy at Budgeon’s place – but the others never showed. Bryant said they were waiting for Budgeon to get the drugs.’

Davies didn’t say anything else and Savage changed her plan; silence would be better. Hardin took up his cutlery again and sliced deep into his spud.

‘There are many things I don’t understand. Not only about
Sternway
and Budgeon, but about you two. Like, for instance, how you arrived at Budgeon’s place at the same time as the SCD team. Why Lynn Towner is shouting about police brutality. Why two of her children’s places get turned over. Then there’s that boat of Fallon’s going glug, glug, glug in Cawsand Bay. You might say it’s my business to find the answers to these things, but at the moment I don’t want
to know.’ Hardin cut again, splitting the potato and pushing one half to one side. He ran the knife back and forth, clearing a section of plate of food and then clinking the knife three times in the gap. ‘There’s a line. On one side the good guys go about their business, everything is above board, everything is kosher. I can write our actions up in the policy book and explain everything to the Chief Constable. I can go home after a day’s work, kiss the wife, drink a glass of sherry and sleep easy. On the other side of the line …’

Hardin dropped his cutlery on the plate with a clatter and pushed the half-finished meal away. He took a final gulp from his pint and stood up.

‘For once I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going, and I suggest you bugger off home too.’ Hardin took his jacket from the back of his chair and put it on. Then he leant over the table, a flush of colour coming to his face. ‘If I ever find out either of you has strayed over that line I’ll string you up and hang you out to dry. Understand?’

Savage watched Hardin stride out of the pub and then she got up to leave as well. She touched Davies on the shoulder.

‘Quits, Phil, OK?’

‘I never gave up Marty Kemp to Fallon, you know?’ Davies said. ‘Redmond did. Hardin is right about lines you don’t cross. There are rules, understand?’

‘Jackman told me Redmond never went over to our side, that he was stringing us along. I wasn’t sure if I believed him at the time. Doesn’t matter anyway, it’s all history now.’

‘Sure, darling. History.’ Davies reached out for his glass and raised it as Savage walked away. ‘Cheers!’

That evening the kids insisted on fish and chips. A three-way paper and scissors game between Savage, Pete and Stefan led to Savage having to make the trip into Plymstock to get them. She decided to take the MG. The car hadn’t had a run for a few weeks and could do with one. The night was clear and the chill as she stepped out the door made her have second thoughts for a moment. The heater in the car was crap and the ten minute drive wouldn’t be enough to warm the interior.

It took three attempts to start the car, but once running the engine sounded sweet enough. When the weather was a little warmer and spring had properly arrived Pete had said he wanted to do a top-end overhaul. She was glad he had time to spare on odd jobs because the garden was a mess and the boat needed to come out of the water for a coat of antifoul and some much-needed maintenance. They already had plans for the summer and, despite the protestations of Samantha, who would have preferred to either remain at home or go on a package somewhere, a cruise to the Isles of Scilly was in the offing.

She flicked the headlights on and pulled out into the lane. Moonlight bathed the hedges either side with a pale whitewash and she put her foot down to climb the hill away from the house. The car accelerated with a growl and raced between the converging lines of the hedges as if in some video game. The kick in the back wasn’t even as powerful as a modern family hatchback, but there was something about sitting low down with the old car rattling around her that was exciting.

The car climbed the hill and bounced over the undulations, eating up the road like an eager puppy scampering across a field after a rabbit. She slowed as she neared the top, bringing the car to a stop at the junction.

Right, nothing. Left …

The dark hulk seemed to come from nowhere, screeching as the wheels skidded on the tarmac and it stopped in front of her. The vehicle’s headlights were off, but she recognised the distinctive shape of a Range Rover. The driver’s door opened and the interior light flashed on for a moment as a figure got out.

Fallon.

The door clunked shut and Fallon strode round. He came to her door, tapped on the roof and crouched, face beaming with a wide grin. Savage wound the window down.

‘Been waiting for you, Charlotte. Another hour and I would have called. But things are better this way. No records, get my drift?’

‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘That’s no way to speak to Uncle Kenny, is it?’ Fallon stood up and ran a hand down the front wing. ‘This is a nice motor you’ve got. Ten-a-penny but still a classic. Bet she wouldn’t fare too good in those NCAP tests though. Something like my Range Rover would go right over the top and leave not much more than a pancake of metal behind.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘I’m saying if I had wanted to I could have smashed you to nothing a minute ago. If.’

‘OK. So what
do
you want?’

‘You’ve been a good girl, Charlotte. Very good. Davies and all that. Keeping quiet. Was a shame I never got to catch up with Ricky, but in hindsight maybe that was no bad thing. Would have turned out very messy.’ Fallon looked at her, a sneer forming on thin lips, teeth flashing as the lips parted into a fully-fledged grin. He chuckled, a throaty noise which gurgled into a cough. ‘You’ll be pleased to know you needn’t worry about that slimeball Jackman either.’

‘I thought you two were friends?’

‘Yeah, but sometimes it’s nice to see even your friends get taken down a peg or two. Anyway, you can forget about the stuff he has on you. The Liston girl erased the video, every copy she could find. Told me she owed you. Alec was furious, but it’s his word against yours now.’

‘Get on with it. I’ll be missed.’

‘You’ve got a nice little family back at home.’ Fallon gestured down the road. ‘That’s what life’s all about, isn’t it? The kids?’

‘You can leave—’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve got a little secret for you I picked up recently. Something you don’t know, but should. A piece of information you’ll want to act on. If you understand what I mean?’

‘No I don’t. What are you talking about?’

‘You see I want to help you with your daughter, I—’

‘Don’t you
ever
go anywhere near my daughter. I swear I’ll kill you if you do.’

‘You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Charlotte.’ Fallon shook his head. ‘Not Samantha. This is about Clarissa. I heard about that. Sad. An accident wasn’t it? Up on the moor?’

Savage felt her heart flutter and a rushing sound come out of the dark and fill her ears. Fallon’s words faded behind white noise as she struggled to focus. What was he up to? Why bring this up now? Realising he was probably trying to lay some sort of trap, she tried to remain calm and scrub all emotion from her voice.

‘She was knocked off her bike,’ she said, trying to keep the tone matter-of-fact, but hearing the quiver despite her best efforts.

‘And they never caught the driver. No fucking justice in this world, is there?’

‘Hit-and-run. The plates on the car were muddied up and I couldn’t read them, didn’t have time either.’

‘Accident,’ Fallon said the word again and spat a glob of saliva down to his right where it lay on the road and glistened in the moonlight. ‘Apparently.’

‘Get to the point will you? It is not a subject I like to dwell on.’

‘Understandable. Got a daughter myself, you know? Anything happened to her …’ Fallon moved his foot over the spit and scraped it into the ground.

‘Look, if this is some sort of game then you can forget it. I’m not falling for—’

‘Thing is, Charlotte, it wasn’t as clear-cut as you think. Not the way the story came to me, anyhow.’

‘What?’ Her heart began to race again. ‘You’re just trying to get me wound up.’

‘Not at all. This isn’t business any more. Young girl like that, shouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. Bad form. Not the way I do things. Not the way anybody should do things. Maybe it is the thought of the little gypsy kid, Simza. If I had known Owers had touched her … anyway as I said, I am doing you a favour.’

‘Some favour!’

‘If that’s the way you feel then I’ll—’

‘No. Sorry.’ Savage paused. She could almost visualise the noose Fallon was holding out, the crack marking the trapdoor in the floor. Still, she had to know. ‘Go on, tell me.’

‘I’ve got someone working on a name.’ Fallon turned and strolled back to his vehicle. He paused before he got in. ‘When I get an inkling, you’ll be the first person I call. Goodnight, Charlotte.’

The door to the Range Rover clunked shut, the engine turned over and the lights went full beam, the glare so intense it caused Savage’s eyes to water. She scrunched them shut and heard F
allon roar away. When she opened her eyes again the dark had closed in, a cool breeze slipping in through the open window and making her shiver as she turned the key in the ignition, the dashboard lights blurring in her tears as the car started and she pulled away.