Birdman

31

'Another plate gone.' Veronica closed the kitchen door on the voices of the guests and shovelled the broken pieces into the pedal bin. 'I'm thinking of hiding Mum's glasses before one of those goes too.'

Caffery pulled the cork on a bottle of Sancerre, sniffed it and turned the cork over in his hands to check it hadn't crumbled. He had retreated here for a moment of peace, and wasn't surprised when Veronica chose the same moment to come into the kitchen. She pulled a Tupperware container from the fridge, and when she saw he wasn't going to answer her, slammed the door loudly. 'You know who's funny?'

'No. Who?'

'I'm not being rude, Jack, but Marilyn. What a cow. I was having a really nice conversation with her husband, he's really lovely, and then for no reason at all she comes up and starts being really snotty, really iffy with me.'

Jack didn't answer. He knew exactly where Veronica was heading with this. She'd been in full-on martyr mode all night — gallantly traipsing through the house, carrying plates brimming with crostini, grilled peppers and tapenade, a sad, brave smile on her face. But what she really wanted was some attention, wanted a splash of trouble to make the evening complete.

'You're not listening to me, are you?' She began spooning out hummus, tapping the spoon loudly on the edge of the bowl. 'I thought at least we were still friends, but now it seems we can't even have a conversation.'

'I'm not rising to this, Veronica.' He threw the cork into the bin and retrieved a bottle of Medoc from the cupboard. He had no more energy for her tonight. The party itself was a sacrifice — his time precious. Maddox couldn't know that here was one relationship which was beyond the good intentions of the DCS. 'I won't fight with you, so don't bother.'

'God.' She shook her head resignedly. 'You're so screwed up, Jack. You are so screwed up. I think you should see someone about it, I really do.'

'You're drunk.'

'Of course I'm not. Honestly, what a thing to say!' She slammed the bowl down onto a tray and suddenly her face was calm, as if absolutely nothing had happened. 'Now then.' She picked up a tea towel. 'How are we doing with the Piper Heidsieck? Did you take those bottles out of the freezer, they'll explode if you leave them in a second too long.' Casually she leaned over to the window, lifted the curtains on one finger, looking out as if searching for something beyond her reflection and tutted. 'Those kids.' She let the curtain fall. 'It's too late for children to be up. They'll come to no good out there, mark my words.'

The night was warm and the French windows were open but perhaps the guests, like the storm flies gathering above the halogen lights on the patio, sensed the weight of rain in the sky: only the children were using the garden. The adults stood inside, grouped in polite little clumps, balancing plates and glasses, occasionally looking up to check their reflections in the windows. No-one breathed a word about the case, even when the children were out of earshot, as if a mere whisper might bring poison through the doors. Caffery, Sancerre in one hand, Medoc in the other, orbited the room filling glasses, stopping to allow Kryotos to feed him a triangle of nan bread.

'Jack—' She checked quickly over her shoulder and lowered her voice to a whisper. 'Jack, your chum Cook? Is he still in the frame? It's just you didn't come back to me and—'

'Oh shit.' He tried to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand without spilling the wine. 'Shit, I'm sorry, Marilyn, I'm sorry — I got started on something else. I completely forgot.'

'He's booked on an Air India flight out of Heathrow at fourteen-hundred hours tomorrow. I could get on to India Delta division for you.'

'No. Let him go. He was just, I dunno, me clutching at straws I s'pose.'

She put her plate down and held her glass out for a refill. 'OK, but if you change your mind—'

She broke off. Her small daughter, Jenna, had hurtled into the room from the garden, and crunched herself up against her mother's legs, squealing and shaking her head. 'Mummy! Mummy!'

'What is it?' Marilyn bent down. 'Tell Mummy.'

'Summonindagardin.'

'Someone what?'

'Monsty.'

'Jenna.' Kryotos took her daughter's tiny, balled-up hand and shook it lightly. 'Speak properly, please.'

'Monsty in in—' She stopped for a breath, staring back over her shoulder into the garden. 'In the garden.'

Kryotos looked up at the others and rolled her eyes. 'Wouldn't you know it, we're just getting comfortable and now there's only a monster in the garden.'

''S true, Mum.' Dean, Jenna's older brother, appeared in the French windows, his face as white as the moon. 'We heard it.'

Kryotos coloured. 'Dean, now don't mess around. I've warned you.'

'Honest.'

'Dean!' She held a finger up. 'That's enough.'

'Tell you what, Jenna sweetheart.' Maddox rolled up his sleeves with the soft gravitas of someone who remembered vividly being the father of small children. 'How about me and my policemen go outside and arrest the monster? You'll have to tell us exactly what sort of monster it is, of course. So we know how to handcuff him.'

'Don't know what sort it is,' Dean said solemnly. 'We didn't see it, we heard it. Walking about in the leaves.'

'Oh, that's all right, then.' Essex heaved himself out of his chair. 'It's probably just one of them invisible compost-heap monsters.'

'Maybe,' Dean agreed seriously.

'We deal with stacks of them every day in the police. Even your old mum could take one of those out with her hands tied behind her back.'

'NOOOOOO!' Jenna wailed, gripping her mother's skirt, small feet tattooing on the floor. 'Mummeeee stay!!'

Kryotos stroked Jenna's head. 'Mummy'll stay. Look. The police are going to make sure monsty's gone.'

'MONSTER BUSTERS!' Essex sprang from the patio, dropped onto the lawn in a warrior crouch, hands tensed like blades, eyes narrowed, a thin keening coming from the back of his throat. 'Mon-STAR meet Suzi Wong, flower of the Orient and great Doshu of the Way of the Lotus, mistress of the secret dislocation technique kan' — punch — 'set' — punch — 'su' — punch — 'waza!'

On the patio a ghost of a smile flickered over Dean's face.

'I stroke without conscience. Ki-ai!'

Caffery, grateful for the distraction, put the bottles down on the windowsill and wandered into the centre of the garden as Essex corkscrewed his arms at the shrubs, throwing Kali-esque shadows on the lawn. Maddox followed, making a great show of beating the shrubs, checking under a clutch of Russell lupins, carefully brushing aside the weeping willow. 'Nope. No-one here!' he called. 'No monsters here.'

'No-one there!' Caffery relayed back to Jenna who risked peeling her tear-stained face away from Kryotos to plug her knuckles in her mouth and stare tentatively out into the garden.

Essex executed a few step-punches, surprisingly agile for his size. 'Suzie Wong say LUN FOR YOUR RIFE, MONSTER.'

Jenna smiled shyly around her finger and dropped her forehead back against Kryotos, not fear this time but little girl coyness, the smile twitching the edges of her cheeks. 'Suzie's a girl's name,' she snuffled. 'Not a boy's. He's silly.'

'Isn't he,' Marilyn agreed.

'Munen mushin! Ki-ai, ki-ai!'

'Yeah, Ki-ai ki-ai,' Caffery echoed patiently, and climbed the steps back into the house smiling up at the faces grouped in the lit window. 'Don't you feel so much safer knowing we have men like Essex to protect society?'

Kryotos see-sawed her head to get a view of the garden. 'Now how on earth has the old sod done that?'

'What?'

'He's gone.'

Caffery turned. The garden had fallen silent.

She giggled nervously. 'Must've been eaten.'

'Mmm. There'll be a terrible mess.'

'I don't know, Jack.' Maddox came to stand next to him, flushed and grinning, holding out his glass for a refill. 'I think even a monster would pass on Essex.'

'Not to worry,' Caffery sighed. 'I'll clear up what's left in the morning.'

'Nah, you don't want to do that.' Maddox shook his head. 'Leave it. Raw pig is good for the roses.'

'That's disgusting,' Kryotos said.

They all stared into the silent garden, hearing only the soft hiss of the weeping willow in the pre-storm breeze. Essex, indeed, seemed to have vanished into thin air. Caffery scanned the dark corners, trying to see the trick, straining to see how he had hidden himself so quickly.

'Where is he?'

'The monsty got him.' Jenna started to cry softly.

'Don't be silly.'

Maddox shot Caffery a look, eyebrows raised. Caffery shrugged. 'Don't look at me.'

'Monsty's ate-n him.'

'Ridiculous,' Veronica said softly, coming out onto the patio to look wonderingly into the garden. 'There are no monsters in your garden. Are there, Jack?'

Caffery put the bottles down on the patio and walked slowly down the steps onto the lawn. 'Paul?' The flower beds were silent, the small ghostly spots of clematis stellata blooms floated in the darkness. He lifted the weeping willow and looked underneath. Over the railway cutting the darkness was thicker. Penderecki's lights were off.

'I'll kill him for this.' Maddox came up behind Jack. 'I'll kill you for this, Essex. Joke's over. You're upset ting the kids—' He stopped.

'What is it?'

'Did you hear that?'

'What?'

'That?'

Something dark hurtled at them out of the shadows. Maddox ducked instinctively and on the patio Dean cried out. Caffery jumped back, breathing hard — 'Jesus!' — and then, in the shock, he saw it was Essex loping towards them across the lawn, an ape hip-hopping out of the jungle, arms swinging.

'Ki-ai, ki-ai.'

'Idiot.' Caffery shook his head, laughing. 'You. You're dead meat.'

On the patio the guests dissolved into giggles.

'Bloody deranged lunatic.' Maddox held his finger up. 'You'll pay for this.'

Essex was wounded. 'Ki-ai, ki-ai? Munen mushin?'

'Where'd you hide?'

He ran his hands over his hair and shook his head. 'Oh, they just, y'know, took me away in a space craft.'

'Did sexual experiments on you, I suppose?'

'Wow, it happened to you too? Spooky.' He put his arms around Maddox and Caffery, propelling them towards the house. 'What year is this? Is that lovely Mrs Thatcher still on the throne?'

In the living room Jenna stared at Essex, not knowing whether to cry or laugh. Kryotos, flushed, thumped him on the bicep. 'Don't do that again, you big — you big walrus.' She smiled, put protective hands over Jenna's ears and dipped her head to Veronica. 'God didn't give them enough blood to service their brains and their winkies. And if they try and use both at the same time — oh!' She shook her head sorrowfully. 'Calamity is not the word for it.'

'You don't have to tell me,' Veronica said tonelessly.

The rooms grew hotter and closer with the threat of rain. More people arrived, and in the living room the pile of ficelle baguettes was reduced to a scattering of crumbs, the ice in the stainless-steel buckets melted, the platters of cheeses and chorizos lay plundered and abandoned. Someone had found a CD of Strauss waltzes and Marilyn was dancing with Essex, bumping into people and giggling. The room blazed intermittently with the metallic blue of heat lightning.

Caffery nursed his wine in the corner, watching Dean. He was about the same age Ewan had been. To Dean the room had the same dimensions, the same fears, the garden the same dark excitements. Standing upright he was eye level with the dado rail, just as Ewan had been.

'Nice house.' Maddox came up behind him. 'You didn't get this on a DI's salary.'

Caffery turned, reverie broken. 'No, no.' He looked into his wine glass. 'Parents. Left me with it.'

'They left it to you?'

'No. Left me with it.' He smiled and swirled the wine. 'They sold it to me knock down, very knock down. They were glad to see the back of it. Of me too.'

'Still alive?'

'Sure. Somewhere.'

'Interesting.' Maddox nodded thoughtfully. 'It's interesting you've never mentioned it before.'

'Yeah, well—' He shifted his feet, cleared his throat. 'Wine?'

'Go on, then. One more won't hurt.' Maddox held the glass up. 'Romaine's given Veronica's cooking the official thumbs up. She's done well tonight.' He half emptied his glass. 'But I'll have to be making tracks, mate. I want to stop in at Greenwich, see how Betts is doing.'

'How was it going?'

'At time of going to press? Pretty shit.'

'It's not going to work, is it?'

Maddox considered Caffery's face for a moment then took his arm and led him to one side. 'Between you and me?'

'Yes.'

'We'll never make it stick. Not in forty-eight hours.'

'I won't say I told you so.'

'Thanks.' Maddox sighed. 'Tomorrow morning nine a.m. our first extension starts, and when that's up we'll have to charge him, sufficient evidence or not: serology are dragging and the search on the flat turned up zilch, the clerks in the warrant office reckon we're pretty fucking funny, laughing into their spritzers all over Greenwich. And—'

'And?'

Maddox drained the glass and swilled the wine around his mouth as if he didn't like what he was about to say. He straightened up. 'He's given us a lead. Says the girls had a punter in Croom's Hill. Dropped the last one of them off there ten days before we brought him in. Thinks it was Shellene Craw. Says he had sex with her. Accounts for the hair.'

'Croom's Hill?'

'Yeah. Know it?'

'Steve.' Caffery leaned in and spoke excitedly. 'It's come up; this afternoon Essex and I were working on it.'

'Ah.' He nodded. 'Go on.'

'He's affluent. I mean really up there in the top one hundred. But he's got a little problem: hot and cold running category As. Does a nice Columbian, and the opium is Golden Triangle. A regular little Khun Sa; he's also the majority shareholder of HCC Plc.'

'Who are?'

'Pharmaceutical company. Heard of Snap-Haler?'

'Somewhere.'

'For asthmatics. HCC've just won the worldwide licence, stocks are soaring, life is sweet. He's also—'

Thunder cracked over the garden, vibrating a tray of fine-stemmed glasses so polished that their trembling scattered the light. Some of the women jumped and Marilyn giggled at her own nervousness. Essex unwrapped himself from her and moved to shut the French windows, but Veronica put a cool hand on his arm.

'No, leave it. I like the rain.' She gazed off into the garden as if she was waiting for something to happen. The drops began splattering on the patio, the smell of wet earth drifted into the room. Jack turned back to Maddox and murmured in a low voice:

'He's also on a steering committee at St Dunstan's.'

Maddox was silent, staring out at the rain. He closed his eyes briefly then straightened his tie and nodded. 'Go on.'

'He trained to be a doctor. Shoots up for his party guests. I was ready to put someone else in the frame — a technician from St D's — though it was shaky, then bingo this one comes up and the pennies drop — everything just slots in — and now you come along and chuck Croom's Hill into the pot.' He lifted his glass, drained it in one. 'Give me surveillance. A week. I'm so confident I'd go out there now and do it myself.'

'Jack, I can't just snap my fingers and—' He looked at Caffery's face and shook his head. 'All right, all right. I'll get the governor to OK forty-eight hours. Then we review.'

'Now, Jack, I feel I already know you well enough to give you a good telling off.' Romaine gently inserted herself under Maddox's arm and smiled up at Caffery. 'You have to learn the golden rule. No talking shop.'

'We weren't,' Maddox said.

'You're lying. I can see it in your face.'

'Ignore her, Jack. She wants me to take early retirement.'

'You have to understand my husband.' She patted his chest. 'He tries to keep everyone happy. It weighs on him.'

Maddox took the hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. 'We've stopped now, I promise. I was just looking at Marilyn's lot. You know — thinking about Steph and Laure at that age.'

'Oh yuck. Sentimentality.' She kissed him and drew back wrinkling her nose. 'Poo! I see I'll be driving.' She fumbled in her handbag. 'I thought you were working tonight.'

'I am—' He opened his mouth and allowed his wife to squirt a tiny green dose of breath freshener in. 'I've only had a couple.'

'My fault,' Caffery said. 'I'm head wine waiter—'

He stopped. Romaine's face had changed. She put a finger up to her mouth.

'Look,' she mouthed, her eyes locked beyond him, on the French windows. 'Look behind you.'

And as she spoke Caffery became aware of other conversations dying — guests pausing in mid-sentence and turning to look at the door. Odd, frozen expressions. His earlier excitement drained away.

'Look,' Romaine repeated — jabbing a finger towards the garden.

Slowly, half dreading, half knowing what he would see, he turned.

Dean was sitting on the sill, his face pale and pinched, shocked into stillness by the apparition only inches from his face. Beyond him Veronica was smiling faintly — almost fascinated. The French windows were open to the night and in the pale glow of the electric light, streaming with rain, his arms holding an odd, jumbled assortment of ochres, stood Penderecki, his thin hair wild and fluorescing in the sheet lightning.

The room dropped into absolute silence. Caffery stared stupidly into the heavy-lidded eyes, unable to decipher exactly what Penderecki was holding in his arms.

Then Penderecki licked his thick lips and smiled, taking one simple step forward. The crowd parted, he blinked slowly and with something that sounded like a sigh let the armful of bones fall into a splintering mass amongst the feet of the guests.