across his face before taking a swig.
“That’s all right, Tommo — you keep it. Listen, if you don’t feel like going home, do you fancy a drink?”
It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. “Sure. Where does the police report leave you with Ken?”
“Treading carefully. He’s clearly implicated although I’m still waiting for his version. But I think what you’re really asking is whether I’d turn him in?” Karl looked him right between the eyes. “Not a chance. I hope I haven’t offended your moral compass.”
He didn’t bother responding.
* * *
It didn’t take a detective to predict the choice of watering hole. He wondered if Karl was secretly hoping to run into Ken again. He doubted it — life was rarely that tidy. As they entered the regimental bar the manager called Karl over. Thomas fell in step.
“Mr McNeill!” He stiffened a little, as if passing sentence. “This was left for you — hand delivered. Please don’t make a habit of it.”
Karl reached for the envelope and ordered two shandies. Over at the table, he checked it for signs of tampering and then slit the top with his car key. He extracted a single page from the ragged edge and folded it flat on the table so they could both read it: SORRY TO DRAG YOU INTO THIS. NO ONE ELSE I COULD TRUST — KEN.
Half an hour and one game of darts later, Thomas felt brave enough to put his mobile back on. Ajit’s text read: How could you? There was no word from Miranda, which was about what he figured he deserved. He was still reliving the scene in the hospital when Karl returned from the gents.
“No good news, I take it?”
He snapped back into work mode. “We need to get the buggy back to Janey. You can explain the science again to me on the way.”
“Not much to tell. The paint colour is obsolete according to some database, and the chemical analysis of the flakes on the buggy confirms the paint was manufactured before 2000.”
“So how does that sit with Jack Langton’s theory that it was a premeditated attack?”
“It’s an anomaly, I grant you. And we still don’t know it was about Jack. Greg owed money to Charlie Stokes — he as good as said so. Something to discuss next time you see Jack in prison?”
Heading across London, he turned down Deep Purple and reached for his phone again. No voice messages but one new text: I need to see you tonight — Diane. That was unexpected — a summons from Miranda’s mum.
“Listen, could you drop me off at my place first and deal with the buggy on your own? I just received an invitation I can’t turn down.”
* * *
When he went inside for his car keys he spotted the answering machine flashing. He hit the button and stood in the shadows, waiting. Pat didn’t pull any punches this time — Miranda deserved better, he was totally selfish, and the topper: she was ashamed of him. Join the queue.
It stood to reason that Diane Wright had heard from Miranda. They were close. Not like her to get involved though. She usually stayed well clear of their chaos. He was either in line for the mother of all bollockings or something else was going on. He got in the car and put his foot down.
Chapter 19
His palms tingled as the sweat met the dank air outside, each step from the car talking him further from safety. Diane was quick to answer the door, solemn faced and drawn.
“Come in, Thomas.”
He followed her to an empty living room. Diane noticed he was looking around.
“John’s in his office. We agreed this was better coming from me. Sit down. Coffee all right?” Her voice trailed behind her.
He leapt up after her; he thought he might as well get it over with.
“Look, Diane, I’m really sorry about leaving Miranda in Yorkshire. There was stuff I needed to do for Jack Langton and it couldn’t wait.”
She faced him down, saying nothing, and pulled out a couple of chairs. The kitchen it would be then. She seemed lost in thought, or maybe she was waiting for the right moment.
“That’s all right, Tommo — you keep it. Listen, if you don’t feel like going home, do you fancy a drink?”
It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. “Sure. Where does the police report leave you with Ken?”
“Treading carefully. He’s clearly implicated although I’m still waiting for his version. But I think what you’re really asking is whether I’d turn him in?” Karl looked him right between the eyes. “Not a chance. I hope I haven’t offended your moral compass.”
He didn’t bother responding.
* * *
It didn’t take a detective to predict the choice of watering hole. He wondered if Karl was secretly hoping to run into Ken again. He doubted it — life was rarely that tidy. As they entered the regimental bar the manager called Karl over. Thomas fell in step.
“Mr McNeill!” He stiffened a little, as if passing sentence. “This was left for you — hand delivered. Please don’t make a habit of it.”
Karl reached for the envelope and ordered two shandies. Over at the table, he checked it for signs of tampering and then slit the top with his car key. He extracted a single page from the ragged edge and folded it flat on the table so they could both read it: SORRY TO DRAG YOU INTO THIS. NO ONE ELSE I COULD TRUST — KEN.
Half an hour and one game of darts later, Thomas felt brave enough to put his mobile back on. Ajit’s text read: How could you? There was no word from Miranda, which was about what he figured he deserved. He was still reliving the scene in the hospital when Karl returned from the gents.
“No good news, I take it?”
He snapped back into work mode. “We need to get the buggy back to Janey. You can explain the science again to me on the way.”
“Not much to tell. The paint colour is obsolete according to some database, and the chemical analysis of the flakes on the buggy confirms the paint was manufactured before 2000.”
“So how does that sit with Jack Langton’s theory that it was a premeditated attack?”
“It’s an anomaly, I grant you. And we still don’t know it was about Jack. Greg owed money to Charlie Stokes — he as good as said so. Something to discuss next time you see Jack in prison?”
Heading across London, he turned down Deep Purple and reached for his phone again. No voice messages but one new text: I need to see you tonight — Diane. That was unexpected — a summons from Miranda’s mum.
“Listen, could you drop me off at my place first and deal with the buggy on your own? I just received an invitation I can’t turn down.”
* * *
When he went inside for his car keys he spotted the answering machine flashing. He hit the button and stood in the shadows, waiting. Pat didn’t pull any punches this time — Miranda deserved better, he was totally selfish, and the topper: she was ashamed of him. Join the queue.
It stood to reason that Diane Wright had heard from Miranda. They were close. Not like her to get involved though. She usually stayed well clear of their chaos. He was either in line for the mother of all bollockings or something else was going on. He got in the car and put his foot down.
Chapter 19
His palms tingled as the sweat met the dank air outside, each step from the car talking him further from safety. Diane was quick to answer the door, solemn faced and drawn.
“Come in, Thomas.”
He followed her to an empty living room. Diane noticed he was looking around.
“John’s in his office. We agreed this was better coming from me. Sit down. Coffee all right?” Her voice trailed behind her.
He leapt up after her; he thought he might as well get it over with.
“Look, Diane, I’m really sorry about leaving Miranda in Yorkshire. There was stuff I needed to do for Jack Langton and it couldn’t wait.”
She faced him down, saying nothing, and pulled out a couple of chairs. The kitchen it would be then. She seemed lost in thought, or maybe she was waiting for the right moment.
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