Bone and Cane (17 page)

‘It doesn’t explain how they got caught,’ Sarah pointed out, after speed-reading a week’s worth of pieces. ‘I reckon there’s something the police are keeping back, something that won’t be in the court records.’

She tried to think of a way to bring Polly Bolton into it without mentioning what Eric had said. Then she noticed something that wasn’t there.

‘Why did Ed kill Terry Shanks rather than any of the other officers who arrested him? Terry Shanks isn’t even mentioned in these reports. It doesn’t sound like he can have played a big part in the arrests. He wasn’t even proper CID, was he? He was only attached to them for a few months.’

‘You’d have to ask the sister-in-law that. Polly something. Only one left alive.’

‘I don’t think she’ll talk to me.’

Brian thought for a moment. ‘I’ll bet the husband knew the score.’

‘Polly’s ex? Think you can find him for me?’

‘I shall use the full range of my reporter’s skills,’ Brian said, rising unsteadily from his seat, ‘but we will need to move to the snug. They keep my most useful tool behind the bar in there.’

Sarah followed him into the bar on the right, where Brian ordered another pint for himself and a second gin and tonic for her, though she’d barely started the first.

‘And can I borrow your phone book?’ he asked the barmaid. He handed the directory to Sarah. ‘Know the guy’s first name? Be your own detective.’

Sarah trawled her memory. She should recall Polly’s husband’s name. He had left her, not long after the murder, not long after the couple were landed with two Shanks kids on top of their own two. She remembered Polly cursing him, saying he didn’t keep in touch, even though he didn’t live far off. MPs had to be good with names. Phil. She was pretty sure that was it.

She looked for a Philip Bolton in the Nottingham area. There were five with the initial P in the book. No Philip or Phillips. None lived in the city. One was in Arnold. Another in West Bridgford. That was nearest, so she tried it first, using her party mobile. No good. The ‘P’ stood for Peter.

‘What are you trying to find out?’ Brian asked, plonking her drink in front of her, spilling a few drops onto the table as he did so.

‘I’m not sure,’ Sarah said, punching in the Arnold number. ‘There’s something I’ve not been told and, without it, I’m at a disadvantage.’

‘A disadvantage in what?’ Brian asked, but Sarah knew better than to answer. Brian was voluble when pissed and gave an impression of oafishness, yet retained a trained reporter’s memory and the curiosity that went with it. A male voice answered the phone.

‘Is that Philip Bolton? I mean, Phil . . .’

‘Speaking.’

‘You used to live in Basford, with your ex-wife, Polly.’

‘Yeah. What’s this about?’

Brian was hanging on her words. Sarah decided that she couldn’t do this over the phone. It was too risky, even, to reveal who she was.

‘It’s something I can only explain in person.’

Joe’s birthday meal ought to have been a treat: Caroline was a good cook, but working over a hot stove was no job for a heavily pregnant woman, so Nick volunteered to do the honours. They were having roast chicken, the Sunday dinner that was Joe’s favourite meal. Nick followed Caroline’s instructions on making bread sauce, but the result was lumpy and tasted too strongly of cloves. Joe tried to help with an extra dish, something complicated concerning mustard seeds and cabbage.

The roast potatoes, when they came out of the oven, were hard enough to remove prison fillings. The chicken was over-cooked. At least the gravy was all right. Nick was good at gravy.

‘He passed, by the way,’ Joe said, as he put on the peas.

‘You what?’

‘Ed Clark passed his knowledge test. I’ve put him on the books, officially.’

‘I see.’

‘How much longer do you plan to drive for?’

‘A week at most,’ Nick said. His resolution to stop at once had wilted.

‘Probation come up with anything?’

‘Silly jobs. Shelf stacking. Industrial cleaning. Applied for a couple and wasn’t even called for interview. Didn’t put in too convincing an application, mind. I’ll find something else.’

Caroline ignored the bread sauce and carefully scraped the soft part out of the hard potatoes. She was tired and conversation was strained. Nick began to describe the debate on Tuesday night.

‘You used to go out with this woman?’ Caroline asked.

‘We lived together for two years while we were at university and just after.’

‘Why did you split up?’

‘She joined the police,’ Joe pointed out. ‘That’s what you told me.’

‘I don’t think it was the only reason. We were – what? – twenty-two. At that age you think you know everything and there’s bound to be another soul mate just round the corner.’

‘Only there wasn’t,’ Caroline said.

‘Nah. There was Clare. She sort of moved in with me for a few months the following year, but she wanted to settle down with someone and said I wasn’t over Sarah. Then I went out with Nazia for nearly a year.’

‘I thought Nazia was great,’ Joe said, picking up his chicken leg and crunching into the skin.

‘You’ve got a thing for Asian women,’ Caroline told her husband. ‘But you’ve never been out with one. Why’s that?’

‘I asked Nazia to marry me,’ Nick confessed, when Joe didn’t answer. ‘She said yes. We knew her family wouldn’t have it, not in the mid-eighties, but Mum and Dad were both alive then and I was going to take her to meet them. She bottled out at the last minute. Then she dumped me for a dentist.’

‘Any idea what happened to her?’

‘Married the dentist, at a guess. He was from the same caste as her.’

Nick wondered again if his brother was screwing Nas at the office. Did Caroline suspect, hence her jibe about Asian women? She knew Joe hadn’t been entirely faithful before they were married and she’d still walked down the aisle with him. It was none of Nick’s business.

‘What about now?’ Caroline asked, pushing round the peas on her still full plate. ‘Are you seeing anybody?’

She had carefully moved the conversation to this point, Nick realized. A week ago, he might have mentioned Polly, but not now.

‘Not seriously,’ was all he said.

‘What about Sarah?’ Joe asked. His voice took on a schoolboy snigger. ‘Still interested?’

‘The last thing an MP needs is to be seen chumming up with an ex-con,’ Nick said. ‘If she loses next Thursday, I’ll see her.’

‘How gallant,’ Caroline said, putting down her knife and fork to signal that she had given up on the meal.

Soon Caroline went upstairs for a sleep while the two men dozed through the afternoon match on Sky. After the game, Nick borrowed Joe’s bike to get home. Joe had bought the bike to ‘keep fit’ but never used it. Nick’s Canning Circus flat was only a two-mile ride, but he chose a round-about route, one that took him past Polly’s. He cycled slowly, still full from dinner. He’d had a couple of glasses of wine and the memory of his last visit to Polly’s made him horny. But the other night was a one-off. They were over. He was going to see Polly out of friendship, to warn her about Ed, suggest she start using a different taxi firm.

Now that there was a chance of Nick getting back with Sarah, he couldn’t resume the sexual relationship with Polly. He wasn’t like Joe: he couldn’t be with Polly one day and Sarah the next. Whatever happened, he must not sleep with Polly this afternoon. The kids wouldn’t be in bed yet, so he should be spared the temptation.

It was a mild, spring evening, not yet dusk. By the time he got to Polly’s, he had worked up a mild sweat. The oldest girl answered the door. Kayleigh was one of Polly’s nieces. Behind her, the house was a chaos of younger kids shouting, playing, running around.

‘Is she in?’ he asked.

‘I thought you only came when it was dark?’ Kayleigh said, looking him up and down. The girl was only eleven but already had discernable breasts. Her knowing look made him uncomfortable.

‘Isn’t this night?’ he tried to be funny, pointing at the strong evening sun that beamed through the window. ‘It’s awfully dark outside.’

‘You’re weird,’ Kayleigh said. ‘Polly’s with her boyfriend. Upstairs.’

Now she was winding him up. Nick laughed and went up the stairs. He tapped on her bedroom door. ‘It’s me. Nick.’

‘Hold on.’ It was a long minute before Polly pulled the door half open. The girl wasn’t lying. She did have someone in there.

‘This isn’t a good time,’ Polly said, her face contorted. With guilt or shame, Nick wasn’t sure.

‘I can see that.’ Nick was unsettled, but Polly was breaking no promises. She’d let him think he was her only lover, but he had never asked for, and she had never offered monogamy. Only, why was this bloke allowed in now when Nick was normally invited over only when the kids were at school or had gone to bed? At least she had the good grace to look uncomfortable.

‘I had some news,’ he told her. ‘It’ll only take a minute.’

‘Spit it out, then.’ Polly’s dressing gown was old and her short hair was a mess, sticking up in several different directions. He didn’t want to be here. After two months, Nick knew every part of Polly’s body, but he had never got far inside her head.

‘It’s Ed Clark. He’s passed his test to get a taxi permit. The firm I’m with has given him a job. Sorry, there was nothing I could do about it.’

‘You could have phoned,’ Polly said, her expression morose, inscrutable. ‘You’re a bit late with the news anyway.’

‘You mean . . .?’

‘S’right,’ said a familiar, male voice. A large, pale, tattooed arm slid round Polly’s waist, then a bald head slid into view. Ed Clark gave Nick a lascivious grin. ‘You see, kidder, I’ve already given her a ride.’

21

A
rnold had two sides. There was a wide suburbia of dull, detached houses that spread all the way up a long hill before merging with middle-class Mapperley. Then there were the mean terraced houses off the left of the main road, a more working-class area where there were few posters for Gedling’s Tory MP. It was a small Labour zone in a safe Tory seat. Sarah was pleased to note that the house she was visiting had a poster for the Labour candidate, a deputy head who at least had a job to return to in a week’s time. Maybe she should get her red rosette out of the car and put it on.

The guy who opened the door was Sarah’s age. Unshaven, he wore a white vest with faded blue jeans, gone at both knees, and filthy trainers. Seeing Sarah, he smiled, revealing tobacco stained teeth and a mouthful of NHS fillings. Yet Phil Bolton was handsome, in his fashion. He looked a little like Nick, with a strong jaw and dark, thick hair. Sarah could tell what Polly Shanks had seen in him. The eyes were his only weak point: slightly sunken and pale blue, giving him a haunted air.

‘I’m Sarah. I phoned last night.’

‘I can see who you are. When you rang, I thought you might be some kind of debt collector. Nearly went out. Not that I owe anyone ought, but I wouldn’t put it past Polly to buy something in my name.’

‘Actually, it was Polly I wanted to see you about.’

Sarah stepped over old newspaper covered in oily motorbike parts. This wasn’t a home that children lived in, but Phil didn’t live alone. A couple of bras and a skirt hung from a laundry rack near the gas fire.

‘You helped get that Ed Clark out, didn’t you?’ Phil said.

‘Yes. Your ex wasn’t too pleased about that.’

‘If you say so. Why do you want to see me?’

‘I want to help the police find Terry and Liv’s killer. I thought you might be able to help me.’

‘Doubt it.’ Phil took a copy of the
Mirror
off an uncomfortable looking armchair and waved Sarah to sit down. ‘Terry was always all right to me, but I wasn’t around when he died.’

‘You were married to his sister, though . . .’

‘Legally. But I’d moved out by then.’

This confused Sarah. ‘I thought you moved out just after Terry and Elaine’s kids came to live with you and Polly.’

‘Nah. I moved back in for a while, after the murders, to help Polly out. But the marriage was shot soon as she started having it off with Ed Clark, eighteen month before.’

Sarah bit her lip to disguise her surprise, then asked Phil to repeat his last sentence.

‘Claimed she hated him after, of course. Begged me to stay with her. But she doesn’t know what she wants, Polly. More sides to her than an old threepenny bit. Clark probably wasn’t the first she played away with. I don’t even know if the kids are mine. She wanted money, went through the CSA, but wouldn’t let me do paternity tests. So I’ve stayed clear of them, too. I’m well rid.’

Sarah was still having trouble taking in what he’d told her. ‘She was sleeping with Ed Clark before he got arrested the first time? Polly told you this?’

‘Not her, no. Terry knew about it before I did. He suggested I put the bug in our bedroom. You don’t know about the bug?’

‘There was no bug mentioned in the trial transcripts.’

‘It was inadmissible evidence for the court case. Poll didn’t contest the divorce, so it was never used. But that’s how they caught Ed and his mates. They got the shithead on tape, in bed, boasting to Polly about how he was going to turn round all this tobacco from a warehouse job.’

‘Who planted the bug? CID?’

‘The bloke who came round with Terry was called Slater. Jack Slater, I think. He was in plain clothes, but that doesn’t mean he was CID. Terry wasn’t in uniform either.’

‘And Polly didn’t know she was being taped?’

‘Not far as I know. They had to get permission from the homeowner, and that was me, but I certainly didn’t tell her.’

‘Terry went through you to get at his sister’s lover?’

‘I got on better with Terry than Polly did.’

‘And none of this came up at the trial?’

‘No. Ed must have worked it out, though. Otherwise, why would he have killed Terry and Liv?’

There was an accusation in his tone but Sarah ignored it. ‘Liv knew about the tape but Polly didn’t?’

‘Oh yeah. Terry had no secrets from her. Liv told me getting Ed sent down was one of the best things Terry had ever done.’

Sarah understood why Terry Shanks’ role in Ed’s original arrest was kept so low-profile. He wouldn’t want his adulterous sister dragged into the case, especially when she didn’t know he’d recorded her in bed with her lover. In the murder trial, it would have suited both prosecution and defence not to explain how Terry Shanks had been instrumental in Ed’s arrest: a role that didn’t reflect well on either Shanks or Clark.