Patrick would have to be told she had alibied him. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased at the prospect of talking to him or not. Told herself she needed time and space. She needed to sort her head out at some point and decide what she was going to do with her life, or what was left of it anyway. The last week had been full of emotional ups and downs.
Her nerves were shot and she was tried to the very core of her being. And on top of everything else she still had not phoned her mother.
Lenny Parkes walked into the Fox Revived and stared around him until he located the man he wanted.
Kevin Blankley was sitting with his cronies, Harold Carter, Les Smith and Davey Carling. They waved Lenny over and he mimed getting a drink and walked to the bar where he ordered a large brandy. Draining it down in one gulp, he ordered another immediately. He did this three more times until the landlady, Denise Charterhouse, a large woman with yellow teeth and a jocular manner, said:
‘Who’s rattled your bleeding cage then? Had a row with the old woman?’
He didn’t answer her and she said brightly, trying to get him talking, ‘Where’s little Mary today? All the men have missed her.’
He knew on one level that she meant nothing by it. That she was just being friendly. As his wife had pointed out, he was always in the pub with Mary. She had been coming in here since she was a baby. But after all that had happened the words hit him full force and his last ounce of self-control disappeared.
Turning from the bar, he picked up a pint glass half-f of flat lager. The look on his face told Denise that something bad was going to happen. She watched in horror as he walked across the crowded room towards his friends. Before she could shout a warning, the glass was raised, smashed against a table and thrust with animal strength into Kevin Blankley’s neck. The whole pub watched mesmerised as Lenny stabbed the jagged glass into the man over and over again.
Harold, Les and Davey jumped from their seats, Kevin’s blood spraying all over them in a fine mist.
Kevin was on the floor now, his hands to his lacerated face and neck. Blood was pumping freely like a hose-pipe on a sunny day.
Lenny began kicking him, and then the shouting started. It came from his bowels, as he screamed his hatred at the man on the floor.
‘Fucking touch my baby, you bastard! Touch my girl, would you? Make her like you, you fucking beast!’
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Davey go even paler, try to move away, get to the door. He saw the others looking at him in amazement and instinctively knew that Davey had been in on it as well.
Lenny turned on him like an animal. ‘What you running for, Davey? Where you going - home? Got any nice pictures of my girl? That piece of shit I called a daughter? Who you lot took and dragged down to the gutter where you come from.’
He was walking towards Davey who looked terrified. Lenny glanced around the pub and said loudly, ‘He’s a nonce. A beast. I’ve seen the photos. And not just eleven year olds, oh, no. You’re always saying how much you love kids, eh, Davey? Well, I’ve seen the proof with me own eyes. Old Bill are coming for you lot, but not before I get to pay you back for what you’ve done to my girl. Pay
her
, did you? Cheap at the fucking price, eh?’
Davey was a large man, heavy-set with a heavy job. He was muscular through and through. Challenged, he stood his ground and said nastily, ‘Your Mary didn’t need any teaching from me, Len. She’s a natural. Look how she walks about, asking for trouble and getting it, mate.’
Lenny listened in amazement to his old mate and close friend. How could he not have known? How could be never have guessed what was going on? Davey wasn’t that clever, surely.
He heard the distant wail of sirens and guessed, rightly, it was the police coming for him. Taking a carving knife from his belt, he held it before him and smiled. Davey tried to run. Lenny got to him as he reached the door. His hand was extended towards the heavy iron handle when the knife hit him in the back, tearing his skin but not doing as much damage as Lenny wanted.
The two plainclothes policemen Kate had sent to watch Lenny grabbed him as they saw their chance, while his back was turned and he was not expecting it. By the time the back-up arrived he was on the floor, handcuffed and subdued. One man dead, and another needing urgent hospital treatment. Lenny felt he’d done a good day’s work.
It was over for him. He had done what he had to do and could finally relax. His wife and son would be moved away by Social Services and relocated in another town. That was the price he would exact for a full and frank confession. He knew the police would agree. He also knew that soon everyone would learn what his daughter had done; talk spread fast in a small place like Grantley. But he would be remembered as a man who had sorted things out. Done his duty. Removed the scum from the streets.
In short, he would be a hero.
It was shallow consolation, though. In truth nothing would ever make up for what his daughter had done. She had laughed at him, scorned all he had tried to be to her. The strangest thing of all was, already he felt nothing for her. Not even anger, hatred or disgust. It was as if Mary had never existed for him.
He knew as they marched him outside the pub that he was a dead man, inside, where it counted. If his body lived on until he was a hundred years old he would always know that for him death had arrived when he was thirty-eight. From this moment on, he would merely go through the motions. He would eat, breathe and shit, but he would never feel any real emotions again. Mary, once his pride and joy, his little daughter, had seen to that.
Kate looked into his eyes at the police station and he smiled back at her. Covered in blood and wild-eyed, he felt as if Kate Burrows and the heavy-set woman with her understood his actions. Understood what had made him do what he had done. They gave him tea, cigarettes and respect.
At least that’s how it seemed to Lenny Parkes.
In her office Kate looked at Jenny with guilt and regret.
‘I knew this could happen, but how could I have prevented it?’
Jenny shrugged and said breezily, as if she didn’t give a damn, ‘He took it to the extreme, I don’t deny that. But he’s led us to another paedophile we can interview, maybe find out more about how many are involved in all this and, more importantly, who they are. Paedophiles are passive, Kate. They’re normally timid little men and women, terrified that someone will find out about them.
‘They know what the normal members of society think of them, the disgust they engender. They know that a capture will bring down disgust, hatred, even death on them. That’s why we have the VPU units.
Vulnerable
Prisoners. Pity they don’t think about their vulnerable prey. I don’t feel anything about the pub death, really, except that it was pretty horrific. But that doesn’t make me any the less glad that another nonce has been removed from the face of the earth.
‘I have seen the bodies of children that people like this have taken and tortured and killed. I lost any sympathy for them a long time ago. In fact, if I could get away with it, I’d nut them myself.’
She winked at Kate before saying, ‘All that was strictly off the record, of course.’
Davey Carling looked ill. His breathing was laboured and his chest rattled. Golding was standing by the bed with a young police constable, and even he realised that the man was dying.
The doctor looked at David Golding and motioned him towards the door. Outside in the noisy corridor he explained what was happening.
‘Mr Carling had a massive heart attack earlier this afternoon. He is in a deep coma and the chances of recovery are slight. The stab wound seemed to become infected overnight. It appears he was already suffering from chronic heart disease, which is not surprising. I already ascertained he was a heavy smoker and drinker, and from the condition of his outer body I knew he was out of shape.’ He shrugged. ‘If he hadn’t been stabbed he would have died within a few months anyway. Keeled over, dropped dead. Probably while eating a large cooked breakfast.’
Golding was amazed at the young man’s lack of compassion. The doctor realised what he was thinking and explained, ‘The way I see it, the greatest gift we have is the gift of life. When I see it wasted, it always makes me angry.’
‘There’s no chance of interviewing him?’ asked Golding.
The doctor shook his head wearily.
‘No. No chance. It’s TLC from here on. He’ll never utter another word.’
Golding walked away.
Davey Carling died with the young police constable as his only visitor. The PC was still stumped by the
Sun
crossword and didn’t even realise he was gone until a nurse came in and quietly turned off the monitors.
Kate took the news calmly, one half of her glad that another paedophile had bitten the dust.
This was a death that no one was going to mourn. Least of all her.
Chapter Nine
‘Hello, Kate.’
Patrick’s voice was rich and warm, washing over her like a wave. As she sat beside him in his car she felt the old powerful attraction to him. Could smell his own particular smell that once had made her feel safe and secure. She had to force down a strong urge to put her arms around him for comfort.
‘You did it then?’
She nodded imperceptibly. ‘I lied if that’s what you’re referring to.’ In the close confines of the car he seemed larger than ever. Bigger than she remembered him.
‘
Were
you at the club that night? Tommy Broughton says you were.’
‘Tommy’s a liar then. I was nowhere near it, OK?’
She could hear the fear underlying his words and realised that Patrick Kelly was putting on a show of bravado for the first time since she had laid eyes on him.
‘What’s going on, Pat?’
From the tone of her voice, he knew that if he could tell her the truth then maybe she would stand beside him after all. But he couldn’t. She was away from him now and that was a good thing at this time. She must never know the danger he had already placed her in with Boris for just the simple reason that she was known to be close to him.
In all his life Patrick had never been in the position he currently faced. He had ducked and dived for years and it was finally all coming home to roost. He was out of the shit with Old Bill, though that could be strictly temporary. What he needed now was to keep himself and Kate safe.
‘I appreciate what you did, darling. I know how much it took for you to lie like that.’
‘Where were you, Pat? That night - who were you with?’
He looked into her eyes and sighed heavily. He trusted this woman more than he had ever trusted anyone before. Even Renée, his wife, had never engendered the feelings Kate Burrows stirred in him. But he could not tell her. Kate would want to sort it out, help him. Make him try the honest approach. She had never understood that with some people, the honest approach was fatal.
He admired her, though. To see what she had seen in the course of her work and still trust in human nature was to his eyes a wondrous feat. He barely trusted anyone, just a couple of very close friends, Kate being one of them and Willy the other.
As if he had put the words into her mouth she said, ‘Where’s Willy?’
He looked into her face and knew she half guessed what had occurred. ‘He’s doing an errand for me.’
Kate didn’t answer, just stared into his eyes. Lying eyes, if she knew Pat Kelly.
‘An errand? Pat, do I look stupid? I really need to know the answer to that question.’ The sarcasm was back in her voice and it put his back up as she’d known it would.
‘Leave it, Kate. Let it go, eh?’
She shook her head sadly as she watched him controlling his temper, but she knew he would not tell her anything about Willy.
‘You’ll never learn, will you, Pat? Still the hard man, eh?’
He turned to face her then, hostility in every line of his body. ‘Nah, you’re right as usual, I’ll never learn. A fucking thug me, till I drop down dead. In fact, I love ducking and diving. Gives me a reason to get up in the morning, know what I mean? Only the same could be said of you too, couldn’t it? Think about it, Kate. We’re on opposite sides of the same fucking fence, love. Only you are a self-righteous pain in the arse . . .’
She smiled gently. ‘And what are you then? How about a selfish bully boy who plays with other people’s lives and affections? A ponce in every sense of the word. Living off the earnings of women . . .’
She saw his eyes harden and bit her lip. ‘Have I hit a nerve, Patrick? Only that is exactly where you get your money from these days, isn’t it? Why act so shocked at a simple statement of the truth?’
He wiped one hand across his face and she laughed.
‘Are you by any chance ashamed? Is that it, Pat?’
He pushed her roughly in the chest. The car was like a coffin to him now; he wanted out of it. Wanted her away from him. He had enough on his mind without listening to her going on and on.
‘Do you know something, love? You’re beginning to bore me. I admit, you did me a right favour and I appreciate it big time. But I tell you now, Kate, you’re getting to be a dried-up old cow. Always right,
always
got a fucking opinion about me and what I do. I sometimes wonder how the hell we ever got together in the first place. Well, let me tell you something, Kate. What I feel for you is beyond anything you could ever feel for me, lady. And shall I tell you why that is? Because unlike you I don’t judge everyone. I take them as I find them.’
They looked at one another, antagonists now, wanting only to hurt.
Kate curled her lip and said, ‘Did it ever occur to you that your outlook on life is exactly why you’re in the shit now?’ She waved one hand at him. ‘Take everyone as you find them, eh? Well, I hope you learn from this lot, I really do. You sound like a schoolboy - a naïve and ignorant schoolboy.’