Hider/Seeker (5 page)

‘Good idea. How do you think he'll react when he finds out he's not going back to the UK?'

‘He's so deeply in love with his mother, why would he want to come back without me? Peter can't take any more of Nick's bullying or belt.'

‘The school never picked up on it?'

‘He only lays his hand on him during the holidays; the rest of the time Peter is thankfully at boarding school.'

‘How did you meet your husband?'

‘He was a friend of my father. Liked young girls; he turned my head and you can guess the rest.'

‘There are laws against that sort of thing.'

‘He just took over my life when Peter came along. As it turned out, it wasn't a bad thing at the start.'

‘How's that?'

‘I lost my family when I fell pregnant; needed someone older to look after me and the baby. Nick provided all that.'

‘You had no other family to turn to?'

‘None. I never knew my mother's family and my father never spoke about Australia.'

‘And your parents never guessed about you and Nick?'

She shook her head. ‘Nick knew my father would've taken me and my baby away from him had he found out.'

Harry raised his crinkled brows.

‘I know what you're thinking,' she said. ‘It never stops going through my mind. Was the crash really an accident? Now you understand why I'm doing all of this for Peter and myself?'

Harry did and fell silent while he weighed up the risks of his next piece of advice to her. It was not something he ever recommended, but in her case it might be lifesaving. He spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘I think you should get a gun once you find a place to settle. Something small and easy to conceal. Make sure you won't have problems getting ammunition. Join a gun club, learn how to use the weapon and keep it safe in the house.'

Her eyes widened. ‘You think that's really necessary?'

‘Might give you your last chance to run.'

She thought it over and then breathed out a heavy sigh. ‘Is my lesson on survival over?'

‘No. One more thing and it's a big'un. Pay all your flights in cash. Take the first flight you can out of the UK to anywhere in Europe with Easyjet or Ryanair and then make your way by train to another country. Buy a flight to a country in South America you've always wanted to visit but not the place you're thinking of living.'

He didn't have to explain any further as she grasped the idea he was projecting.

‘What you do after that is up to you and Ernesto to sort out,' he added.

‘How long will the passports take?'

‘I'll let you know when they're ready.'

‘Will that be the last time we meet?'

Harry nodded.

‘Will you know where I am?'

He made a face and said, ‘I don't want to know. It's just between you and Ernesto, if you want him to find you a place. He's totally trustworthy.'

‘What if I want to contact you?'

‘Best not to. But you could always send me an email, if you remember to keep changing your email accounts like I've just explained to you.'

Harry's mobile rang and he answered it. Bethany was at the other end crying. Straight away he knew that something bad had happened to Eddie. He walked over to the window and looked down at the red tail lights of the cars stuck on the flyover. Without interrupting her, he listened to her jumbled words. In between her sobs, she kept repeating that he'd been shot dead. Harry knew his sympathy over the phone would be useless and offered to go around instead. But she told him to keep away because Gemmell would make something of it if he found out.

Harry promised he would call her the next day and slipped his mobile back in his pocket.

‘Bad news?' enquired Angela Linehan.

‘You could say that. Eddie's dead.'

Ed Parker's murder made all the papers the next morning. Harry read them while eating a plate of Manx kippers for breakfast at a greasy spoon across the road from his flat. The news was tucked away on the inside pages along with a head-and-shoulders picture of Ed, smiling the way he used to for school photos.

Businessman shot dead in car
, read the
Daily Telegraph
headline.
The body of a businessman has been found shot dead in a car in Epping Forest, prompting a murder investigation. Metropolitan Police said the body is believed to be that of Edward Parker, 34, of St John's Wood, Westminster, who was last seen more than two weeks ago after leaving his office in the City where he ran his investment company, E.P. Financial Management. His body was found at 7am on Sunday by a passer-by. He had died at the scene after being shot in his parked car. Police believe that this was not a random attack and that he was the intended target. A team of eight forensic officers were examining a silver BMW car and the surrounding area. A white tent was later erected around the vehicle and a mobile incident room has been set up. The body has still to be formally identified.

He tossed the newspaper on to a pile of others he'd just read, and finished off his breakfast with a strong mug of tea. Around him workers with sullen faces sat hunched over their fry-ups, their knives and forks clinking. Bad thoughts ran through his head. Ed had smashed up his life before when he was alive and now he could be doing it all over again from beyond the grave.

His thoughts turned to Bethany and whether she would be up to identifying the body. He should be there for her to lean on. Harry was about to call her on his mobile when his eyes caught sight of a Mondeo pulling up outside his flat. He wiped the condensation from the window to get a clearer view and spotted Gemmell, squeezing his big frame out of the car. The detective headed towards Harry's front door, accompanied by his young sidekick.

Two minutes later Gemmell re-appeared on the street. Spotting a gap in the traffic he crossed the road and walked straight into the steamy cafe where Harry was nursing his mug of tea. Gemmell chatted briefly to the man behind the counter before ordering two frothy coffees to take away. Harry lowered his head, hoping it was just the fix of morning caffeine that had brought Gemmell there. It wasn't. A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up to see the stony-faced detective.

‘There you are,' said Gemmell in a dull sarcastic tone. ‘We've been looking all over for you. Why don't we talk at your place?'

The young detective who had shown so much interest in Harry's personal belongings on his previous visit was standing in the middle of his living room when they arrived. His name was Kinnear and he had a homely Yorkshire accent that made him sound like an old man.

Harry kicked off his shoes and extended himself on the sofa to hear what the two detectives had to say. They remained on their feet, drinking coffee as they went over the few details of the murder they were prepared to divulge to an ex-colleague.

Parker's body had been found in his car in the middle of Epping Forest by a jogger. He'd taken two bullets to the chest from a nine millimetre automatic – the weapon still missing. No one had heard or seen anything and they were still checking the CCTV in the surrounding area.

‘How was he shot?'

‘We just told you,' said Gemmell.

‘I mean, by someone sitting next to him or someone from outside?'

‘From the passenger seat.'

‘And?'

‘There is no and.'

‘Was he still wearing a seat belt?'

‘Yeah, that would have saved him,' sneered Gemmell.

‘Was he taken there at gun point and shot or did he park the car, take off his seat belt to chat to the person next to him. Did he have it off or on?'

‘Off.'

‘So he was probably shot by someone he knew well, someone he needed to talk to…Anything stolen?'

‘Not that we know of.'

‘Body touched at all?'

‘Unlikely.'

‘Not much to go on, is it?' taunted Harry.

Gemmell turned to Kinnear and rolled his eyes.

The gesture didn't go down well with Harry. ‘I thought you wanted my help.'

‘Like bollocks we do. We're here because we think you can assist us with our enquiries.'

‘Since when did I become a suspect?'

There was no immediate reply. Gemmell finished his coffee first and placed the empty paper cup on the table. ‘We've established that Parker was shot around midnight on the twenty fourth of November, the last time he was seen alive. For the record, where were you that night?'

Harry went blank, but was saved by a knock on the door. Mr Charalambous had come to collect his rent. Harry told him he would pay at the end of the week, but just as the landlord's bald head was about to disappear behind the door he called him back. ‘You don't remember where I was on the twenty fourth of November, do you?'

‘You were at my restaurant celebrating my birthday. The ceiling fan nearly chopped your head off when you started dancing on the tables.'

Gemmell turned to Mr Charalambous. ‘Where is your restaurant?'

‘The Athena, next door. Best Greek kebabs in North London.'

‘Was Mr Bridger there the whole evening?'

‘The whole evening, whole night, whole next day too – he passed out on the floor.'

‘What time did he arrive?'

Mr Charalambous took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with the bottom of his tie. ‘He was with me from three in the afternoon, driving me around, picking up food. It was a big party. I'm sixty, you know.'

Harry looked at the detectives. ‘Satisfied?'

‘Mr Charalambous, are you willing to make a statement?'

He put his glasses back on. ‘Sure. I don't mind telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.'

Kinnear put down his coffee and shepherded Mr Charalambous out of the room to make arrangements at Holborn police station, leaving Harry and Gemmell alone.

The detective sat opposite Harry with the cup in his hand and asked, ‘What's your relationship with Mrs Parker? Had you started seeing her again?'

‘Shut the door on your way out,' said Harry, pointing his finger to where it was. ‘I don't understand why we're still having this conversation; I've got a cast iron alibi for where I was that night.'

‘Maybe you paid someone to carry out the job.'

‘Oh, really?'

‘Mrs Parker is a rich woman and even richer now with the life insurance taken out by her husband. A real win-win situation for the two of you, don't you think? You get the girl, she gets the money.'

‘But there's nothing going on between us. You should be focusing on Ed's business, not me.'

‘Don't you worry, we've already taken away his laptop and all the PCs in his office,' he said finishing his drink and placing the cup on the coffee table.

‘Daphne must be overjoyed.'

Gemmell made it plain that he couldn't see what a headcase like Harry had to offer Bethany. Maybe it was nothing more than a simple business arrangement between them, he suggested. She was tired of her husband and knew someone who could arrange for him to disappear.

Harry pointed his finger again towards the front door of his flat, but Gemmell remained anchored to the armchair.

‘Parker's money was too much for you to bear,' the detective said. ‘You despised Parker most of his life.'

Harry shook his head.

‘But he took her away from you. The man betrayed your trust.'

‘We were already separated.'

‘He was sleeping with her behind your back while you were getting razzled every night. Made you look a right numpty.'

Harry knew there was nothing between Bethany and Eddie during their marriage and told him so.

But Gemmell kept going. ‘We've been asking around, you know.'

‘Who?'

‘Stop being in denial, man. You've always been jealous of him since you were a wee boy. When the two of you grew up, you couldn't deal with the fact that he'd made a decent life for himself.'

‘So?'

Kinnear re-entered the room and stood by the door while Gemmell continued.

‘When Bethany started to realise she'd married life's biggest loser, that's when the wheels fell off. Didn't they?'

Harry folded his arms and let Gemmell ramble on.

‘The only thing you had that Parker wanted was Bethany. But they played out an elaborate game so as not to make it worse for you, biding their time for the marriage to end. Isn't that so?'

‘And suddenly all these years later I want revenge?'

Gemmell couldn't answer that and he went back to the beginning. ‘When did you start seeing Bethany again?'

‘Haven't you been listening to anything I've told you?'

‘Is that what you went to see Parker about? To gloat?' Gemmell paused for Harry to reply, but he didn't. ‘Told you to sling your hook, didn't he? Once Parker was out of the way, it would be simple to pick up where you left off.'

‘I admit I didn't like Eddie marrying Bethany. But there was nothing I could do to stop it and I got over it.'

‘Ah yes, I forgot. You gave them a toaster as a wedding present – that symbol of reconciliation.'

Gemmell looked around the shabby room and shook his head. ‘Lordy, Lordy. What would your father make of this, if he could see you now?'

Harry ignored the provocation as it was something he'd asked himself plenty of times. His father was a principled man who'd stood by him whenever he got into scrapes, never wanting to accept that his son was a good for nothing slacker; a wayward boy with a confused sense of morality that would always put himself first. Yet, he'd speak up for Harry, in spite of his own sense of correctness. And, Harry would always see the disappointment in his father's eyes, no matter the words spoken in his defence. Those same cloudy eyes were always upon him wherever he went.

‘He was a good copper, your ol' dad. Learnt a lot from him, when I was going up the ranks. A real stickler for procedures mind, but he knew where to draw the line.'

‘Never rose above custody sergeant,' said Harry.

‘A bloody sight better achievement than yours.'

‘Wasted his whole life in the Met.'

‘You mean dedicated?'

‘Long time to be stuck in a job.'

‘To think he was so proud of you. I don't get you at all.'

‘I wouldn't expect you to.'

‘As a young copper he wore out more leather on the beat than the rest of his division. Real proper coppering. Something you should respect. Something you'd know nothing about.'

‘I've heard it all before.'

‘Then you can hear it again – from me. He might have been in uniform all his life, but he showed more class than you in your pathetic fifteen minutes of fame in plain clothes. He kept telling me that you'd make detective inspector one day. It was all he ever wanted for you.'

‘Well it never came about. Did it?'

‘Jesus, you're a hard case. What the hell's wrong with you?'

Harry changed his position on the sofa and did not reply.

‘Glad we tossed you out when we did,' continued Gemmell. ‘Not that you gave us much choice.'

‘I was going to leave, anyway. I wanted a job with more creativity. One that would transcend my highest expectations in life.'

‘Seems like you made it,' said Gemmell, looking again at the grubby habitat surrounding him.

‘This is purely temporary,' said Harry, referring to his flat. ‘I'm at a crossroad in my business development right now, you understand.'

Gemmell shook his head, and said, ‘You're sure not your father's son.'

That much was true.

Then the voice from Yorkshire asked a question. ‘You own a gun?'

‘Not after I gave up competitions.'

‘Mind if we search your premises?'

‘Not without a warrant.'

Gemmell pulled the required documentation from his pocket and cheerily told Harry that a team was already on its way to conduct the search.

An hour later Mr Charalambous was standing on the landing watching with horror the floorboards in Harry's living room being yanked up by officers. The staircase was in constant use and Mr Charalambous was moving backwards and forwards to get out of their way as they lugged furniture out of the flat to make more room for the search. Harry shrugged his shoulders apologetically as he led two officers downstairs to show where he had parked his Volvo.

The whole search took five hours but nothing was found in the flat. They took the car away, even though they had little interest in the vehicle. On the night of the murder Mr Charalambous had told them it had not moved. Harry figured removing the car was just a delaying tactic while they looked for something else on him.

After Gemmell and the officers left empty-handed, Mr Charalambous helped Harry move the furniture back into the flat. It was four in the afternoon when they stopped working and Harry consoled himself that the flat actually looked tidier than when he'd first moved in a year ago. He fished out a bottle of whisky from the kitchen cupboard and poured three fingers into two empty tea cups as he'd no suitable glasses on account that he usually drank alone, straight from the bottle.

Exhausted, they sank into the armchair holding their drinks, with only the shudder of the Number 17 trundling down the Cally disturbing them.

‘What you do now?' asked Mr Charalambous.

‘I need to get away from here.'

‘I have a flat in Nicosia.'

‘You didn't tell them about my lock up, did you?'

‘Pah. You think I help them?' He seemed quite insulted by Harry's question. ‘Nicosia is nice now. Not bloody cold like here. You can stay there till summer.'

‘I have other plans.'