Looking for Trouble (29 page)

As we walked into the park, the sound of traffic receded. There was no lighting and the cloudy sky obscured any moonlight there might have been. It was still drizzling. We approached the colonnade. Four columns and a tower either end, supporting the crosspiece. By daylight, I remembered sandy stone, carvings near the top. Now it was a vague silhouette, its outline shifting in obscurity.

‘Martin, it’s Max. Are you there? There’s two other people here; Sal Kilkenny , she’s a private detective, she’ll be able to help; and your friend, Leanne. Martin?’

No response. I strained to hear breathing but couldn’t. But I sensed that someone was there besides the three of us.

‘C’mon Martin,’ Leanne shouted. ‘What the fuck’s going on?’ I grabbed her arm to shut her up. There was a rustle to our left and Martin stepped out from behind the bushes. His face was haggard, as though fear had weighed the flesh down. I was struck again by how slight he was. There were marks on his face, dirt or bruises. He was shivering. He wore a thin white T shirt and dark pants.

‘Who’s after yer?’ asked Leanne.

He shuddered.

‘Come out of the rain,’ I said. There was some cover at the base of the towers, old entrance-ways, like large sentry-boxes open on two sides but offering reasonable shelter. I stepped in. Martin and Max huddled against one wall. Leanne stood in the middle of the space, arms in her jacket pockets.

‘Is it Smiley?’ she said.

‘Yeah, and the others.’

I thought of the two who’d caught up with me. ‘Which others?’

He rubbed his face.

‘Were you staying with Fraser?’ I asked.

Martin laughed, a mirthless sound. ‘He locked me up. I had a collar, like a dog. He wouldn’t let me go. He didn’t touch me, you know. He liked the girls. They wanted me for the pictures and the videos. I said I didn’t want to, I promised not to say anything but he said they couldn’t afford to take the risk. He locked me up.’

‘And you ran away. Is that why they’re after you, Martin?’

He swung his head from side to side as though he couldn’t fathom it out.

‘What happened with Derek?’ Leanne spoke softly. What the hell did she mean? I waited.

‘Tell us about Derek,’ Leanne insisted.

‘No,’ he protested, ‘no, no.’ The shaking became more pronounced. He was remembering something he’d rather forget.

‘They think Derek killed Janice Brookes,’ I said, ‘the woman they found on the motorway.’

‘He didn’t, did he?’ said Leanne. ‘It was someone else, wasn’t it? Someone else at that house. Was it Smiley?’

Why the hell hadn’t she told me that Derek knew Martin, knew about the house?

‘I can’t tell you.’ He broke down, making squeaky little noises. ‘They’ll kill me, they’ll kill me.’

‘You’ve got to tell us,’ said Leanne, anger sharpening her tone. ‘Derek was my mate, I want to know. He didn’t do, it did he? Martin?’

‘Oh, fuck.’ A spasm shook his body and he pressed himself back against the stone slab. I followed his eyes. Leanne had a gun. She was pointing it at Martin.

My mouth went dry. ‘Leanne.’

‘Shut up, I’m talking to Martin.’

‘Don’t, don’t,’ Martin whimpered.

‘Tell us.’

‘We had to help. Derek, he was running for Smiley. He was round now and again, errands.’ The phrases came out staccato, little bursts of information punctuated by his shivering. ‘It was in the hall. There was an old curtain. We had to roll it up. The body, this woman’s body. Mr Johnson was there, giving orders.’

‘Who’s he?’ I asked.

‘Smiley’s boss,’ said Martin.

‘Go on.’ Leanne waved the gun. I glanced over to Max. He looked wary, tensed like a frightened animal. I knew the sensation.

‘Derek was freaking out, he didn’t want to do it. Smiley was stringing him out, saying he wouldn’t get his stuff and that. Crack. He gives him a bit to keep him going. We put it in the car. It’s her car. Derek has to drive it. Mr Johnson says it’s fine. Leave her, the body, on the motorway. Bring the car to Smiley. Don’t forget the curtain. Mr Mackinlay asks about the curtain but Smiley says he’ll arrange a little fire. Put it in an empty flat in Hulme. Get it torched.’ He stopped abruptly.

‘So, Derek drove off and you didn’t see him again?’ I said. ‘Leanne, put that bloody thing down, will you?’ She ignored me. ‘Derek didn’t kill her, did he?’

‘No.’ A whisper. ‘Who killed her, Martin?’ I kept my voice gentle. He rocked back and forth. ‘Who killed her?’

‘They’ll do me in,’ he said.

‘No,’ I said. ‘We’re going to make sure you’re alright.’

Max put his hand on Martin’s shoulder.

‘It was one of the parties. They were filming. All the little kids were up in the bedrooms. I was in the lounge with Mr Mackinlay and this visitor. He’s telling me what I’ve got to do – with the little girls, when it’s my turn. I never wanted to do it.’ He looked up at me, grief on his face. ‘I was just working the clubs a bit. Mr Mackinlay, he says it’ll be like that but safer. A nice place. He didn’t say about kids – some of them were that small. One guy, he brought his own kids there...’ Into my mind flashed the picture I’d seen from Nina’s window; the white minibus, the clutch of cars, another party.

‘What happened?’ said Leanne.

‘Everyone was pissed, really pissed. Mr Sharrocks comes down for another bottle and the bell goes. There’s two blokes from London not arrived yet, so he goes to see if it’s them. I couldn’t see anything. There was screaming, a woman. Mackinlay goes out and comes back and says to stay out of the hall. Tells me to wait with the visitor. This bloke, he just goes, he could tell there was something wrong. Mr Mackinlay rings Mr Johnson.’ Martin swallowed and rubbed his eyes. ‘Mr Sharrocks comes in then. He’s all covered with blood. He says, ‘She was hysterical, I can’t bear hysterical women.’ Mr Mackinlay tells him to shut up and Mr Sharrocks says, ‘She was onto us, she’d come for her boy. I did it for all of us.’ He’s going on and on. Mr Mackinlay slaps him and he’s quiet.’ Martin looked up at me. ‘But I know now, I know. They’re never going to let me go. They’ll find me.’

Leanne’s face was blank. All expression wiped out. She lowered the gun and put it in her pocket. That’s why she’d called in at the squat. For a gun, not a tampon.

‘How did you get away?’ Max asked in a hoarse voice.

‘Bathroom window. I’ve been planning it, waiting for a chance.’

I turned aside and gulped fresh air. Pushed away the pictures conjured up by Martin’s story.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We’ve a car over at the gates.’ Then I heard footsteps. So did Martin.

‘Someone’s coming,’ he said. And my guts dissolved.

‘Wait here.’ I stepped out from the foot of the colonnade and walked over to the path. Squinting into the gloom, I made out a figure. As he drew nearer, I recognised the combination of spectacles, moustache and long stylish raincoat. I began to breathe again. Detective Inspector Miller. Relief. The cavalry had arrived.

‘It’s alright,’ I called back to the others. ‘I know who it is.’

I walked over to Miller.

‘You got my message. Martin’s here, and he knows who killed Janice Brookes. It wasn’t Derek Carlton – he was set up. There’s more besides. But I think we need to get him to safety, he’s petrified. Convinced that the people involved will kill him to keep him quiet.’

Miller nodded. The cynical look hadn’t left his eyes. He’d still got me labelled as an interfering neurotic but at least he’d come when I needed him.

‘I’ll just explain who you are,’ I said. ‘He might bolt if he doesn’t understand.’

I crossed the wet grass back to the others. Martin was still shaking, his eyes darting to and fro. I placed my hands on his shoulders and looked him full in the face.

‘Martin, the police are here.’ He jerked. ‘It’s okay, I’ve told them roughly what’s happened. The rest can wait. They’ll find a safe place for you. They’ll be able to protect you and make sure the right people are sent down for this. Understand?’ He gave a small nod. Max, at his side, remained still and quiet.

Leanne leant back against the wall opposite, narrowing her eyes.

‘Okay, Inspector,’ I shouted.

Miller walked forward into view, a few yards in front of us.

‘No,’ Martin said softly, ‘no.’ He screamed in desperation. ‘That’s him, that’s Mr Johnson.’

Oh, shit. My heart kicked at my breasts. I saw movement from Leanne, as she darted forward, then I reeled as the sharp, cracking sound pierced my ear-drums. Miller hit the ground and Leanne ran off between the columns and behind the monument. I struggled to make sense of what was happening. I could smell the bitter scent of gunpowder. My ears were singing.

‘Oh, shit,’ said Martin. ‘She’s killed him.’

I moved, then froze at the sound of footsteps running on the path. Another man appeared. He wore a dark suit, a light shirt. He looked as though he was laughing. He stopped beside Miller and dropped onto one knee.

‘Smiley,’ Martin said. I felt him swoon beside me and slither down the wall, till he was crouching at our feet. I looked at Max. Saw my own fear staring back at me.

Miller murmured something and I heard Smiley answer no. Then Smiley handed Miller his glasses and helped him up. Miller brushed down his coat. He was unhurt. Leanne had missed; he’d just been playing safe. The two men quickly covered the ground to where we were. Stood framed in the entrance. No-one spoke. My right knee was jerking. I hoped they wouldn’t notice.

‘You’ve hurt your face,’ said Miller.

‘Sticking it where it’s not wanted.’ Smiley stepped inside.

‘Who’s this?’ Miller gestured to Max.

‘He doesn’t know anything,’ I said. ‘Let him go.’

‘We’re not stupid, Miss Kilkenny,’ said Miller.

‘Think murder’s clever, do you?’ I retorted.

Smiley breathed in sharply, then brought a gun out from his suit, held it up against my head, cool on my temple. I felt absurd relief. It wasn’t a knife, he wouldn’t cut me like the other one had. It didn’t last. Giddy with fear, I heard my mouth running on. ‘People know we’re here, you know. What are you planning to do? Kill us all? Bit over the top, isn’t it? Four corpses.’

‘Oh, it’ll be front page,’ said Miller. ‘Crack Addict Massacre. We’ll piece it together. Hobbs, a runaway, lured you all up here. Said he was in trouble.’ Miller tilted his head to the side as though he was dreaming up the next bit. ‘But he wanted money, he needed to get a fix. You refused; there was a scuffle. He flipped. The three of you were shot at close-quarters, your pockets emptied. We found Hobbs in the city centre, a couple of hours later. He’d managed to score. He made a verbal confession on the way to the nick, told us where to find the gun. He still had some of your property in his pockets. Sadly’ he paused and smiled. I smelt mint, ‘sadly, before we could get the police doctor to him, he’d gone into a drug-induced coma. He never recovered.’

‘Just like JB’ My bowels were churning. ‘How did you fix his overdose? He’d never have let you near him with a needle.’

‘I like the old-fashioned ways myself,’ said Smiley. ‘Take someone by surprise, give ‘em a good whiff of chloroform. Few seconds, they’re out of it. All the time in the world, then. Set it up just right.’

‘Why?’ I said. ‘He found out about Sharrocks. He realised Martin had got mixed up with a paedophiles’ ring. That was it, wasn’t it?’

‘A little knowledge is such a dangerous thing,’ said Miller sarcastically.

‘You wouldn’t be told,’ said Smiley. ‘You ignored the paint; off you trot, bothering Mr Kenton. He wasn’t pleased. So I rang you, to make things clear.’ He leaned even closer to make his point. ‘What did you do, stupid cow, you go off sniffing round Mr Mackinlay. Well, when he let us know, I had to send the boys, show you we meant business. But you wouldn’t drop it, would you?’

I resisted the urge to explain; that I thought I had dropped it – I hadn’t realised it was one big conspiracy. I imagined them all on their car phones complaining about me, while I lumbered around.

I got flippant then. ‘You’re giving me a headache,’ I said to Smiley. He clicked the trigger. My bones ran soft. I darted a look at Max and he winked. I couldn’t believe it. He did it again, a slow deliberate wink. He’d cracked.

‘Get the girl,’ Miller instructed Smiley. ‘I’m getting piss wet out here.’ Smiley moved the gun from my head, edged away and swung out through the back of the tower. Miller stepped in, slid out his own gun and trained it on me.

‘You better sort out which one you’re using,’ I said, ‘or it’ll bugger up the forensics, won’t it? Did you get the results you wanted on Derek?’

He gave me a warm smile. ‘Turned out nicely. Fingerprints on the steering wheel, hair on the dead woman’s clothing. We can place him in the car. That’s all we need.’

‘What’s in it for you?’ I asked. ‘You like raping children too?’

His jaw tensed. The gun slammed across my cheekbone, heavy enough to jolt my jaw and neck. The burning turned to numbness. I put my hand up and felt for damage. The stitches were split, the wound had burst open. It felt sticky.

‘I’m a rich man,’ Miller said. ‘Perversion doesn’t interest me. Money does. I’m not about to give that up.’ He was on the payroll. A cop who could sort out any difficulties with the law. That would go for the pornography they were producing, as well as the abuse. He could even turn his hand to a stupid mistake like murder.