Death of an Innocent (30 page)

‘Sir . . .' Paniatowski said worriedly.

Woodend rose suddenly to his feet, and for a few heart-stopping seconds it seemed as if he were about fling himself across the table and grab Ainsworth by the throat. Then the moment passed and, as much to his own surprise as everyone else's, he found himself walking to the door.

He paused on the threshold, and turned to face Ainsworth for one last time. ‘I've got grave doubts about capital punishment,' he said. ‘But if what you'd done was a hangin' offence, I'd put the noose around your neck an' pull the lever myself. Aye, an' polish off a good fried breakfast straight after it.'

As he stepped out into the corridor, he could feel the bile rising in his throat. He had known more than his share of horrendous murders. He had seen the desperation that circumstances could drive otherwise ordinary, decent people to. But in all that time – through all those cases – he had never felt quite like this.

He strode rapidly towards the lavatory – totally unaware that there were other people on the corridor who he was forcing to step quickly out of his way.

The girl who had died up at Dugdale's Farm had probably known more about sex than he ever would, he thought. But in so many ways, she had been a complete innocent – a child caught up in adults' games, who had paid for it with her life when those games had gone wrong.

He pushed open the lavatory door and went straight into one of the stalls. He only just made it in time. The moment he was standing in front of the bowl, a searing pain shot across his stomach, and he bent over to spew out all the sickness that had been building up inside him.

T
he lads on the team had earned the right to a heavy drinking session at their boss's expense, and that was just what the lads had got. Now, as the hands of the clock behind the bar moved inexorably towards closing time, only Woodend and Paniatowski – and an army of empty glasses – remained.

‘I think we're both a bit drunk,' Paniatowski said, only slightly slurring her words.

‘After all we've supped, we'd better be – or I'm suin' that bloody brewery,' Woodend replied.

Paniatowski fumbled awkwardly with her cigarette packet for a few seconds, then seemed to decide that if it took
that
much effort, she didn't need a smoke after all.

‘You remember the drive back from Manchester?' she asked.

‘Yes.'

‘You thought we'd never get to Taylor. You were so depressed that you said it might be a good thing in the long run if he murdered you, because at least then we'd be able to get him for something.'

‘I know.'

‘Yes, but what you
don't
know is that right after that I was almost on the point of asking you if you wanted to take me to bed.'

‘Why?'

Paniatowski shrugged awkwardly. ‘I'm not quite sure. I think I thought it might make you feel better. I think I thought it might make
me
feel better, too.'

‘So why did you only
almost
ask me?'

‘Big question.'

‘An' what's the big answer?'

‘I think it was because I knew there was always the slight chance we'd crack this case, and that if we did, we'd end up sitting here, just like we are now.'

‘So?'

‘If we had slept together, we
wouldn't
be sitting here just like we are now. Things would have been different, and I'm not sure I would have been happy with that – because I like the way things are between us.'

‘So do I,' Woodend told her.

‘Would you have?' Paniatowski asked.

‘Would I have what?'

‘If I'd offered to go to bed with you, would you have said yes?'

‘I'd like to think I'd have said no. I'd like to think it, but we'll never know for sure, will we?'

‘No,' Paniatowski agreed solemnly. ‘We won't. So what happens now?'

‘At a guess I'd say that in five minutes time Ethel will call last orders, an' I'll go an' look for a taxi.'

‘I didn't mean that. I meant, what will happen to the Whitebridge police?'

‘Dick Ainsworth will go to jail, DCS Whittle will be kicked upstairs to fill his shoes, an' we'll get a new DCS to replace him who'll probably turn out to be a bigger bastard than any of them.'

‘That new DCS could be you,' Paniatowski suggested.

‘Nay, lass. Not in a million years.'

‘
Why
not?'

‘Because apart from the fact that everybody knows I'm temperamentally unsuited to sittin' on my arse an' orderin' other people about all day, there's a new black mark against my name.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘I've brought down one of our own. Worse, it's the second time I've done it. Once could be seen as a mistake. Twice looks like it's becomin' a habit.'

‘But Ainsworth was rotten to the core!'

‘Aye, he was,' Woodend agreed. ‘An' for a few months, everybody'll remember that. Then the memory of what Ainsworth's done will fade, just as the memory of the man himself will. An' all that will be left is the uncomfortable thought in the minds of the people I'm workin' with that Charlie Woodend broke ranks twice, and might just go for his treble. It won't make my job any easier. Yours neither – for that matter – since you were almost as involved in the whole nasty business as I was myself.'

‘Thanks for that,' Paniatowski said. ‘You've really cheered me up.'

‘Only tellin' you how things are, lass,' Woodend said.

The lights flashed, and the landlady called out, ‘Time, gentlemen, please!' in one of those shrill, grating voices that only pub landladies seem able to produce.

Woodend rose to his feet. ‘There's a taxi rank just round the corner,' he said. ‘I'd better get there before all the other drunks turn up.'

‘Mrs Woodend's still away, isn't she?' Paniatowski asked.

‘Aye. She's not due back until the day after tomorrow.'

‘So you've no actual
need
to go home now?'

‘What are you gettin' at?'

Paniatowski hesitated for a second. ‘That offer I nearly made on the drive from Manchester? It might be back on the table.'

Woodend shook his head. ‘I appreciate the compliment, lass, I really do, but . . .'

Paniatowski smiled weakly. ‘I expected that answer. The only reason I brought the whole thing up again was so that you could be sure in your own mind that you'd have turned me down the last time.'

Woodend smiled back. ‘Well, I knew
that
,' he said. ‘What did you think? That I'd taken you seriously?'

‘No, of course not.'

Woodend patted her softly on the head. ‘I'll see you in the mornin', Monika.'

‘Yes, sir. See you in the morning.'

She watched him as he crossed the room, opened the door, and stepped out into the night. Only when she was sure that he had finally gone did she turn to the bar and signal for a last vodka before they threw the towels over the pumps.