Riot Act

Twenty-three

I took over watching duty from Jacob and Clare at around two the following morning, and they went gratefully upstairs to bed. I wasn’t bargaining on getting much sleep myself, too aware of every unconscious shift and murmur that Sean made.

At least, as my father had said, he’d had enough morphine to allow him to get some rest. He seemed so much younger when he was asleep, so much more vulnerable. I never thought I’d see him with his guard down so completely.

I sat in one of the armchairs to one side of the fireplace and watched him with my chin resting on my hand. The fire was warm, the crackle and dance of the flames soothing.

Eventually, they got to me.

***

The next thing I knew Clare was gently shaking my shoulder. Weak grey daylight was trickling in through the open curtains, and there was the splattery drum of rain against the outside of the glass. She offered coffee in a whisper.

I nodded thankfully, trying to roll the crick out of my neck and, with a last glance at Sean’s sleeping form, I followed her through to the kitchen. He didn’t seem to have moved an inch since last night. I’d no worries that he was suddenly going to go walkabout now.

“I checked him before I woke you,” Clare said as she bustled round the kitchen. “He doesn’t seem feverish or anything.” She plonked a freshly-brewed mug of strong coffee in front of me at the table.

“Is Jacob still asleep?”

“Oh yes.” She smiled. “He does late nights, and he does early mornings, but not both together. I thought I’d better give him a bit longer to come round or he’ll be grouchy all day.”

“Clare I’m very grateful to you, you know – to both of you,” I said awkwardly, in a rush, “for all you did last night. I had no right to ask you, really. Especially not after—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, cutting me off as she slid into a seat opposite. She flashed a quick grin. “Tell me everything that’s going on and I’ll consider it a debt paid.”

I told her as much as I could, about Jav’s tip-off, our visit to the building site, and stumbling over Langford’s body. She made shocked exclamations of surprise, and then demanded answers I just didn’t have about who was responsible, and why.

I gave her the bare bones of our escape, too, aware again of just how big a chance I’d taken, what a difficult position I’d put my friends into, by bringing Sean here.

Clare digested the information in silence for a moment, then said, “Is Sean the one who hurt you? I mean, you’ve never said, but somehow I always knew there must have been someone.”

I was taken aback by the question, but tried not to show it. “Yes, well no, but he was all part of it.” I shrugged. “Sort of. It’s a long story.”

Clare nodded and sipped her coffee. “I could tell there was something when you brought him in here last night. I mean, I know more than anyone how far out on a limb you’ll go for your friends, Charlie. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead,” she said, and her face was grave. “But this was something more. You had this air of—” She flapped a hand while she searched for the right words. “Controlled panic. That’s the closest I can get to describing it. Are you still in love with him?”

Her eyes slid away over my shoulder and I thought she’d embarrassed herself with the question. Then I caught the suggestion of a movement behind me. When I turned it was to find Sean in the kitchen doorway, leaning heavily on the frame.

He was still wearing last night’s jeans which had dried blood sheening the left thigh, but no shirt. The square of white dressing was still taped efficiently to his shoulder. I skimmed my eyes over him as he came further into the room. He was holding himself awkwardly and was still pale, but his eyes were clear, and his gait was steady.

Clare jumped up, a faint flush lighting her cheekbones and the tips of her ears. “I’ll make fresh coffee,” she muttered.

Sean treated her to one of his brighter smiles. “I didn’t have a chance to thank you last night,” he said, “for offering me sanctuary.”

I suppressed a grumpy sigh as I formally introduced them. Sean clasped her proffered hand with enough deliberation to refresh the blush that was still lingering round Clare’s features. I took one look and knew she was smitten.

She hurriedly refilled the polished copper kettle on the top of the Aga and then, mumbling something about seeing if Jacob was up, she all but ran out of the room. The pair of us were left alone together in a silence that was deafening.

Sean eased himself into the chair my friend had just vacated. “So, Charlie,” he said quietly, “are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Still in love with me?” It was said lightly, without a hint of conceit. I saw the curve of his lips and for a moment I was tempted not to treat the question seriously, but then I took in the clenched fingers and decided against levity.

I rubbed a hand across my eyes. They felt full of grit. I was bone tired and my brain was functioning strictly on the lower levels. This was just not the time to trawl through ancient history.

Briefly, I leaned my face down towards the tabletop, resting my chin on my fist while I considered. “No, I don’t think so,” I said at last, seriously. “What we had was a long time ago, Sean.” I raised my head to meet his eyes. “Whether you intended to or not, you hurt me more than I ever could have imagined.”

As he started to speak I cut him off, keeping my voice admirably level. “But, I got over it, I moved on. We’re neither of us the same people we were then. It would be a mistake to try and go back.”

“So why the ‘controlled panic’ last night?”

I scowled. “Were you eavesdropping on the whole conversation?”

That killer smile again. “No, just the important bits,” he said. “Now answer the question.”

I pushed back my chair and got to my feet, suddenly too restless to sit. “Because I’ve had someone die in my arms before and I didn’t like it much,” I said brutally, turning back just so I could watch his face. “Certainly not enough to want to repeat the experience if I could do a damn thing to prevent it.”

I was saved from having to elaborate much on that theme by the arrival of a bleary-eyed Jacob. He limped in, seemingly unaware of the combative silence between us.

The dogs were jostling round his ankles. Jacob didn’t say a word until he’d fed them, made a fresh pot of coffee, and had taken his first mouthful. Then he sat back and studied us with far more alert attention. “Ah, that’s better,” he said. He nodded to Sean. “How’s the shoulder this morning?”

“Stiff and sore,” Sean said easily, “but I’ll live.”

“Muscle damage is nastier than broken bones, in my opinion,” Jacob said, adding with a rueful smile, “I’ve had enough of both in my time to know.”

“I was lucky.”

Jacob treated me to one of his arresting smiles. “Hmm, she’s a useful lady to know, is our Charlie.”

“So,” I broke in, trying not to squirm, “where do we go from here?”

“Well, for a start I don’t think it would be a good idea for Sean here to go anywhere for a day or two,” Jacob said straight away, pouring coffee into our mugs. “You’re welcome to stay here, lad, keep your head down, pick up a bit of strength.”

Sean looked taken aback by this unexpected hospitality. “That’s very decent of you,” he said.

Jacob waved away his thanks as he pushed the milk and sugar bowl towards us. “It gives us a bit of time to try and work out what the hell’s going on,” he said briskly. “Clare’s just filled me in on the details. Any ideas who might have wanted to put the knife into Harvey Langford – speaking literally and figuratively?”

“How long have you got?” I said, “I’ll make a list.”

Jacob grinned at me, and I went on, more seriously, “Whoever killed him didn’t just want Langford out of the way, though, they wanted us dead, too.”

Sean shook his head at that. “I don’t think so,” he said, “In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realise they just wanted to keep us pinned down for long enough for the police to arrive.”

He shifted awkwardly in his seat, caught his breath, and waited for the biting pain to subside before he continued.

“I think finding that we were capable of shooting back at them put them off their stroke, ruined the plan. If our friendly shooter had wanted us dead he had more than enough chance to ambush us while we were inspecting the body. Anybody halfway competent could have slotted the pair of us while we were helpfully hanging around against the light. They wouldn’t have waited until we were moving across that floor in the dark.”

The terrier, Beezer, finished wolfing down her food, trotted across the kitchen and jumped for Jacob’s lap to see if there was anything interesting for dessert at table height. Jacob fondled her moth-eaten ears absently. “Surely you don’t think he was killed just as a means of getting the pair of you arrested? That seems a bit drastic.”

“Not necessarily,” Sean told him. “After all, they’ve already made one attempt on Charlie’s life, and the police have been tipped off that I was involved in Nasir’s death. From their point of view, neither of those efforts have worked too well.”

“So,” I said, “was Langford a victim, or just a pawn in somebody’s game?”

Sean shrugged, raising just his right shoulder, and reached for his coffee. “Search me. That day on Copthorne he offered to bring you information about who’s behind the crimewave on the estates, didn’t he? Next thing we know, he’s dead. What does that tell you?”

It was my turn to shrug, helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe we should be asking Mr Ali what he was doing letting Langford hide out on his site, and what exactly he was paying him to do. After all, Ali must have known he was there.”

Clare walked in just as I was speaking. “Is that Mr Ali the builder?” she asked, looking surprised. “You remember I told you he owns great chunks of Copthorne and Lavender? Apparently there are big discussions going about redeveloping the whole of that area. Lots of Euro money up for grabs and lottery funding, according to the people at work. If it all goes ahead Mr Ali’s not only going to make money on the property as the values and the rents go up, but his firm’s also right in the running for quite a chunk of the renovation work as well.”

Suddenly a whole rake of ideas started to firm up like shapes appearing out of the fog on a motorway. “How certain is all this?” I demanded.

Clare frowned. “Well, from what I understand, if the crime rate carries on rising like it has been doing, it’s getting more certain all the time. Why, Charlie, what is it?”

I sat back in my chair and a long chill settled over me. “We’ve been looking at this all wrong,” I said slowly. “Ali wasn’t paying Langford to keep the estates quiet. He was paying him to stir them up . . .”

I recounted the snatch of conversation I’d overheard between the two men the night I’d first trailed Langford to the building site as it came drifting back to me. “That’s why Ali was so worried in case anyone found out about his arrangement with Langford,” I finished. “Langford got well out of hand the night Fariman was injured, and Ali was shit-scared that if they knew about it people would blame him. They would have done, too. He’d have been lynched.”

There was silence as everyone turned the idea over. “I think you might just be on to something there,” Jacob said after a while. “But, that still doesn’t bring us any nearer to knowing who killed your man Harvey.”

Sean sighed. He’d turned paler during the time we’d been talking, started to slump a little more in his chair. “I suppose at least we know that Jav was definitely lying to you,” he said. Even speech seemed an effort. “He must have known he was setting us up for something last night, even if he didn’t know what.”

“Yeah,” I agreed grimly. “I think he’s my first port of call – if I can find him.”

The phone started to ring then, and Jacob looked round for the cordless handset. When he couldn’t spot it right away, he shoved the terrier onto the floor and left the room in search of it, muttering.

Clare took advantage of his departure to fuss anxiously round Sean. “I’ve made up the spare bed. You’ll be more comfortable there than on the sofa,” she said. “You look all in.”

“I’ve felt better,” Sean admitted, which I thought was probably understatement on a global scale. “I could do with making a couple of phone calls myself, though, if that would be OK?” He glanced at me. “I need to let Madeleine know I’m all right. She’ll be fretting.”

I couldn’t suppress a twitch of amusement. “I don’t know what your Ma will make of you abandoning your fiancée to spend the evening with me, and then not coming home all night,” I said, finishing the last of my coffee. “She’s waiting for you two to name the day.”

Clare looked blank at the exchange, and I’d just begun to explain the complicated relationship between Sean, Madeleine, and Sean’s mother, when Jacob reappeared looking troubled.

“Didn’t you mention that Roger had been seen blatting around the place on a CBR 600?” he asked, and got his answer from the frozen expression on Sean’s face.

“Why?” he said sharply. “What’s happened?”

“Well now, we don’t know for certain,” Jacob said. He was trying to be soothing, but his voice gave him away. “That was a mate of mine on the phone, does a bit of dealing in modern stuff out towards High Bentham. The police have dumped a bike in his yard this morning, a black and yellow CBR. They pulled it out of a ditch and he reckons it looks like its been run off the road. Got car paint on the fairing and blood on the tank, but no sign of the rider. It’s a local bike, from the plate, and he wondered if I might know whose it was. I said no.”

Sean looked stricken. “I need to see it,” he said. He staggered upright, almost toppled. Both Clare and I put a hand out to steady him, but he waved us away angrily. “I can manage.”

“Sean, don’t be a prat,” I said mildly. “You can’t just bounce straight back into the thick of it, not after what you’ve been through.”

“I’ll run him out there after lunch,” Jacob interrupted smoothly. “You go and see if you can lay your hands on this Jav character, Charlie.”

“Are you going to be OK by yourself?” Sean wanted to know.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I know just the back-up I can call on.” I glanced down at my rumpled clothes. “But first, I think I’m going to go home for a shower and some clean gear. Am I actually insured to drive your truck?”

“It’s a company vehicle,” Sean said. “Anyone who works for me is covered.”

“Right,” I said. “I’ll consider myself hired.”

***

Despite my apparently cavalier attitude, I drove the Patrol back to Lancaster very slowly and very carefully. It seemed to lean alarmingly round corners, and the bonnet, with great chrome bull bars, went on for miles. By the time I pulled up outside the flat my neck was cranked tight and I had the beginnings of a growling headache spreading up from it like a stain.

I let myself in and headed straight for the shower, stripping off as I went. It wasn’t until I’d emerged from a long stint under stinging needles of hot water, towel-dried my hair and put on fresh clothes, that I thought to check my answering machine.

There was only one message, but it was enough to have me grabbing the keys to the Nissan and running for the door.

“Charlie, it’s Mrs Gadatra,” said a woman’s wavering, frightened voice from the tape. “It’s about Pauline. She’s been attacked in the street. I think you’d better come.”

***

Getting in to Lavender Gardens proved easier said than done. For a start there were a pair of panda cars parked at a slant across the entrance road. One of the uniforms flagged me down and walked up to the driver’s window, head bent to the rain.

I sat paralysed for a second or two, suddenly realising that the Glock was still where I’d carelessly shoved it in my door pocket, and Sean’s blood had dried to a sticky stain on the passenger seat. Thank God the leather upholstery was dark enough for it not to show too badly.

I pressed the down button for the electric window until there was a gap about eight inches deep. “Morning, officer,” I called over the top of the glass, aiming for puzzled cheeriness. “What’s the problem?”

He ignored my greeting. He looked wet, cold, and the kind of tired you get from having had your nerves stretched constantly for hours at a time.

“Have you got business on the estate?” he asked, looking at the Patrol’s nearly-new registration. “Only they’re chucking rocks at anything that moves in there.”

I thought of Sean’s insurance, which had already paid out for a new windscreen in the Grand Cherokee. It wasn’t my problem. “I need to get to Kirby Street,” I said, stubborn.

He shrugged dismissively. “Well, you’ve been warned,” he said, and turned away.

In fact, I got in without encountering any trouble. Kirby Street itself looked much the same as usual, apart from the shell of a burned-out Metro on the corner that nobody had yet got around to shifting. The council obviously hadn’t sent the bin men in that week, either. Cat-torn bags of rubbish slumped across the pavement like couch potatoes.

As I pulled up outside Pauline’s place and hurried down the short driveway, I was aware that a dozen pairs of hidden eyes had noted my arrival.

Friday went apoplectic when I banged on the front door. There was a long pause, then I saw the curtains flutter in the living room window. Finally, the lock was clicked back, and the door opened to reveal Mrs Gadatra, rather than Pauline herself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get your message until this morning,” I said as she motioned me into the hallway. “How is she?”

Mrs Gadatra jerked her head through to the kitchen. “Come and see for yourself,” she said.

Friday, banished to the living room, had subsided to anxious squeaks and whines. He came sidling up to me as though he knew something was seriously awry. I skimmed my hand over the top of his broad skull as I went past, and was rewarded with a quick wet tongue across my wrist.

In the kitchen, Pauline was sitting at the end of the table, with Aqueel and Gin on either side of her. They seemed to be playing a lively game of snap. Taken aback for a moment, I halted in the doorway, and Pauline glanced up. It was only then that I got a good look at her face.

Whoever had hit her had caught her a belter across the right-hand side. The gauzy dressings taped over bits of her chin and forehead suddenly reminded me of Sean. The cheekbone itself had been left to the open air, and the scabs that had formed over the abrasions there were dark and ugly.

Pauline gave me a cautious, watery smile, as if not sure her mouth would stretch to it.

“What happened?” I demanded.

“Oh, it was just kids, you know, throwing stones,” she said vaguely.

Mrs Gadatra snorted in disgust. “Kids! Stones!” she said, flinging her arms up and shaking her fists so that the bangles she wore on both wrists clashed and rattled. “They threw a brick at her. A brick! It’s a miracle she isn’t dead. Who knows what they might have done after that if she hadn’t had the dog with her.”

Pauline smiled again with remembered affection. “Apparently he wouldn’t even let the ambulancemen get near me for a while,” she said.

That, I reckoned silently, would have done Friday’s mad dog reputation no harm at all. Both Aqueel and Gin looked mightily impressed by it as they carefully gathered the snap cards together.

“Why don’t you come and stay at my place for a few days?” I suggested, perching on the corner of the table nearest to Pauline. “Just while you recover. Let things settle down round here for a bit.”

“We can look after her perfectly well,” Mrs Gadatra said sharply, offended. “Mr Garton-Jones will find the culprits, mark my words, even if the police don’t seem to be doing anything.” She sniffed.

“I don’t suppose you knew any of them?” I asked.

Pauline shook her head.

“It all happened so quickly,” she said sadly. “I didn’t see anybody.”

So much for finding out if Jav was mixed up in this, too. On impulse, though, I asked Mrs Gadatra if she knew the blond-haired Asian boy.

She pursed her lips for a moment. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I may have seen him around the place, but—”

“Jav used to play snooker with my brother,” Aqueel piped up, concentrating on holding the box open so his sister could messily put the snap cards away into it. “He’s a very good player.”

His mother glared at him, and I realised that some subtle shift had taken place since I’d moved off the estate. I was an outsider again, and not really to be trusted with inside information about anyone, or anything.

I stood up, gave her a cool stare as I thanked Aqueel. “I’ll go and look for Jav there,” I told him. “I have some questions that I think he may be able to answer.”

“Is there anything I can help you with, Charlie?” Aqueel asked, with a defiant look to his mother. Since his brother’s death he’d grown up at an accelerated rate. And here he was, determined to show her that he was the head of the family now, his own man, and took orders from nobody.

“Thank you Aqueel,” I said again, smiling, but careful not to mock him. “I don’t think so, but if there is, you’ll be the first to know.”

***

Since there seemed to be little I could do for Pauline that wasn’t being done already, I left soon after.

The Patrol was still sitting by the kerb with, surprisingly perhaps, all its tyres, paint, and glass intact. I was just about to try and keep things that way by getting out of there when movement further along the street caught my eye.

A front door had opened, and a large suited figure had emerged. It didn’t take a moment to recognise Mr Ali. I stilled, and for some reason that made him glance in my direction. Immediately, he began hurrying along the path to the road, and fumbling in a pocket for his car keys.

He was slow finding them, and I’ve found I can run quite fast when I’m given the right motivation. I’d reached him before he’d managed to get the door open, giving him little option but to speak to me.

“Ah, Charlie,” he said nervously, his strangely soprano voice strung fit to snap. “How nice to see you again. I have just been visiting Fariman, you know. Thankfully, he is feeling much better.”

“How much better would he be feeling if he knew what you were really up to round here?”

“Up to? I don’t know what you mean,” Ali squeaked. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“No?” I said, advancing grimly and planting my hip against his car door, just in case he got any ideas. “So you won’t mind if people round here find out what you were paying Harvey Langford to do? Keeping the crime figures bad enough for you to make a killing when this whole area gets redeveloped. Do they know you own half their houses, too?”

“No, no!” If Ali’s voice got any higher he’d be attracting passing bats. “You’ve got it all wrong. Please! I must go now. I had nothing to do with—”

He broke off abruptly, eyes swivelling wildly as he realised he’d been about to deny something he hadn’t been accused of yet.

“Nothing to do with what? With Langford’s death?” I jumped straight in with a laugh that was gone before it had arrived. “Oh come on, Ali, he couldn’t have been hiding out at the site without you knowing about it and permitting it. Who was he afraid of?”

I don’t know if Mr Ali was going to answer that one, because at that moment a mid-sized rock came whizzing past my ear and smashed into splintered fragments on the paving slabs a few feet away.