A Time For Justice

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kovaks rubbed his temples wearily and stood up. He walked across to the large picture window of the apartment. From it there was a fine view of one of the inlets of the intracoastal waterway which ran up behind Fort Lauderdale. Yachts, motor boats, power boats, craft of all sizes and descriptions were moored there.

But Kovaks’ mind was not on the splendid vista. It was concentrated solely on the violent death — not before time — of Corelli.

Was this really the right way?

Using Laura, a no-hoper, who had never really done anyone any harm — could he live with that? Using her, knowing that she would almost certainly die.

The problem was that he’d known her before she became a drug user and a prostitute, and he could clearly remember her as a spirited, pretty and more or less honest girl. Given time, trouble and patience she could return to her former self.

But there was no time.

She had to do it soon. Corelli had to be wasted. Delay meant more lives destroyed.

Kovaks had purchased the murder weapon — a two-inch-barrelled Smith amp; Wesson model 31, Regulation Police, 32 calibre. It was just under 7 inches long and weighed 22 oz when empty. Laura needed to get in close and that meant a pistol or revolver, of a size and calibre she could hide and handle easily. And it had to be powerful enough to do the job. It was a wonderful gun to handle, though Kovaks found it too light for himself.

Laura had taken to the gun well. She knew a lot about them anyway. She’d spent their last session together practising, walking up to a lampshade with the empty gun tucked into her waistband, then drawing and pumping six imaginary shells into Corelli’s head.

She found it very exciting. She wanted to do it for real.

‘ You must say nothing,’ Kovaks coached her. ‘You stroll up to him like it’s a normal Sunday afternoon. Look relaxed. Smile. Pull the gun out at the last possible moment and shoot the bastard. Throw it down, turn and run. I’ll be outside in a car waiting for you.’ This lie almost stuck in his throat. ‘Don’t worry about the layout of the place yet. We’ll go there for a meal ourselves a couple of times beforehand and find out where he usually sits. Now… squeeze the trigger. Yes, like that. Don’t pull it.’

Kovaks didn’t hear Chrissy emerge from the bedroom. She padded barefoot and silent up to him, wearing a short nightshirt which only just managed to cover her. She touched his sleeve. He jumped.

‘ Hi,’ she said. ‘What’re you shaking your head for?’

‘ Oh nothing, just pondering.’

She slid an arm around his waist. It was as though a shock of electric current had passed through him. Surprised, but happy, he draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

She smiled.

He couldn’t believe it: a smile. He was almost overwhelmed with joy.

‘ I’ve been pretty awful to live with these past few months,’ she admitted.

‘ You’ve had good enough reason. It hasn’t been a problem.’ It was a brave attempt at a lie.

‘ Oh yes, it has,’ she insisted. She put her other arm around him and squeezed. ‘You’ve been so good to me. I’m a lucky lady. You’ve put up with me and my moods and my medical needs, stayed with me through everything, no complaining, nothing. I’m very grateful to you, Joe.’

‘ You don’t have to be grateful. It’s my job — I love you.’

‘ Do you? Even now, with a face like this and a chest that looks like a burned turkey dinner?’

‘ Honey,’ he told her tenderly, looking straight into her eyes, ‘I’ll admit that initially I was attracted by your looks, but I fell in love with the person behind them. I fell in love with the way you talk, the way you drag your feet, the way you have an answer for everything and a million more things. I’m still in love with that person, even if she is a bit burned.’

She swallowed. Her eyes became moist. ‘I thought you’d leave. I was terrified you’d go. I wouldn’t have blamed you.’

‘ Don’t be a dork. I love you.’ He spelled it out.

‘ I love you too, Joe.’

‘ Well, that’s all right then.’

One of her hands went to the back of his neck and pulled his head down towards hers. They kissed. A tingle of excitement made Kovaks curl up his toes. It was their first real kiss for many months. Slowly their lips parted and became wet and they began to explore each other’s mouths, tongues intertwining, sliding around each other like snakes.

‘ Joe, Joe,’ said Chrissy, breaking off, slightly breathless. ‘We need to make love.’

‘ I’ll second that.’ He bent down and scooped her up into his arms. Moments later they were on the bed and she was tugging hungrily at the belt on his trousers.

The next time Henry Christie looked at a clock it was 11.30 p.m. He had been busy all day setting up the incident room in the gymnasium at Lancaster police station. Then together with Karen and Donaldson he had brainstormed the lines of enquiry their team of detectives were going to follow the next day.

Henry was alone now; the other two had gone home. This was the last chance they would have for some time to get a good night’s sleep. He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the whiteboard upon which all their ideas had been scribbled down. There was a lot to go at. Tomorrow would be an even longer day.

Then he thought: Tomorrow — Christ! My day off!

He picked up a phone and dialled a sleepy-sounding Kate.

‘ Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I know it’s late. I would’ve phoned earlier but I didn’t get a chance.’

‘ No, no, ‘sokay,’ she mumbled.

‘ About tomorrow,’ he began haltingly.

‘ You’re not coming, are you? I thought as much… er, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’ve seen the news, it’s a dreadful business.’

‘ Yeah,’ he said, stifling a yawn of his own. ‘I’m well involved in the investigation, so you’re right, I won’t be able to come round. You do understand, don’t you?’

‘ Yes,’ she said.

‘ I have to catch this bastard before he catches me,’ he said bleakly. ‘I think I may have to kill him.’

‘ Henry, that sounds rather dramatic.’

‘ He’s made it personal, love. He said he’s coming for me.’

‘ Christ,’ she breathed.

‘ Kate, I love you,’ he said. ‘When this is all really over, let’s get back together. No more talking, let’s just do it.’

‘ Yeah, OK,’ she said simply.

There was a short spell of stunned silence on the line.

‘ I love you too, Henry. Please be careful, I want you back.’

She hung up.

Henry slowly replaced the phone and closed his eyes gratefully.

Kate snuggled down under the duvet, next to Leanne who had sneaked in about twenty minutes before, claiming she couldn’t sleep. She had dropped off immediately next to her mother but the phone had woken her.

‘ Was that Dad?’ she asked dreamily.

‘ Yep.’

‘ Is he coming back?’

‘ Yes, soon.’

‘ Does that mean I won’t be able to sleep in here again?’

‘ Correct.’

‘ Oh, I don’t mind, so long as he’s back… I got told off for saying “Fuck” at school today.’

A minor arrest was about to be made on the streets of Blackpool.

It was the end of what, professionally speaking, had been a poor night for the prostitute whose name was Jane. She’d moved from pub to pub, mingling and soliciting, but all to no avail. No one, it seemed, had the money or inclination to pay for her services.

Frustrated by her lack of success — which was pretty unusual, but not completely unknown — she drank a good deal of alcohol. At closing time, well inebriated, she spilled unsteadily onto the streets and bought herself a bag of fish and chips. She then proceeded to eat them as she walked home. Quite often she missed her mouth when feeding it with handfuls of food and she ended up with a very greasy, uninviting face.

This, however, did not deter her from trying her luck with every man she walked past, whether he was attached or not. Her approach was brash and obscene and it went well with her appearance: a tight fitting mini skirt in cheap leather, laddered stockings and a blouse that was unbuttoned below the line of her freely swinging breasts, leaving nothing to the imagination.

She managed to strike it lucky just the once. She collared a sallow youth, a holidaymaker hardly past puberty, and all but dragged him down a back alley. She sank to her knees on the cobbles, placing her chips carefully down beside her, unzipped his jeans and slid her oily mouth over his flaccid cock. Despite the odds, she was successful in bringing about an erection followed by ejaculation. This done, she collected her chips, claimed five pounds and left the poor boy standing there speechless, wondering what the hell had hit him.

Back on the streets, with a mouthful of fish to take away the taste, she tried her luck with one or two other men who swore at her and pushed her away.

Then her luck really ran out.

Her last few attempts at solicitation were watched by two plain-clothed policemen, one of whom casually walked past her. He was treated to her one-line come-on. When he introduced himself and arrested her, she punched him in the mouth and smacked the remains of her supper onto his head. She was forcibly restrained, put in the back of a police van and taken, struggling and screaming all the way, to Blackpool Central police office.

Once inside a cell, she immediately calmed down, laid herself out on the bed and fell into a heavy, drunken slumber.

After their lovemaking, Joe and Chrissy lay interlocked for a long time, him still deep inside her, both savouring the last twinges of pleasure before he withdrew slowly.

Then he lay face up and she nestled into his chest.

‘ That was lovely,’ said Chrissy. ‘I’ve been wanting to have you inside me for weeks now, Joe. Do… do the burns matter to you?’ she asked timidly.

‘ No — not when you can fuck like that.’

She punched him gently in the ribs and giggled.

‘ How are you going on with Corelli?’ she asked. ‘I see you’ve brought some files home to work on.’

Kovaks sighed. ‘As ever, he evades our clutches. Like he has a sixth sense.’

‘ Do you honestly think he was the one who sent the letter?’

He nodded. ‘Oh, yeah. Just a warning. Business, y’know, nothing personal. But I won’t give up on him. I’ll get him one way or another. ‘

‘ I hope you’re not planning anything illegal,’ she said. ‘You see, what I finally realised, Joe, was that he hadn’t destroyed my life. If he’d taken you away, that would have destroyed it, but I still have you, and I’m happy. I just thought, What the hell am I doing sat here like a moron week after week, thinking about revenge, being bitter and twisted, when I should be thinking about the future. You and me, Joe. That’s my future. Corelli can rot in hell. I even feel sorry for him. He’s a sad man without a life. I’ve got you. I know it’s taken me a long time to work it all out and I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through, but now I see. Let’s just forget Corelli and get on with living.’

She snuffled and blinked the tears away from her eyes. It was the most she had said to Kovaks for many months and she sounded positive, like the Chrissy of old.

Kovaks felt an overwhelming love for her, and his throat constricted as suddenly he knew she was right. Revenge wasn’t the way forwards. It was the way to hell. He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. ‘So your future’s with me, eh, kid?’

‘ If that’s what you want.’

‘ Only if it involves marriage and kids and all that crap.’

‘ Is that a proposal of marriage?’

‘ Yup, I suppose it is,’ he said shyly.

‘ Mm,’ she said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. ‘So let me get this clear in my head. You’re asking me to marry you, right?’

‘ Sure am,’ he said more confidently.

‘ In that case, I accept. But… ‘

‘ But what?’

‘ Between now and whenever the wedding day is, we’ve got a hell of a lot of fucking to make up and I’m going to get a piece of it right now.’

Driving exhaustedly from Lancaster to Blackpool in his Metro, which was constantly buffeted by heavy goods vehicles as they thundered past on the motorway, Henry Christie started to do ‘nodding dog’ impersonations. He opened a window and let the cool night breeze waft him into wakefulness. He didn’t particularly want to end up squashed under the back wheels of a lorry.

Unfortunately, the fresh air had the effect of revitalising his senses and by the time he reached the outskirts of Blackpool he was very much awake. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, but he knew that even if he went to bed now he would be unlikely to sleep.

So he went cruising up and down the promenade and around town until somehow, he found himself driving into the back yard of the central police station.

He was about to turn around and head out when he thought, sod it. While I’m here I might as well have a look in, see a few people. He parked and locked his car and walked to the rear entrance of the building.

Though it was the early hours the place was still buzzing. The holiday season was underway and the influx of tourists had had the usual effect of increasing every officer’s workload. Henry wandered through the corridors and into the CID office where a couple of night-duty detectives were sat at their desks, ties removed, scribbling away. They were glad to see him and get the inside story on Hinksman and the escape. Henry, in turn, was happy to impart his knowledge.

Eventually he yawned. Tiredness welled over him. He stretched, said good night, and took his leave.

A couple of minutes later he stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor and walked down the short corridor to the rear exit. As he emerged, the cage door of the custody suite on his right opened and a female tottered out in front of him. She had a high-heeled shoe in one hand, the other being on her foot, and a charge sheet in the other.

‘ You’re all fucking wankers,’ she screamed back through the door. ‘Every single one of you.’

‘ You keep that up, my dear, and you’ll end up back in a cell,’ came the calm voice of the Custody Sergeant. ‘So piss off.’

Muttering obscenities, she turned and tried to put her shoe on in the same motion. She lost her balance and careered into Henry who caught her and placed her upright.

‘ Let go, you cunt,’ she said absently, then: ‘My God! It’s Henry Christie, isn’t it?’

‘ Well hello, Jane. Long time no see. Still plying the same old trade?’

‘ How else would I make me livin’,’ she said mockingly, ‘other than on me back — or in any other position required of me?’

They had walked down the rear yard past all the parked police cars until they reached Henry’s battered Metro.

‘ This heap yours?’ laughed Jane. He nodded. ‘Gone down in the world, ain’t ya?’

‘ Certainly have. Don’t you read the papers?’

‘ No, why? Here — you goin’ my way, Cuntstable? I could do wi’ a lift,’ she stated cheekily.

‘ You still living in that same dump?’

‘ Yep, the same one where you busted me for that speed. God, how long ago were that?’

Henry calculated. It had been when he was a PC. ‘Eight years?’ he estimated.

‘ Fuck me,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Don’t time fly when you’re having fun!’

Henry unlocked the car. ‘I’ll take you as far as I’m going — then you’ll have to walk the rest of the way.’

‘ You’re an absolute gent,’ she said, creasing herself into the passenger seat.

Once within the confines of the small car, Henry began to regret his generosity. She smelled quite awful. The mixture of body odour, cheap perfume, fish, chips and spirits nearly knocked him out. He wound a window down.

‘ What were you locked up for this time?’

‘ Oh, the usual,’ she said unconcerned. ‘Y’know — leopard never changes its spots. But I don’t do drugs any more, thanks to you. I learned me lesson. Evil things.’ She shuddered.

‘ At least I’ve done some good in my life,’ he observed quietly to himself. He actually didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

‘ I’m tryin’ to give up whorin’,’ she said dreamily. ‘Too fuckin’ dangerous this game now. D’you know how many times I’ve been hammered? Six. Gettin’ like America, this place. In fact, the last one who gave me a twattin’ was a Yank. An absolute cunt, he was. Wild eyes. Mad as a hatter. Liked hittin’ better than sex. Mind you, he was better at hittin’. Anyway, I ripped the fucker off good an’ proper…’ She turned to Henry who was only half-listening, his thoughts, though he didn’t know it, on the same American. ‘I’m tellin’ you this off the record, OK? Pinched a rake of cash off him and did a runner. But he beat me up bad and I think he would’ve done worse if I hadn’t legged it. Serves him right, and that smelly Italian landlord of his. Anyway, what I got off him was the start of me nest egg. Buildin’ up nicely now, stashed away safe ‘n’ sound, thank you very much.’

By the time she’d finished wittering, Henry had arrived at the street where his flat was located. He pulled into a parking space about 100 metres away.

‘ You’re a luv,’ Jane said, levering herself out of the seat and slamming the door shut. Her voice seemed to be at megadecibel level; it made Henry squirm. ‘Remember — if you ever want a freebie blow job, just call round. Best gob in town.’ She slithered her tongue in and out a few times, gave a quick wave and turned, clattering away down the pavement on her dangerously high heels.

He watched her walk away, a smile playing on his lips. It was definitely an offer he wouldn’t be following up.

There was a bang, then the sound of voices.

Hinksman awoke with a start. For a moment he thought he was still in the sub-zero darkness of the Iraqi desert, part of the Delta Force Scud-busting squads, sleeping in the shell of a burned-out tank. Then it all came back to him. He cursed himself for being so careless as to doze off.

He was actually lying on the cold metal floor in the rear of a stolen Ford Escort van parked near Henry Christie’s flat. He raised himself an inch at a time so that he could see out of the front windscreen. Fifty metres away from him stood Henry Christie and walking towards him was the prostitute, Jane.

Must be my birthday, he thought, gloating.

He quickly dropped back onto the floor of the van and waited for her to pass. The click-clack of her heels approached, grew louder, drew level with the van and then receded. As her footsteps faded, Hinksman pushed himself back up.

Henry had disappeared to the back entrance of the vet’s surgery.

Hinksman’s mind worked quickly. He was in a quandary. He had been parked there for most of the evening, awaiting Henry’s arrival home. Hinksman had expected him to be alone and it had been his intention to kill him in the back yard of the surgery. He’d been relishing the prospect of getting up close to the bastard and killing him face to face because in the short time he’d been acquainted with Henry he’d come to loathe him. He wanted to be right there at the death, not standing 100 metres away, shooting him. No. He wanted the feel of the knife going in, jarring the ribs, piercing the heart, twisting. That was what he desired.

But now things had changed.

The prostitute. The one who’d stolen from him. The one who’d escaped with all his money. The one who’d escaped with her life.

A surge of excitement coursed through his loins. Killing Henry would be sweet revenge, there was no doubt about that, and it would give great satisfaction. But killing the prostitute would be sheer pleasure — the kind he hadn’t experienced in a long while. It was an opportunity not to be missed.

Quietly, he opened the back doors of the van and slid out. In the distance he could still see Jane. He began to follow.