One Under (36 page)

‘The days before he disappeared … did you see him at all?’

‘I saw him every day.’

‘Was there anything different about him? Anything that struck you? Did he seem tense?’

‘Alan was never tense. That was his charm. Mister Laid Back, we called him. It’s not rocket science, driving a van, but you’d be amazed at the meal some people make of it. No, from my point of view he was a dream. No dramas. No hassle. Completely on top of it all.’ She laughed. ‘If I could find a dozen Alans, I’d be out of a job. He was just the kind of bloke you could leave to get on with it. Which is why I’m not being of much use to you.’

Percy had brought a file with her. She leafed through it, looking for anything else they might find of interest. The file was very thin. Ellis wanted to known whether Givens had a car.

‘Not to my knowledge.’ Percy shook her head. ‘He came to work on a bike most days.’

‘And he never mentioned a vehicle? Though he obviously had a licence?’

‘No. And he never applied for a staff parking permit either.’

Winter at last pushed his plate away. He wanted to know more about Givens’ relationship with Jake Tarrant.

‘They were just friends, that’s all.’

‘Mates?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I’d say so. But Jake’s that kind of guy, isn’t he? I sometimes got the impression most people in this place wouldn’t give Alan the time of day but Jake, he—’

‘Why not?’ It was Ellis this time. ‘Why wouldn’t they give him the time of day?’

‘I don’t know.’ Percy was being careful now. ‘It was the men, really. Not the women.’

‘But why? What were they saying?’

‘Well … ’ She looked from one face to the other. Conversations like these didn’t belong in the file. ‘Like I say, it was the men. They can be very silly sometimes. Cruel too.’

‘But what were they saying? What was it about him?’

‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t. He was a loner. He didn’t muck in, not like the rest of them. He wasn’t one for a fag break outside the bike sheds. Or going down the pub after work on a Friday. He didn’t much care for the football either, and that’s asking for trouble in this town.’

‘Trouble?’

‘Nothing serious. You get to know the ones who like to stir it. They’re just mouthy. From what little I saw, Alan did the right thing.’

‘Like what?’

‘He ignored them. Just got on with his job. Like I say, he was a dream.’

‘And Jake?’

‘Jake makes friends with everyone. You people ought to know that.’

‘And Givens responded?’

‘Must have done. Otherwise he’d never have taken those shots, would he? The ones of the kiddies he showed me?’ She fingered the file, worried now. ‘You really think something’s happened to him?’

Ellis said she didn’t know. Nearly two months was a long time for someone to go missing, especially someone as reliable as Givens seemed to have been. She glanced across at Winter again.

‘You went round to his flat, didn’t you? Last week?’

Winter nodded. The place had been spotless, he said. The rent was paid; there was food in the fridge, clothes in the wardrobe, absolutely no indication that Givens might have packed a bag and taken himself off somewhere.

‘Doesn’t that … ’ Percy shrugged ‘ … sound the alarm bells?’

‘Of course it does. That’s why we’re here.’

‘But you’ve no idea what might have happened to him?’

‘Not really. We’ve followed a couple of leads but, you know … ’ Winter shot her a grin. ‘It’s still early days.’

 

Martin Barrie, to Faraday’s surprise, had a temper. He’d just been on the phone to Willard and learned something of what had happened to Winter over the weekend. His thin face was pale with anger.

‘I gather Winter got himself lifted on Saturday night.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And we know because he told you so.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Yet you failed to tell me.’

‘Indeed, sir.’

‘So why was that?’

Faraday ducked his head a moment. In Barrie’s position he’d have asked exactly the same question.

‘Because I felt obliged to discuss it with Mr Willard first,’ he said at last.

‘And why’s that?’

‘Because it seemed to me -’ Faraday frowned. ‘- Extremely sensitive.’

‘You didn’t trust me?’

‘I trust you completely, sir.’

‘You thought I might blow Winter out of the water?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you’re right. That’s exactly what I’d have done.’ Barrie turned and stared out of the window, his long bony fingers tapping the arm of his chair. Faraday sensed there was a lot more he wanted to say but instead he abruptly changed the subject and asked about DS Brian Imber. Willard, it seemed, was sending him down from Havant to replace Winter in the Intelligence Cell and he’d naturally sold it to Barrie as a major boost to resources.

‘What’s he like, this Imber?’

‘He’s excellent, sir. Very experienced. Speaks his mind. No clever games.’

‘Thank Christ for that.’ He held Faraday’s gaze for a long moment, then scribbled himself a note and asked about
Coppice
.

Faraday outlined the day’s actions. The broad thrust of the investigation - chiefly the CCTV house calls - was continuing, and enquiries were in hand to locate Mickey Kearns. According to Winter, he was back in Margarita, looking for the local suspected of stitching him up, and his details had been circulated to Immigration to intercept him when he flew home.

‘So what’s the strength, do you think?’

‘Kearns? For the tunnel job? I doubt it. The beating was probably enough. They got what they wanted. They got a name. Why would they want to go any further?’

‘And the name was Querida, am I right? As in
Mia Querida
?’

‘Yes.’

‘So Kearns is off looking for a pet name Duley used for some girlfriend or other? Is that what you’re telling me?’ The thought at last put a smile on his face.

‘Exactly, sir.’

‘Do we know who this girlfriend is?’

‘Not yet.’

Faraday reminded him about the absence of letters at Duley’s bedsit. On the face of it, given Duley’s literary activities, that seemed strange.

‘Nothing in his address book?’

‘Winter’s been through it all now.’

‘And?’

‘It wasn’t much help. Most of the numbers related to work contacts, some people from the bookshop, then there were loads of political activists. These guys knew nothing about his private life but we got a mobile number for Duley off one of them. The TIU billing should be coming through soon.’

‘What about the computer you seized. Any news from CCU?’

Faraday shook his head. The Computer Crime Unit at Netley was stretched to breaking point. PCs represented a vital source of evidence but there was currently a three-month waiting list for hard-disk analysis.

‘You want me to fast-track it? Put it out to one of the commercial houses? It would cost a fortune but we could maybe wear that.’

Faraday said no. He’d prefer to wait for the billing. And there was something else too. He told Barrie about the Writers’ Conference at Winchester. Duley had stayed the whole weekend only a fortnight before his death. He’d written an interesting piece for a competition, got pissed on the Saturday night after the prize-giving and talked some fellow scribe into bed. Faraday himself was about to phone the novelist who’d run the workshop Duley had attended. She’d have this woman’s name.

‘I’m losing you, Joe. How does this take Duley into the tunnel?’

‘I’ve no idea, sir. Except the whole thing’s more complex than it looks.’

‘Complex how?’

‘We’ve been thinking some kind of revenge killing. We’ve been thinking high-profile message to anyone else out there who fancies crossing the likes of Kearns or Mackenzie. I don’t think it was that at all, not anymore.’

‘Evidence?’

‘None.’ Faraday smiled at him. ‘Yet.’

Barrie nodded, and held his gaze for a moment before scribbling himself another note. Then he returned to
Tartan
, asking whether Winter and Ellis would feel comfortable investigating someone they both knew well.

‘They’ll be fine, sir,’ Faraday reassured him. ‘They’re both professional. They know the difference between friendship and the job. If there’s any kind of case against Tarrant, they’ll make it.’

 

Ellis and Winter lingered outside the mortuary, waiting for someone from Human Resources to accompany them inside. Jake Tarrant, it turned out, was up at QA, attending a meeting about the provision of fridge spaces in the new facility. His assistant, Simon Hoole, had been warned to expect a visit from Major Crimes.

Ellis was musing about the state of Jake’s marriage. ‘Have you ever met his wife?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s she like?’

‘Pretty. Two young kids. Pissed off. You know the story.’

‘Pissed off enough to be looking for a bit of comfort?’

‘Yeah.’ Winter nodded. ‘Definitely.’

‘Like Givens, maybe?’

‘It’s possible. Of course it is. Do I think it happened? Fuck knows.’

‘But he may be alive after all. He may be away somewhere, back up in the north, waiting for her. You’re telling me she’s got a hundred and eighty-five of his money. All she has to do is get in the car and drive off into that bright new future of theirs. One hundred and eighty-five grand’s a decent deposit. They could find somewhere nice to settle down. Start all over. No?’

‘What about the kids?’

‘He loves the kids. He takes pictures of them. He’s a natural.’

‘And Jake?’

‘He gets the house down here. A little something to ease her conscience. I’m telling you, Paul, it works beautifully.’

‘But how come he hands over the money in the first place? If they’re going to elope together, there’d have been no need. He’s got the dosh. She puts the kids in the car and buggers off to join him.’

‘It’s timing, Paul. He baits the trap with the money. She realises she loves him. And bingo … case closed.’

Winter laughed. It was a neat theory. And it would also explain why he hadn’t found a camera at Givens’ flat. Why hadn’t he thought of it himself?

A woman appeared around the corner of the building. She wore a trim grey suit and carried a clipboard. Human Resources.

She introduced herself and shepherded them towards the door. Winter knew the old entry code by heart but the recent break-in had prompted the hospital authorities to fit a replacement lock. Their minder had forgotten her swipe card. Instead, she keyed in the new entry code. Winter watched her. 7713.

Simon Hoole was in the post-mortem room beyond the chilly corridor that housed the fridges, heaving a shrouded body onto one of the examination tables. Bodies occupied the other tables, and there were two more corpses on trolleys beneath the window. He was singing to himself, something cheerful and inane, and there was a dull, bony clunk as he let the head of the parcel fall onto the stainless-steel table. He was unaware of their presence in the front lobby and Winter watched him for a moment, struck by the freedoms he must have. Working here, thought Winter, you’d be well and truly your own boss.

Catching sight of the group by the open door, Hoole wiped his hands on his theatre greys and shuffled towards them. He was huge, a dumpling of a youth, no more than early twenties.

‘What’s all this?’ Winter nodded at the bodies.

‘One of the fridge motors is on the blink. I just called the spark. He won’t touch a fridge unless it’s empty.’ He grinned at them. ‘You must be the law. The name’s Si.’

He led them through to the office. The woman from Human Resources asked Winter if he wanted her to stay. Winter said it wouldn’t be necessary.

Ellis took the armchair; Winter stayed on his feet. Hoole’s bulk dwarfed the desk.

‘What’s this about, then?’

Ellis explained that they were investigating the disappearance of one of Hoole’s colleagues.

‘Givens.’ He laughed. ‘Has to be.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because he’s not been around, for starters. Used be in here all hours. Not a sight of the geezer, not for weeks. You don’t go to Greece for that long, do you? Not on the money we get.’

Winter wanted to know more about these visits of Givens. How come he was here so often?

‘Good question, mate. Often asked it myself.’

‘And?’

‘Dunno, do I? I ain’t blaming Jake, don’t get me wrong. He did nothing to encourage the bloke because he’s not like that, know what I mean?’

‘Not like what?’

‘Not like bent. Bloke’s a woofter. Spot it a mile off. Thought Jake had sunshine coming out of his arse. I used to tell Jake, I used to say for him to keep his back to the wall. Jake, mate, I’d say. Yer little friend’s arrived. Brought him a bunch of flowers once, right embarrassment it was.’

‘Flowers?’ Ellis didn’t believe it. ‘For Jake?’

‘Well, he says they were really for Rach, Jake’s missus. She’d done him some favour or other. I can’t remember. But me, I
knows
they were for Jake. You can tell, can’t you? They get that look, woofters. They got that special smile. Generous, mind. It wasn’t just flowers.’

Winter enquired what else Givens used to turn up with. Hoole’s stubby fingers picked at a spot on his chin. He was thinking.

‘Football gear, magazines and that, because he knew Jake was crazy about the game. And books, like. One time he wanted to take them all to Venice, the whole lot of them, kids and all. So he turned up with all these brochures and a couple of guides, and other stuff for Jake to look at.’

‘What did Jake think?’

‘He thought it was hilarious.’

‘Did he take them home? Show them to his wife?’

‘You’re joking. That’s the last place he fancied going. Venice is woofter heaven, ain’t it? All them Italians?’