The Kill (44 page)

‘Who’s that, then?’ the other officer asked.

‘Jonny. He must have told you where to find me.’

‘He didn’t have much choice,’ I said. ‘He’s under arrest too.’

‘Fucking
fuck
.’

‘Amy, Amy. That’s no way to talk,’ I said.

Derwent crouched down beside her head. ‘You look good, Amy,’ he whispered. ‘That’s a nice look on you.’

‘Get stuffed.’

A crowd was gathering. Amy looked around, then started to hit her face on the floor. I caught her head.

‘None of that. Everyone can see you. Half of the people here are filming this. No one is going to believe you when you say it was police brutality.’

‘I hate you,’ she hissed.

‘You’re just angry. Whereas I have never been happier.’ I leaned in. ‘Terence Hammond wasn’t a great person. He wasn’t a good police officer. He was a lazy husband, and a poor enough father. He was inadequate and stupid. But you still shouldn’t have killed him.’

‘I didn’t kill him.’

‘It was your plan. Your idea. Jonny pulled the trigger but you set Hammond up.’

‘I didn’t know what Jonny was going to do. He’s obsessed with me. He was stalking me. He—’

‘Stop,’ I said, very softly. ‘Save it for your lawyer. You pretend to care about young people but all you care about is yourself. Nothing justifies the fact that Jonny Pilgrew is going to get landed with a life sentence for murder.’

‘That’s not my problem.’

‘It is your fault and I will make it your problem.’ I leaned even closer. ‘This is it, Amy. This is your life. I hope you enjoyed it, because you’re not getting out of prison for a very long time.’

Chapter 30

When I got to my desk, my phone was ringing. I stared at it, feeling a strange reluctance to answer it. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel like good news. I let it ring for longer than I should have, and then broke at the last possible minute before it switched to voicemail.

‘Hello?’

‘Is that Maeve Kerrigan?’

I recognised the honeyed voice, given an edge by the slight huskiness of the heavy drinker the morning after. ‘DI Ormond.’

‘Deborah, please.’

I said absolutely nothing in response. Hell would freeze and the demons would skate before I called her Deborah.

‘What do you want?’

‘Have you heard from Rob?’ The question burst out of her as if she’d been holding it in.

‘Haven’t you?’ I asked, suspicious.

‘No. All I’ve had is a notification that he’s been put on leave indefinitely, at his own request. And of course the request was granted, I mean, half of my team is off sick because of seeing Harry bleed out and I don’t blame them but I don’t understand how Rob could just
disappear
.’

‘When did you see him last?’

‘The morning you came round.’ She sounded sulky. So it had been a one-night stand and no more. I jabbed my pen into my desk, feeling glad and angry and unsettled.

‘I haven’t seen him.’

‘Has he spoken to you?’

‘No,’ I said truthfully, and hung up on her. I didn’t tell her about going home the previous night, though. I didn’t tell her about walking in and knowing, absolutely knowing, that Rob was back. There had been a change in the order of atoms in the flat, somehow, an energy that had been missing from my world. I hurried into the living area and found it deserted. Back to the bedroom. The bathroom. The small room that was supposed to be for guests and had ended up as a dumping ground for things I didn’t want to throw out and Rob didn’t want to own.

The smile on my face had faded along with the hope.

In the bedroom I opened the wardrobe and saw air: empty hangers. Empty drawers by the bed. I’d been right; he had been there. And now he was gone. I had wanted to howl then and I wanted to howl now.

In the kitchen, second time round, I’d spotted it: the note. One sheet of paper, folded over. I opened it with a sense of tremendous despair.

Maeve,

I am going to spend some time away from work and London and, I’m sorry to say, you. I need to get my head together. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.

The rent – don’t worry about it. Stay for as long as you like. Stay until I come back, preferably. I bought the flat a few years ago, so I’m the evil landlord, and I’m giving you a rent reduction. I can cover the mortgage so don’t worry about it. (I had been meaning to tell you this for a while. One more thing I got wrong.)

I love you.

R

X

‘You bastard,’ I’d said, on an exhalation. I’d been holding my breath as I read it, I realised. I spent a lot of time that evening reading it, and then reading it again. By the way, I’m rich, which I kept pretty quiet. By the way, I’m sorry. By the way, I’m leaving and I’m not saying when I’m coming back. Oh, and you don’t get to talk to me about it, or anything else.

You don’t even get to say you forgive me.

I rang my mother, in the end, who knew us both, and told her an edited version of what had happened, including Debbie Ormond’s role but leaving out the Maudling Estate stairwell. I wasn’t really expecting her to be able to help. I just wanted to talk to someone who was solidly, definitely on my side.

‘I mind much more about the flat than about him sleeping with someone else. Is that strange?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know how you young people behave these days, sleeping around. Things are acceptable now that never were in my day.’

I rolled my eyes. This had been a mistake.

She went on. ‘You’re funny about money, though. You like to be equal with people. You don’t like feeling as if you’re worth less than anyone else. That was the big problem between you and Ian.’

‘That was
one
of the problems between me and Ian.’

Which Rob had known.

I was starting to see why he hadn’t wanted to tell me he was loaded.

I paced around the flat. ‘But it’s such a big lie. And for years, Mum. I remember talking to him about whether we could afford this place – really worrying about how we could manage. And then he negotiated a good deal for the rent – with himself – so it was all fine. He lied and lied and I had no idea.’

‘As I said, you’re funny about it.’

‘Did you know about it?’ I asked, suddenly suspicious.

A pause. ‘We had some idea.’

‘What? You said “we”. You
and
Dad?’ The scale of the betrayal amazed me.

‘He told us about the flats some time we were asking about his plans for the future.’

When we were interrogating him about how suitable he was for our daughter
.

‘Flats? You mean there are more?’

‘I think he has six altogether.’

‘
Mum
!’

‘They’re worth millions. It just shows what you can achieve.’

‘But where did he get the money?’

‘His parents are very wealthy. Didn’t you know?’

‘No, I didn’t. I really didn’t.’ I’d never met them. They were divorced, for one thing, and lived outside Manchester, far enough away that dropping in wasn’t an option. Rob had been happy to go to my parents for Christmas and Easter and many occasions in between. I’d never insisted on visiting them instead. I’d thought it looked too pushy. I was starting to regret it.

‘Your father and I thought he was sensible to invest in property the way prices are going. You know I’ve always worried you’re getting left behind. You’ll never be able to afford anything the way you’re going.’

‘Not this again. Not now,’ I said sharply.

She’d taken the hint and fallen silent while I worked out how I felt about all of it. The lies. The cheating. The fear I had that he’d never really trusted me. I couldn’t forget what Derwent had said. No trust, no relationship.

‘Do you know what the worst thing is?’ I paced up and down. ‘I don’t actually care that he cheated on me. I don’t even care that he lied to me. I know I should be furious with him and with you two for knowing what was going on and not saying, but I just want him back. I’d forgive him in a second if I could just talk to him.’

‘That’s the trouble, isn’t it. He doesn’t want to be forgiven.’

‘But why not?’

‘Sometimes the hardest thing is admitting you were wrong. It’s hard to say you need to be forgiven.’

I thought about that.

‘You had him up on a pedestal, Maeve. You always thought he was perfect, but he’s just human. That’s hard for him to admit. Let him go. He’ll come back to you when the time is right.’

‘I don’t have much choice,’ I pointed out. And that hurt so much. I’d always assumed I’d be the one to ruin everything. I’d thought I would have a moment of madness, like doing something unthinkable with Derwent at the wedding. I’d thought I’d lost Rob in Bexley. Then I’d thought it was my fault he’d left me. I hadn’t realised I could lose him again, and for good, without doing anything more than love him.

‘If you don’t have any choice you have to put up with it. And don’t do anything stupid like leaving the flat. Save some money while you can. You’ll need a good bit of money for a deposit with an income like yours. Your father says—’

‘Thank you, Mum.’ I’d meant it, though, and she knew it.

‘Come home and see us this weekend. I’ve forgotten what you look like.’

I’d promised to try. And I would, too. I would steel myself for criticism of whatever I was wearing and how my hair looked and everything I’d ever done or was planning to do. It was worth it, sometimes, just to be looked after.

Someone had left a newspaper on the desk next to mine. I became aware that I was staring at it, at the picture of Amy Maynard that took up a quarter of the front page. I reached over and got it, flipping it open to read the headline. It was a broadsheet, but they’d gone for an emotional angle. ‘Face of an Angel, Heart of a Killer’. There was nothing angelic about Amy, I thought. We’d found where she hid her keys, but it had taken a strip search. They had been inside her.

‘Nature’s pocket,’ Derwent had said, grinning happily. But then, he hadn’t had to supervise the search and watch as each key was retrieved by the doctor on duty.

‘Maeve.’ For once, Una Burt was a welcome distraction. I folded the paper.

‘Ma’am.’

‘Come in here, please.’

I went, feeling wary. There was something in the very casual, cheerful way she spoke that made me suspicious. She was up to something.

‘How are things?’

‘Fine.’

‘I hear you’re going to see Charlie later.’

‘Yes, I am.’ It wasn’t a secret that I was visiting Godley; I hadn’t been planning to hide it from her. I still felt unease prickle in my fingertips.

‘It’s going to take him a long time to get back to where he was. We all have to support him in the meantime, but we shouldn’t encourage him to take on too much too soon.’

Translation: I am
loving
having the top job and I’m not giving it up any time soon.

‘Maeve, I’m making a few changes to the team.’ She hadn’t sat down. Sitting down wasn’t her style. Pacing back and forth, however, was, and she indulged herself for a few seconds while I stood and waited to hear her plans. I was genuinely convinced she was going to get rid of me. I should have known she had a bigger target in her sights.

‘You did a good job on the Hammond case. I think you’d have done a better one if you hadn’t had Josh Derwent to hold you back.’

‘He was really good,’ I said, surprised.

‘You get stuck with minding him, time and time again. You’re better than that.’

‘Really, I think we work well together.’

‘He’s a distraction.’

‘Sometimes,’ I admitted. ‘But sometimes he makes me think again about what I’m doing. He challenges me. That has to be a good thing.’

‘I think you would work better if you weren’t working with him.’ She stretched. ‘So you won’t have to worry about it for much longer. DI Derwent is being transferred.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Because I’m in charge now.’ She smirked at me, enjoying the moment. ‘I get to decide who stays and who goes. I don’t want troublemakers and I don’t want people on my team who make good detectives do stupid things.’

‘When Godley gets back—’

‘
If
Godley comes back.’

‘He’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘He’s going to get better.’

‘We’ll see. Even if he does get better, a stressful environment like this isn’t the right place for him.’

‘But—’

‘Your trouble, Maeve, is that you think you’re unique. You’re just a detective. Rank and file. People keep telling you you’re something remarkable and senior officers – male senior officers – seem to want to work with you. I wonder why that might be.’

It struck me as very unfair that I was getting this sexist crap from another woman. I swallowed, trying to clear whatever was blocking my throat.

She went on, ‘You’ve been singled out for special treatment time and time again while good detectives – talented people – are sidelined. That’s all going to change. No more Derwent. No more headline cases. You are going to go back to the beginning and put in some hard work on the boring, tedious cases that you’ve been able to dodge.’

‘I’ve never dodged anything. I do my share.’

‘I know what you’ve been doing. I’ve been watching you. And I’m telling you, it’s all change from here.’ Her chest swelled with pride, putting the buttons on her blouse under serious strain. ‘A new broom sweeps clean, and I am that broom.’

I walked out of Una Burt’s office – because it was hers now, not Godley’s – and straight through the team’s room to the hall. I couldn’t go any further. I was shaking, my stomach a tight knot, my brain stalled. I took stock of the things I had lost: no Rob. No Godley, who had given me opportunity after opportunity. No prospects. I marvelled that I was still able to stand up.

Worst of all, somehow, was the thought of no Derwent. It was the thing that should have mattered least, but it hurt the most. Not sparring with him. Not cutting corners on his instructions. Not relying on him for the honest answer, even if I didn’t want to hear it. Not leaning on him when I needed to. Not hauling him out of trouble by the scruff of his neck. No eye to catch when Una Burt was droning on. No one in my corner, most of the time.