Читать книгу Best of British Crime 3 E-Book Bundle - Mark Sennen, Paul Finch, Mark Sennen - Страница 25

The house was on Cranby Street, a small terraced row, at least half of which had been demolished as part of some long-ago clearance scheme. It wasn’t exactly cobbled, but to Lauren’s eye it didn’t look as if it had changed since George Orwell’s day.

Every house was built from the same red brick, though a couple had received ‘stone-cladding’, much of which had now deteriorated, making them look grotesque. All their doorsteps had been fastidiously scrubbed, but here and there a lower portion of front wall bellied slightly. There was even a canal at the far end, with a lock-gate visible, and on the other side of that an area of reclaimed spoil land where playing fields had been marked out and rugby posts erected.

It was early evening and the street quiet, when they parked. The heavy cloud cover was in the process of clearing, much of it tinged pink by the setting sun. Both Heck and Lauren were now feeling their extensive cuts and bruises. The shock of the fight was seeping through them. Lauren climbed tiredly from the car as Heck approached the front door. Bradburn – from what she’d seen of it – was a typical South Lancashire backwater, but not massively different to many parts of Leeds.

Located twenty miles north of Manchester, it wasn’t the sort of place you’d even notice if you passed it on the motorway: a minor blot on a bleak, post-industrial landscape. Since the collapse of the coal and textiles industries, it had clearly tried to throw off its ‘muck and brass’ identity, but had found nothing to replace it with. Its central streets were now interchangeable with those of every other stagnating provincial town in the UK; lined with the same boring shops, delineated by soulless, monolithic structures of glass and concrete, which passed for malls. Its outskirts were even worse; a grid-work of uniformly drab housing estates, punctuated here and there by short rows of purpose-built retail units which usually consisted of a greasy chippie, a tanning salon and a boarded-up pub.

At least Cranby Street retained some old-time character.

Heck’s sister, Dana, lived at number twenty-three. She answered the door in flip-flops, cut-off jeans and a sleeveless blouse, an outfit which suited her. Aged in her early forties, she was very attractive, with long, dark hair and a slim, shapely figure.

Her eyes initially lit up at the sight of her brother, but then her mouth dropped open in shock. ‘Good God, what’s happened?’

‘Is Sarah here?’ he asked.

‘She’s … she’s in France with school.’

‘Good. That means we can come in?’ He shouldered his way inside, awaiting no invitation. ‘This is Lauren. She’s helping me with a case.’

Dana, still looking stunned, turned and followed him in. Lauren brought up the rear. They entered a small, neat lounge, where a television was tuned to one of the satellite movie channels and a half-drunk glass of wine sat alongside the remnants of a salad.

‘What happened to you?’ Dana asked, switching the TV off. ‘You had an accident, or something?’

‘We ran into a spot of trouble.’

Dana glanced at Lauren, who’d cleaned her face with her sleeve, but had found it impossible to hide the dried blood spattered down the front of her sweater.

‘You sure you aren’t better off at casualty? You both look terrible.’

‘If it’s any consolation,’ Heck said, ‘you should see the other lot.’

Dana shook her head as she went fussing into the kitchen, returning with a first-aid kit and handing them each a wad of antiseptic wipes.

Heck peeled off his jacket. ‘Don’t suppose you’re expecting company this evening?’

‘Yeah, by nine I’ll have gentleman callers queuing down the street.’

He nodded, ignoring the sarcasm.

‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ Dana asked again.

‘No.’

‘At least give me some clue. You never even said you were coming north this week.’

‘It’s nothing important.’ He handed her his jacket. ‘Trust me.’

She held it at arm’s length, gingerly. ‘This is ruined. In fact all your clothes are ruined. I can wash and iron them, but they won’t be ready by morning.’

‘Doesn’t matter, we’ve got spares in the boot. We were planning to be up here for a couple of days.’

‘And you weren’t going to tell me?’

‘There was no need to involve you.’

‘You mean until you got so beaten up that it became obvious a hotel wouldn’t let you past the front door?’ Dana glanced around at Lauren, who couldn’t meet her gaze.

The atmosphere was far more awkward than the ex-squaddie had anticipated when Heck had told her that they were going to his sister’s house. Okay, even where members of family were concerned, it wasn’t the done thing to turn up unannounced and battered to the point where you were almost unrecognisable. But there’d been no apology from Heck, or even a reasonable attempt to offer an explanation.

‘I don’t suppose it really matters,’ Dana said. ‘I’m guessing you’re staying over now?’

‘If it’s convenient,’ Heck replied.

‘At least I get to see you again. What’s left of you.’ She glanced back at Lauren. ‘Lauren, is it?’

Lauren nodded, smiled.

‘Nice to meet you. I’m Dana Black, Mark’s sister.’

‘Hi,’ Lauren said.

‘Why don’t you go and get yourself a bath?’ Dana suggested. ‘There’s plenty of hot water, and fresh towels in the airing cupboard on the landing.’

Lauren nodded and moved gratefully into the hall. Heck followed her out. ‘Go on up,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the stuff from the car.’

When he came back indoors, carrying Lauren’s backpack in one hand and his own holdall in the other, Dana met him in the porch. ‘You two together?’ she asked quietly.

‘What?’

‘You know … together?’

‘Oh … no.’

She looked disappointed. ‘She a police officer too?’

‘A witness.’

Dana’s disappointment changed to visible concern. ‘And this is why you were attacked?’

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that.’

‘It always is.’ She followed him to the foot of the stairs. ‘Tell Lauren she can have the spare bedroom. You can use Sarah’s. But make sure you have a bath first. I don’t want her coming home from holiday and finding blood everywhere.’

He nodded and made to ascend, but Dana stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘Just out of interest, Mark … are you going to keep punishing me forever?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t give me that. Never responding to my calls, never getting in touch – not even at Christmas. You’re only here now because you’ve nowhere else to go.’

He gently detached himself from her hand. ‘I haven’t got time for this.’

‘No, you haven’t got time for anything. Not even your own niece.’

He’d put a foot on the bottom stair, but now swung around. ‘I always send Sarah a card and money on her birthday.’

Dana smiled cynically. ‘Correction. You sometimes send her a card and money. The years when you forget, I give it to her and say it’s from you. That’s why she still adores you … not that you’d notice.’

Heck shrugged. ‘I just don’t like living the lie that everything between you and me is okay.’

‘No, but you’re happy to live the lie that you’re right and everyone else is wrong.’

He grinned to himself. ‘Hell of a time to have this conversation, Dana …’

‘Well, you kind of limit the opportunities, Mark.’

‘What do you want from me, eh?’

‘I want you back.’ Her voice softened, became unusually plaintive. ‘I want my little brother back.’

‘If you want your little brother back, you should have been more of a big sister when he needed you.’

She looked shocked by that, and not a little hurt. ‘You think you’re the only one who’s suffered all these years?’

‘I’ve never said that …’

‘And you think you’re completely blameless for what happened? I’ve said I’m sorry, but you haven’t. And whose side do you think Tom would have been on?’

Heck had again tried to head upstairs, but once again turned sharply to face her. ‘That’s a low blow, Dana.’

Many faces from the past haunted Heck’s dreams at night: not just the dead ones, but the living ones too – bereaved spouses and families; the innocent victims of rape, robbery or violent assault, unable to make sense of or even comprehend the dreadful things that had been done to them. But none were quite like the face of Tom, his older brother, who the last time Heck had seen him, had been more etched with angst than it seemed possible for a human being to experience and survive – which, of course, Tom hadn’t.

When Heck spoke again, it was with shaking voice. ‘I did what I did to try and get justice for Tom.’

‘Surely it doesn’t surprise you that not everyone saw it that way?’

‘What does it matter!’ he shouted, before realising that he was shouting and hurriedly lowering his voice. ‘We can’t change the past.’

She laughed. ‘Are you telling me you would if you could? I don’t believe you.’

‘Well … you’re right there, Dana. Because frankly, this crap has been going on for so long that I can’t imagine any other way of life. Which is why I’m not interested in having this discussion. Not now, not ever.’ This time he did head upstairs.

‘How noble of you, Mark,’ she called after him. ‘Accepting a lifelong penance. It’s less noble of course that you’re condemning me and Sarah to the same thing.’

On the upper floor, he heard the bath running. Lauren came along the landing, carrying towels, wearing only her vest and knickers. There were bruises on her arms and legs; sticky red trickles streaked her shin from the knee she’d hurt in the crash. By her agitated expression, she’d heard some of the commotion below.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ he asked.

She nodded, taking her bag from him. ‘If your sis would rather I wasn’t here, that doesn’t bother me. I can find a bed and breakfast.’

‘A bed and breakfast?’ He chuckled. ‘In this neighbourhood?’

‘I’d sooner sleep under a motorway bridge than somewhere I’m not wanted.’

‘Forget it. That rumpus was about something else.’

‘Don’t get on with her, eh?’

‘There’s a history there. But it’s nothing for you to worry about.’

‘I’m not exactly worried, Heck. But I’m surprised. Perhaps you don’t know how lucky you are.’

‘Come again?’

She eyed him coolly. ‘To have a sister you can still talk to. I’m guessing you’ve never lost anyone close.’

He returned her gaze for a long moment, and said simply: ‘You’re wrong.’

Then he carried his holdall into Sarah’s bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Lauren didn’t see him for another hour. First, she had a long soak in the tub, which was just what the doctor ordered. Once she’d put some fresh clothes on – a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, she checked her room out; it was neat but basic. Before going downstairs, she peered from the window.

Rows of rooftops led off in all directions, beneath tangles of television aerials. Immediately below, there was a small paved yard with a brick outhouse next to the gate, which had probably once been a toilet. Over the other side of that lay a narrow backstreet cluttered with council wheelie-bins. Again she was reminded of Leeds, this time specifically of Chapeltown. And like Chapeltown, this place was a relic; a throwback to an era that was now forgotten. Hearing movement on the landing, she stuck her head through the door. The bath was running again, and Heck, stripped to his shorts, was standing by the airing cupboard, helping himself to some towels. Like hers, his lean, pale body was bruised all over. He looked tired and sallow-faced. When he finally went into the bathroom, he was limping. He was hardly the heroic knight of medieval fable, she thought as she went downstairs – suddenly feeling warmer towards him. But at least he was doing something to help her.

In the living room, Dana was seated in an armchair. She’d cleaned the remnants of her meal, turned off the television, and was reading an evening paper.

‘Sorry we just turned up like this,’ Lauren said from the door.

‘I’m glad you did.’ Dana folded her paper and stood. ‘I don’t see enough of Mark.’

Lauren remained at the door. ‘There’ll be no comeback for you, if that’s a concern. No one’s going to follow us here, or anything.’

‘Never entered my head that they might. But if you guys are in trouble, maybe there’s more I can do to assist than put a roof over your head for the night?’

‘We’re fine, honestly. This whole thing actually looks a lot worse than it is.’

Dana shrugged. ‘Well, Mark’s a police detective and a pretty good one, so I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.’

‘I think he does.’

An awkward silence followed. Then Dana produced some car keys. ‘I haven’t got much food in. I mean, I wasn’t expecting anyone. But I can always nip down to the supermarket …’

‘You mustn’t go to that trouble.’

‘You need to eat.’

‘Is there a take-away round here?’

‘Two or three.’

‘That’ll do, I’m sure.’

Dana pocketed the keys. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on for you, at least. You must be desperate for a brew.’

‘Yeah … that’d be great, thanks.’

Dana smiled and went out into the hall. A short while later Heck came down, clad in a blue tracksuit. Lauren had now moved to the mantelpiece. An old-fashioned clock sat in the middle; at either end there was a framed photograph. The first portrayed a pretty young teenager with a pixie-like grin; no doubt this was Heck’s niece, Sarah. The second showed an elderly couple, both dressed smartly as though at a wedding. The man was burly, with granite features and dark, slicked hair. The woman was pretty but mousy, grey curls jammed under her tidy little hat.

‘I suggested we get a take-away for tea,’ Lauren said. ‘Save your sister cooking.’

‘Sure. Tim Chan’s is just round the corner. It’s always been good.’

‘You know your way around here?’

‘I ought to. I was born here. This is the family home, or the closest thing we ever had to one.’

‘Dana seems nice.’

‘Most of the time she is. Stunning to look at when she was young. Phone never stopped ringing for her.’

‘She’s not so bad now.’

‘Bossy as hell, though. That hasn’t improved with age.’

‘That’s a big sister’s prerogative.’ Briefly, Lauren sounded wistful. ‘So … where’s Mr Dana?’

‘Gone. Long ago.’ Heck grabbed the newspaper. ‘And no one’s missed him.’

Lauren nodded. ‘I seem to remember Genene always had some useless idiot in tow.’

Heck didn’t comment, but flicked through the paper. Family matters were clearly more than just a minor problem for him.

Lauren indicated the snapshot of the elderly couple. ‘This your mum and dad?’

‘Yeah. Before you ask, both dead. Mum a few years ago, dad a few years before that.’

‘Ahhh … sorry what I said about you not having lost anyone. Stupid comment.’

‘It’s alright. Older people die, don’t they. It wasn’t them I was …’ He shrugged, waved it away. ‘Perhaps we should focus on the situation at hand?’

But before they could, Dana came in with a tray on which there was a teapot, three china cups, a small jug of milk, a bowl of sugar and a plate of biscuits. In the midst of all this chaos, it was so dignified a gesture – so like something Lauren’s mother would have done – that it nearly brought a tear to the ex-army girl’s eye. The two women sat, but Heck stood by the window, watching, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Dana eyed him as she poured. ‘You get kicked in the pants as well?’

‘What?’

‘Why don’t you sit down and join us?’ Almost reluctantly, Heck sat on the sofa. His sister handed him a napkin. ‘You’ve got blood on your lip,’ she said.

He wiped it away. ‘Couple of teeth got knocked loose.’

‘Should get along to a dentist.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Sure you will. If you don’t mind having a mouth like a chimpanzee.’

Heck glanced at Lauren. ‘What did I tell you – about how bossy she is?’

‘Like I said,’ Lauren replied tartly, ‘a big sister’s prerogative.’

This broke the ice a little. They made idle chat – about the weather, about world events. And okay, it was only small talk, but at least it was talk. Fifteen minutes later, Heck announced that he would go to the Chinese and pick up the take-away. Once he’d gone, Dana took the empties through to the kitchen-diner to wash up. Lauren went through to help her, but when she got in there was surprised to find that the kitchen table had already been laid for two, and that a candle had been lit. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the nearby sideboard.

‘You shouldn’t have done this,’ Lauren said, a little embarrassed.

Dana was busy with the washing up. ‘It’s no problem. I like things to be nice.’

This was evidently true. The kitchen was yet another part of the interior that belied the house’s shabby exterior. It was new and clean, designed in the cottage style, with modern low-key lighting and décor done in pastel shades.

‘This place is a credit to you,’ Lauren said.

‘There’s only me and Sarah now, so it’s not difficult.’ Dana busied around the sink in her brisk, cool way. ‘How long have you and Mark known each other?’

‘Not very long. But we’ve been through a lot already … so it seems like a while. I don’t think it’s true to say that I know him though. I don’t feel as if I do.’

Dana half-smiled. ‘You probably never will. He’s a bit of a loner.’

‘So I’ve noticed.’

‘And he doesn’t like situations he can’t control.’

Lauren had noticed that too, and wondered if it extended to people he couldn’t control. Maybe that was the cause of the problems he had with his ‘bossy’ sister.

Dana was still talking. ‘I don’t mean that in a childish sense … I don’t mean he wants his own way all the time. But he doesn’t trust people. He reckons nobody else in the job is anywhere near as good as he is. Used to drive Gemma crazy.’

‘Gemma?’

‘One of his work colleagues. They had a thing going at one point, but it didn’t last. Afterwards, he said he’d only been in it for the sex. But Gemma was a real high flyer, and that probably put the mockers on it.’

‘So Mark isn’t a high flyer?’

‘Never been interested in that.’ Dana shook her head at the folly of youth. ‘“It’s the front line, or nowhere”, he says. “I’m a copper, I catch criminals – and that’s it.” Not interested in politics, not interested in promotion. And certainly not interested in baggage.’

‘“Baggage”?’

Dana sighed as she arranged the dried cups on the kitchen shelves. ‘It’s a long story. Mark joined the Greater Manchester Police originally, but that didn’t work out because there were family issues … so he got a transfer to London, where he could isolate himself from everything except his job, which, I have to say, he’s done to some tune.’

Lauren was mildly amused by all this. Clearly these unsought-for revelations about Heck’s past were Dana’s sisterly way of sounding out the new girl’s interest in him. She opted to play along. ‘It clearly didn’t isolate him from Gemma.’

‘No.’ Dana shook her head again. ‘That would have been nice … but they were chalk and cheese, especially when Gemma started climbing the ladder. There was no way Mark could be loved-up with her at night, and take orders from her during the day. One or the other would have had to give.’

‘So what you’re basically telling me is that Mark’s a typical self-centred bloke?’

‘In a nutshell … yes.’

Heck was back a short time later with chicken fried rice for himself and beef in black bean sauce for Lauren. When he saw the table for two in the kitchen, he gave Dana a long, withering stare, but she responded by smiling pleasantly and absenting herself when they sat down to eat.

‘Your sister’s concerned that I’m trying to get my grubby little mitts on you,’ Lauren said, as they tucked in.

He nodded as if this was only to be expected. ‘Since Mum died, she’s got protective. Don’t be offended. She’s probably not concerned as much as hopeful.’

‘Trying to get you fixed up, is she?’

‘She knows better than to try that.’

‘I’ve had it chapter and verse about your last relationship.’

‘That proves it. She’s trying to interest you.’

‘Or put me off. Sounds like this Gemma bird was a very fine swan indeed.’

‘Well you’re no ugly duckling, you don’t need to worry.’

Lauren glanced up at him, but he was now concentrating on pouring them each a glass of wine, so she let the remark pass. Once they’d eaten, they returned to the living room and sat with Dana to watch evening television. More small talk followed; polite, almost convivial, though between Heck and his sister it was all rather stiff, if perhaps a little loaded. When a news item concerning a male skeleton found in an inner city flat in the Midlands mentioned that the occupant had been a misanthrope who had lived alone by choice, as a result of which nobody had noticed he was missing for over three years, Dana commented: ‘What a strange thing to do. Cut yourself off from all your loved ones to the point where you barely exist to them anymore.’

Heck didn’t look round, but replied: ‘Maybe he didn’t have any loved ones.’

‘Maybe he did but just didn’t realise it.’

‘I think the fact that he’d rather be a pile of bones than be part of their social network meant he realised it all too well.’

After several such brief, acidic exchanges, Lauren was thankful when the evening finally ended, and she and Heck went upstairs together, leaving Dana to lock the doors and turn out the lights. When they reached the top of the stairs, both their bedroom doors stood open, awaiting them. Lauren pondered Heck’s ‘ugly duckling’ comment. She knew he’d liked what he’d seen when she put everything on show for him in the pub, but with the high stress of the last day his priorities had no doubt changed. Though that afternoon’s fight paled compared to the shoot-outs she’d experienced in Afghanistan, you never got used to a confrontation as intense as that. Whoever those bastards in the pub had been, they’d been determined to beat the crap out of them, to hammer them into the dirty, beer-drenched floor. God knows where it could have ended. Heck was still pale, still bruised, but he’d cleaned up nicely – more nicely than she had. Of course, men could carry cuts and bruises as a mark of their masculinity. And Heck, now that she was this close to him, seemed more masculine to her than at any time so far. But if he was having similar thoughts about her, he kept them hidden.

‘I still don’t know what I’m going to do with you,’ he said. ‘Are you going to keep this stolen van thing hanging over me all through the enquiry?’

‘Only if I have to.’

‘It’s not that big a deal, you know. I could shake you off like a flea if I really wanted.’

‘So why don’t you?’

He shrugged tiredly. ‘Perhaps the thought of going to Gallows Hill alone isn’t too attractive.’

‘I don’t understand why you don’t just call your office.’

‘It’s called deep cover. You can’t break it just because you get scared.’

‘You don’t have a handler … a manager?’

Heck thought on this. Time was ticking by and for the last hour he’d again felt guilty about not updating Gemma, though at present it was still the case that what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Resignedly, he shook his head.

‘The main thing is you’re still going after O’Hoorigan?’ Lauren said.

‘He’s my best bet.’

‘You said he knows something … you mean about Genene?’

Heck didn’t see it could do any harm to give her a little bit of information. He owed her that much, at least. ‘O’Hoorigan knows someone called Shane Klim. They were in jail together, but Klim escaped and went to ground. He’s now one of my suspects.’

‘In Genene’s disappearance?’

‘Possibly.’

‘So will O’Hoorigan tell us where this guy Klim’s hanging out?’

‘He may.’

‘Shit!’ she said. ‘I can see why you want to speak to him.’

‘On the other hand, O’Hoorigan may know nothing.’

‘So it’s tenuous?’

‘Tenuous is the name of this game, Lauren. As each lead crops up, you have to follow it as far as you can. If I had a hundred detectives, I could be doing a hundred other things at the same time. But I haven’t.’

‘Do you at least feel we’re getting somewhere?’

Heck shrugged. ‘O’Hoorigan ran away from us – which likely means he’s got something to hide, so it’s promising. But I’d like to know more about this guy, Deke. Did you notice he never took his gloves off once in that pub?’

‘Probably because he didn’t want to bust his knuckles.’

‘Or because he didn’t want to leave any prints. It’s August. Why would he be wearing gloves?’

Lauren pondered. ‘Perhaps he’d been working on a site somewhere?’

‘What, and he was still wearing them in the pub? Did he even look like he belonged in that place?’

‘Okay, I admit it. Deke’s a mystery man. But he’s not the guy we’re after.’

‘True,’ Heck agreed.

‘Which means we’ve no choice but to go to Gallows Hill?’

He nodded, but looked discomforted by the prospect. ‘I hear it’s unoccupied these days, which is probably a good thing.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Just off the M602 motorway. It was built as a series of apartment blocks, but it always looked more like a prison to me. Except …’

‘Except what?’

‘Except that no prison was ever so bloody grim.’