Broken Faith (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

It was almost twenty past seven in the evening and still hot when Jimmy finally walked into the police station at Santander. He had slept through most of the flight from Madrid, his mind finally giving in to the tiredness that had built up over the past days. A uniformed officer was sitting at the duty desk. He looked up from some paperwork as Jimmy came to stand in front of him.

‘I understand the police here want to talk to me.' The officer said something in Spanish. ‘You don't speak English do you?' The officer shook his head. Or you do, thought Jimmy, but you're not going to speak it to me. ‘I'm here to assist the police in their enquiries.' Nothing. ‘It's in connection with the death of Inspector Seraphina Suarez of the Santander police.' That got home. ‘My name is Costello, James Costello.'

The officer picked up a phone and made a call, it was in Spanish but Jimmy heard his name in there. Then the duty officer put the phone down and stood up, all the time looking at Jimmy. Jimmy got the distinct impression he wanted to say something, something not nice, and that looking wasn't all he wanted to do. From the way he was standing Jimmy was glad there was a desk between them. He was too tired for any rough handling.

The English-speaking officer who had conducted the interview when Suarez's boss had brought him in came through a door.

‘Good evening, Mr Costello. We have been wanting to talk to you.'

‘You shouldn't have told me to leave in such a hurry, then, should you?'

‘Come with me, please.'

He led Jimmy through some corridors to an interview room. They both sat down and he said something in Spanish. Then he switched back to English.

‘I am Inspector Santos. Everything we say will be recorded. You understand, Mr Costello, everything is on record?'

‘Am I being arrested? You should caution me if you're arresting me shouldn't you?'

‘You are not under arrest. You are assisting us in our enquiries, you are doing so at your own request.'

‘That's right, at my own request.'

‘The autopsy on Inspector Suarez's body revealed that she had sexual intercourse the night before she was killed. The DNA of the man matched samples which we took from the house you had rented from Inspector Suarez's cousin. It was your DNA, Mr Costello. Can you explain that?'

It wasn't a time for being funny so Jimmy didn't try.

‘No.'

Santos looked surprised.

‘Do you deny that you and Inspector Suarez had sex?'

‘No. I mean I can't explain why we had sex. I hardly knew her.'

‘You lied to us, you said you spent the night asleep in a chair. You have deliberately hampered a murder investigation by withholding information and you have also given false information …'

‘Which leaves me open to criminal prosecution. I know, I've had to tell people often enough myself. But it's not me you want, is it?'

‘Last time we spoke you told me that there was no relationship between you.'

‘I know. In a way it was true.'

‘You don't call having sex a relationship?'

‘We had sex, but I don't know why it happened. We were working together, we found we liked each other. Nothing should have happened. I was old enough to be her father. I never meant it to happen. I still don't know how it did.'

‘She was willing?'

Jimmy looked at the Inspector, now it was his turn to be surprised.

‘You don't think I raped her, do you?'

‘There were no signs of force on the body but …'

He left it hanging.

‘Look, you knew her better than I did. Look at me, how old I am and the shape I'm in. Also I have a knife wound in my side. If I had tried to take Suarez by force what would have happened?'

Santos paused. He knew Suarez so he knew what would have happened.

‘No, we never seriously considered that possibility. Do you know who killed her and why she was killed?'

‘Yes. She was killed by a local British ex-pat called Harry Mercer. He fronts as a writer of crime novels but he's a career villain. His real business is porn, wholesale provision of hard, nasty porn. He works for or with another villain based in London.'

‘And the name?'

Jimmy gave him George's name.

‘He owns the Hind pub on Kilburn High Road, London. The Met will have a complete file on him. I went to Mercer's house with Inspector Suarez as part of the investigation into the death of Arthur Jarvis. You have all the background to why I was on the case with Suarez, I was put in as an observer?' Santos nodded. ‘Mercer got the wrong end of the stick, he thought I had come to poke my nose into his business. My guess is he contacted London for instructions and was told to get rid of me. He hired someone to have a go but it got bungled and the guy wound up dead. Your lot know all about that as well. The London end still wanted me dead so Harry tried, kicked in the door and found there was only Inspector Suarez there. He had to shoot her because she knew him.'

‘Mercer knew you were staying with Inspector Suarez?'

‘It wouldn't have been too hard to find out if you were looking and Harry's had experience at finding people.'

‘If you knew all of this why didn't you tell us?'

‘I didn't know it all then. I wanted to get to the UK quick to find out what the connection was between Mercer and Jarvis. I suppose that's why I lied to you. I needed to go to England not hang about here answering endless questions that would go nowhere.'

‘All right, what else do you know?'

‘Here, you'll need this.' Jimmy took out George's mobile and passed it across. ‘It's the mobile of the man who controls the London end. If you run down the calls in and out it will give you most of what you need to tie Mercer to London.' Santos looked at it but left it on the table. ‘If I was you I'd put somebody onto watching Harry right now. If he gets a call he'll run.' Santos didn't move or speak. Jimmy reckoned somewhere the boss was listening and the orders would be going out. Harry would get his watcher. ‘Harry had a partner here, another ex-pat, Henderson, he owns an accounting firm in the UK. He also owns the publisher who publishes Harry's books. If you check you'll find that Harry's book sales wouldn't feed a cat, never mind fund the life-style he has here.  The money all comes from the porn racket and gets laundered through a company called Iberian Property Holdings, which operates out of Gibraltar. The house Jarvis lived in rent-free was owned by that company. If Suarez ever got round to it you might find that the Hendersons had a rent-free deal with Iberian Property Holdings before they bought their fancy new villa.'

‘And Jarvis was connected to their operation how?'

‘He wrote the books for Harry. They met in prison. Jarvis was a teacher with an extra-curricular interest in bonking his under-age girl pupils and got handed a three-year stretch. Harry recruited him inside. I don't know where they picked up Henderson.'

Santos thought about it.

‘Why did they kill Jarvis?'

‘I didn't say they did. I don't think they did. I don't know who killed Jarvis but I doubt it was Mercer. Jarvis wrote the books, they needed him. If Jarvis's death is mixed up in this, I can't see how.'

‘I see. You will have to make a full statement, everything, including your relationship with Inspector Suarez. You should have come to us sooner, Mr Costello.'

‘And told you what? Suarez knew everything I knew before you bounced me out of the country so you had all I had. Everything else I got in England and now I'm giving it to you. If you don't fuck it up you should be able to take them all.'

Santos ignored Jimmy's little outburst.

‘Shall we begin?'

‘Where do you want me to begin?'

‘At the usual place, Mr Costello, the beginning.'

And where exactly is that, thought Jimmy? When I arrived? When I got told to come here? When I first met Professor McBride? When I first met George or Harry? When I was born? Where does anything like this begin?

‘I live in Rome and occasionally work for a college there, I collect information, do research. I was asked to come and talk to Jarvis …'

And Jimmy told them everything. He was hungry, weary and past caring about anything including himself. By the time he had finished his statement, signed a copy in English and a copy in Spanish he didn't care what happened to Harry, George or any of them. He didn't even care that Suarez was dead or that she died because she cared for him. She was a copper, she had to take what came with the job. He had come with the job and he got her killed, but he didn't care any more. For a short time he had felt almost part of the human race again, he had been touched by love and it had made him want justice for Suarez. And where had that grand moral pursuit of justice got him? Nowhere. Suarez was still dead. Harry, George and Henderson might get banged up but the porn would still get made and flow from another set of Harrys, Georges and Hendersons. He would go back to Rome slightly more damaged but not really any different. No wiser, no happier, no different from when he had arrived. He sat by himself in the interview room waiting to be told he could leave.

Then something his mum had once said to him came back. He had wanted something and they couldn't afford it. A school trip, a school trip to Dawlish, that was it. He'd sulked and she'd looked at him and said, “Self-pity is the most unattractive of emotions and the least useful”. It had taken him until now to see how right she was. Don't feel sorry for yourself, make the bastards who did it feel sorry. Make yourself fucking useful. Then he realised he was hungry, very hungry. If he didn't eat soon he would keel over and if he wasn't allowed to take a piss his bladder would explode.

The door opened and Santos came in. Jimmy looked up at him.

‘What always gets worse the more you nurse it?'

Santos stood still and looked at him.

‘What did you say?'

‘It's a joke. What always gets worse the more carefully you nurse it?'

Santos came to him and held out something. Jimmy looked at it. It was a photo.

‘Do you recognise this woman?'

Jimmy took another look. It was a surveillance photo of Rosa walking into Harry's drive.

‘Yes, she's Rosa Sikora. She works for the London end. When did you get it?'

‘She is with Mercer now, as we speak. She arrived there about ten minutes ago. Do you know why she's here and why she's visiting Mercer?'

Jimmy slowly shook his head. Why would George send Rosa to Santander. If she had come to get rid of him then why wasn't she in Gibraltar? Was George cleaning up anything that could lead to him?

‘If I were you I'd put somebody on to Henderson's place.'

‘We are already watching Mr Henderson.'

‘I can't think of anything she'd be doing here except bringing a message from George that's too important to phone or e-mail or –'

‘Or what?'

‘Or getting rid of the evidence.'

‘You mean Mercer and Henderson?'

‘No, not Mercer. She couldn't take Harry. Harry's an old hand and anyway, he wouldn't talk unless he was sure he was going down for Suarez's killing. He might talk then to try and work down his sentence but by then George would be clean or well on his way. I think she's come for Henderson. Once Henderson faces any serious questioning and sees anything like evidence he'll spill his guts. He's the money-man and the money's always the best trail to follow. He's my bet for the one who can give you London. If the first thing she's done when she arrives is see Harry my guess is she asking him to get her a gun. Harry can get guns, we know that.'

‘I'm afraid we'll need to keep you here a little longer, Mr Costello.'

‘Then can I take a piss and get something to eat?'

‘I'll see what I can do.'

Santos left. Jimmy resumed his battle with his bladder and tried to ignore the clamour of his stomach. How many times had he let someone sweat in an interview room, no food or drink, no toilet break. It wasn't your actual torture but it was bloody effective. The door opened and the officer from reception who didn't speak English came in. He said something in Spanish but Jimmy recognised the gesture. He got up and followed him They stopped outside a door with a symbol of a man on it. Jimmy went in and took his piss. It wasn't the greatest feeling in the world but at that moment he couldn't think of anything that would feel better. He came out of the toilet and they went back to the interview room. On the table was a plate of cold meats, a salad and some bread. There was a paper cup and plastic bottle of red wine. Jimmy went and sat down. There was a fork but no knife and the fork was plastic.

‘I don't like wine, got any beer?'

The officer left, closing the door behind him. Jimmy took a piece of salami and popped it in his mouth. He looked at the wine, then poured some into the cup and took a drink. He had been wrong, it tasted great. He took some bread. As he ate he felt better. He spoke out loudly to the empty room and to the silent, invisible listeners.

‘A grudge.'

The words bounced off the walls. He continued.

‘A grudge gets worse the more you nurse it. So don't nurse it – settle it, or forget it.'

Jimmy took another drink and filled his mouth. Leave it to the police, let them settle it, if they could. He was tired of it so he'd forget it, the whole fucking lot of it.

He carried on with his meal. Things weren't so bad when you actually came down to it. It was a pity about Suarez and he was sorry George was going to get banged up. He liked George, apart from getting Harry to try and kill him. Harry and Henderson didn't matter. Harry knew the risks and Henderson was a greedy little shit who would get what was coming to him. It wasn't Jimmy's job to clean up the world. He had come to find out what Jarvis knew about ETA and now he'd done that. Jarvis knew nothing, he never had. Jarvis was an unfortunate accident. As he finished his meal it suddenly dawned on him. Of course. Now he knew who killed Jarvis. He didn't know why but he knew who. The point was, should he do anything about it? He thought about it and drank some more wine. It wasn't beer, certainly not a London pint, but it was OK. On balance he thought not, do nothing about Jarvis's killer and go back to Rome. It was none of his business who'd done it, nor why they did it. This time he'd keep his nose out of it and head back to Rome. It didn't pay to get involved. Getting involved was for other people and it always led to tears in the end.