Blood on the Rocks, page 21
Her phone rang.
THIRTY-TWO
Wednesday 31 October, 8.20 p.m.
Joanna used her phone to google the two words and she sat back and read the story.
In her office, Matilda Warrender had also googled ‘the Titanic bear’ and now was recalling some of Zac’s words.
His Auntie Elinor had been his mother’s aunt. She had drowned or died of the cold in that freezing sea. Her body had never been recovered. They had had compensation, which was as tainted an amount of money as had ever been minted. In Auntie Elinor’s memory they had spent it on one of the Steiff memorial teddy bears and his mother had given it to him, making Zac give a sacred vow that he would keep it for ever and ever.
Should she ring the police now? Or in the morning?
8.35 p.m.
DS Mike Korpanski was a creature of habit. On Wednesdays he went for a brief run with his son, Ricky, and then he headed for the gym. And this Wednesday was no exception. He dropped Ricky back at the house. He still had some homework to do. And then DS Mike Korpanski started a brisk jog towards the gym, The Fit Factory. Only he never got there.
As he was heading down the road, a car accelerated behind him. He heard the noise. And then he felt the impact.
9.30 p.m.
Joanna received the call at 9.30 p.m., having finally made it home. She reached across for her mobile phone and read the number. And knew immediately something bad had happened.
‘Ma’am.’ She stiffened. No one at their peril ever called her ma’am or boss or guv or anything else that spoke of rank. To all she was Joanna, except in particular circumstances.
‘It’s DC Alan King, ma’am.’
She waited, heart hammering.
‘DS Korpanski, ma’am.’
‘Mike? What about him?’
Out of the corner of her eye she was aware that Matthew was watching with concern. He had this idiotic belief that she should constantly be kept calm. And this wasn’t calm.
‘He’s been involved in an accident, ma’am.’ DC Alan King ploughed on. ‘Looks like a hit-and-run.’
She struggled to keep her voice level. ‘What sort of state is he in?’
‘We don’t have an update on his condition.’
She waited for more. It was the silence that finally broke her. ‘Where is he?’
More silence. Then, ‘Where is he?’
Matthew had risen to his feet, hand up.
‘Where is he?’
‘They’ve taken him to the University Hospital of …’
Now both Matthew’s hands were held up and he was mouthing, ‘No. Joanna.’
It was as though she hadn’t seen him. She hung up, grabbed her car keys, and was out of the door before he could react. For a moment Matthew Levin stood motionless.
Then he too was out of the door. He reached the car just as she was starting to reverse down the drive. He yanked the door open and sat down in the passenger seat. He’d play this a different way.
‘I think I might be of some help, Jo.’
And she dropped her head on to his shoulder. ‘Thank you.’
As she drove her mind was racing through all the possibilities. Dead. Brain damaged, spinal injury, amputation. The roads were quiet, the journey quick, and afterwards she would remember none of it.
Matthew had a permit to park at the hospital and at this time of night the car park had plenty of spaces.
Fran Korpanski had not been so lucky. Not having the right change, she was minutes behind Joanna and Matthew. They met outside the entrance to the Major Injuries Unit and greeted each other frostily. Fran was a nurse herself but not at this hospital. Joanna managed, ‘How is he?’
‘I don’t know, Joanna. I only know—’ She broke off to greet Matthew with a bit more of a smile. Fran Korpanski was only too aware of her husband’s close relationship with the DI and had never (would never, she had said) forgiven the inspector for putting her husband in harm’s way. Or, as she put it, risking his life. ‘If this is anything to do with you,’ she said, and Joanna shrank from the hatred in Korpanski’s wife. All she could do was shake her head. But Mrs Korpanski hadn’t finished. ‘If this is your fucking fault …’ The profanity was all the more shocking coming from Mike’s diminutive, normally polite, controlled wife. ‘He wasn’t working,’ Joanna said, stung into defence. ‘He was heading for the gym, wasn’t he?’
Fran simply pressed her lips together as though holding back another avalanche of profanities and accusations.
They entered together and approached the desk. Joanna hung back. However close her working relationship was with Mike, Fran was his wife. ‘I think you have my husband here?’
The woman behind the desk looked up. ‘Name?’
‘Michael Korpanski.’
The woman looked flustered. ‘Yes. We do have your husband here. You’re Mrs Korpanski?’ Fran nodded, tears pooling in her eyes.
‘Would you like to take a seat? A doctor will be with you in a minute.’
Fran Korpanski sank into a chair on the front row, Joanna and Matthew a few chairs behind. The sounds and activities of the unit a mere background.
The doctor, wearing green scrubs, was marked by a lanyard and a stethoscope looped around his neck. The receptionist pointed out Fran and he came straight over to her, introducing himself as Dr Stefan. He had brown hair and sympathetic eyes and spoke with a slightly Eastern European accent. He ushered Mrs Korpanski away from the crowds and towards a door which he closed behind them.
Joanna looked at Matthew. ‘What does this mean?’
‘I don’t know, Jo.’ Even Matthew looked worried. ‘Maybe not good news. They tend to want a quiet room to … Maybe …’ He covered her hand with his own. ‘There’s no point trying to second-guess.’
Joanna felt sick. Not helped by the baby bouncing around as though it was joyful. Matthew saw the activity underneath her top and smiled. Put his hands there, reassuring his son – or daughter.
Don’t say it, she thought. Not that lives come and go. Not . . . The Circle of Life. Korpanski cannot be dead. Or maimed. The memory flooded back of his strong shoulders and powerful arms, of the wry smile when he listened to her rantings, the warmth of those dark eyes and the unending, unquestioning loyalty and friendship. Without him she would be diminished.
The door opened and Fran came out. Looking smaller than when she had gone in. She stumbled back towards them, tears spilling down her cheeks, the doctor a pace behind, his arms held out as though he was worried she might fall.
Fran stood in front of Joanna and met her eyes with a fierce hatred that shocked even her. ‘They’re trying to save his leg,’ she said and sank down into the chair. ‘He’s in the operating theatre now.’
Joanna looked at Matthew and started to speak. ‘Is there anything …’
But Fran Korpanski got there first. She pointed her index finger at Joanna. ‘This had better not be anything connected with you.’
Joanna bit her lip. How could it be? she thought. How could it be?
Matthew managed to fill in the gap. ‘Is there anything you want us to do, Fran?’
At which point Fran stuck her small chin in the air and addressed him. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There is. Let them know at the station,’ she managed steadily, ‘and tell them all to stay away. He’s my husband and we want some privacy.’
And Matthew nodded.
THIRTY-THREE
Sunday 21 October, 9.30 p.m.
It isn’t hard to pretend you’ve left. No one watches you. No one checks. They just assume when you open and close a door that you have gone.
Eleven o’clock, Kath had said. Just over an hour to wait. Jubilee sat and waited for her phone screen to light up.
11 p.m.
She heard the car creep over the gravel. Quiet as a ghost walk but she was listening out for it. The staff were in the kitchen, washing up the cups from the evening drinks. They would be helping themselves to Horlicks, cocoa, tea, coffee. It was a nightly ritual. They would have a drink and soon they would retire to the coffee room. She crept upstairs. Zac was hunched up in bed, lying in the foetal position, snoring softly. Something was puncturing his dreams. He was twitching and muttering something unintelligible. She bent down and whispered in his ear. ‘I can help you find Teddy.’ He sat up, recognized her face, slipped his hand in hers, confident she would help him. She raised her finger to her lips.
‘Sssh. You mustn’t make a sound.’ And he smiled, trusting. She slid his slippers on, opened the wardrobe door. ‘You’ll need a coat. It’s cold outside.’
She sat with him while the night staff retired to their room and soon the entire home was silent. Then she smiled. ‘Now remember. Not … a … sound. I’ll help you down the stairs.’
It was slow going, one step at a time, but finally they had reached the bottom. She led him along the corridor. He waited while she unlocked the French windows, watched her replace the chair against the wall and then followed her through.
She took his hand, closed the door softly behind her, and led him down the steps towards the waiting car.
She didn’t feel cruel, she didn’t feel a traitor. Not then. She felt, like him, that this was an adventure.
It wasn’t until she’d closed the car door on Zachary Foster and had seen his face, completely bewildered, hands stretched out towards her. He didn’t understand. It won’t be for long, she’d mouthed. But then she’d heard Kath speak to him. ‘Shut it, you fucking aged saddo. You can stop whining about your stupid …’ She affected a silly childish voice. ‘Teddy bear.’
The words were accompanied by an eye-watering slap on Zachary’s thin shoulders and he’d dropped his face into his hands in an attitude of despair and complete bewilderment.
And then the car had whisked off and Jubilee stood still on the drive. What had she done?
She felt terrible.
She’d walked back to her flat, seeing his face everywhere. And even trying to replace Zac’s terrified eyes with an image of her and Chi sprawling on a beach – rum in hand, white sand, blue water – all she could see were the sharks circling. And one of those looked just like Kath.
Perhaps it would have been some consolation to know that Chi was feeling just as bad. Sitting in the back of the car, Zac between her and Kath, she could feel the old man’s bones, his hand shaking, sensed his confusion. Though the car was warm – almost stuffy – and he was wearing a warm coat over his pyjamas, the old man was shivering. She hadn’t actually met him before. This reality was a shock; the tethered goat to keep Kath at bay. She’d never considered him as a person – simply the owner of an object which would fly her out of here. Now, as she looked at his face, Chi felt curious. How much of this was sinking in? How much of this would he remember? Would he be able to identify faces? In which case Kath wouldn’t risk it. Which would make her and Jubilee an accessory to murder. Did he realize he was in danger?
How much could he feel fright?
Could he sense that he was about to be used as bait? It didn’t help that he was now looking at her, his face screwed up like a child’s, the appeal mute but perfectly clear. Help me.
Kath shot her a warning look and she settled back, returning to the uncomfortable thoughts. This was not how she’d imagined it. She hadn’t realized she’d feel so awful, so guilty, so full of pity for the vulnerable. She tried to ignore him but Zac Foster slipped his hand into hers and she knew he’d transferred the trust he’d had for Jubilee to her.
Bad choice.
Monday 22 October, midday
The Roaches near Leek
It seemed as though The Winking Man was watching over her as she pulled over to the verge.
Diana Sutcliffe was already there in a blue Mercedes. Chi had persuaded a friend to drive her out there. There was no way she would have trusted Debs. If Debs had caught a glimpse of this much money she would have wanted a cut. And that didn’t fit in with their plans. Chi got out of her car and walked over to Diana, who leaned across and threw open the passenger door. They smiled at one another, neither quite trusting the other. Chi’s eyes dropped to the brown envelope which she hoped contained the money. Slowly she drew the teddy bear out of the bag and held it up. She could read the lust in the dealer’s eyes and knew she would be making plenty out of this. Diana Sutcliffe gave the bear a quick once-over then handed over the money: £20,000 in £50 notes in £5,000 bundles with the bank’s paper band still intact. Chi checked it. All there. She made Chi sign a piece of paper confirming ownership and the sale and watched as Chi filled in a false name and false address. She had the feeling the dealer didn’t really care. When asked to provide provenance she would be equally inventive and dishonest. Chi put the money in the carrier bag while Ms Sutcliffe took possession of the bear, wrapping him in some tissue paper she’d obviously brought. Her fingers felt the wad of notes. Surely now they could get the hell out of here? The plan was to catch the bus from Hanley down to Heathrow Airport and get the first available flight out. They might only be able to be there for thirty days initially, but they’d deal with that when they were there. There were plenty of illegals in most countries. They’d just be joining the worldwide throng. The main thing was to get out of Leek. Get away from Kath.
She had the money. The friend drove her back to the town. Chi gave her a twenty-pound note she had in her pocket and the mate was well happy with that. Chi wandered across to Jubilee’s bedsit.
Which was where she hit a snag.
Jubilee refused to fly. From somewhere or other she’d grown a conscience.
‘I can’t go until I know he’s safe.’
Once she’d got over the shock, Chi tried every argument she could think of. From, ‘He’ll be all right. Kath’ll let him go,’ to, ‘it won’t make any difference’ and ‘it’s too risky for us to stay’. But Jubilee flatly refused to leave Leek until she was sure Zachary Foster was safe.
Chi had no intention of leaving without Jubilee, so if Jubilee refused to leave Chi was stuck in Leek. For the time being. It wouldn’t be for long, she told herself. Kath would soon make her move.
But Kath was taking her time, perfecting her plan. She couldn’t afford for this to go wrong. She’d spent too many years plotting. And there was something she hadn’t expected – savouring the anticipation of the moment, which meant she lived it over and over again in her mind.
Wednesday 24 October, 8.15 a.m.
Mill Street
The ‘goat’ was proving a problem. Kath hadn’t bargained for this. She hadn’t really thought of the old man as a person, only as a means to an end. The sprat to catch the mackerel. The goat to catch the tiger. But the fucking goat was misbehaving. She’d gone up to give him a drink as Fifi had headed off to the doctor’s for some antibiotics to treat her infected nose, which had become swollen, red and very painful. Debs was out getting some shopping in and Chi was at work. So it was left to Kath to keep an eye on the goat. Not a natural nursemaid.
She put the cup of tea down on a chest of drawers, which was a good job as he lunged at her. She fended off his weak assault with a sharp slap of her own which didn’t appear to teach him anything. He just glared at her. But she didn’t want him too obviously damaged. He needed to look as though he’d just wandered out of the home and got lost for just over a week. That was the little story she was telling herself. Not that he’d been abducted and tied to a bed by a team of psychos, which was what people sometimes called her and her mates. Only the once.
Truth was she hadn’t thought what to do with the old man once he’d fulfilled his function of luring Piercy to Lud’s Church. And she didn’t much care. She could let him go but he wouldn’t get very far. However, trailing him back to civilization would prove tedious to her. Elated, she planned to spend the evening celebrating Piercy’s demise with a pub crawl. The place would soon have its quota of coppers. They could find him.
But now, when she looked at him, she realized she might have to deal with him too because she didn’t know how much of this was sinking in. She wasn’t sure whether there was any point in making up some cock-and-bull story to explain his plight to him. Would he remember it anyway? But it was just possible that the old guy did have a working brain cell after all, and whatever she told him he’d remember and spit it out when or rather if, by some holy miracle, he was rescued alive. Debs had provided an explanation to him of sorts, patting his hand. ‘Think of it as a bit of a holiday, mate,’ which had shut him up for a bit but now he’d got disruptive again. They’d tried locking him in the bedroom but he’d banged on the window so hard she’d worried he might break it. And then there’d be trouble. There were thin walls either side and plenty of nosey neighbours round here always on the lookout to complain. And the last thing she wanted was the police hammering on her door. So far, sensing the potential for trouble, apart from the guy next door, most of the neighbours had given Kath a wide berth. But if they heard an old man yelling and shouting or even worse banging on the window they’d soon start dialling 999 with their nosey, interfering little fingers. This was not the right setting for her little drama. So she had no option but to tie him to the bed and feed him with some of the tablets Chi had got from Jubilee. It didn’t take long for them to work. Ten minutes later he was quiet. In fact, looking down at him now, Kath wondered whether they’d overdone it a bit. He looked zonked and was breathing funnily. She kicked the bed and Zac’s eyes fluttered. Not dead yet then. And she left the room. Not long now. Leave it a couple more days. She had another job to do.
THIRTY-FOUR
Thursday 1 November, 7 a.m.
‘Darling.’ Matthew was shaking her shoulder.
There was a brief second before she put events in order. ‘Mike?’
‘I’ve rung the hospital and had a word with the medics.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed.
She couldn’t bear to ask but appealed mutely.
