Behind Closed Doors (25 page)

‘I talked to an ex of yours last week,' I explained. Rebecca kept her face straight but her eyes were locked on mine. ‘Marcus told me how you always came here to sit and watch the world. To think things through.'

Her eyes drifted. She smiled.

‘He also told me to make sure you were safe. He seemed pretty emphatic on that.'

She looked back at me. Her lips stayed clamped.

‘I guess,' I said, ‘that this whole thing – getting kidnapped, held to ransom – was just the icing on the cake. From what I hear it's been a bad couple of months.'

‘Yeah.' She sighed. ‘It's been a shitty year so far.'

‘I got the impression,' I remarked, ‘that Marcus was having the same bad time. Maybe you should talk to him about it. Do you need his number?'

She laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘You think I need a detective to give me my boyfriend's number?' she said. ‘I'm not that stupid.'

The cafe woman finally pounced and cleared away Rebecca's mug, empty or not. Started wiping the clean table. I sensed a hint.

‘Do you need a lift home?' I offered. ‘I still want to talk to your father.'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘That would be great. But he's not my father.'

I said nothing.

We stood up and she turned to me. ‘Sadie told me you had this really cute car.'

I gave her my Shit-Eater. Held it wide.

‘That Sadie.'

Jean Slater raced out of the door and smothered Rebecca in a bear hug. You could see the weight come off her shoulders as the girl pushed her face into her neck and wept. No more secrets. When the two of them unclinched I followed them into the house.

Jean offered me a drink. I declined.

‘I just need a word with Larry,' I said. ‘Then I'm through.'

Jean gestured to the lounge as if she couldn't care less. She and Rebecca walked up the stairs together.

Larry Slater was sat where he'd been two hours earlier but now had the company of a half-empty bottle of scotch. He was easing his own burden in his own way.

‘Better go steady,' I said. ‘You'll need your wits when the CID arrives.'

He looked up at me.

‘You're a persistent guy, Flynn. So where did you find her?'

‘Where she often is,' I said. ‘Alone.'

Slater watched me. ‘I understand you chased these people down.'

‘They chased us. It came to the same thing in the end.'

He reached forward and picked up his drink.

‘I only wanted to protect Rebecca,' he said. ‘Protect my family. The money was nothing. You can always make more.'

‘Maybe protecting the family should have started the night you were offered a good time with Tina Brown.'

‘Jesus,' Slater shook his head. ‘How was I to know what they were up to?'

‘You didn't have to know,' I told him. ‘I spoke to another family. The guy was cast the same bait. Same place, same woman. He didn't bite. Their child didn't get taken. That guy didn't turn down a night with Tina because he knew anything you didn't, Larry.'

Slater cracked the drink back down onto the table and jabbed a finger.

‘Are you preaching at me, Flynn?' he said. ‘Because I don't need sermons right now.'

I shook my head. ‘Events are the best preachers. You reap what you sow, and all that. And you already know that if you'd kept your hands off Tina Brown then your stepdaughter wouldn't have been put through this.'

‘We'll make sure she's all right,' said Slater. ‘We're not monsters. Whatever it takes, Rebecca will be okay.'

A somewhat vacuous assurance from a guy showing the unhealthy interest in his stepdaughter recorded in Rebecca's diary. But it was none of my business. Rebecca would handle things from now on in her own way.

‘What about Tina?' I said. ‘Will she be okay?'

Slater shook his head. ‘I don't know what the hell's going on with Tina.' He looked at me in challenge. ‘You tell me. You seem to know it all.'

So the police hadn't mentioned it when they called. Larry still didn't know what we'd found in the woods.

‘I'm still trying to square the last details,' I told him. ‘The thing that sent McAllister's scheme off the rails.'

‘I don't know myself,' said Slater. ‘I still don't know how Tina is involved in this whole thing. She told me she knew nothing about Rebecca's abduction.'

‘She didn't,' I said. ‘Tina's involvement was innocent. As far as she knew she was just being paid to entertain McAllister's business contacts.'

‘So she didn't know about the photos? The blackmail?'

‘No. That's why she became a liability. When you told her that Rebecca had been taken she reacted without thinking. She ran straight to McAllister and demanded that he let her go.'

Slater sighed and sat forward, hands clasped.

‘Fill me in,' I said. ‘My guess is that it started that first night in Brighton. You liked what you tasted. Wanted more. Tina had strict orders – no follow-up contact – but you made her an offer she couldn't refuse.'

‘She's a stunning woman,' Slater admitted. ‘I was out of my mind. I persuaded her to see me again.'

‘How many times?'

‘Three. Once here in London. Twice back in Brighton.'

It tied in.

‘It was the thing McAllister had to avoid,' I said. ‘You got to know Tina. You found out who she was and where she lived.'

Slater nodded. ‘I dropped her off at her place a couple of times,' he said. ‘She was happy with me knowing.'

‘Then one day the bomb explodes. Rebecca is missing and you get a call from the bad guys demanding money.'

‘That big one with the shaved head came here,' Slater said. ‘He actually came into the house. Right where you're standing. Jesus, he was a frightening bastard. You always know there's this underworld operating, but here it was right in my own living room.'

‘And they gave you the deal - no police, not during and not after. Child showed you the stuff they'd collected to help the “after” bit.'

Slater's shoulders dropped. ‘He laid it all out. If we wanted Rebecca back we kept the police out and paid the money. Then he told me that my job was to keep Jean and Rebecca quiet afterwards. He showed me the movie stills. The stupid thing is that the blackmail should have convinced me that they were serious about returning Rebecca. But I wasn't thinking straight. I saw us handing over the cash and Rebecca staying missing. I assumed Tina was in on it. She denied everything but I didn't believe her.' He grabbed the scotch and drained the glass, rubbed his palms over his face. ‘I tried to persuade Tina to help me get Rebecca back. When she played innocent I kind of lost it with her. The next time I tried to call her she was gone.'

‘Unfortunately,' I said, ‘Tina was telling the truth. But my guess is that she didn't think it through after you confronted her. She just stormed in to see McAllister and threatened to blow the whistle.'

‘You think she did that?' Slater said.

‘That's why she disappeared,' I told him.

‘Oh, shit.' Slater ran his hands through his hair. ‘She hasn't answered her phone in a week. I could never catch her at her apartment.'

‘Tina went to see McAllister right after you spoke to her. Twenty-four hours later McAllister had solved his problem.'

Slater stared at me. ‘Sweet Jesus – surely they didn't...'

‘The police identified the body this morning,' I said.

Slater put his head in his hands and shuddered. ‘The bastards! And she knew nothing!'

‘She knew nothing until you talked to her,' I corrected him. ‘She and you were the flaw in McAllister's scheme. His plan depended on you knowing nothing about Tina – she was supposed to remain the anonymous girl in the blackmail pictures – and on Tina knowing nothing about anything. When you talked her into seeing you again you started a crack in the scheme that put Tina right into the firing line.'

Slater's head stayed down as he massaged his face. I left before he looked up.

As I got out of the house my phone rang. I picked up the call.

‘Hey babe! You coming to get me?'

‘Arabel! Sure I'm coming. Where are you?'

‘Still at work.'

‘I'll be there when you're out,' I said. ‘What are we doing?'

I heard a laugh with an undertone. ‘You owe me for last night, babe. I've told the girls you're taking me somewhere expensive.'

‘You're looking for a special night?'

‘Got it in one, Flynn.'

Something special! I looked at the Citroen and saw that the suspension had dropped further. The rotted exhaust was now dragging along the ground. The result of Child hammering it along that track last night. The thing was a zombie of the auto-world. Not quite dead but only capable of moving in lurches.

‘What time are you out?'

‘Seven thirty,' Arabel said.

‘Come out of the main entrance,' I told her. ‘Bring the girls with you. I'll drive by and sweep you away.'

There was a happy laugh from the other end.

‘You're the best, babe,' Arabel said.

‘Aye,' I said, ‘ain't that the truth.'

I killed the line.

You're holding this book thanks to the vision of two organisations - New Writing North and Business Education Publishers. The people there saw an opening for a fresh imprint within the British crime writing scene dedicated to bringing new - and maybe different - writing to the market. Moth Publishing is the result of that vision and I was lucky enough to be selected as one of their first authors. For their determination to bring their venture to fruition, as well as for their faith in this book and their work to get it into the marketplace I'd like to thank Andrea Murphy of Moth Publishing and Claire Malcolm and Olivia Chapman of New Writing North, together with their production teams.

Writing the book was fun. Polishing it into a form where a reader might also enjoy it felt a little more like work. Considerable help in that task was given by Sarah Porter at Moth, whose ear for what is right and what is wrong has kept out flaws that might otherwise have spoiled things. Imperfections that remain are all mine, and my technique for dealing with these is to ask you to overlook them. If you did enjoy the book, scuff marks and all, maybe we'll meet again...