East of the City (21 page)

I lifted my key ring and hit the button. The locks clunked.

‘Open it,’ Fielding said.

When I folded my arms, Fielding bent into the boot again, rooted around a bit, and came out with a tyre lever in his hand. He lifted the tyre lever, he would have done it, smashed the windscreen and whatever else he could reach. So I pressed the key-ring button. The locks clunked again, open this time. Fielding called me a cunt.

While his mate searched under the seats, Fielding chucked the tyre lever onto the golf clubs. Then he started digging out bits of old rubbish from the boot.

‘If you tell me what you’ve lost,’ I said, ‘maybe I can help.’

A tool-set hit the floor, then a jack. Fielding grunted, heaving up the spare tyre. It finally dawned on me that they were serious, not just winding me up. They were actually looking for something.

‘You’re so far out of line, Fielding, it just doesn’t matter.'

‘You're right, smartarse,’ he muttered. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

The offsider finished with the front seats and moved on to the back. Then over in the corner of the basement, the lift doors opened and some people stepped out, a man and two women. The man had apartment 25, two doors along from me, and the women were from the next floor down. All of them were on the apartment block committee. Their conversation carried on for a few seconds, but when they saw us it died. God knows what they were thinking.

The man called across to me, asking if everything was all right. I told him I was fine. He looked doubtful, and one of the women gave him a prod.

‘You sure?’ he called.

And then Fielding lifted his head from the boot. ‘We’re from the Metropolitan Police,’ he told them bluntly. ‘We’re investigating a serious crime. Mr Collier here’s helping us with our inquiries.’

My three neighbours went to their cars, looking our way but pretending not to. I had just become the main item on the next meeting of the apartment block committee. I waited till the last car drew out past me, then I said to Fielding, ‘Get your mate out of my car.’

‘People got a right to know what they’re livin’ with, Collier. Didn’t think you could fool ’em forever, ay?’

I opened my mouth, then closed it. What was the use? Fielding thought he had his big chance at me, and nothing I said now was going to make him give up and walk away. 

‘Hello,’ he said, his whole face brightening. He’d found a side panel, he flipped it open. The offsider came round and stuck his head in beside Fielding’s. ‘Get out of it,’ Fielding said sharply, and the young bloke shrunk back like a whipped dog. ‘Wouldn’t remember offhand what you keep in this hidden compartment?' Fielding asked me.

‘There’s nothing hidden about it. And yes. A red plastic container.’

‘So I see. Containing what?’

I spread my hands. ‘I don’t believe this.’

He picked up the tyre lever and hooked the plastic container out, careful not to touch the thing with his hands. He told his offsider to go fetch him an evidence bag. He jiggled the container. ‘Not much left. Used any lately?’

‘What are you trying to prove, Fielding? I’ve got a car. It needs petrol. I carry some spare, just like a lot of people.'

He brought the dangling container closer, studying it. ‘Should be a few good prints.'

We’d suddenly moved on from the mean-minded to the absolutely ridiculous. ‘My prints, on my container, in my car.’ I shook my head. I couldn't quite believe what was happening.

A car pulled into the basement and then parked. The driver got out and walked straight to the lift, not even glancing in our direction. The offsider returned with the evidence bag. Fielding tipped up the lever, and the petrol container slid into the bag.

I said quietly, ‘Don’t come back here, Fielding. Ever.’

He dropped the lever into the boot. ‘You might wanna pick up your golf clubs. Someone’s liable to drive over them there.’ While I picked up the clubs and the golfbag, he turned and headed for the lift. ‘You’re flat 23, right?’

I tossed the gear into the boot, slammed the boot shut, and hurried after him. Fielding was already at the lift, looking up at the floor-numbers.

‘My flat,’ I said, ‘is private property.’

The lift arrived, the doors opened. Stepping in, he said, ‘You’ve picked up some funny ideas, Collier.' When I stepped in after him, he yelled back to his offsider, ‘Twenty three! See you up there!’

The doors closed, Fielding’s finger hovered over the buttons. ‘Second floor?’ When I didn’t answer, he hit it anyway. We started to rise. ‘Before you ask,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a warrant.’

‘Show me.’

His eyes dropped from the numbers to me. He said if I didn’t mind my manners, he was going to nail me into the floor like a tack. ‘A fucking tack,’ he said.

The lift doors opened. He glanced at me, but when I made no move he got out and went left. A good guess.

Outside my door, I said, ‘I’d like to see the warrant.’

‘Jesus, aren’t you just the one.’

He pulled the warrant out and handed it to me. While I looked through it, he jingled the change in his pocket, impatient to get the door open, to get inside and turn my life upside-down. The warrant meant nothing to me, but it was signed by a judge. And Fielding looked so damn smug, the thing just had to be real.

‘When you’re ready.’ Fielding nodded at the door.

‘This is crazy.

‘Yeah? Arson and murder. Real crazy.’ He took back the warrant and pointed at the door. I was powerless. Powerless and extremely angry. This whole scene, it really shouldn’t’ve been happening. But there I was, and there he was, both of us knowing that I had no choice now but to open my door. He looked so pleased I could have thumped him.

‘My sister might be in.’

‘So?’

‘So mind your manners.' I unlocked the door and opened it. ‘Katy?’

No reply. I walked in, calling her name again, then I crossed to her door, knocked and opened it. A mess, as usual; but no Katy. Relieved, I turned and found Fielding standing in the centre of the lounge, taking stock.

‘You own this place, or rent it?’

When I didn’t answer him, he gave me a weary look. Then he reached down, grabbed the edge of the coffee table, and heaved. The magazines went flying, the coffee table somersaulted across the room and landed at my feet. Fielding looked at me.

‘Own,’ I said. ‘And if you break anything, I’ll be sending Inspector Dillon the bill.’

He strolled around the place, touching things, picking up stuff like the ashtray, tossing it from hand to hand, then putting it down somewhere else.

I sat on the sofa, steaming. It took me back, this bullshit. Stuff I didn’t want to remember. I must have been eight or nine, Katy wasn’t even born, when the cops came calling on Dad. It wasn’t their usual thing: if they wanted Dad — I found out later — they generally had a word with him down the Gallon. But this night there’d been some trouble at the Stow: one of the punters had the stuffing knocked out of him after some race the bookies all reckoned was fixed. Whoever beat him up stole everything he’d won. He told the cops it was goons employed by the bookies, and the cops arrived on our doorstep at midnight. I remember staggering downstairs in my pyjamas, rubbing my eyes, hearing the argument raging in the front room. When I put my head round the door I saw some copper pointing a finger at Dad, and Dad pointing back.

They stopped dead when they saw me. Then Dad bellowed for Mum, she came and hooked me away from there, dragged me upstairs and put me back to bed.

That was the first time I remember the cops being in our house. The next few days the old man went out on a bender, and when he came back Mum didn’t speak to him for a week.

‘What’s out here?’ Fielding slid the glass door open, stepping out onto the terrace.

Fielding’s offsider came in the front door. But he hadn’t been on the job long enough yet to build up a skin as thick as Fielding’s, and finding me alone in the room he looked a bit unsure of himself. He glanced at the upturned coffee table, and the magazines strewn across the floor.

‘Your colleague,’ I said, ‘is out on the balcony.’

They couldn’t do much harm out there, but I knew that when they came back in I'd have to keep my eyes peeled. Especially with Fielding. If he couldn’t find any evidence of my involvement with Sebastian’s death or the fire, he wasn’t above planting some of his own. After a minute they hadn’t come back in, I went to see what they were doing.

They were side-by-side, forearms resting on the railing, looking out at the view. I suggested that it was time for them to leave.

‘When we’re done,’ Fielding said, ‘we’ll let you know.’

Then his offsider touched his arm, and they both looked past me.

‘You’re such a pig,’ Katy said, dropping her handbag on the armchair and stooping to pick up the magazines. She hadn’t seen Fielding or his mate. ‘Why’d you leave the front door open?’

God, I thought. God, not now.

I went across to her, saying quietly. ‘Two cops are here, Katy, searching the place.’ When her eyes widened in surprise, I added, ‘Shoot through. I’ll tell you about it later.’ She leaned around me to see out to the balcony. ‘Go now, Katy.'

‘What do they want?'

‘Go.'

 ‘Afternoon,’ Fielding said, coming in.

‘Hello,’ she said.

‘The slapper or the sister?' Fielding asked her.

Her eyes shot back to mine, seeking guidance. She knew she’d made a mistake.

Go, I mouthed silently.

But it was too late now, Fielding’s olfsider came in too.

I explained to Katy that Fielding had a warrant to search the flat. He kept his eyes on Katy in a way I didn’t much like. I told him she was my sister.

‘Well now we know which got the looks.’ Fielding said. ‘Be a bloody miracle if you didn’t beat him hands down in the brain department too.’ He sent his mate into the kitchen, and after a moment we heard cupboards opening and pots rattling around.

‘Call that a search?’ Fielding yelled.

Now the pots and pans started clattering onto the tiled floor. Katy took a step that way but I grabbed her arm.  I moved between her and Fielding.

‘You wait here,’ Fielding said, pointing at Katy. Then as he went by me he muttered, ‘Your room first, boyo. I’m feelin’ lucky.’

Before I followed Fielding, I whispered to Katy, telling her to keep an eye on the other one, to make sure he didn’t plant anything.

My flat was on a corner of the apartment block, and my bedroom was on the outside corner of the flat, the windows facing south and east. I wouldn’t say I had a mania for tidiness, but generally I like to be able to find things where they’re meant to be. Since Katy’d moved in I’d lost control of the public spaces, but my bedroom was still a sanctuary for me, somewhere I could withdraw to when I wanted to be alone.

So when Fielding went in ahead of me now I had to grit my teeth. I leant against the doorframe, arms folded. ‘How long will this take?’

He pointed to the side door and gave me a questioning look.

‘Ensuite,’ I told him.

He nodded at the cupboard.

‘Clothes and shoes.’ He looked doubtful, so I added, ‘If you find anything else, it’ll be something you dropped.'

He started on the drawers, pulling them out one by one and emptying them onto the bed. I pushed away from the doorframe and went in closer where I could see what he was up to. He glanced over his shoulder at me, then dropped the last drawer on the bed. Next he went and poked around among my suits.

That same unpleasant feeling I’d had earlier in the basement came back to me, that he wasn’t just playing a game here, but really searching. I felt a light sweat break out on my neck. Unfolding my arms I stepped up close to him. ‘A canister of petrol in my car, and clothes in my cupboard. What do you deduce from that? That I murdered Sebastian?'

‘Is that a confession?'

I swore. He turned his back on me, digging through the suits again.

‘You might be wonderin’,’ he said, ‘if I intend plantin’ somethin’ in here. Somethin’ that puts you at Ward’s house the night he died.’

‘It wouldn’t stand up.’

‘Don’t bet on it. But that’s not what I’m doin’ anyway.’

He paused, waiting for me to ask the obvious. When I didn’t, he said, ‘Know what I’m doin’?’

‘You're wrinkling my suits.'

‘I’m lookin’ for your mistake, Collier. I’m lookin’ for that one little error you made that lets me put you away. You and Eddie both.'

It felt like I’d taken a hard smack in the mouth. He reached into the back of the cupboard behind the shoes. I couldn’t see his hands.

‘Eddie Pike?’ I said. ‘Me and Pike? What are you setting up here?’

‘Next thing you’ll be telling me you haven’t seen him for years.’

‘I saw him sometimes at Sebastian’s place. He was there. I saw him, that was it. I don’t remember even speaking to him.’

‘Just clothes and shoes, you reckon.'

‘What?’

‘In the cupboard here. You said just clothes and shoes.’

I stared at him in disbelief. Shaking my head, I said, ‘Don’t try it.’

He came up, grinning, a football clamped between his big hands. It must have been lying there for years. He bounced it on the floor a couple of times, then rolled it up and down one arm. ‘You got a pump?’

I took a long deep breath before I spoke. ‘If you’ve marked Pike’s card for Sebastian’s murder, that’s between you and Pike. Leave me out of it.’

Spinning the football in one hand, Fielding said, ‘So we won’t find Eddie’s prints on the petrol container?'

 ‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘You won’t.’

Fielding dropped the ball onto his foot, it rolled past me into the lounge. Then he went across to the ensuite, stuck his head through the door and looked around. ‘Haven’t spoken to him in years, you reckon.’

‘That’s right.’

He crouched by the bed and flipped up the quilt. The base was solid, he went and checked the other side. There were no drawers there either. Getting up, he wiped his hands. ‘But that’d make you innocent, Collier. And that can’t be right now, can it?’

In my study he went through the same routine. He didn’t even raise his head when we heard Katy shouting at the offsider in the lounge. He just said, ‘Maybe someone should tell her she’ll be arrested if she obstructs the search.’ Glancing up, he promised me he wasn’t kidding.