The Calling of the Grave by Simon Beckett

school, but my fury at
Terry had been festering overnight. I stewed over it for a few hours before
phoning Kara at the hospital.
        'Sorry
about this, but can you pick Alice up later?'
        'I
suppose so. Why, has something come up?'
        I was
already regretting calling her. Kara's hours were part time and flexible, and
she often switched to help out colleagues. But this was our daughter, and I'd
only just got back from a trip. I should be focusing on what was important, not
charging off to confront someone like Terry Connors.
        'Look,
it doesn't matter. Forget it.'
        'No,
it's OK. I was only staying for a staff meeting anyway, so I'm glad of the
excuse. 'A wariness entered her voice. 'Why, what's happened?'
        'Nothing.
Let's keep things—'
        I was
about to say 'as they were', but there was a commotion in the background down
the line. I heard raised voices and the banging of heavy doors.
        'Sorry,
I'm needed,' she said in a rush. 'I'll collect Alice, you can explain why
later. Bye.'
        She
broke the connection before I could say anything. I lowered the phone, feeling
shallow. I made up my mind to call her back later and say I'd pick up Alice
after all. I left it half an hour but when I tried her line it was engaged. And
already I was starting to think about Terry again, letting a head of anger
build up against him. There didn't seem much point in bothering Kara when she
was obviously busy, and by now she'd probably made arrangements anyway.
        Instead
I phoned Terry.
        I
wasn't even sure he'd answer if he saw the call was from me. But he did. His voice
sounded as cocksure and breezy as ever. 'David! How're you doing?'
        'I
want to see you.'
        His
hesitation was only slight. 'Look, I'd love to meet up, but things are a bit
hectic right now. I'll give you a call when—'
        'Would
you rather I wait for you at your house?'
        I'd
no intention of involving his family, but I wasn't going to let him brush me
off. This time the pause was longer.
        'Something
you want to say?'
        There
was, but I wanted to do it in person. 'I can be in Exeter in a few hours. Name
a place.'
        'I
can save you the trip. I'm still in London. I'll even buy you a pint.' His tone
was condescending. 'It'll be just like old times.'
        I
willed myself not to lose my temper as I went to meet him. He'd suggested a pub
in Soho, and when I walked in I saw why. It was obviously a police watering
hole: most of the clientele had the indefinable swagger of off-duty officers.
The place was decorated for Christmas, the same faded streamers and baubles
they'd obviously been dusting off for years. Terry was at the bar, laughing
with a group of men. He excused himself when I went in. The usual smile was on
his face, but his eyes were watchful.
        'Want
a drink?'
        'No
thanks.'
        'Please
yourself.' Glass in hand, he propped himself comfortably against a table. 'So.
Where's the fire?'
        'Stay
away from Kara.'
        'What
are you talking about?'
        'You
know what I'm talking about. I don't want you at my home again.'
        He
was still smiling, but a flush spread up from his neck. 'Whoa, hang on a
minute. I don't know what she's said but I didn't know you were away—'
        'Yes,
you did. The mass grave was all over the news; it didn't take a genius to work
out I'd be over there. That's why you didn't phone first, because then you
wouldn't have an excuse to go round.'
        'Look—'
        'You
even tried to make her think I'd been seeing somebody else. Why the hell would
you do that?'
        I
thought something that could have been either guilt or regret showed in his
eyes, but it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
        He
hitched a shoulder in a shrug. 'Why not?'
        'And
that's it?'
        'What
do you want me to say? Kara's a good-looker. You should be flattered.'
        His
grin