Mean Spirit

XXIX

‘You alone, Bobby? I mean, really alone?’

To try and improve the signal to the mobile, Maiden moved out from the wall towards the Jeep, which had been parked all night, half-concealed, on the edge of the wood.

Nine-fifteen. Seffi upstairs, bathing and changing.

‘I’m alone.’

‘You all right, Bobby?’ Ron suspicious.

‘Mmm,’ Maiden said uncertainly. ‘Sure.’

Was he alone? Was Em gone? Was he no longer carrying her death? Did he believe that?

Or had his need for her been transferred … to someone else?

A slippery slope. More things in heaven and earth. Oh God.

‘I’m sorry, Ron. Not been up long.’

‘I bet. Fucking hell, Bobby, you picked up a package there, my son. Everybody was saying you got religion or something, into weird beliefs, but, this …’

‘Seffi Callard,’ Maiden said.

Who, for wild, incandescent moments, had been … someone else.

Ron said, ‘See, you hanging out with a notorious voodoo lady who takes money off people for another chat with Uncle Horace who’s passed on, that’s a potentially difficult situation. The Archangel, bless him, is very much on your side right now. You don’t want to blow it.’

The Archangel: Alan Gabriel, noted lay-preacher and Chief Constable of West Mercia. Who, as head of CID, had gathered his whole team for prayer before a major drugs raid, in order to imbue the troops with the spirit of the crusaders of old.

‘After your remarkable recovery from death, Bobby, and then the Green Man result, closely followed by the discreet departure of Riggs — who everybody says they spotted was a wrong-un even though nobody did — well, you were up there and gliding. Plus, Bradbury likes you. And when word floats up to Mr Gabriel that you’re religious — am I telling you something new here, Bobby?’

Maiden groaned.

‘Mr Gabriel takes it as a sign from the Almighty. A holy vision … All right, I exaggerate, but he says to Bradbury, “I want that man bundled into the lift without delay. To the roof”.’

‘The roof.’

‘Unless the cable gets cut. I’m just flashing danger signals, Bobby. On two counts. One, Mr Gabriel is a team manager and so takes an extremely dim view of a player breaking formation. Two, Mr Gabriel’s definition of religious observance is unlikely to include sticking it into a notorious pagan goddess. So, a question. As you are out of your playground and well into mine, is there anything you want to tell me you couldn’t tell me last night?’

‘About what?’

‘About anything. All right, never mind, I’ll tell you something. It appears Sir Richard Barber leases his nice new apartment from Bright Horizon Developments. Bright Horizon is Gary Seward and an otherwise reputable builder called Stuart Etchison, who purchased this rundown block in Cheltenham last year, turned it into quality, no expense spared.’

‘You’re saying Seward is Barber’s landlord?’

‘Thought you’d like that. I like to be helpful when I can.’

‘Can you do anything with that?’

‘Can you? Let me know. Don’t forget. Oh, and Bobby … another passing coincidence. We have an ID on our axe victim in the ditch. Well, I say axe victim — the PM makes it more complicated. What actually killed him was a massive blow on the head not from an axe. Or possibly delivered with the blunt end of the axehead.’

‘Really?’ Maiden trying not to show more than professional interest.

‘Probably from behind. But that’s by the by. We’ll know a lot more when we find the implement. Geezer’s name was Jeffrey Crewe. Big boy. Twenty-six years old. Fit.’

‘So what’s the coincidence?’

‘Oh, yeah … Young Jeffrey had a good job. In Worcester. At the Midlands depot of an expanding security firm. Which one, Bobby? Go on, try a reasonable guess.’

‘Really?’

‘Forcefield Security, indeed. Making him an employee of your old guv’nor. Although seemingly off duty at the time of his demise.’

‘Is that the coincidence?’

‘Perhaps you’re the coincidence, Bobby. You showing up like this and having that very special relationship with Martin Riggs. One of whose employees gets his head decisively beaten in.’ Ron paused. ‘Only kidding, son.’ He laughed. ‘Only kidding. You have a nice day with your exotic friend, wherever you are. And, er, if there is anything else you want to tell me, make it quick, eh? It’s just not the same if I find out from other sources. Know what I mean?’

Seffi Callard stood at the bottom of the stairs. She wore a black sweater, looked like cashmere, the gold cross hanging outside it. Her hair was bunched on one shoulder; over the other hung the strap of her black leather bag.

She surprised him by kissing him slowly on the lips, holding his face. Her hands were very warm. But when she stepped away, he saw her smile was cool.

‘Worked it all out, have we? Grayle — what about her?’

‘Grayle?’

‘She could’ve told me, couldn’t she? Just as she told me all about your peculiar death experience. Or Marcus. Marcus knows all about you and Emma, surely? Perhaps it was Marcus.’

‘Marcus doesn’t know about the sweet trolley,’ Maiden said quietly. ‘Nor Grayle. Nobody else knows about the sweet trolley.’

‘What sweet trolley?’ Insouciance. ‘I don’t remember saying anything about a sweet trolley. Perhaps you said it. Perhaps you heard it in your head. Perhaps you imagined it.’

He stared at her. ‘What on earth are you doing, Seffi?’

‘Giving you a get-out.’

‘I don’t want a get-out.’

‘There always is one, you know.’ The smile was warmer, the eyes were sorrowful. ‘There’s always a get-out. Who were you talking to?’

‘Foxworth.’

She wrinkled her nose.

‘Seffi …’ He glanced at the wall, where the set of hedging tools looked complete again. ‘How many times did Grayle hit that guy with the hacker?’

The suddenness of the question made her wince. She turned away from the wall.

‘You did see it, didn’t you? You saw the blade go in?’

She nodded. Swallowed.

‘How many times, Seffi?’

‘Once.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Once … seemed to be quite enough.’

He breathed out. ‘She didn’t kill him.’

‘Grayle?’

‘He had another head wound. Somebody else killed him.’

‘When?’ Seffi let her shoulder bag fall to the carpet.

‘I don’t know. Didn’t like to ask about the time of death, or seem too interested in any of it. But somebody hit this lad very hard on the head, probably from behind.’

‘He was driven away. By the other man.’

‘Which kind of narrows it down.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Pretend you’re the other man for a moment. What would you do if you were with someone who’d just been badly injured and was bleeding all over your car?’

‘Take him to hospital. Or call for an ambulance.’

‘Of course you would. That’s how you were brought up. Only, suppose this bloke had got the injuries as a result of something seriously criminal you and he were into, what would you tell them at the hospital? Midnight gardening accident? Give them his name and your name? Wait around while they call the police?’

He stopped talking, letting her work it out.

Oh no, Bobby.’

He shrugged.

‘You’re suggesting the other man killed him. To save … explanations … embarrassment.’

‘And a prison sentence. It also suggests they weren’t close, of course.’

‘Why couldn’t he simply have taken him to a hospital, left him outside or something?’

‘And risk being seen? And risk being fingered by the damaged bloke when the police got at him? The guy’s already incapacitated, he’s in a lot of pain, he doesn’t really know what’s happening. And you know you’ve got a hammer or something in the boot …’

‘That’s utterly barbaric.’

‘Well it … it might have been a panic thing. I mean, I hope it was panic. Otherwise, yeah, the kind of person we’re looking at …’

‘This is a nightmare, Bobby. This is a continuing bloody nightmare.’

‘Mmm.’

‘You’ll have to tell him, I suppose. Foxworth.’

‘Or you and Grayle will.’

‘I don’t want to do that.’

‘It might be for the best.’

He was thinking: Crewe and his partner came here because they wanted Seffi Callard, and when it all went pear-shaped Crewe was chopped without a second thought. And then Justin was killed. Perhaps to get information, but perhaps also because Justin would know enough to finger someone when Jeffrey Crewe’s body was found.

So what was he going to do next, whoever he was? Was he going to walk away at this stage?

Maiden realized how unwise he and Seffi Callard had been, spending last night in this place. He realized he hadn’t been taking any of this quite seriously enough.

‘We’d better go,’ he said. ‘We need to talk to Grayle. Give her the good news.’

And the bad news.