Blood Falls (32 page)

‘This is a surprise,’ Diana said, a microscopic pause where the word
nice
had been omitted.

‘Well, to be honest, Di, I’ve come to talk about this Joe … Carter? Glenn probably told you, we’re a bit worried.’

Glenn gave Leon his water, then jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Need a pee.’

Diana didn’t watch him leave, in case it betrayed her fear. Glenn’s excuse had all the feel of a contrived exit. They were working as a double act, she realised: so grimly ironic that in better circumstances she might have laughed.

Good cop, bad cop.

* * *

‘You don’t have anything to worry about,’ she told Leon. ‘I’ve said this to Glenn.’

‘I know. I know you have. I appreciate that.’

There was a weighty silence. She heard a creak from overhead: Glenn, climbing the stairs. But there was a toilet on the ground floor. Why would he need—?

Joe’s room. Of course
.

She said, ‘Why did you offer him a job?’

‘Spur-of-the-moment thing. He sounded useful. He was short of cash. And I was keen to take a look at him, you know?’

‘He’s not spying on you,’ Diana said, and knew at once it was a mistake. She had no choice but to press on. ‘He’s not a threat.’

‘Yeah, but I have to be the judge of that, Di. Not you.’ Leon shrugged. ‘Trouble is, right now he’s starting to remind me of Roy.’

Diana flinched. Leon took a measured sip of water. ‘Joe’s not here today, then?’

‘No. He asked to borrow my car.’

‘Do you know where he’s gone?’

‘Last night he had dinner with Ellie Kipling. Somewhere with her, perhaps.’

Leon’s lips formed a sordid little grin. ‘What did Glenn have to say about that?’

‘Not much. Their marriage ended years ago.’

‘Oh, but you know how it is, Di. A flame still burns.’

‘Maybe.’ He was just trying to rile her, she knew that. But it was working.

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t got a flame burning for dear old Roy?’ Still grinning, Leon lifted one hand to his chest, clamped a fist against his heart. ‘Dear. Old. Departed. Roy.’ With each word he thumped his chest, imitating a slow-beating heart.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Leon watched them, waiting for a sob, a wail, but Diana didn’t make a sound.

Glenn returned. He registered her tears and his gaze moved swiftly on.

‘Find anything?’ Leon asked, as though Diana wasn’t present.

‘Just clothes. Toiletries.’ He hung back, sheepish, not meeting her eye.

Leon frowned at Diana. ‘Vince at the Britannia said he didn’t have any luggage. When I saw him Wednesday he’d bought shaving gear and deodorant. Who comes to stay and forgets stuff like that, eh?’

He spread his hands in a question, but wasn’t perturbed by her lack of a reply. This was more a demonstration of his knowledge and power.

‘He’s been talking to that foreign bitch about her sister. We caught him nosing round outside my house. Do you expect me to believe he’s pure as the driven snow?’

Diana could feel herself trembling. If Leon got a whiff of Joe’s secret, he wouldn’t fail to capitalise on it. There was a mantra running in her head:
Nothing about Joe’s past. Nothing about undercover. Nothing about Joe’s past
…

‘You believe what you want to believe, Leon. Whatever I say will make no difference.’

‘Try me. Do you swear he’s not a cop?’

His tone was so reasonable that she hesitated, fearing a trap. Leon might be dressed like someone on
Jeremy Kyle
, but he was as wily and sharp as any barrister.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I swear.’

‘Why did he leave the police?’

‘I-I don’t know why. We’d already lost touch by then.’

His lips tightened. He didn’t believe her. Glenn was hanging back in the kitchen, examining a National Trust calendar as though it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Leon pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I’m gonna leave it there, Di. But if I were you, I’d make sure Joe doesn’t follow in Roy’s footsteps. I don’t take kindly to betrayal …’

The words floated in the air like poison gas. With a curt nod at Glenn, he walked out.

* * *

The front door shut and Glenn jerked to life, hurrying towards her. Concern in his eyes, eyes that for years had held her spellbound. It was all Diana could do not to slap his face.

She held her arms against her chest, palms out to ward him off. He stopped a couple of feet away from her.

‘That was a bit strong. Betrayal. I’ll have a word with him about that.’

‘You will, will you?’

‘Yeah. I’ll go and see him later.’

‘What was wrong with now, Glenn? What stopped you from speaking up on my behalf
right now
?’

‘It’s not that—’

‘Get out.’

‘Di. Come on.’

‘No. I want you to leave.’

She spun away from him, waited for what felt like an age until the door shut for a second time and she was alone.

Fifty-Seven

PEARSE LED JOE
to a rather featureless cafe and ordered coffees. After exchanging greetings with a couple of other customers, he chose a table at a discreet distance from them and sat down, throwing aside a discarded supplement from one of the Sunday papers.

‘Kamila’s vanished,’ Joe told him. ‘Alise last spoke to her at the end of August. Since then there’s been no contact whatsoever.’

‘Well, I can’t help you there. She ran out on me well before that.’ Pearse explained that he ran a successful executive recruitment agency, a job that entailed plenty of domestic and international travel. His family home was in Poundbury, and although he had an apartment in London he didn’t always use it.

‘I have a grown-up daughter from a previous marriage who sometimes breezes in for a week or two, not always when it’s entirely convenient. I can’t indulge my dalliances in her presence, so I take myself off to a hotel. That’s how I met Kamila.’

He laughed to himself, but there was a sour look on his face. ‘Damn clever, these Eastern European girls. Know exactly what they want and how to get it. Devious bitches.’

Joe knew he couldn’t afford to antagonise the man, much less punch him in the face, so he sipped a bitter espresso and let him continue.

‘After a marvellous night, I invited her for a few days in Gloucestershire. I have a cottage in Bourton-on-the-Water. Use it as a
bolt-hole when I have reports to write or need some space to chill out, away from the brats …’ Pearse smirked. ‘Didn’t get much work done then, though. A bloody demon between the sheets. Did all those things the wife will never countenance. Too good to be true, I thought, and of course it was.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I woke one morning and she’d decamped with nearly two thousand pounds from my safe, plus jewellery and a Rolex worth another three grand.’

Joe was instinctively suspicious. ‘Why did you have so much cash?’

‘Self-preservation.’ Pearse snorted. ‘How’s that for ironic? I’ve experienced the hazards of a stray receipt here, a bank statement there. To dally in safety takes cold hard cash.’

‘Did Kamila know it was merely a “dalliance”?’

Pearse regarded Joe as though he’d let the side down. ‘Oh, come on. You must get plenty of interest from the ladies, am I right? You ought to know the score.’

‘So you didn’t tell her you were married?’

‘Look, we’re not talking about some innocent little maiden here.’

‘I was given the impression that Kamila was quite naive, actually. I was wondering if she found out you’d been lying to her – maybe that was what prompted the theft?’

Pearse grunted. ‘Is that the spin she put on it for her sister?’

‘I don’t think Alise knows anything about this.’

‘There you are, then. She set out to rob me. I dare say that’s why you haven’t heard from her since. Boil it down to basics, these girls are whores, that’s all.’

When Joe said nothing, Pearse’s gaze drifted towards the newspaper supplement. He gave a wistful sigh, as though it represented the kind of day he should be having.

‘I assume you didn’t go to the police?’ Joe said.

‘Of course I didn’t. In the scheme of things it’s not a great deal of money. I took it on the chin and resolved to be more careful who I play with in future.’

‘And you’ve had no contact with Kamila since the day she left?’

Pearse shook his head, but his eyes slid away. ‘Not really.’

‘So you have?’

He shrugged irritably. ‘She also took an old phone. I use several at a time, and upgrade regularly, so it was a couple of months before I realised. I tried calling but didn’t get an answer. Then, out of the blue, she phoned me.’

Anticipating Joe’s question, he frowned. ‘It could well have been late August. It was very brief, along the lines of: “I’ve spent your money and it serves you right.” I told her what I thought of her, in no uncertain terms, and she responded with another taunt.’

Pearse looked down at the coffee he’d neglected until now. He took a sip. Over his shoulder Joe saw a familiar figure advancing on the cafe.

‘Which was?’ he asked quickly.

‘Basically, that I was a stepping stone, and she’d hooked up with somebody far more profitable.’

‘Did she say anything else about him? A name? Where he lived?’

The cafe door opened forcefully enough to capture Pearse’s attention. He half-turned while replying to Joe: ‘Not that I recall.’ Then he gave a spasm as he realised it was his wife bearing down on them. ‘Hello, darling. What brings you—?’

‘Don’t you try and sweet-talk me. I’ve just spoken to Denny Sorrill. There’s no one called Kamila working on the Lambert account. No Joe Carter, either.’

She faced Joe, while gesturing at her husband. ‘He’s been screwing around again, hasn’t he? What are you? The husband? Lawyer? Private detective?’

‘Darling, it’s not like that. Please let me explain—’

Pearse started to rise, but his wife spun and landed a solid blow to his cheek, knocking him off-balance. He stumbled against the chair and fell as it toppled backwards under his weight. As he lay sprawled on the floor, there was a moment when she seemed tempted to kick
him in the balls. Instead she gave him a scornful glance, as though he wasn’t worth the effort, then turned and marched out, oblivious to the shock and amusement of the other customers.

Pearse looked stunned. He didn’t move as Joe stood up, shaking his head.

‘I have to say, that’s far less than you deserve.’

Leon thought the meeting with Diana had gone well. Running through it later with Fenton, they agreed he’d got the tone just right.

‘Given what’s happened, it’s quite natural for us to be suspicious of Joe,’ Fenton said. ‘Therefore we have to remain suspicious, even though we know precisely who he is.’

It had been Leon’s idea to employ reverse psychology. Deliver a warning that Joe had to stop snooping, and it was bound to have the opposite effect. He’d aimed to give Diana just enough of a scare that Joe would feel duty-bound to stay and protect her.

‘I imagine Glenn felt rather compromised?’ Fenton said.

‘Nah, he was okay.’ Leon told him about Joe hooking up with Ellie Kipling. Fenton giggled, rubbing his chubby palms together.

‘Wonderful! Another reason for him to stay.’

‘Though Christ knows what they all see in her. Mouthy bitch. I keep telling Rawle he ought to shut that fucking library down.’

Fenton looked troubled. ‘Of course, when we sell Joe to Morton and he disappears, we’ll now have Ellie to contend with, as well as Diana.’

‘I know. Cross that bridge when we come to it, eh?’

But it might not be too far off. Their contact in London was confident he’d have a phone number for Danny Morton by tomorrow morning.

All coming together nicely, Leon thought. Just as long as Joe hadn’t done a runner today.

Fifty-Eight

THE JOURNEY BACK
to Trelennan took longer. A lot more traffic on the road, and a slower average speed, but thankfully not too many holdups. Nothing to distract Joe from his thoughts.

Pearse’s account seemed plausible, including the tacit admission that he’d lied to Kamila. Joe could well envisage a creep like Pearse posing as a wealthy bachelor, offering the prospect of a genuine relationship. Perhaps Kamila had discovered the truth and taken revenge by stealing from him.

Then again, maybe she was the bad apple in the family, or simply an untamed spirit who felt entitled to a tangible reward in exchange for sex with Jamie Pearse. Either way, Joe didn’t doubt that she’d used the proceeds to pay for a couple of months’ travelling before ending up in Newquay. Since then, perhaps shame or guilt – plus the fear of prosecution – had deterred her from returning to London.

From Joe’s perspective, he’d made some enquiries, which had proved inconclusive, and there was no one to whom he could report his findings. That ought to be the end of it.

Stopping to refuel at a service station near Okehampton, he bought himself a sandwich and a Coke. He wanted five minutes to sit back, shut his eyes and let his mind wander.

After stealing from Pearse, Kamila hadn’t completely gone to ground – she’d remained in touch with her sister for weeks. She had a penchant for wealthy, powerful men, and she had taunted Pearse about finding a better candidate. Her final conversation with Alise had mentioned Trelennan, and Leon Race. And now Alise appeared to be missing
…

Too much there to dismiss. But Diana wanted him gone within a few days. If he intended to keep digging, he would have to find new accommodation.

Another option was to head for London. Someone at the hotel where Kamila had worked might have an address for Alise. But after his narrow escape in Bristol, going anywhere near the Mortons’ home territory seemed almost suicidally dangerous.

Joe made it back to Trelennan without reaching any firm decision. Now he had to steel himself for another confrontation with Diana. She had talked of
continual pressure
. Well, the best way to relieve that pressure was to get the truth out in the open.

He opened the front door, calling her name. There was a response from the lounge. Not a voice, but the clunk of glass on wood.