Broken Lines (11 page)

Shapiro replied sunnily, ‘Don't we all, Miss Holloway – don't we all?'

He moved on to the missing gun, the posse that rode out of The Jubilee in the early hours of Monday morning, and last night's pantomime at the corner of Jubilee Terrace.

Mikey affected total innocence. He wasn't discharged from the hospital until Tuesday so events in The Jubilee prior to that were a closed book to him. He didn't know what became of the gun: he assumed the robber took it with him. He went out to Donovan last night because he was afraid he must be getting cold, and after all, he did owe Mr Donovan his life. He had no other motive, didn't even know what the superintendent was getting at. Honest.

Shapiro gave a weary sigh. ‘If you'd just stop saying that, Mikey, people might be more inclined to believe you.'

Mikey was puzzled. ‘What's that, Mr Shapiro?'

‘Honest. It's a dead give-away. It's like saying, “You can trust me.” It wouldn't occur to anyone who's genuinely trustworthy that they had to say so.'

But Mikey wasn't saying anything more – anything different, rather – and Shapiro didn't want to waste time that he could more profitably use when he had something concrete to put to him. He walked Mikey and his brief as far as the front office. ‘I may need to talk to Mr Dickens again. I don't suppose' – he nodded at Mikey's limp – ‘he's contemplating a skiing holiday in the near future?'

A glint of humour sparked momentarily in Ms Holloway's green eyes and she tossed the auburn rope of her hair over her shoulder. ‘If you can think of anything to ask my client that he hasn't already answered, he will of course be available. To the best of my knowledge he doesn't ski.'

‘No?' Shapiro feigned surprise. ‘So he'd have no reason to own a ski mask?'

‘No indeed,' agreed the solicitor blandly. ‘Which is why he doesn't have one.'

‘Pity about the van catching fire, wasn't it?' said Shapiro. ‘But for that he'd have been able to prove his innocence. If his coat and gloves hadn't been burned, the absence of blood and gun residues on them would have proved that he hadn't handled a gun and hadn't hit my sergeant in the face with it.'

Ms Holloway was nodding. ‘Fortunately,' she said calmly, ‘my client doesn't have to prove anything.'

They parted there. Shapiro watched them walk down the steps – Mikey's limp becoming positively jaunty – with the composure of a man who'd seen a lot of suspects walk down those steps and had the satisfaction of bringing most of them in again through the back door.

Donovan had been to the chemist. Absent-mindedly scratching with the end of his ballpoint he'd dislodged one of the plasters that was holding his face together, and the station First-Aid box hadn't been replenished since the last punch-up in the cell-block. Mrs Sullivan the chemist's wife fixed him up. Rosa Sullivan was from County Monaghan, Donovan's mid-Ulster accent was the closest she got these days to the sound of home.

Donovan was gingerly patting the little plaster into place when he turned at the foot of the steps and saw them at the top. Everything fell into place with a thump like breeze blocks. He didn't have to work it out, he could see everything he needed to know. He knew now who'd passed information to Roly Dickens. He had.

He'd never asked her second name. If he had he'd have recognized it from Mikey's paperwork. But he'd missed her when she came in here on Tuesday, and a week before that she was still in London. The first time he saw her was on Tuesday night, riding out of The Jubilee on a motorcycle. She must have been seeing Mikey. Jade Holloway was his solicitor.

Donovan froze with one foot on the bottom step, his heart turning to ice. The blood drained from his face and his eyes went fathomless. He said nothing. He waited.

A moment later Jade saw Donovan. She wasn't surprised to see him here, though in a perfect world she'd have timed the revelation better. She drew a quick breath then turned to the young man beside her. ‘Mikey, can you make your own way home? I'll talk to you later.'

Mikey nodded. He managed the steps without too much difficulty, but he couldn't manage to pass Donovan without rubbing it in. ‘Have you met my brief, Mr Donovan? Fresh up from London – she's been in the Old Bailey and everywhere. Fairly spoils you for old Mr Carfax, doesn't it?'

‘Mikey,' said Jade, a touch sharply. ‘I'll see you later, all right?'

With a sly little grin he went to leave. But as he drew level Donovan's arm shot out to block his passage. His face was dark with fury and his voice was thick. ‘Enjoy it, Mikey. There aren't that many laughs where you're going, this might be the last one you get.'

Mikey contrived to look offended. ‘You still think it was me that hit you, don't you? I'm hurt, Mr Donovan, I really am. I explained to Mr Shapiro what happened. I don't know what else I can do.'

Donovan held him with terrible eyes. ‘You can go to hell, Mikey, and take your fancy London lawyer with you. I should have left you in the van. I should have let you burn.'

For a split second, before he remembered to do the cocky grin, Mikey looked genuinely shocked. To him this was a game he played with the police. If he lost he'd do his time without much rancour. Along with shimming locks and hot-wiring cars, Roly had taught him to pay for his mistakes. He still hoped to persuade a court that Donovan was mistaken and he too was a victim of the armed robber; but if, inexplicably, they preferred Donovan's version he wouldn't be bitter. He couldn't see why Donovan was turning this into a grudge match.

He gave a little frown. ‘Mr Donovan, don't the words “No hard feelings” have
any
meaning for you?' He passed the policeman at a safe distance and limped up Queen's Street into town.

They were left alone, Jade at the top of the steps, Donovan at the bottom. She began, ‘It isn't how you think—'

A snort of derision interrupted her. ‘It's
exactly
how I think!'

She came down a step towards him. ‘I didn't set out to deceive you. You put me in a difficult position. You were trying to entrap my clients. I couldn't pretend I hadn't heard.'

‘You lied to me!'

‘I didn't lie,' retorted Jade, ‘I just didn't tell you I was involved. I didn't ask you to talk about your work; but if I'd stopped you I'd have denied my clients some useful information. They're the ones I owe a duty to.'

‘And the men in the kitchen? That wasn't a lie?'

She risked a tiny smile. ‘Well, maybe a little one. You backed me into a corner, I had to say something – it was all I could think of at short notice.'

‘You made a fool of me! You invented a story to send me off on a wild goose chase, and you let the Dickenses know so they could enjoy it too.'

‘I'm sorry, Donovan, I couldn't resist it – you were trying to pull a fast one, I couldn't resist turning the tables on you. All right, that was mean. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing: I was annoyed, I felt you were trying to pressurize me. Later I wished I hadn't done it, but I could only have warned you by identifying myself and I wasn't ready to do that.'

‘You could at least have kept quiet about it. I'd still have wasted my evening, but at least I wouldn't have had Mikey laughing in my face!'

Jade gave an elegant little shrug. She still seemed to think it was funny, was surprised he hadn't seen the joke by now. ‘I thought I'd better,
I
knew you weren't going to do any harm watching half the night for someone who wasn't going anywhere. But there are some hot-heads in The Jubilee, so I'm told, I didn't want one of them thumping you.'

‘You set me up!'

‘I didn't set you up.' The corner of her mouth twitched. ‘I just let you set yourself up. Donovan, if you're going to play games with people you mustn't be surprised if they try to win.'

‘Nothing the Dickenses do surprises me,' spat Donovan. ‘But I talked to you as a friend. OK, that was stupid. But you didn't have to sell me to the highest bidder.'

‘Don't be so melodramatic,' she said dismissively. ‘You made a mistake. You were indiscreet, and you paid for it. Perhaps I should have told you who I was when we first met. Perhaps you should have asked. But you didn't, and by the time it mattered I had good reason not to. Yes, I betrayed your trust. If I hadn't I'd have betrayed that of a client. I'm sorry, Donovan, but the bottom line is, if the information was sensitive you should have kept it to yourself.'

She took another step towards him. This time he backed away. He said in his teeth, ‘I never was a great judge of character.'

Jade ignored that. ‘This doesn't have to change things between us. You won't make the same mistake again.'

He actually panted in astonishment. The thought of resuming intimacy with a woman who'd auctioned his integrity was inconceivable to him.

Nominally a Catholic, in fact Donovan didn't have what it took to be a Christian at all. He never forgave and forgot. Occasionally he forgave; eventually he forgot; but his instinct was to carry a grudge until it could be redeemed. It was why he couldn't accept that this time Mikey Dickens might get off scot-free.

In the same way he couldn't imagine putting aside his grievance against Jade Holloway, either for affection or carnal need. Inside her body he'd lost himself. The sheer power of the experience had stripped away his defences. He wasn't a man who made friends or took lovers easily. There was nothing casual about him: to Donovan a personal relationship meant commitment, and by the time he was ready for that he was open to being hurt. He mightn't have called it love but he'd felt something fierce and extraordinary, and he'd thought she had too. Knowing she'd laughed about him with his enemies struck him to the soul.

‘Damn right I won't! Christ Almighty, that is absolutely one mistake I won't make again. Not change things? You used me. You came to my bed, we made—' He couldn't have said it before, he certainly couldn't say it now. ‘Then you waited for me to roll over and stabbed me in the back.

‘You know it can't end here? I have to tell my chief. I've been accusing half Queen's Street of bubbling: I can't keep quiet now I know it was me. I guess my chief will want a word with yours.'

‘Tell Shapiro by all means,' she said off-handedly. ‘If he wants to talk to Mr Carfax he can do. I have no doubt Mr Carfax will back me. Who I sleep with is none of their concern. The only issue is what I did with information gained in a personal conversation, and I have no doubt that what I did was right. The one who behaved inappropriately was you. You talked about things you had no business mentioning outside these walls.

‘You want to tell Shapiro that you're so smitten by the sight of a naked woman that you'll tell her anything? Go ahead, it's probably something he needs to know. You think I betrayed you, and maybe I did. But first you betrayed him.'

Donovan rocked as if she'd slapped his face. It was true: that was the hard thing. She'd used him, but the real and original act of treachery was his. And he'd been so involved he hadn't even realized what he was doing.

It was the one thing with which he'd always consoled himself. He made mistakes, he got things wrong, but he clung to the thought that everyone knew that, when the chips were down, Donovan could be counted on. Now it turned out even that was an illusion. He was like a stray dog: show him a bit of kindness and he'd do anything for you.

His lip curled, but his contempt now was entirely for himself. ‘You hear about it, don't you? – men with good jobs, men with families, losing everything for a woman. And you think, By God, that must have been some woman, that he gave up all he had for her. But it's not like that, is it? It isn't passion, just stupidity – not seeing soon enough where it's leading. A man who leaves himself that vulnerable deserves to lose everything. Not for being wicked: for being that stupid. For not knowing there are two kinds of whores, and the honest ones only want money.'

If they'd been alone she'd have hit him for that. But they were on the front steps of a police station, they were already attracting curious glances, if this went on much longer explanations would be required. Her slim hands fisted at her sides, her lips tight, Jade stalked past the hurt and bitter man at the foot of the steps, pausing just long enough to deliver a parting shot.

‘It's time you grew up, Donovan. The real world doesn't abide by playground rules. Success is what you're measured by: if you want a piece of that you'll have to shake off this idea that other people would rather lose than take advantage of your naivety.'

Donovan stood immobile at the bottom of the steps, one hand on the brass rail, his eyes hollow, wondering where on earth to find the courage to go upstairs and make the confession he knew he had to make.

Liz was passing through the front office when her attention was drawn to the scene by WPC Wilson. ‘Do you think he needs help?'

Liz watched for a moment on the monitor, chewing her lip. It looked personal. On the other hand, a stand-up fight on the steps of a police station between a Detective Sergeant and the legal representative of a man accused of assaulting him could hardly be considered a private matter. She was opening the door when Ms Holloway made it easier by walking away. When Donovan still didn't move Liz went down to him.

The first he knew that she was there was her scent. He could never be sure if it was a perfume she used or just the lingering aroma of horse feed. With a watercolour label and a name like ‘Summer Meadow'it would cost £20 a bottle; as horse and pony nuts it would sell for £6 a sack.

He looked up quickly, defensively. Her eyes were concerned. ‘Donovan? What's wrong?'

He drew a ragged breath. ‘Can we go upstairs? I've got something to tell you. You're not going to
believe
how stupid I've been.'