To Catch a Rabbit (27 page)

‘Ben, can you run upstairs and get me a tissue, my nose is running and I haven’t got one.’ She might have known it wouldn’t work. He didn’t even hear, he was so engrossed in the movie, his shoulders rocking to a song he’d heard a hundred times. The girl sat up.

‘There is people outside.’

Sure enough there were several dark shapes at the front window.

‘I’m sorry, Arieta.’

‘How you know my name? Did Philip tell you?’

‘What are you talking about? Phil’s dead, you know that, and those people outside are the police.’

The door to the living room opened and a young policewoman stood there. Someone in the hall was opening the front door. Ben looked round, confused by the interruption.

‘Ben, go with this nice police lady into the kitchen, you’re not in trouble, she just needs you to show her where the biscuit tin is.’

It must have been the effect of the uniform, because this time Ben did exactly what he was told. Within seconds the front room was full of uniforms. Karen thought for an awful moment that they were going to take her, not Arieta, but the girl got shakily to her feet in time for an officer to read out the charges. On the television screen the snake, Kaa, was wrapping its body around Mowgli.

‘I come. It’s okay. I don’t want to make trouble here,’ she
hesitated, her face so close that Karen could smell milky tea on her breath. ‘It’s not possible I kill Philip. You know, it is not actually possible.’

After they’d taken Arieta Osmani away, a policeman stayed behind in the kitchen to take a statement. Ben was upset that nobody had paused ‘The Jungle Book’. Sophie led him into the front room to rewind it and Karen caught a look from her which made her shiver; it was like looking into her own eyes, staring back at her, demanding an explanation. It would have to wait.

Paul appeared at the back door asking for Trisha. He seemed mildly puzzled at the presence of the police officer but didn’t comment. When Karen said she hadn’t seen Max or Trisha since ten-thirty the night before, he just nodded, as if he understood that his new wife was about to become his next ex-wife. Maybe he’d known for a long time. He excused himself and left.

After the police officer had gone, Karen sat down on the sofa and stared at the TV. The monkeys were doing their dance again. Something dug into her hip. She put her hand down the side of the cushion, and pulled out a small handbag. She remembered seeing it last night, across the girl’s thin shoulders as she stood on the doorstep. She picked it up and took it upstairs.

‘Fancy a lift, Denton? I’m going your way.’

It was Burger. Sean hesitated, but Burger was smiling at him. It looked like he’d lost a bit of weight. Maybe he really had been gardening. Sean got in. Neither of them spoke as they nosed through the traffic and headed towards the edge of town, towards the Chasebridge Estate.

‘You been back into work then?’ Sean finally said.

‘You haven’t heard? I’ve taken early retirement. Working for myself now.’

Sean wondered how the top brass had edged him out so quietly. There’d been no announcement. They slowed down for the roundabout where Pets At Home nudged up against Morrison’s. Burger told him to open the glove compartment. Wedged on top of the car manual was a small plastic bag.

‘Get it out.’ Burger said.

It was a Boots bag, the size they give you when you’ve just bought one or two items, like a deodorant or a toothbrush, but this bag was folded over in a money shape, a wad-of-notes shape. Sean waited for another instruction, torn between wanting and not wanting to see how much was inside.

‘It’s a down payment from my client. If we’re successful, there’ll be more.’

‘We?’ It was warm inside the car and Sean became aware of the smell of sour milk rising up from the carpet.

‘We could be a team,’ Burger rested his hand on the gear stick and Sean thought, for one horrible moment, that the fat hand was going to reach over and pat his knee, ‘especially as this job’s right up your street.’ 

They were level with the entrance to Pets At Home now and Sean tried to think of an excuse to get out. He could look up some old work mates or hang around the guinea pig pen until Burger had forgotten about him.

‘You have the advantage over me, Denton,’ Burger was accelerating and changed into third gear. Sean had missed his opportunity. ‘You have the information which my client is looking for. My client pays me and I subcontract to you. I buy, if you like, a little of your intellectual property.’

‘You’ve lost me, sir.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Burger sighed theatrically. ‘Let me put it more simply; one hundred pounds to you if you can help me find a girl; a particular girl.’

They were on the ring road now and Burger was slowing for the turning into the Chasebridge Estate.

‘I can’t help you,’ Sean shoved the bag back into the glove compartment. ‘And, if it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather walk from here.’

‘What a pity. Don’t worry, I’ll deliver you right to your front door, all in good time, but I’ve got to see a man about a dog on the way.’

They turned up the dead-end towards the garages. Lee Stubbs was standing outside the one where Sean had his meeting with Declan.

‘I think you know my nephew,’ King said.

They were going quite slowly. Sean calculated that he could jump out and run, but as his hand reached for the door, Burger flicked the central locking on.

‘Bit jumpy, Denton? Now in my former profession I would say that was a sure sign of having something to hide.’

The car stopped a few feet away from Lee Stubbs, who made no sign of having seen them. He got something out of his pocket. Light flashed off metal as he released the blade. Sean used to have a flick knife like that, when he was about fourteen and thought it was cool. This one looked very sharp.

Burger switched the engine off and Sean stared out at Stubbs, who started casually picking at the dirt under his nails with the tip of the knife.

‘If you don’t want to accept my offer, I’m sure we can find another way. Why don’t we have a little chat, Denton, about some family business? My family. Not yours. You haven’t really got one, have you? Not a proper one, just an old granny down on the Groves and an alky dad who you never visit.’

Sean didn’t move. He tried not to twitch an eye muscle. Nothing that would antagonise Burger. He tried to see him as he once had, doing his job, tucking into his second breakfast in the staff canteen, wheezing with his allergies in the old man’s farmhouse. But it didn’t add up. He was the same, but different, thinner, meaner. He was back to being the Barry King who’d twisted Sean’s ear in the lay-by.

‘We could visit your granny. She’s a bit over the hill but Lee’s not fussy. He’s a sick fucker as it goes.’ Lee continued to pick at his nails. ‘I blame his mother; he saw too much too young. She gave him his first taste of the ladies when he was only twelve. He’s driven a few used cars in his time, if you know what I mean.’

Sean felt the heat rising up to his face. He clenched his fists. But Burger carried on, in a steady tone, like they had all the time in the world. He wanted to make it clear that he was angry with Sean, on several counts. Firstly, he was very upset for his sister, whose business premises had been raided.

‘She’s always paid her taxes, Denton, not to mention National Insurance. All her ladies are genuine self-employed, but no, that’s not good enough for some people.’

He also wanted Sean to understand that he was upset about the Internal Affairs Investigation Team, the meerkats who’d been all over Doncaster Central, poking their noses much deeper into his private business than was necessary.

‘All a fuss about nothing, Denton, nothing they could prove, not until you and that stuck-up little tart came plodding in with your big fat feet.’

Sean kept his mouth tight shut and watched Lee Stubbs approach the car. As Burger clicked off the central locking, Stubbs opened the door. He leaned towards Sean, stinking of sweat and stale smoke. His fingernails were chewed and brown round the edges.

‘I’ve told you,’ Sean tried to keep the quiver in his voice under control, ‘I can’t help you.’

Stubbs laughed his high-pitched doper’s laugh and did a weird dance. He was clearly off his head.

‘Can’t or won’t?’ Burger made it sound like it was everyday police work, as if there wasn’t a nutcase skipping up and down with a flick knife in his hand. ‘The thing is, are you going to tell us where the girl is, or are we going to have to ask your gran?’

‘Which girl?’ he dared to say.

‘The one you had tucked away in your love nest.’

Sean shook his head. Stubbs stopped dancing and lunged towards him. Burger clicked the catch to unfasten Sean’s seatbelt and gave Sean a hard shove, as Stubbs grabbed the collar of his jacket and dragged him out of the car.

‘In that case,’ Burger said. ‘You can wait here, while we have a chat with her on our own.’

Stubbs had Sean’s arm twisted up his back. Sean could have thrown him off but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the knife dipping and arching with Stubbs’s erratic movements. Barry King was opening a garage door. Sean recognised it straight away. The crates were still there, but the candle and bottle had gone. In the middle of the floor was a blue plastic chair with a roll of duct tape on the seat. He wanted to shout out, but his throat was tight and when he tried to say wait, Lee Stubbs spun him round and punched him across the mouth. His lips went numb and he tasted blood on his tongue. Stubbs kicked the back of Sean’s legs and folded him down on to the chair.

‘The thing is, if you don’t tell us what we want to know,’ Burger smiled, his slack cheeks pushing up until his eyes almost disappeared, ‘I’m sure your dear sweet granny will.’

Stubbs was winding the duct tape around Sean’s ankles, then round his wrists. He split the tape off the roll with the knife and Sean felt its chill against his skin. Sean tried to keep track of the blade, as the other man’s hands moved over and across his body, pinning his upper arms to his sides.

‘It’s such a relief not to have to play by the rules, Denton,’ Burger said.

‘Night, night, Plastic Percy.’ Stubbs ripped one last length of tape off the roll and stuck it over Sean’s eyes. The garage door slammed shut and he heard the click of a bolt.

Sophie rolled her eyes and hid her face behind a magazine. The tea trolley came past and Karen bought the children crisps, cola and chocolate, much to their amazement. The man stared hard at the passing fields. She hoped they’d be sick in his direction.

‘Will Daddy remember to feed Arnold while we’re away?’ Sophie said.

Good point. Perhaps she should tell Max they’d gone, if only for the cat’s sake. She got her phone out to text him and noticed a message from Charlie. She replied with her arrival time in Doncaster.

As the train pulled in Ben squealed with delight.

‘Grandpa! Mummy, there’s Grandpa!’

Outside the window Reg was waving. As he got on, Karen was ready to get off.

‘Barely had time for a sleep and a bath and then she drags me out on another adventure.’

‘How did you get here, Grandpa?’ said Ben.

‘Got the train up from Hitchin this morning and now I’m heading south again. They’ll think I’m some poor tramp trying to keep warm, going up and down the same line!’ He gave Karen a peck on the cheek. ‘Run along or the doors will close. Are you kids ready for a Grandpa mystery tour?’

‘It’s not a mystery,’ Ben said. ‘We’re going all the way to London to see Buckingham Palace, then we’re going to stay at your house.’

‘That’s right, and I’ve got twenty-two cans of special-offer baked beans waiting for you.’ Reg sat down next to Ben and the man opposite stiffened at the realisation that his ordeal would last another two hours.

Karen waved back at them from the platform. She felt a lightness in every bone, every muscle, as if she was buoyed up by helium. The brick walls of the station were redder, cleaner than she remembered. People were smiling and she smiled back. They couldn’t know what breeze was carrying her along. But it was the breath of a miracle.

When the police had gone, Karen had waited quietly in the upstairs study, weighing the girl’s bag in her hands like an unopened gift. Its strap was frayed and the vinyl was peeling away from the cardboard that held it together. The clasp gave way with a muffled click. It wasn’t too late to phone the officer who’d interviewed her in the kitchen. He had written his mobile number down and Karen had pinned it to the noticeboard. It wouldn’t have been difficult to say, there’s something else, she left her bag, do you need it? Or she could just look inside. There was a dirty tissue and a battered lipstick tube, a small purse containing two ten pence pieces and some coppers. And then, wedged deep into the seam of the bag, Karen felt a small piece of card. She pulled it out and saw that it was actually a larger card, folded up into a tight square not much bigger than a postage stamp. It unfolded easily, as if it had been opened out and re-folded many times, and despite the criss-cross graph of creases, it was clear that it was a picture postcard of a large yellow building with a sweeping staircase and a balustrade. The building looked European, but in the background there was a tall, concrete minaret. Karen turned the card over.
Pristina, Kosovo.
A stab of recognition stopped her breath. The handwriting was Phil’s.