Broken (9 page)

As he stepped from the shower he felt the stab of indigestion again. This time it was a slow burn. He went to the bedside cabinet and ate a couple of Remagels, chewing them furiously to try and counteract the pain in his chest. Then he picked up the phone and dialled Kate’s extension. A recorded message came on and he replaced the receiver. He dialled her mobile and was once more greeted by voicemail.

He was getting annoyed now, and paranoid. Was she avoiding him? But he knew that was silly. He was getting things out of proportion.

Opening the wardrobe, he pulled out a dressing gown. Without knowing why, he opened Kate’s side of the wardrobe and then he knew what was bothering him so much. Just seeing her clothes there had quietened his racing heart. For one awful moment, he thought she might have left him. It had been in the back of his mind all day. He had half expected to see empty closets.

When he heard the front door slam he felt faint with relief, listening with joy to the sound of her heels on the stairs. As she burst through the bedroom door he was smiling widely, so pleased to see her he felt his whole body would burst.

Then she stopped dead and stared at him coldly.

‘You have some explaining to do, Patrick Kelly, and believe me when I say it had better be fucking good!’

Kate’s eyes were hard. Patrick had made a fool of her and she was not going to forgive him.

‘Listen, Kate . . .’

She shook her head angrily. ‘No,
you
bloody listen. I had to sit there like a right lemon while Ratchette told me in no uncertain terms that I was compromised by the man I lived with. He told me about your bloody lap-dancing club . . . he told me
everything
. I have broken bread apparently, in this very house, with a man who has recently been murdered - murdered in the club
you
owned with him. A club run for scum, by scum. So you had better have a good excuse, Pat, a damn good excuse. I also understand that you’re a suspect in the murder enquiry, though no one has actually come out with that gem yet. But I know they would have to have you bang to rights before attempting that one. You’d better get all your Masonic friends around you like a cloak, boy. They want you bad. Even Ratchette was expecting me to enlighten him about you and what you’re up to nowadays.’ She looked demented. Even her hair bristled with fury. He had never wanted her more than at this moment.

‘Do you know something, I could cheerfully murder you right now,’ she burst out. ‘I have a dead child and the possible attempted murder of other children to contend with and now I find that I have been sharing a bed with a lying, scheming bastard. You
promised
me, Pat, you
swore
that your days of ducking and diving were over. I must have been bloody mad to have ever believed one word that came out of your mouth. You said that the sex game was over, remember? Over and done with. Now I find out you’re involved with murderers and whores as usual . . .’

‘The lap-dancing club is perfectly legal,’ he said lamely.

She nodded furiously. ‘Oh, I’m aware of that. Don’t try and tell
me
the law, arsehole. I
know
the bloody law, boy. But it is
morally
wrong and you know it. You know I constantly have to deal with the fallout of what people like you do in their
legal
businesses. I’ve got a prostitute in a cell in Grantley nick, thanks to people like you. After Mandy, and that murdering bastard Markham’s taste for porn and easy sex, I thought you might have finally learned something about the so-called legal business of whoring, but no. Money’s at the root of everything with you, isn’t it? Bloody money.’

She paused and took a painful breath. Then: ‘Try the girls out first, did you? I understand that was Duggan’s forte. A bit of strange, as you call it. Too strange to sit in on business dinners - you had me for that, I assume. Nice to have someone who didn’t look like a grandchild sitting beside you, eh?’

He winced at the vitriol in her words.

‘Once more you have made a blasted fool of me, Pat. I had to forgive and forget, even when you were going to murder George Markham. I actually understood where you were coming from and I went against every belief I had ever held to hang on to you, to keep you in my life. Well, I have finally had enough of it, of all you believe in and all you seem to think you can do without even considering how it affects me. You’ve blown it, boy. Better dust off the phone book, but then again maybe not. They’ll all be too old for you by now, eh?’

‘Don’t, Kate. Don’t say things you will regret.’

She looked into his face, and shaking her head slowly she said quietly, ‘I don’t need you, Pat, not like you think I do. I’ve learned so much from you over the last few years, and do you know what the main thing is? Cover your own arse. And that, Patrick, is exactly what I intend to do.’

She pushed past him and started pulling clothes from drawers, piling them on the bed.

He watched her in distress. ‘Please, Kate, listen to me. I never thought you’d need to know.’

She faced him, her anger mounting as she looked at his handsome face.

‘You never thought, period. Good
old
Kate, eh? The Filth, the
Old
Bill. Mrs Respectable hanging on your arm. Maybe you thought I was a bit of added protection, eh?’

He grabbed her hand and dragged her round to face him, his own anger surfacing then.

‘I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act this way. I knew you hated what I did. But if I don’t do it, someone else will.’

Kate laughed nastily and shook her head mockingly, a gesture she knew would infuriate him.

‘Remember when that girl died in your scummy, shitty massage parlour? Remember what you said then? You felt responsible for her. You couldn’t protect Mandy, and you couldn’t protect her. I bet you don’t even remember her name now, do you? Be honest with me. What the fuck was her name, eh?’

She could see the confusion on his face and pushed him away from her.

‘I thought so. Crocodile tears then, and crocodile tears now. You really are a piece of work, Kelly. But then, I expect you know that.’

She pulled a couple of suits from the wardrobe and, bundling everything in her arms, she stalked from the room. Patrick followed her, nonplussed, unable to talk because he knew she was really going to explode at some point and what she needed now was a cooling-off period. He followed her down the stairs and into the hallway. She dragged the front door open and stormed across the drive, knickers and bras dropping on to the gravel at regular intervals.

As she opened the car door and threw her clothes inside she shouted over her shoulder: ‘By the way, Pat, her name was Gillian Enderby. A pretty girl, a drug addict. Remember her now?’ Slamming the car door, she wheelspinned off the drive and was gone.

He stood watching her, bereft, angry and chastened. Gillian Enderby’s mother came back to mind then: her hatred of him and subsequent attack. Sighing heavily, he walked back into the house.

Willy had a large Scotch waiting in the den and Patrick took it without a word.

‘I had a feeling she might have the hump, Pat. It’ll pass, she’s a sensible girl.’

Kate drove back to the station at speed. Her temper was so acute she could taste it. It was a metallic taste, reminiscent of sucking a penny when she was a child. That Patrick could have been a part of all that without telling her spoke volumes. Now Duggan was dead, and Pat was going to be questioned at some point. In fact, Ratchette had insinuated that
he had to have been involved
. Those were his words exactly. Off the record, of course. Ratchette would never actually admit to his own name unless it was on a sworn affidavit, and Kate had her doubts about that even.

Sweet Jesus, she was so upset that she could have hurt Pat physically. How could you live with, sleep and talk with a man, and yet know absolutely nothing about him? She saw now that all his talk of turning over a new leaf was just that - talk, plain and simple. He had bought into Girlie Girls almost immediately, it seemed. But it had been a strip club first, a few hostesses and a late drinking licence.

The metallic taste was back and she opened a pack of Juicy Fruit chewing gum she kept in the ashtray of her car. As she chewed, the sweet taste brought tears to her eyes, but she knew they hadn’t been far away. All afternoon she had felt like crying. She let them flow now, needing the release.

Her mobile rang and she looked at it. Patrick’s number flashed up. She ignored it, driving faster.

He was old news now. She had to accept that fact and get on with what she was doing. Concentrate on finding out what had happened to the children. Put him on the backburner.

He had humiliated her in front of her boss and for that she would never forgive him. When Ratchette had explained that if and when Patrick was interviewed, the chances were she would be too, Kate had felt an animal strength surge into her body that had frightened her. The urge to swing back her arm and fell her sanctimonious boss to the floor with one punch had been almost overpowering. He knew that she was well aware of his close personal friendship and even business dealings with Patrick Kelly.

Between them she was pushed to her limit.

Well, Ratchette she must live with, he was her superior, but Patrick Kelly was her lover and as such was dispensable.

She
would
make sure of that.

 

DC Golding listened to the phone message three times. He was smiling with glee. Wait until he put this one round the canteen! Wait until Kate Burrows found out that he had listened to her voicemail.

No, damn it. As soon as he opened his mouth she would know where the rumour came from. But he would store it up for future reference. Ratchette was interested in all her doings and would be kept up to date. For a price, of course. It would do that uppity bitch good to be knocked down a peg or two, and Golding was just the man to do it.

As he lit a cigarette Kate’s voice reached him from behind.

‘Comfortable, are we? Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Or how about a verbal warning?’

He jumped up fast, nearly unbalancing a pile of papers on her desk.

‘Sorry, ma’am. I was just taking five minutes off . . .’

‘That’s what the canteen is for. Remember that in future.’

She held the door open for him and he walked sheepishly from the room. She had needed an outlet for her anger and Golding, being the two-faced rat he was, had given it to her. The thought pleased her and she smiled. Her first real smile for hours.

She listened to Patrick’s message twice before deleting it. If he loved her so much, he should have thought long and hard before taking on Girlie Girls. Even the name of the club made her cringe. She wondered how often he had visited the place. It just did not bear thinking about.

What she needed now was work, and plenty of it. And that was exactly what she had. She only wished it was a common or garden murder instead of a child’s. She had enough heartache as it was.

As she turned on her computer she sighed. She would have laid money that Patrick was above board with her, but she should have learned her lesson from her ex-husband Dan. Men could not be faithful, honest or true. It just wasn’t in their natures.

But she would miss Patrick Kelly. Christ Himself knew, she would miss him.

 

Willy followed as Patrick walked into his solicitor’s office. Kate was gone and Willy had a feeling that she was not coming back, whatever he’d said to his boss. He had warned Pat as much when he’d started up Girlie Girls, and Pat being Pat had told him to keep out of it. Unlike Renée, Pat’s late wife, Kate wouldn’t stand for crooked business dealings. How could she, when she spent her whole working life trying to put them to rights? He could not for the life of him see how Patrick Kelly had believed he would get away with it all.

Willy nodded to himself sagely. Yes, Pat was a mug and no mistake. If Willy himself had been lucky enough to get someone like Kate he would never have ballsed it up for money, especially money he didn’t need.

As Patrick outlined his current problems to his solicitor, James Spalding, Willy’s thoughts started to wander and he had difficulty keeping his mind on what was being said. It was only when he heard Patrick say that he had been with Kate the night Duggan died that he was brought sharply back to the present.

Because he knew that his boss had just lied.

Patrick Kelly had been in negotiation with a known face about distributing certain videos of the more exotic nature. In fact, they were so hot they were burning the hands of the two blokes who wanted to get rid of them. Another worry for Patrick was that one of the men was Lucas Browning. Someone Pat didn’t like much and had no intention of working with. It was a lucrative offer, but Patrick had shied off - and Kate had been foremost in his mind when he had declined to get involved.