Hider/Seeker (3 page)

Harry didn't respond.

‘It'll be just like the old days, you'll see. I know someone who's got a box at the Emirates; we could go and see some matches together.'

‘Is your Rottweiler going to cause me any trouble?' Harry asked, referring to Parker's secretary on the other side of the door he was about to open.

‘Who? Daphne? She's a sweetheart.'

Having let Eddie sweet-talk him into taking on Angela Linehan, he spent most of the following week tying up loose ends on an inheritance case he'd been working on for a large firm of solicitors in Piccadilly. He was in their offices at the crack of dawn each morning as he wanted to finish the job before turning his attention to Angela Linehan. By Thursday lunchtime he'd completed the assignment and handed in a bill for fifty-six hours of work. For the first time in a long while his finances were looking up and he felt in a prosperous mood as he left the solicitors' offices.

Outside, the air was thick with the smell of rain and if he was lucky he could make it on foot to the tube station before the sky opened up. He reached the corner of New Bond Street when something in a store window caught his eye. It was a white angora coat identical to the one that Angela Linehan wore. Curious to know how much a woman like her would pay for something like that, he went inside. On hearing that it was more than the amount he'd just billed, he stepped out again smartly just in time for the clouds' burst.

Harry thought about making a run for it, but the downpour was so strong, he could barely see the other side of the road. Instead, he huddled with shoppers under the store's orange canopy, and listened to the drum roll above his head. There was plenty to think about while he waited for the deluge to stop. Top of his list, was Angela Linehan and the fortune she needed to shift around the world. He'd already called his friend Ernesto Paiz about transferring her ten million. Ernesto was a partner in a law firm in Guatemala and would fix opening a bank account for her. Guatemala had tight bank secrecy laws that provided complete anonymity. There were no tax treaties with other countries; no information sharing even for a wanted criminal. No bank reference would be required. All Ernesto needed from her was her new passport and he would do the rest.

Harry trusted Ernesto would ensure the happy ending she sought in South America. He got to know Ernesto during his self-imposed exile in Latin America courtesy of McCaffity and his pursuing Koreans. Ernesto helped him hide from those gangsters and over the months a friendship grew despite their thirty-year age gap.

When Harry returned to his flat in the Caledonian Road, he found his landlord waiting for him. After the soaking in Mayfair, all he wanted to do was to get into dry clothes. But Mr Charalambous looked agitated, hushing him not to speak or make a sound.

Pointing upstairs with his thumb, he said in a lowered voice, ‘You've got visitors.'

‘Polecat?'

‘Worse. Two detectives.' The old man's face was so close to Harry's that he could not avoid his onion breath. ‘They've been there just a short while,' he added.

Harry went up and found the door of his flat wide open. Inside he saw an old familiar face standing in the hallway.

‘Surprised to see me?' said Detective Inspector Wallace Gemmell, his hands stuck firmly in the pockets of an unbuttoned raincoat. He was a stocky man with a bald head and a fringe of grey hair above his ears.

Harry looked at the Scot and said, ‘You'd better have a good reason for being in my flat –'

‘Or what?' replied Gemmell, wandering into the living room.

Harry followed him in and kicked the door shut with the back of his heel. Another detective, much younger and also in a mac, was looking through his vinyl collection.

‘Keep your hands off my LPs, they're valuable,' snapped Harry.

The fresh-faced officer returned the
Crosby, Stills & Nash
debut album to the shelf where he'd found it.

‘I often wondered where you'd end up, Harry,' said Gemmell, standing a foot away. ‘Looks like you've done really well for yourself,' nodding at the living room with its peeling wallpaper, mildew and balding carpet.

Gemmell sat down on the sunken sofa, his knees apart, showing off a middle-aged spread.

Harry took an armchair opposite and said, ‘I thought you'd be pensioned off by now.'

‘Apparently, we old farts still have our uses.'

Gemmell's sidekick picked up a silver cup from above the boarded fireplace; first prize in a national shooting competition Harry won years back.

‘Could you tell him to stop touching my stuff?' Harry urged Gemmell.

The Scot made a gesture to his associate and the cup was returned to the mantelpiece.

Gemmell turned back to Harry and said, ‘Told you, we still have our uses.'

‘Why are you here?' asked Harry.

‘You went to visit Edward Parker last week?'

‘What about it?'

‘Could you tell me what it was concerning?'

‘He's an old school friend of mine; I just wanted to say hello.'

‘Don't people usually do that over a pint after work?'

‘I work at night; I concentrate better.'

‘I can imagine,' said Gemmell, shifting his weight on the sofa. ‘How often do you see Mr Parker?'

‘We'd lost touch and I thought it was time to drop in on him.'

‘What did you talk about?'

‘This and that – something happened to Eddie?'

‘Could you be more precise or have you forgotten all your training at the Met?'

‘We spoke about old times; our days at Eton, the playing fields, the picnics on the meadow –'

‘Always the smart Alec.'

‘We didn't speak about anything in particular. He asked me how I was doing. I didn't ask him how he was doing because it was pretty obvious. Wanted me to take out a pension with him and that was about it.'

‘His secretary said you barged into his office as if you had something urgent to see him about.'

‘Daphne?' Harry made a dismissive gesture. ‘She didn't understand that I didn't need an appointment to see Eddie; tried to fob me off that he was out. It was nothing.'

‘She thought you were aggressive towards him. Said she heard raised voices.'

‘Tell me what's going on.'

‘We don't know. He's gone missing and his wife is worried.'

‘Bethany.'

‘Can't imagine any man wanting to run away from a fine-looking woman like her?' Gemmell's eyes looked frozen in their sockets as they stared at Harry for a response. But none was forthcoming and he continued. ‘There were no problems between them; they'd just booked a skiing holiday together and were looking forward to Christmas…and of course, they'd just found their long lost friend who was so dear…to both of them.'

Harry didn't care for the sarcasm and continued to remain silent.

‘Why do I sense an interesting web being woven here?' asked Gemmell.

‘Tell me?'

‘She was once your wife.'

‘So?'

‘I can understand why you used to get drunk every night now. Couldn't have been easy seeing your best mate running off with her.'

Harry ignored the provocation and said, ‘It wasn't like that. Eddie and Bethany became an item years after we split-up and I gave them my blessing.'

‘That's what she says.'

‘Because that's the way it was. I even bought them a toaster for their wedding.'

Gemmell paused and scratched his bald head. ‘I don't suppose he told you if anything was troubling him?'

‘Eddie is not the type to share.'

‘Any idea where he might go? Old haunts?'

Harry shook his head.

‘He's got everything: money, a successful business, a classy pad in Regent's Park and…a beautiful wife. The man's completely made.'

‘What are you getting at?'

‘He must make a lot of people awfully envious.'

‘Are we done?'

‘For now,' said Gemmell getting to his feet to leave. ‘If you hear from Mr Parker, talk some sense into him. His wife is really beside herself.'

It was a crisp morning and the Victorian-fronted boutiques in Belgravia shone in the hard wintry sunlight. Harry was hesitant about entering one in particular: William Waverly & Partners – Independent Opticians. Its window display looked festive and he wasted a few minutes examining spectacles perched on white branches alongside red breasted robins. He then held his breath and pushed open the door of the boutique. The light oak floor, white walls, and comfortable black leather sofas gave the shop a feel of an art gallery. Along one wall was a glass case filled with an assortment of frames, ranging from avant-garde designs resembling chopsticks to buffalo horned glasses encrusted with diamonds.

‘Can I help you?' asked a slim blonde, dressed in a black Mao suit buttoned up to her neck. She was sitting behind a clear acrylic desk that seemed to make her Apple iMac and cordless phone float in front of her.

‘Is Bethany around?'

‘She's with a client,' she replied. ‘She'll be free in fifteen minutes.'

Harry told the receptionist he'd wait and unbuttoned his coat before making himself comfortable on one of the sofas. There were only a few people browsing in the shop, a middle-aged man with blond spikey hair looking like a worn out faded rock star from the seventies, and two loud Russian women in Juicy Couture tracksuits, still pink from the gym.

He flicked through some magazines, but couldn't concentrate as he had no idea what he was going to say to Bethany. It had been a long time since he'd last spoke to her. They'd met as undergraduates at Cardiff, she studying a degree in optometry, he in applied economics. She was very eager to qualify so that she could step immediately into the family business. He was typically easy-going about his studies, often skipping lectures. Bethany's mother hated him from the first moment he was introduced. Her late father was polite, but was always in the middle distance with his thoughts, making him impossible to fathom.

Bethany could have picked anyone on the campus but for some reason she went for the copper's son who lacked drive and ambition. Perhaps she liked a challenge. Perhaps she just wanted his protection as he was the tallest in their year and could certainly handle himself.

He liked her because beneath her prim exterior was a girl wanting fun. She could down pints, swear like a trooper, and tell bawdy jokes while still looking every bit an angel. But what attracted him first to Bethany was her raw beauty. She was tall, dark, slender limbed and moved with balletic grace, even when lighting up. The casual way she would place a cigarette in her mouth always fascinated him; the slight roll to the side of her full lips, the ceremonial striking of the match with a gentle twist of the wrist before raising the flame to the tobacco's tip, an indulgent inhale, and then the defiant tilt of her head to exhale seductively through her narrow nostrils.

Their first kiss came when they were meandering home late one night alongside the River Taff, eating from a bag of chips and singing the Everly Brothers'
All I Have To Do Is Dream.
Her lips did not taste of wine but of salt and vinegar; it was the start of a long affair that led to a five year marriage.

‘BRIDGER?'

Harry looked up to see Bethany staring at him open mouthed next to the receptionist. She was dressed in a checked suit and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, secured by an octopus clamp. Everyone in the shop turned around.

Her brown eyes didn't blink for seconds and then a smile developed, her face brightening. ‘Bridger,' she repeated, surprising herself again with the sound of his name. ‘I'll be with you in a minute,' she added, raising an index finger in the air.

He nodded and watched her go back into the examination room. She returned almost immediately, hurrying out an elderly lady dressed in a long coat and clutching an expensive handbag. Bethany left her client at reception and beckoned Harry to follow her into her room.

She closed the door behind him and gave him a firm hug. ‘I've missed you, Bridger.'

Bethany finally let go of him and stood silent. The stress of Ed's disappearance was mapped across her face. Her eyes were puffy and her skin was as a pale as a communion candle. ‘What are you doing here?' she asked.

‘I heard about Ed.'

‘Did the police come to see you?'

He nodded and then said, ‘I presume no more news.'

‘Nothing,' she said, keeping her composure. ‘I thought I'd bury myself in work, rather than sit at home waiting for the phone to ring.'

Bethany invited him to sit down on the examination chair while she drew up a seat next to him. She cast a disapproving eye over his old overcoat and said, ‘What's happened to you? You disappear for years and then you suddenly turn up on my doorstep, looking like you've been sleeping rough.' Her face suddenly became serious. ‘You haven't, have you?'

‘Of course not. Didn't Ed mention anything about me?'

‘Not recently. We often spoke about you, wondering where you were.'

It seemed strange to Harry that Ed hadn't said anything about meeting up with him again. He held her hands and said, ‘I came here today to see if you needed any help.'

‘Really, Bridger?' she said softly, with a tone of scepticism in her voice. ‘That's terribly sweet of you, but when have you ever been good at helping anyone other than yourself?'

He sat upright. ‘That's a bit harsh.'

‘It was supposed to be,' she said, pausing for a moment. ‘Look, I'm perfectly all right. Ed will turn up any day now with some cock and bull story, you'll see. I'm really touched you dropped by to see how I am, but –'

The phone rang and she picked up immediately. Bethany listened and then covered the phone with her hand. ‘Mother has just turned up,' she told him. ‘She can't find you here.'

‘Why ever not? I never had problems getting on with Elizabeth.'

‘Have you gone off your rocker, Bridger? She's still after you for the money you owe her on our house. My parents lent us a chunk of their pension savings.'

‘You know, I'd forgotten all about that.'

‘I can't face her right now,' she said to him, putting the phone back to her ear again and instructing her receptionist to tell her mother not to wait for her as she had a busy day ahead. The receptionist was to call her back as soon as her mother was gone.

While they waited for the all clear, Bethany asked him about his love life and whether he'd found anyone special.

Harry shook his head.

‘You need to smarten up, make yourself more presentable,' she said. ‘Look how you're dressed. I remember buying you that shirt. It's ancient and fraying at the collar. Throw it in the bin when you go home and buy something new. And you must simply do something about that mop sprouting from your head.'

‘Like what?'

‘Cut it?'

‘You used to like it long.'

‘When it was fashionable.'

The phone rang again. It was her receptionist, giving the green light.

Bethany put the receiver down and said, ‘Let's go back to my place, we can talk there more freely.'

They took a taxi to Prince Albert Road in St John's Wood and spent the whole twenty minute journey chatting about everything apart from the disappearance of her husband. When they arrived, Harry paid the driver and followed Bethany into a seventies-built block made of brown bricks. They rode to the top floor and entered a big penthouse apartment with views of Regent's Park.

She placed his coat and scarf on a wooden bench and then began searching for something near a bell-shaped stainless steel hood floating above the fire grate. While she was doing that it gave him an opportunity to nose around the flat. The white shaggy carpet felt as thick as uncut grass as he padded about the room, examining the art on the walls and the abstract bronze sculptures.

There were leather armchairs that looked inviting for a nap, and a long sofa, big enough for an airport terminal. Bethany found what she was looking for and zapped a remote at the fire grate, popping up yellow flames in a straight line. She went into the kitchen and came back five minutes later with two cups of tea.

‘You want something stronger?' she asked, handing him a cup.

‘Tea's fine,' he said. ‘I'm on the wagon.'

‘For good this time?'

He nodded unconvincingly and sat down on the armchair while she arranged herself on the sofa, resting the cup on her lap. The octopus clamp on her head was bothering her, so she pulled it off, causing her brown hair to cascade over her shoulders. She was more beautiful now than when they were married.

Harry took a sip of tea and moved off the subject of abstinence. ‘What happened to the flat in Marylebone?'

‘We left there four years ago. Couldn't believe it when I first laid eyes on this place.'

‘Ed's business paid for all this?'

She held back from replying and quietly drank her tea. A brass carriage clock on the sideboard began to chime eleven and when it finished, she placed the cup back on the saucer and stared at the Christmas tree in the corner of the room where there was a pile of presents waiting to be opened.

‘What's happened to him?' she asked softly.

‘Has he done this sort of thing before?'

‘Never. He's always at home, apart from the odd days he's away on business.'

‘Nothing worrying him? Money problems? Bad clients?'

She shook her head over and over.

‘Any strange behaviour?'

‘We're talking about Eddie, right?' She managed the briefest of smiles.

‘What about phone calls at odd hours of the day?'

‘He was never off the phone. He slept with a mobile in his hand.'

‘What are the cops saying?'

‘Wanted to know if he had any business rivals – none, I told them. Then they asked whether either of us were having an affair.'

‘And?'

‘Of course we're bloody not. But that didn't stop them asking more questions – this time about you.'

‘Me?'

‘I had to tell them about you and me; they wanted to know if I'd heard of you. I could hardly say I hadn't.'

‘What else did they want to know?'

‘How you and Eddie got on. They became curious to know how the best man ended up with the bride.'

‘Well it wasn't like that, was it?'

‘They knew all about your drinking and erratic behaviour. Kept asking whether you had built up resentment towards Eddie over the years. Ever shown any hostility towards him.'

‘You put them straight?'

She nodded but her eyes lowered. ‘They told me I should avoid any contact with you for the time being.'

Harry felt a chill in his bones. He realised now why turning up at Eddie's office out of the blue would make Gemmell suspicious. The Scot knew that Harry once tried to pummel a fellow officer at the gym with a five pound dumbbell after being called a pisshead. Had they not pulled him away when they did, he'd now be serving fifteen years. That one-minute of madness cost him his job and pension.

Talking to Bethany now in her home would make things look worse for him if Gemmell found out. Eddie had disappeared, just days after their row in his office. Pure coincidence. But coppers like Gemmell only lived for those coincidences.

A man who loses his wife to a lifelong friend would be a motive. That's how Gemmell would see it, regardless of how many years had passed. Harry was sure about that. Everyone at the gym that day saw him lose control, and Gemmell had no doubts about what he was capable of doing.

Harry pushed Gemmell out of his thoughts and concentrated on Bethany once again. He needed to tell her things about Eddie, bad things she might not want to hear at that moment. But it could be relevant to why he'd gone missing.

‘Eddie was a bit of a schemer,' he told her, thinking it was the best way to start.

‘What do you mean?'

‘He didn't mind bending rules for anyone to get ahead.'

‘Eddie? I don't understand?' She seemed almost angry with him. ‘He's worked damn hard to build up that business.'

‘You know what I'm talking about,' he insisted.

She shook her head. ‘He put in the hours and it all paid off. Why are you saying these things about him? He's your oldest friend.'

He couldn't tell whether she was being naïve or simply re-inventing Eddie's past because she liked the newer and glitzier version better. It was probably more comforting not to remember the truth, particularly when there were awkward details about the way her husband used to make money investing funds of small-time crooks and rack-renting landlords. A little bit of re-editing did no one any harm but she appeared in complete denial of the shadier deals that went on in her husband's old offices in Paddington. Eddie's sudden new found wealth might need more explaining, but this was not the right time to be having such a conversation with her and he dropped the subject. ‘Eddie will turn up, I'm sure.'

Harry thought it best to leave and returned the cup to the coffee table in front of him.

‘You're not going?'

‘You want me to stay?' He wanted to stay.

Bethany nodded her head.