The Blissfully Dead (31 page)

Chapter 52
Day 14 – Patrick

P
atrick and Carmella had arranged to meet at her flat, which was close to Chloe’s address, and were now together in Patrick’s car. As usual, Carmella looked as fresh as a newly bathed baby; her red curls in individually spaced, smooth spirals; her skin dewy-clear. Patrick had no idea how she did it. His skin felt prickly and sticky; his lower back aching from sitting in the car; his tinnitus whistling feedback in his ears; and his throat sore from constantly puffing on his e-cig.
I’m falling apart
, he thought.

‘Have you managed to get through to Gareth about
Hammond’s
bodyguard?’ he asked.

‘Not yet. He wasn’t answering.’ She produced her phone. ‘You think he’s our man?’

‘I don’t know. Have we encountered him?’ Patrick felt the need to consult his Moleskine, but it was back at the office.

Carmella had her phone to her ear, waiting for Gareth to answer. ‘I think he was there when we went to Global Sounds Music, waiting in reception
. . .
Hello, Gareth? You all right? Listen, what’s Mervyn Hammond’s bodyguard called? . . . Kerry Mangan. What do you know about him?’

Patrick half-listened, while trying to puzzle everything out at the same time. Mervyn had insisted he’d been set up, that the ‘LUCKY’ knickers had been planted at his house. The DNA result wasn’t back yet, but that didn’t matter. If, God forbid, Chloe and Jade had been abducted, then obviously Mervyn, who had been in police company all day, couldn’t be responsible. There was a chance he was connected, was orchestrating everything, but after what Chloe’s mother had said, Lennon had discounted him pretty much entirely – though he was glad they were still holding him.
Hammond
had shifted from number one suspect to their most important witness.

Because if the underwear had been planted at Mervyn’s house, it must have been put there by somebody who’d been at the party. The same man who’d called the next morning and left the
anonymous
tip. They knew for certain that Mangan had been at the party, and had given Jade a lift home. Had he arranged to meet her again later?

Was he the killer?

Whoever it was, they now had a probable motive to explain why the killer had taken the girls’ clothes from the two crime scenes. He had been saving them to plant on some other poor sucker. That poor sucker being Mervyn.

Carmella ended the call. ‘Mangan was with Hammond when they visited the children’s home. And while Gareth was talking, I remembered something Roisin told me in Ireland. She said something about Mervyn’s bodyguard being there, giving her dirty looks while Mervyn was persuading her to keep quiet. I’m pretty sure he was there at the signing at Waterstones too. I have this memory of him looking over at me and Wendy when I was talking to her . . .’

‘We need to get a photo to Chelsea Fox,’ Patrick said.

Carmella nodded. ‘Gareth told me that Mangan is ex-army, but was discharged back in the nineties for reasons Winkler was unable to ascertain. Let me ring Gareth back, see if he can get a photo now.’

‘Get an address first. We’ll go to Mangan’s now, assuming we can get his address. Then tell Gareth to get round to Chelsea Fox’s, show her Mangan’s photo.’

Adrenalin surged beneath Patrick’s skin. But running alongside the excitement, the conviction that they were close, so close, was a deep, horrible fear. Jess had been missing for twenty-four hours before her body was found, suggesting that the killer liked to play with his victims like a cat with a mouse.

Jade could already be dead. Possibly Chloe Hedges too – he’d instructed Rebecca to ring him the second she turned up, and there had been no call.

The alternative, Patrick thought with a shudder, was even worse. Both girls could be suffering torture, right now, begging not for their lives but to die. For the pain to end.

Chapter 53
Day 14 – Patrick

H
alfway to Kerry Mangan’s place, the address of which Gareth had sent them within minutes of talking to
Carmella
, Patrick noticed the petrol light flashing in his car, reminding him that he’d been meaning to fill up for the past two days. The dashboard informed him he had five miles left till the tank was empty. He banged the steering wheel with his fist. For fuck’s sake. Normally, this would have drawn a quip from Carmella, but she was as tense as he was; her knee bouncing up and down; swearing at the traffic; leaning out of the window at one point and aiming a stream of insults in her thickest Irish accent at a portly man who was blocking the road with his white van. She didn’t look quite so fresh anymore.

‘Which one of us will have a heart attack first, do you think?’ Patrick asked, as they turned into the street in Surbiton where
Mangan
lived.

Carmella didn’t reply. She was too busy gawping at the scene halfway down the street.

‘Who the hell’s that?’ she asked, unbuckling her seat belt as
Patrick
did something he’d never done before: bumper parking the car, shoving a tiny Fiat a foot forward so he could squeeze into a space.

A mixed-race teenager was hammering on the front door of a Victorian terraced house, before stepping back and yelling up at the first-floor window. ‘Jade! I know you’re in there with
him
, bae! Come out, you fucking slag, I love you.’

‘Police!’ Carmella shouted and the boy turned his stricken face towards them, his mouth dropping open. Tears streaked his spotty cheeks and his fists were red from where he’d been thumping the door.

Patrick ran towards the teenager and for a moment he thought the kid was going to do a runner, that they were going to have to chase him. But then he heard a window open above them and they all looked up.

A muscular man with cropped hair – Patrick remembered him from the reception area at Global Sounds – leaned out and called down, ‘Are you the police? You got here quick – I only just put the phone down.’

‘Are you Kerry Mangan?’ Patrick asked, but the man’s reply was drowned out by the boy screeching, ‘Where’s Jade? She’s in there with you, isn’t she? Jade! Come out! I love you!’

‘This little twat thinks I’ve got his bird in here.’ Mangan
laughed.

We’ve got it wrong
, Patrick thought with a lurch in his gut,
peering
up at the bodyguard, at the mixture of irritation and amusement on his face. Got it wrong again.

‘Shut up, you,’ he said to the boy, who was immediately cowed. He muttered something about Mangan being a ‘homewrecker’, then hung his head.

‘What’s your name?’ Patrick demanded. ‘And how do you
kno
w Jade?’

‘She’s my girlfriend,’ the boy said meekly.

‘And your name?’

‘Kai Topper.’

‘
Is
Jade Pilkington in there?’ Carmella asked, calling up to Mangan.

‘What, that OnTarget nut? You must be fucking kidding.’

‘He’s lying,’ Topper said.

‘Can you let us in?’ Patrick asked.

Mangan pointed at Kai Topper. ‘As long as you keep that dickhead away from me.’

Some bodyguard
, Patrick thought. He turned to the teenager. ‘Kai, I think you need to cool down, all right? Let’s put you in the back of our car for a minute while we have a word with Mr
Mangan
.’

‘Are you arresting me? I ain’t done nothing!’

‘We just want you to cool down, OK? Come on . . .’

He escorted Topper along the road to the car, put him in the back seat and locked the doors so he couldn’t get out.

Kerry Mangan was waiting on his doorstep when Patrick got back to the house, talking to Carmella. Mangan was unshaven and wrapped in a navy towelling dressing gown, with bare feet. ‘I was in the bath when I suddenly heard someone banging on the door and yelling.’ He yawned. ‘Stupid prat. Why the hell does he think his bird would be here? Come in and see for yourself.’

They followed Mangan up a staircase and into his flat. He led them into the living room. It was all very tastefully decorated, if somewhat uninspired, framed prints from Ikea above furniture from the same store.

‘Mind if I take a look around?’ Patrick asked.

‘What, you really think she might be here?’

‘We just need to check.’

Mangan shrugged. ‘Fine. Whatever. But it’s a bit messy. Like I said, I just jumped out the bath. I’ve been asleep all day, had a late one last night.’

Patrick left Mangan with Carmella – he heard her start to make small talk about a framed photo of Mangan in Dublin – and went into the little kitchen first, then the bathroom. The bath was still filled with water and the choppy remains of bubbles. A plastic eye mask hung from the tap and a paperback novel lay face down on the toilet lid.

Next he checked the spare room, which was piled high with junk, before going into the bedroom. A double bed with a crumpled duvet, piles of clothes on the floor. He checked the wardrobes and under the bed, feeling foolish. As he was about to leave the room, he noticed a framed photo on the bedside table. Kerry
Mangan
and a good-looking tanned man, their cheeks pressed together, beaming at the camera.

‘Satisfied I’m not hiding any teenage girls?’ Mangan asked as Patrick re-entered the living room. The bodyguard was seated in an armchair, Carmella on the sofa opposite. Patrick took a seat besid
e her.

‘Jade Pilkington is missing,’ he said. ‘We’re extremely concerned about her well-being. Do you have any idea where she might be?’

‘Shit, you think
. . . 
? Like those other poor girls? Fuck.’ He pulled his dressing gown tightly around him. ‘I gave her a lift home from this party Mervyn had at his place last night. She said her
boyfriend
was doing her head in and asked me if I was heading back into town. I don’t normally give lifts to girls I don’t know, by the way. But the party got so wild towards the end, everyone was off their tits all of a sudden – not me, ’cos I was driving, obviously. I felt a bit worried about her, so I offered to drive her back. She’d already said she lived quite close to me.’

‘Did anything happen between you?’ Carmella asked.

Mangan laughed. ‘What, you mean, did I bring her back here and shag her? I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.’

‘Oh,’ said Carmella. Patrick couldn’t help but smile, and wished he’d had a chance to tell Carmella about the photo in the bedroom.

‘Is that why you were discharged from the army?’ Patrick asked.

Mangan’s expression darkened. ‘Yeah. They still did that in the nineties. I had to, like, hide it when I first joined up, but they found out, the fuckers. That’s one of the reasons Mervyn took me on
. . .
When I applied for the job at his company I told him the truth about why I was discharged and he was furious, said it was a disgrace.’

Something struck Patrick. Mervyn Hammond had never been married. He lived the life of a bachelor. ‘Is Mervyn gay too?’

‘Nah. I thought he was, at first. Thought he was in the closet, like a lot of blokes of his generation. But he doesn’t seem to be interested in men or women. He’s one of them asexuals. All he’s interested in is his business and his model railways.’

Patrick wanted to get back onto the subject of Jade, but there was something he needed to know first. ‘Kerry, why did you and Mervyn visit St Mary’s Children’s Home the other night?’

‘Hasn’t he told you? I guess he wouldn’t. He doesn’t like anyone to know about it. Very private, is Mervyn.’

Patrick nodded. This chimed with what Chloe Hedges’ mum had told them about his work helping kids with cancer.

‘He helps them with their fundraising. Plus he works with the kids, gives them inspirational talks about never letting themselves be handicapped by their background, their start in life. He tells them they can achieve anything if they put their minds to it. He
’s gre
at at that stuff. I’m always telling him he should go public, put his talents to wider use, but he won’t.’

‘Why does Mervyn need a bodyguard?’ Carmella asked.

Mangan grinned. ‘He doesn’t really. It’s all for show. Good for his image, you know, makes him look important. Plus I think he likes my company. He might act like he’s the king of the world half the time, but I reckon he’s lonely really. Christ, don’t tell him I told you that.’

‘We won’t.’ Patrick felt slightly ashamed. First, Rebecca Hedges had told them about Mervyn’s work with children, and now this. They had got him all wrong – although it was understandable with the image Hammond projected of himself. Patrick couldn’t decide if the public relations man was brilliant or terrible at doing his own personal PR, but it reminded him of a lesson this job had taught him over the years: never take anyone at face value. Everybody has secrets, and not all secrets are bad.

‘Let’s get back to Jade,’ Patrick said. ‘Where did you drop her? At home?’

‘Yeah. It was about three by the time we got there. I was knackered, but she kept me awake on the way home babbling on about someone who’d messaged her.’

Patrick leaned forwards. ‘Did she say who?’

Mangan twigged to the importance of what Patrick was asking. ‘Shit. I wasn’t really listening, to be honest. She was going on and on about how “someone amazing” had told her he’d seen her and wanted to meet her. It was like she wanted me to ask her who this amazing person was, but I wasn’t that interested. I just wanted to get home.’

‘Do you remember if she said when she’d got the message?’

‘I’m pretty sure it was at the party.’

‘And the person who sent the message was at the party too?’

‘I think so. God, I’m sorry, hang on.’ He propped his chin on his fist, thinking hard. ‘Yeah, I’m sure she did. She said something like, “Maybe he liked me in my waitress uniform,” and started
giggling
.’

‘But she definitely didn’t give you a name?’

‘No.’

‘Not Shawn Barrett?’

Mangan’s eyes widened. ‘You don’t think it’s him, do you? I thought you questioned him already.’

‘I think it’s someone pretending to be Shawn.’

Someone who was at the party. The same person who’d planted the evidence to frame Mervyn.

They thanked Mangan and headed back to the car. Patrick had almost forgotten that Kai Topper was on the back seat, looking like a dog who’d been locked in by a thoughtless owner. Patrick slid into the driver’s seat, Carmella climbing in next to him, and turned round to talk to Topper.

‘She’s not there,’ Patrick said.

‘Are you sure?’ His eyes were bloodshot and watery and Patrick was sure he’d been crying again. Did he realise how much danger his girlfriend was in?

‘We’re going to take you back to the station,’ he said. ‘We— For fuck’s sake!’

Topper had produced a knife from his inside pocket. Patrick immediately dived between the seats, grabbing the boy’s wrist and twisting his arm. Topper cried out and the knife fell onto the car seat. Patrick snatched it up. Carmella had already exited the car and yanked the door beside Topper open, handcuffs at the ready.

‘I wasn’t going to stab you!’ Topper blurted. ‘I just thought I’d better tell you I had it.’

‘Got any more concealed weapons?’

‘No. I swear.’

‘What were you doing, Kai? Planning to stab Kerry Mangan?’

Topper’s eyes fell. ‘I wouldn’t have actually done it. But he’s a hard man, a bodyguard. I thought he might attack me. I just
. . .
I just want to find Jade.’

As he spoke, Carmella searched him and cuffed his hands behind his back, just in case.

‘You’re going to tell us everything you know, Kai,’ Patrick said. ‘If you do, I’ll think about letting you off with a caution.
Understand
?’

The boy refused to meet his eye. ‘Yeah.’

‘Good. And in the meantime, you know what I want you to do?’

‘What?’ The boy’s voice was a squeak.

‘I want you to shut the fuck up.’