KILL ME IF YOU CAN (Dave Cunane Book 8) (28 page)

‘Which means what?’

‘Christ bwoy! You are t’ick. It means you a very rich bwoy! You have access to the bank accounts but can’t spend more than ten thousand at a time for now.’

‘Oh!’

‘Yes, oh, Dave. And it means you can pay me some money. I need to employ surveyors to see that ever t’ing in Sir Lew’s inventories is there. You know how many tractors you suppose to own?’

‘Hell no!’

‘Well it’s plenty, mon, and I need to see you soon at Sir Lew’s house in Wilmslow. You need to sign some t’ings.’

‘I don’t think …’

‘Dave, this stuff won’t wait. There’s folk to be paid, people wanting to know ’bout their futures … Sir Lew’s servants, for instance.’

‘Servants?’ I echoed faintly.

‘Yes mon, you got servants now.’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Fine! You want me to dismiss them all? I can do that.’

‘No, Marvin … for God’s sake! I’m up to my eyes in trouble. You’ve seen the news. The police are trying to imply that Sir Lew’s murder was some kind of domestic quarrel involving his family. That kind of narrows down their field of suspects, doesn’t it?’

‘Mmm, yeah, I see de television but that all
buuuullsheeet
mon, real heavy duty bullshit. If they had the tiniest shred of proof that you done him in they’d have posted an arrest warrant by now. They wantin’ to panic you, make you do somet’ing real stupid. Somet’ing to give them a chance to question you again. Now listen, are you listening good, Dave? This your lawyer speakin’. You seem to have a very short attention span these days.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘There’s a very pretty lady sittin’ outside my door who says she must see you on a matter of life and death.’

‘Jan!’

‘No, dis lady from de secret police, Ms Molly Claverhouse?’

‘How the bloody hell …’ I exploded.

‘Dave, dey know I’m your lawyer. They not goan a need be geniuses to know I’m in touch wit’ you.’

I took several deep breaths.

‘No, I suppose not,’ I said, cooling off. Marvin’s alternating speech; standard English one second and Jamaican the next was fine for irritating the police but now I found it was getting under my skin.

‘What does she want?’

‘She won’t tell me but she says she won’t leave until I let her speak to you.’

Hell bells, would I ever shake the woman off? First through Bren and now through Marvin, she was determined to get her hook into me. I thought for a moment and then picked up one of the unlisted phones Jan had bought for me.

‘This is what I’ll do,’ I told him. ‘I’ll phone you back in half an hour and give you a number she can call me on.’

‘OK, but I must meet you.’

‘Yeah, one thing at a time Marvin, I’ll get back to you.’

I removed the battery from Marvin’s phone and pocketed it. Claverhouse was certainly efficient enough to have just this very minute tracked his call to his Aunty Velmore’s mobile and through it to my location. Then I dashed out of the house, got in the BMW and drove first to the M56 and then the M6. Driving fast but staying legal I reached the first southbound service station at Sandbach in well under the half hour. In MacDonald’s I ordered a chicken and bacon wrap with a large coffee and put Velmore’s mobile back together. I texted the disposable number to Marvin and then dismantled his phone again. Velmore’s phone was old and might not have tracking technology or GPS in it but I couldn’t take the chance.

The wrap was quite edible and I was hungry. I bit and chewed.

The disposable phone rang before I could swallow more than a couple of bites.

‘Cunane, it’s me … Molly,’ she sounded breathless.

‘I didn’t think it was the Tooth Fairy.’

‘I know we didn’t part on the best of terms but I’m putting my job on the line by talking to you.’

‘That’s fine. I don’t want you getting into any trouble.’

I cut her off, put the mobile on the table and took another bite out of my wrap.

It rang again. I waited while it buzzed its way round the tabletop for a full minute then picked it up.

‘Wait, Cunane, please don’t switch off. There are things I need to explain to you, things you don’t know about. My job’s on the line unless I bring you onside in this investigation.’

‘That’s different from what you said a minute ago. You were doing me a favour but now I’m saving your job. I think I’d better wish you good afternoon.’

‘No, no,’ she wailed.

‘I’m listening for exactly another ten seconds, then bye, bye, spy.’

‘There are things I can’t tell you over a phone. I need to meet you. Listen, we know exactly where your family is. They’re in a farmhouse at Lough Gara, County Sligo. I can give you the GPS reference if you want.’

‘What?’

‘Yes. You’ve very cleverly put them beyond our official reach but the Scottish police still want to talk to your wife about a serious offence. Motoring offences are extraditable from the Irish Republic. There was a fatal accident at the place where the lady did her speeding.  I’m sure the Gardai will cooperate. We’re ever so friendly these days.’

‘You must be mad or desperate.’

‘Desperate, I think. Listen, I’m not threatening your lady or anything and I’m sure all this fuss could be made to go away but …’

‘But you are threatening her … I get it … are you still at Marvin Desailles office.’

‘Where else?’

‘Put him on, but you must stay in his sight at all times. Do you understand?’

‘Who do you think I am? Mata Hari?’

‘I’ve no idea who you are. You’re certainly a cunning spy but I don’t want you getting in touch with anyone, understand? I’ve absolutely no wish to spend time in Paddington Green looking at Appleyard’s ugly mug.’

‘As if! It’s partly about Appleyard I need to talk.’

‘Put Marvin on.’

She called to him.

A moment later I heard the familiar broad tones.

‘Lucky mon …’

‘Drop the phony patois Marvin, standard English from now on, please. Things are getting too serious for me to risk any misunderstanding.’

‘Yes sir!’

‘I want you to take Claverhouse with you for our meeting at Sir Lew’s house. I’ll see you at the same time, well separately, but I’ll see you both there. One hour. Two birds with one stone, and all that.’

‘Good thinking, we’re on our way.’

‘Wait! I want you to check her out first. Strip search her if you have to …’

‘Whoa bwoy!’

‘She’s a bloody spy! She’s likely to be carrying all kinds of secret electronic stuff. Make her leave her bag and her gun and whatever else she’s wired up with, even her shoes and her hairnet or whatever the hell she’s got or there’s no meet. Tell her!’

‘I’m buzzing for it, man.’

‘And Marvin, when you get back sweep your office for bugs. Get a top-line security firm. In fact, have it swept daily while this stuff’s going on. Put it on my bill.’

30

Thursday: Afternoon

I drove down to the next interchange switched to the northbound M6 and then after a few miles turned off the motorway towards Congleton. I decided the longer drive would give me time to think but when I reached Wilmslow I discovered a problem.

I wasn’t absolutely certain where Lew Greene’s house was but didn’t like to admit that to Marvin. There was no one else I could call so I wandered the posh streets until I found a quiet road in an exclusive quarter which struck a chord. It was in the right neighbourhood. Certainly every detached house we passed was grander than the one before. Some stood behind immaculate lawns big enough for cricket matches, others were secluded by mature trees or sculpted hedges.

Then there was a bend in the road and round the corner I saw the house I’d known in childhood. I hadn’t been there since. I drove past and risked a quick look down the drive. It was Weldsley Park all right and it was as enormous as I remembered it and Marvin’s car was already there. I knew I was late but I had things to do before I shoved my head into a possible trap.

I drove round for a few minutes passing the house several times and trying to spot parked cars on surveillance duty or anything else remotely suspicious. The streets were empty. I guessed that this wealthy neighbourhood was regularly patrolled and that parked cars occupied by suspicious looking men would be targeted quickly.

They could have a camera stuck on a tree or something but what the hell. I’d have to risk it.

I found a small petrol station with just four pumps and a small repair shop quite close to the address, I filled the BMW. I might need to drive to Ireland. I asked the woman behind the counter if there was anywhere I could leave my car for an hour or so. She was pretty off-hand but when I said I was moving into the neighbourhood she relented and directed me round the side of the repair shop to a cinder patch facing an empty field which suited me perfectly.

I took out the mobile I was using to contact Jan and phoned her.

‘Dave!’ she said after the first ring. She must have had the phone in her hand. I cursed myself for causing anxiety at this time in her life but Jan is Jan. She’s a tough cookie. She has to be.

‘Hi love, I’m just about to visit one of our new mansions and there are some things we need to discuss …’

‘What are you on about Dave? Have you been drinking?’

‘No, I’m sitting close to Weldsley Park which Marvin Desailles informs me we can now inhabit if we wish …’

‘And what about these people who’re trying to make me a widow? Will they be waiting there to disinhabit you?’

‘No,’ I said firmly, ‘there’s no such word as disinhabit and I’ve already checked the house and Marvin’s waiting for me
there. The thing is, he’s with someone.’ There was no point in discussing the gunplay at Sheepfold Cottage with her.

‘Who?’

Jan’s always direct.

‘An MI5 person.’

‘Dave, I know you too well. By ‘person’ you mean she’s a woman. Describe her in detail.’

‘Jan, there isn’t time for this.’

‘More suspicious still, describe her or I’m on the next plane to Manchester to see for myself.’

‘OK, OK, No-Nose Nolan, remember him? Describes her as a ‘fancy piece’ and I suppose she is … a tall hazel eyed blonde in her thirties … deputy director of MI5 in North West England.’

‘So you have noticed her then. I bet you can tell me her bra size.’

‘Jan, just drop it. The bloody woman’s threatening us, you in particular. She knows exactly where you are.’

‘Go on.’

‘You know the Erskine Bridge speeding story, well they’ve embroidered that.’

I related the details of Claverhouse’s attempt at blackmail.

There was silence for a moment. I didn’t expect hysterics but prepared myself for abuse.

Jan spoke after a long pause. She was calm.

‘Well, they’re a bunch of liars, that’s all I can say. Nothing happened on that road, certainly no fatal crash. And if you’re expecting me to up sticks and do another quick getaway in a truck you can have another think and do you want to know why?’

‘Yes.’

‘I told you that the driver of the cabbage lorry brought us to his mother’s house on the night we arrived … Mary Doyle, that’s her name, our landlady here and one of the nicest women I’ve met in ages … well her other son Patrick is a sergeant in the Garda Siochana and what’s more he’s the only copper for many miles around. So if I’m to be arrested he’ll be bound to hear it first. I’ll have a chat with Mary, did I mention that she reads the Guardian On-line, and I’m sure she’ll help us when she learns that the British security services are conspiring to arrest a pregnant woman on trumped up charges. So just you tell your fancy piece to try pulling her little stunt and see where it gets her. We’re all just settling in here.’

Jan sounded as strong willed as ever but I detected a faint hint of tearfulness in her last sentence.

‘Good stuff. I hated the idea of you moving again. Tell me how everything’s going.’

‘The children were mad with excitement about cramming into the cabbage lorry, Mum not so much. It was a real adventure for them.’

‘But you’re all settling in now.’

‘Yes, Mum’s taken Jenny and Lloyd and Mangler for a walk round the lake to give me a break.’

‘You’re sure you’re all right, the baby …’

‘Stop worrying, Dave. Ireland has excellent maternity services. Everything’s as it should be. I did a spot of sightseeing yesterday and there were gravestones in the local cemetery dedicated to … er … people with the same name as you, but spelt with an extra “n”. Jenny spotted the first one and she’s been like a dog with two tails since. I found a local historian and he said there are a lot of people with your name round here so I feel quite at home. I could stay a month discovering long lost relatives.’

‘Small world,’ I muttered, ‘but you are coming back aren’t you?’

‘I can’t wait but make sure that MI5 woman isn’t within twenty miles of me or I might not be able to control myself.’

We talked for a few more minutes and then I set off for Weldsley on foot. It might be useful to preserve the anonymity of my transport for a while longer. As the mansion loomed ahead, and that’s what it was … a mini-stately home … a gentleman’s residence or whatever jargon estate agents use to describe a stonking big house with about twelve bedrooms … I was certain that I’d never live here. Not for the first time I wondered what had been on Lew Greene’s mind when he moved here. Children I suppose, at least ten, knowing his religious inclinations but there were none or rather, now there was me: the Heir of Weldsley.

A man was waiting for me at the imposing entrance gates.

I recognised Lew’s chauffeur from the fatal Monday morning.

‘Mr Cunane, sir,’ he said reverentially. ‘It’s so terrible what happened to your uncle. We were expecting you here before now.’

‘We?’ I asked. I didn’t feel it was the right moment to correct him about my exact relationship to Sir Lew.

‘There’s me, my wife, Janet, and the Zamoras, the Filipino couple who used to look after Sir Lew and cook for us all and of course Harry Bradshaw our gardener cum handyman. We’re all anxious to know what you want us to do and if you’ll be keeping us on, sir.’

He gestured towards the group gathered around the entrance quite a way down the drive.

What got to me in this exchange was that final little word
‘sir’
.

This guy meant it in a quite different way than the half contemptuous grunt I was used to in shops or at the barber. I usually got a curt
‘mate’
in those places if I was lucky. He was for real and I had a sudden feeling that he’d be on his knees and holding his hands out in feudal allegiance to me in another instant.

‘Listen, er … Mr … ’

‘Kelly, Peter Kelly, sir.’

‘Yes, Mr Kelly, the reason I’m here is that I’ve come to meet my lawyer and sign some documents.’

‘Oh yes, he told us that. He’s in his car with your wife. I invited him into the house but he preferred to wait for you. We were hoping you’d come today and inspect the house and possibly eat a meal here.’

‘I’m sure inspection isn’t necessary, Mr Kelly, and to reverse a classic phrase that’s no lady and she isn’t my wife.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I assumed she was Mrs Cunane.’ he half turned to look at the couple in the car. There was a curious expression on his face.

‘Mr Cunane, your late uncle remarked on the unusual nature of some of your activities on the day I drove him to your office,’ he said quietly.

‘Did he? Did he say anything else?’ I asked eagerly.

‘No sir. Sir Lew never discussed private business or family with me. He talked of household matters. I was his general factotum as well as his chauffeur. I served as a butler if he was entertaining his legal guests and did anything else he wanted doing. Religion or football was what he generally talked to me about, but there was one thing. He arranged for us all to stay in a hotel at Grasmere on the night he was killed. Hardly a coincidence was it, sir? And I think he was expecting a member of his family to deal with those who killed him.’

‘I intend to.’

‘Good, but you will come inside and let me introduce you to Weldsley Court and Sir, please call me Peter. Sir Lew always did.’

I experienced an odd twinge; the strange feeling an Englishman gets when his sensitive class prejudices are given a twist. I was the one who was always insisting on being called Dave. I could hardly insist that Kelly start calling me Dave. He’d be outraged.

‘Peter,’ I said quietly, ‘I need to have a long talk with you about this and that. I will come inside and I must tell you this isn’t the first time I’ve been at Weldsley so no introduction is necessary but I must have a chat with that woman and then my lawyer so perhaps you and your colleagues could wait inside for a few minutes.’

He looked baffled. First Marvin had refused to enter and then me. He must have been wondering what was going on. Well, it was too bad. He controlled his developing frown and gave me a smile.

‘Very well, sir, we’ll expect you shortly.’

I watched him walk back to the house. The little group dispersed. Marvin and Claverhouse were getting out of the car and coming towards me. I was still barely inside the drive.

I hadn’t felt so uncomfortable since appearing in a school nativity play as a shepherd. All I needed now to be really welcomed as the new squire of Weldsley was a troupe of bucolic blonde maidens strewing rose-petals in my path.

‘No, get back in the car, Marvin,’ I said. ‘I’ll talk to Ms Claverhouse in private.’

‘You’re sure you don’t need legal advice?’ he asked.

‘I’m sure.’

He shrugged expressively and turned round.

‘If you want to be useful go inside and tell them I’m not sacking anyone.’

He waved his fingers and went in the house.

‘Welcome to the manor, my lord,’ Claverhouse said.

‘Cut the crap, Claverhouse.’

‘Ooh, how sharp and alliterative and Northern you are Dave. We could almost be in one of your wonderful Manchester soap operas.’

‘It’s Cunane to you and I’ll give you a few minutes but before we start your threat about my wife won’t wash. She’s ready to fight you in every court in Ireland.’

‘Oh well, it got you here didn’t it? I expected you’d tell me to f**k off on the phone but you can’t blame a girl for trying, can you? I’m desperate to talk to you.’

‘Can you manage talking and walking at the same time? I’m uncomfortable standing here like the bull’s eye on a target.’

She nodded and we set off towards the path which led to the main garden. It was situated on the far side of the house. As we wandered behind trees out of sight of the house I had a quick stab of nerves. Perhaps I should have brought a gun.

‘Dave, and I am going to call you that whatever you say, did you watch the Home Sec doing her stuff for peace and harmony?’

I grunted agreement. The wide lawn we were approaching was certainly big enough for a helicopter and was unimpeded by power cables.

‘The line they’re taking is that your relative couldn’t possibly have been beheaded by Islamic jihadis. They want to play down any suggestion of a threat because if they admitted it they’d have to do something about it. You saw the video. Those men were jihadis.’

‘The ones here might have been,’ I said cautiously, ‘but the men who attacked me definitely weren’t.’

I wasn’t going to mention my part in last night’s escapade at Sheepfold Cottage. Bren knew about it but there was no reason that Claverhouse should be told I was involved. She certainly must have been informed that the men arrested and released at the scene were from the new MoD group.

I felt another stab of nerves. I was positively queasy. Suppose this bloody woman was a double agent? Was she running with MI5 and hunting for Lew’s
certain individual
at the same time? That was the game her lot played, running with the hare and hunting with the hounds.

We walked on towards a very pleasant formal rose garden which hadn’t been here last time I visited.