Broken (50 page)

Then a scream from Violet brought the nurses running in. They had been listening to the argument, too frightened to interrupt Grace and her harangue. Now, though, seeing her storm outside, they felt brave enough to enter the room. As one nurse had remarked, that old bird’s voice could raise the dead. It seemed it had done the next best thing and had roused Mr Kelly from his coma. But no one said that in the room, they saved that little gem for their tea break. They just enjoyed seeing the happiness on the faces around them and their own sense of justifiable pride that he had recovered in their care.

 

Kenneth Caitlin’s voice was loud and betrayed the fact that he had already had a drink before arriving.

Jenny had heard of him but never met him. She had prepared herself for an irascible old bastard and was pleased to find he was a charming elderly man. The large breakfast bar in the kitchen was laid with care and both wine and food were superb thanks to Evelyn who greeted Caitlin like a long-lost relative.

After being served with a large roast dinner and exclaiming that it would keep him going for a week, he looked at Kate and got straight to the point.

‘So, Katie, what’s your interest in Barker?’

‘He was accused of paedophile activity when he was at Grantley. A young girl was murdered and he was investigated in connection with it. Then everything was dropped - the investigation, I mean. He was never charged. It seems that it was Ratchette who pulled the plug on it all. And now I have a paedophile ring involving young women corrupted by him, the murder of a child twelve years ago which I believe he was in on, two more children dead, and three more missing. I believe he’s in on it all.’

She looked Kenneth in the eye. ‘I have no proof that he’s still active in this area, though - it’s just a hunch. Paedophiles return again and again to their haunts, as you know. If they find an area where they are welcome and not found out, they will keep going back to it. I think he
has
to be in on this latest child abuse, somehow. I recently tried to arrest a girl called Suzy Harrington and was warned off by Ratchette, who apparently had a call from high up. Very high up, in fact - the Home Office itself, no less. But the person who made the call was a crony of Barker’s and we can prove that . . .’

Caitlin interrupted her, a mouthful of pork crackling in his mouth. ‘Who was the Home Office grass then?’

‘Jeffrey Cavendish.’

She saw Caitlin’s eyes widen.

‘Jasus! They have everyone, don’t they?’

‘So it would seem,’ Jenny agreed. ‘We have so many people involved in this it would take all night to go through them all. What we need from you is everything you know about Barker. We need your assessment of him. Is he evil enough to be behind all this?’

Caitlin finished eating, then, pointing his knife at Kate, he said seriously, ‘Barker has had a cloud over him for years. It started here and it followed him to the smoke. You can believe me when I say he’s tight with someone big. Very tight. He’s a known jobber with the younger girls, but then that’s nothing unusual in a Vice cop. With him, though, it’s out of control. He’s a vicious thug on the wrong team yet no one seems able to get shot of him. His wife Mavis was terrified of him, when I knew her, as was his youngest girl, Pauline.’

Kate interrupted. ‘I thought his wife’s name was Debbie?’

He shook his head, and Kate was puzzled for a moment before letting it go.

‘No. His wife is Mavis. His daughter is called Pauline.’

‘Pauline accused two of our suspects, Kerry Alston and Jackie Palmer, of sexually assaulting her when they were all at school. The charges were dropped, and it seems it was forgotten about.’

Jenny’s voice was low as they were all by now aware of the appalled expression on Evelyn’s face at hearing their conversation.

‘What we can’t understand is why the charges were dropped or why they were even brought in the first place. But we can’t ask Pauline Barker, can we? Her father would hear of it in no time and realise we were after him.’

Kenneth was quiet, thinking hard.

‘I know he has divorced his wife Mavis and lives with a younger woman these days. I don’t know her name. Perhaps it is this Debbie you spoke of. If you can track down the wife you might strike gold there but she was fecking terrified of him in the past. Everyone I spoke to has an opinion about Barker and they’ll give it to me freely enough but it’s always off the record. Suffice it to say that they all believe he’s bent, he’s bad and he’s protected. He is also dangerous to know. Very dangerous. Has no fear of anyone or anything.’

Kate and Jenny were listening attentively.

‘I can’t believe this, can you?’ Jenny’s voice was high with wonder and disbelief. ‘I mean, how the hell can one person have so much power? How can Barker walk away from everything that he’s done without anyone cottoning on?’

‘You tell me, my little pickaheen,’ Caitlin said soberly. ‘Because we all know he has. This goes to the top of the fecking tree or I’ll eat my boots.’ He looked at Evelyn. ‘Though, if you cooked them, missus, I think they would be eminently edible.’

She didn’t smile at the joke, she was too stunned. Listening to their conversation she had realised for the first time that her daughter was dealing in children’s lives. It was forcibly brought home to her just how many women were willing to sacrifice their children for monetary gain. She could hardly credit that such wickedness went on.

Kenny tactfully changed the subject. ‘I still can’t believe Patrick has come round at last.’

Kate brought him up to date as they finished their meal. Patrick was sleeping now, but at least they knew he was better. He had been lucid this afternoon, still had his memory and all his faculties. Now she just had to get him out of the large hole he had dug for himself.

‘Ratchette is willing to let him take the rap for murder, but I think I may have to inform my superior that Pat was with me that night. I am ready to give a statement to that effect and if they want to call me a liar I may have to bring up Mr Barker’s case and Mr Ratchette’s involvement in it.’

Caitlin shook his head. ‘Don’t you dare! You need to talk to CIB, Kate. That’s the only way you’re going to get any answers here, surely you realise that much? But don’t even involve them until you can finger the fucker. I will help you all I can. I am due a bit of leave and I might just take it.’

Kate smiled widely and grasped his hand. ‘Thanks, Kenny.’

He looked serious then and his voice was grave as he told her, ‘Don’t be too quick with the thanks, Kate. I have a price like all men.’

She frowned. ‘What is it?’

He grinned. ‘A few more dinners like this and a bottle of good Irish whiskey now and again.’

Kate relaxed. To have him on board was like a dream come true.

‘You, Kenny, can have what you want,’ she told him.

‘Now, Katie, you should know better than to make a statement like that to a poor old fella like meself!’

Evelyn laughed for the first time in what seemed ages.

‘You dirty old sod! Now then, who’s for a great shive of apple pie and custard?’

Everyone groaned their acceptance and she laughed again, but after everything she had heard tonight she wondered how any of them could find it inside them to crack jokes and be merry. She knew their conversation would haunt her in the small hours as she tried to sleep tonight.

 

Patrick lay in the hospital bed, his mind working overtime. He had awoken in more ways than one. Now that he had heard the ins and outs of everything from Kate he knew he was going to be up for murder. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it bothered her, but he knew he was on dodgy ground.

As pleased as Kate was at his recovery, he had the sense to realise that she wasn’t going to be so over the moon once everything came out.

He wiped his hand across his face. His head was still aching, but the doctor had told him he could expect that after such a trauma. He was still trying to get over the fact that he had been shot in the first place!

He was furious to hear that he had actually been shot twice. The buttocks wound was the final straw as far as he was concerned. He wanted nothing more than to retaliate by shooting that Russian cunt in the face. At least, that was what he told himself. But he was so weak he knew he wouldn’t be capable of picking up a gun, let alone firing it.

Which wouldn’t stop him paying someone else to do the deed. Patrick was a great believer in delegating.

He opened his eyes, fighting the sleepiness that kept trying to overtake him. He wanted out of this place and he was going to make sure he left as soon as possible. Even if he had to go private and pay for his freedom.

He grinned. It wouldn’t be the first time he had paid for that.

He closed his eyes as sleep welcomed him once more. He would not admit that part of his fear of sleep was that he might not wake up again.

‘All right, Pat?’

His eyes flew open at Willy’s voice. The two men looked at one another and then Willy bent down carefully and embraced him. It was the nearest either man had ever come to the other.

‘Am I glad you’re on the mend, boy!’

Patrick watched as Willy gingerly tried to lower himself into a chair by the bed.

‘What happened to you?’

Willy waved one hand dismissively. ‘Plenty of time for all that fanny when the doc says you can be aggravated. Until then I want to know how you’re feeling?’

‘Obviously a fucking sight better than you do, mate,’ Pat joked feebly.

Willy chuckled. ‘You’re a boy, Pat, and no mistake.’

It was all that would be said on the matter but each knew the deep joy the other felt to see their friend still alive and more or less whole.

 

The woman pushed back her shoulder-length red hair. It was a very feminine gesture and she smiled seductively as she looked at herself in the mirror.

‘You are going to break a few hearts,’ she said to her own reflection, then picked up her bag and tripped out of the room on high heels.

At the bottom of the stairs she smiled at the little boy who stood beaming up at her. ‘Ready?’

He nodded.

She picked him up in her arms and left the house, slamming the door behind her. In the car she put on a tape. Kylie Minogue. She sang along with it, heavily painted lips enunciating every word. When the little boy was falling asleep she turned the tape down.

‘Thank God for Valium!’ she sighed.

Twenty minutes later, she arrived at a derelict building. Parking the car, she got out and picked up the little boy who was snoring softly. She pushed open the old wooden door to the depot.

‘Goodbye, little chicken, goodbye.’

She whispered the words into his ear as she placed him on a broken-down sofa. Then she quietly left the building.

She drove off with a squeal of tyres, just missing the canal bank that skirted the building. The water was filthy, full of old bedsteads and car tyres. It was also stinking.

‘Straight into the water, boy! My own little water baby!’

The woman was laughing out loud as she drove away.

Kate got to the hospital at 10.50 that night. Patrick was awake as she’d guessed he would be. He was over the moon to see her.

‘I love you, Kate. Whatever you think of me, don’t ever forget that, will you?’

She shook her head. ‘I love you too. I missed you more than I thought possible.’

They were quiet for long moments.

‘About the club, Kate . . .’

She put a hand gently over his mouth. ‘It doesn’t matter, Patrick. None of it matters now. I know everything and I want to help you any way I can.’

A nurse came in and smiled at them. ‘How’s the patient?’

‘I’m OK. Did you do what I asked?’

She nodded, looked over her shoulder and then said quietly, ‘Dr Tarbuck will be here to see you first thing. You should be moved by ten-thirty in the morning.’

‘What’s going on?’

Kate’s voice was cold and Patrick grabbed her hand.

‘I am exercising my prerogative to go private, that’s all. I got the nurse here to phone a mate of mine and he’s sorting it all out.’ He saw her sceptical look and said loudly, ‘Tell her who he is, Nurse, before she starts questioning me. She’s Old Bill so she can’t help doing that. It’s a bad habit she’s acquired over the years!’

‘Dr Tarbuck is a very respected neurologist. He has a private practice and Mr Kelly is going to be moved to his hospital in Brentwood, Essex.’

Kate’s mouth was a grim line.

Patrick pleaded with her. ‘Come on, Kate. I can’t take up a bed in the Health Service that could go to someone who really needs it when I can pay and get Sky Sports and a proper drink in me room!’

She laughed reluctantly. ‘You are definitely on the bloody mend.’

He shrugged. ‘Find a decent cup of coffee for this one, will you, love?’