No Mercy (21 page)

‘You decided to kill him?’

‘Lena decided to kill him. Well, not personally, of course – she’d be top of the list of suspects when it came to the law – but for
someone
to do it.’

‘Someone like you?’

Cato nodded. ‘Nobody knew we were seeing each other and so, theoretically, I had no motive. One small pull on that trigger and all our problems were over.’ His eyes briefly roamed around the room again. He looked down at the table and back up at her. ‘I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t think about it. I did, long and hard. And I came up with plenty of good reasons why wiping Vasser from the face of the earth would be an entirely justifiable thing to do.’

‘But?’

‘But it wasn’t really my style. Or maybe I just didn’t have the bottle. Either way, I told her I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. She wasn’t happy. She saw it as… as an act of betrayal. We had what you might call an open and frank exchange of views. We split up for a while, but then got back together again. It was never the same, though. Once she’d asked me to do that, it was out there and couldn’t be taken back. And what I didn’t know was that all the time she was secretly making her plans. If I wouldn’t kill Vasser, then she’d get someone else to do it.’

He rubbed at his forehead with the tips of his fingers. ‘She must have already started seeing Tony Gissing. I was a fool. I didn’t figure it out until it was too late. I knew too much, you see. If she was getting rid of Vasser, she also had to get rid of me. She couldn’t take the chance that one day I might talk.’

Maddie sat and listened. The story was plausible, but she wasn’t sure if it was true. ‘So why not kill you too?’

‘Because they needed a fall guy, a scapegoat to keep the spotlight off Lena. I was the perfect patsy, a man who was allegedly obsessed with her, who’d go to any lengths to have her for myself. And so she stitched me up, hid the gun in my flat, made sure there was enough evidence to make me look guilty as sin. That way, no matter what I told the law, they weren’t going to believe me.’

‘They weren’t interested in your side of the story?’

‘What do you think? They had a motive and a murder weapon, and I had no alibi for the night in question. No, I can’t say they were interested.’

‘But Lena must have known that one day you’d be coming out. They weren’t going to keep you locked up for ever.’

‘Even if it does feel like it sometimes.’ He played with the plastic cup, turning it round in his fingers. There was sharpness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. ‘After ten years, why should she care? She knows I haven’t got the heart for murder. What does she have to worry about?’

‘Except she clearly is worried, or what’s with all the fuss at the cemetery?’

‘She’s not concerned about the murder of Vasser. She knows I can’t do anything about that now. But the fact that I’m apparently working with you has put the wind up her. She’s put two and two together and come to the conclusion that something must be going on, something connected to the deaths of your sister and Bo Vale.’

‘Although it’s nothing we can prove.’

‘Except she doesn’t know that. And just the fact that she tried to scare you off shows that she has got something to hide.’

Maddie couldn’t argue with his reasoning, but she resented the way she’d been used. Why couldn’t he have been honest with her from the start? Cato wanted revenge and he was trying to get it through her. She’d been like the tethered goat put out in the field, unaware of the tiger hiding in the bushes. ‘So what do I do now?’

‘That’s your call. But people can get jumpy when they think their dirty little secrets are about to come out. Lena and Adam don’t have the best of relationships.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that they don’t trust each other. You can use that to your advantage, play one off against the other. Adam would sell his mother down the river if he thought it would save him from a jail sentence. If they think you know more than you do, then —’

‘Then they’ll both want to get rid of
me
,’
she interrupted testily.
‘Is that the plan? I go out there and provoke the Gissings, see what happens next? Somehow I don’t see that as being entirely good for my health.’

Cato smiled at her. ‘Then you’ll have to be smart about it.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘It depends how much you want it. Life’s full of risks, chances, things you might have done.’

Maddie found herself wondering if he wished he had killed Brendan Vasser. And then she smartly pulled herself up, realising that she still didn’t know for sure that he hadn’t. But there was a part of her that believed his story. She couldn’t have said why exactly; it was just a feeling, a gut instinct. ‘How can you bear it,’ she suddenly blurted out, ‘being locked up in here?’

A thin smile appeared on his lips. ‘You can get used to anything… eventually.’

Maddie stared at him. She noticed the fine lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes. She thought of all the years he’d spent behind bars, wasted years that he would never get back. And all because he had fallen in love with the wrong woman.

‘What?’ he asked as she continued to look at him. ‘What is it?’

‘Oh, nothing.’ She shook her head. ‘I was just wondering how you even got to hear about me.’

‘I asked around. I still know people out there.’ He gestured towards the door she’d originally come through as if it symbolised the outside world. ‘After I was told about Bo, about the blackmail, I figured it wasn’t a coincidence that he’d ended up dead. I thought there might be some family, so I asked a mate to check it out. He told me about Bo’s parents and his brother.’

‘Solomon,’ she said.

‘That’s who I was going to talk to until I found out about you. And then when I heard that you worked at the cemetery…’

‘I still don’t get that,’ she said. ‘What is it about that grave? What’s the connection between Lena and Lucy Rivers?’

Cato shook his head. ‘Old history. It doesn’t matter. I knew it would get her attention and it did.’

And now, she thought, he was being deliberately evasive. ‘Is it something to do with Vasser?’

He wouldn’t be drawn. ‘Really, it’s not important. A means to an end, that’s all.’

She could see that he wasn’t going to tell, but still she persisted. ‘You could have just asked me to come and see you right from the start. You could have told me about the blackmail, about Adam Vasser. Why bother with all the grave business?’

‘I could,’ he agreed. ‘But I wanted to see how Lena would react. I reckoned it would spook her and it has. She doesn’t know what’s going on and it freaks her out. Lena likes to be in control.’

‘Don’t we all,’ she said caustically. ‘It’s none too great being left in the dark.’

‘For which I apologise. But by doing it this way, you got to see at first hand what Lena’s really like rather than me just telling you.’

‘Yes, well, I’ve certainly done that.’

‘Five minutes, please,’ one of the prison officers proclaimed from the stage. ‘The visits will be ending in five minutes.’

‘Time’s almost up,’ Cato said. He pushed the uneaten KitKats back across the table. ‘You’ll have to take these with you. I’m not allowed to take stuff back.’

‘Not a chocolate fan, then?’

‘I seem to have lost my appetite these days.’

Maddie became aware of a change in the atmosphere of the room, a shifting, a sighing, a scraping back of chairs. People were beginning to stand up and say their goodbyes. If she had anything left to ask, she’d better do it quickly. ‘But what do I do? How can I prove anything about this blackmail?’

‘Start talking to Bo’s friends,’ he said. ‘And Greta’s. If I know about it, then others do too. Stir things up and see what happens.’

‘Just promise me one thing,’ she said, rising to her feet.

‘What’s that?’

‘If I meet the same fate as Lena’s other enemies, you’ll employ someone to put roses on my grave every week.’

He stood up too, smiling. ‘Goes without saying.’

There was an odd, awkward moment when neither of them seemed to know what to do next. Around them, others were kissing, embracing, saying their final farewells. She put out her hand. ‘Goodbye, then.’

He took her hand and shook it. His fingers were cool and dry. ‘Goodbye, Maddie.’

It was only as she was walking away that she remembered about the gold wedding ring. Who had put it on the grave? Why had Lena hurled it into the weeds? She turned, but already it was too late. He had disappeared back through the door through which he had come.

Adam Vasser stood on the roof terrace and gazed down over Kellston. The rain had stopped, but the air was still and heavy and full of thunder. He had that edgy, restless feeling that he always got when a storm was brewing. And it wasn’t just the weather that was rumbling towards him. Being summoned by his mother was never a good sign.

‘Be at the Heights in half an hour,’ she’d ordered when she phoned him.

No explanation, nothing. She just clicked her fingers and he was supposed to come running. He flexed his own fingers, feeling the ache in his knuckles. He’d watched the local news, but there had been nothing on it about the boy in Soho. Maybe he hadn’t been found yet. Or maybe he wasn’t even dead. Was that what his mother wanted to talk about? Had the bitch found out? Maybe she’d had Yeats following him around too.

He looked at his watch. Where was she? Typical that she got him to come rushing round and then couldn’t be arsed to turn up herself. Or maybe she just wanted to keep him waiting. Yeah, that was probably it. Leave him here kicking his heels while she went shopping for shoes or handbags.

He moved closer to the rail and gazed out in the direction of the lock-ups. It was coming up to the end of August and he’d have to make a decision soon. In the early hours of 1 September, the Colombians would make their delivery. Should he strike then or wait another month? If he went too soon, he might not be properly prepared, but if he waited, he took the risk of them changing their routine.

In his head, he had two separate plans. The first was to go in there all guns blazing as soon as the Colombians had left. There was a tiny window of opportunity then, a chance to take Chris Street and Solomon Vale by surprise as they were locking up. Although, when he said all guns blazing, they would actually have to have silencers fitted. The lock-up wasn’t close to any houses, but sound travelled and he didn’t want the filth turning up as they were clearing out the gear.

He played through this plan in his head like he was watching a movie, imagining the surprise of the two men, seeing their blood-spattered bodies crumple backwards and fall to the ground. Once Chris Street was eliminated, the firm was finished. With a huge stash of drugs, Adam could easily move in and take over Kellston.

He liked this plan, liked its dramatic qualities, but it also had a downside. The pigs would be crawling all over the place. Two murders, even if they were just local gangsters, would create a stir. Did he really want that kind of attention? It could make it difficult to operate, cause problems where they weren’t really needed.

Maybe, after all, he should go with Plan B. This was less fun but more practical. He’d noticed on the last delivery that it was Solomon Vale who’d done the locking up, who was carrying the keys. And this was where Louise came in. Once she’d inveigled her way into Vale’s bed, it shouldn’t be too hard to get a copy of those keys. He’d already provided her with a mould; now all she needed was the opportunity. Knowing Louise, it wouldn’t take her long. She was adept in the art of seduction, in getting any straight man to fall for her charms.

Plan B involved going into the lock-up in the middle of the night and snatching the gear before it had been distributed. There would be alarms – he was sure of it – but that didn’t matter. They could be in and out in a matter of minutes. By the time Chris Street arrived on the scene, it would all be too late. And then, with no goods to supply, he’d find himself out in the cold. The clients didn’t care who they bought their gear off. There was no loyalty in the drugs world.

There would be a backlash, though. There was little doubt about it. Chris Street would come after him, but how far would he go? From what he’d heard, Street didn’t have the heart for full-on gang warfare; he preferred the quiet life. And Terry Street wasn’t fit to organise a piss-up in a brewery. So long as Adam got his own firm established quickly enough,
violently
enough, the manor would be his for the taking.

He was still contemplating this when he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by his mother’s clicking footsteps on the hard wooden floor. His insides clenched the way they always did when a confrontation was in the offing. He knew from the tone of her voice on the phone that she hadn’t summoned him for a friendly chat. No, she was here to have a go at him over one thing or another.

‘Oh, you’re here,’ she said, looking towards the open French windows.

Adam moved back inside the living room. ‘I’ve been here for twenty minutes. I’ve been waiting for you.’

She gave a small shrug as if his waiting was neither here nor there to her. ‘Close those doors, will you? It’s about to piss down. I don’t want the curtains drenched.’

He did as she asked, aware of the sour look on her face. ‘So what do you want?’ he asked, eager to get it over and done with as soon as possible. ‘I’m busy. I’ve got things to do.’

‘We’ve all got things to do. You think I want to be running around after you?’

Adam gave a snort. If anyone was doing the running, it was him. Wasn’t he the one who’d had to leave the garage and come over here? Wasn’t he the one who’d been hanging around until she deigned to join him? But he didn’t say any of it. There wasn’t any point. So far as his mother was concerned, she was always in the right.

Lena sat down on the plush leather sofa, crossed her long legs and lit a cigarette. She took a few puffs before she raised her eyes to him again. ‘I know what you’ve been up to,’ she said.

Adam flinched, his hands instinctively curling into two tight fists. Shit, so she did know about the boy! ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Don’t give me that. You think I was born yesterday?’

‘I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’ His default position, whenever he was confronted by his mother, was to deny everything. ‘What are you going on about? What the fuck is this?’

‘Sit down,’ she said wearily.

He slouched down into an armchair and glared at her. The bitch was always on his case, never letting him alone. ‘So? What is it this time?’

‘Don’t give me that crap. You bloody well know what it is.’

There was a silence, which Adam didn’t fill. It was best, he found, to always keep his mouth shut until he was sure what she had got on him.

‘Well?’ she asked after a few seconds had ticked by. His mother wasn’t the patient sort.

‘Well what?’

She couldn’t contain herself any longer. ‘I know what you’re planning, and you must be bloody delusional if you think the Streets are going to let you do it. What’s the matter with you? Have you got a screw loose? Are you stark, raving mad?’

Adam felt relief that this wasn’t about the boy. After the incident with Bo, she’d sworn that she’d kick him into touch if it ever happened again. And he believed her. The bitch was more than capable, and he didn’t need that kind of grief with everything else that was going on. At the moment, he relied on her for every penny he earned, and so until he had the drugs, until he had the
power
, he’d better keep her sweet. ‘Ah,’ he said, flapping a hand dismissively. ‘Jesus, that was just talk. Who said I was planning anything?’

‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘I’m not lying,’ he said, deliberately looking her straight in the eye. ‘I’m not the one who goes sneaking around behind other people’s backs.’

She pulled hard on the cigarette, her lips pursing. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Maddie Layne?’ he said, hurling the name at her. He could see that she was startled, but she quickly composed herself again.

‘What about her?’

‘You’ve had Yeats following her. I saw it in that report.
She’s
the one who’s up to something, and you haven’t even bothered to tell me about it.’

Lena raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘And you’re accusing me of sneaking around. Christ, is nothing private in this place?’

‘If you don’t want anyone to look, you shouldn’t leave your stuff lying about. And anyway, that’s not the point. I’ve a right to know what’s going on. Has she gone to the law? Has she found out something? I need to know if the pigs are likely to turn up on my doorstep anytime in the near future.’

‘Probably,’ she snapped back, ‘if you carry on the way you’re going. You try and muscle in on the Streets and all hell’s going to break loose. You’ll have the filth crawling all over you – all over
us
.’

‘Jesus, not this again. I’ve already told you, there’s nothing going on. But I need to know about the girl. What else are you keeping from me? There must be something or you wouldn’t be paying Yeats to keep an eye on her.’

‘She’s just…’

‘Just what?’

‘Trying to stir things up again. It’s not important. No one’s taking any notice of her. Why should they?’

Adam could always tell when his mother was holding back – which was, as it happened, most of the time. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said sarcastically, ‘perhaps because we’re talking about a double murder here.’

‘Six years ago.’

He glared at her. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

‘If there was anything to tell, I would.’

‘Why do you always do this?’ he said, jumping to his feet and starting to pace restlessly around the room. ‘I’m not a kid any more. You don’t need to protect me. I’ve got a right to know if someone’s gunning for me. I’ve got a bloody right.’

‘Why?’ she answered curtly. ‘So you can go and do something stupid like you usually do? I’ve got it under control, okay? Don’t start interfering.’

‘Interfering? You’re the one who bloody interferes in everything.’

‘Just stay away from her. You’ll only make it worse.’

As he walked back and forth, Adam raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Worse? I thought you said there wasn’t a problem and now —’

‘There won’t be a goddamn problem if you just leave it alone.’ Lena stubbed out her cigarette and gave a sigh. ‘I’ve had enough of sorting out your mistakes. You fuck up again and you’re on your own.’

He stopped dead in the centre of the room, knowing exactly what she was referring to. The blood rushed to his cheeks. ‘And did I ever ask you? Did I? You’re the one who —’

‘Who what?’

There was a sharp, nasty silence while the two of them glared at each other. Adam felt his stomach lurch, the bile rising into his mouth. Whenever he thought about Bo Vale, he felt sick inside. ‘You know what. It was only money, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t worth killing for.’

‘My money,’ Lena said coldly. ‘Anyway, it’s done with. Let’s not go over it again.’ She rose to her feet, smoothing out her skirt.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I promised Delia I’d pop round.’

Adam’s lip curled. Delia Shields – someone else he couldn’t stand. A prissy, uptight spinster who always looked down her nose at him. As if she was anything special. He didn’t understand why his mother kept in contact with the stupid cow. ‘And that’s more important than this, is it?’

‘There’s nothing left to say, Adam. I think we’ve covered all the bases, haven’t we?’

‘You might have, but I’m just getting started.’

‘Well, would you mind saving it for another day?’ She glanced deliberately at her watch. ‘I don’t want to be late.’

‘Don’t let me keep you, then,’ he said resentfully.

‘I won’t.’

Adam watched as she swept out of the room in her usual haughty fashion, like some catwalk model past her sell-by date. Seconds later, he heard the front door close. ‘Fuck you,’ he muttered, making a hissing noise through his teeth.

He went through to the hallway and waited until he heard the smooth swish of the lift going down before returning to the living room. And then he started searching for the Yeats file. He wanted to take another look at it. Perhaps there was something that he’d missed first time round.

It wasn’t on the table or in the bureau. He checked the kitchen drawers, but there was nothing there except cutlery and tea towels and loose bits of string. Shit, perhaps she had put it in the safe. He went back into the living room and stared at the landscape on the wall. There was no point in even swinging the picture back – he didn’t have a clue what the combination was.

He was going to give up, but on a whim wandered through to her bedroom. His nose wrinkled at the pungent smell of perfume. The room was opulent, the walls painted in dark cream and gold, the curtains a heavy brocade. Like a tart’s boudoir, he thought. The bedding was a rich shade of red. A fancy chandelier with teardrop crystals hung from the ceiling.

He went over to the dressing table and pulled out the top drawer, full of knickers and bras and silk negligees. Tentatively, he prodded at them with his fingers. There was something faintly disgusting about touching his mother’s underwear. It made him wince, his insides curling up.

Suddenly, he thought of Bo and his perfect brown skin. He remembered being in the flat on the Mansfield estate. He remembered with a sharp stab to his heart the first time he’d ever kissed him, ever really touched him, running his hands across the planes of his stomach, the feel of his lips, the whispered words, the gentle caresses.

Pain and anger swelled up in his chest. He flinched as if hearing the door flung open again, as if seeing Greta’s face full of fury. He saw her look of shock and disgust, her eyes taking in everything, forgiving nothing. And from the second she walked in on them, there was no way back.

Unless…

She would keep quiet, Bo said, so long as they paid her. If they didn’t, she would let the whole of Kellston know about it. If they didn’t, she would take his kid away and never let him see the boy again. That’s what she was like – cruel and vengeful, the bitch from hell. But money, a few quid, a few thousand, would shut her up. Bo had begged, pleaded with him. How could he refuse? And anyway, he hadn’t wanted his private business broadcast to the world.

Blackmail – that’s what his mother had called it. Well, he’d had to get the cash from somewhere and she’d quickly figured out who’d been thieving from her. It hadn’t taken her long to get the truth out of him either. Her face loomed into his mind, her eyes flashing, her disgust and contempt as overwhelming as Greta’s. Only, his mother didn’t give a damn about his sexuality; she was just bothered about the money and the damage to her reputation if anyone found out.