The Price, page 12
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Henry Mantel
Mantel answered his phone.
‘Boss, there’s been an incident.’
‘What do you mean there’s been an incident, Jamie?’ Mantel asked, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the phone tighter in his hand. ‘When?’
‘In the night.’
‘In the night? Why the fuck didn’t you call me in the night?’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.’
‘Don’t let the police anywhere inside. You understand?’
‘The police have already been.’
Mantel paused, took a deep breath. ‘Who?’
‘Someone called Nowak. And then a second one joined him.’
‘What was the second officer’s name?’
‘I didn’t catch it, I’m sorry boss,’ Jamie replied.
‘Describe him.’
‘Black, about six foot, dark hair. Clean-shaven.’
Mantel sighed. Goodwin. Of course it would be George Goodwin. ‘Have the police gone?’
‘Forensics are still here.’
‘Okay, give me a second,’ Mantel said. He thought about Goodwin turning up at the club. He knew what was happening to him. He must, or else why would he be there?
‘Boss, I’ve checked the place. Nothing was taken. Just some stupid fucking kids I reckon. They only got £50 from the till, I’ll replace that from my own—’
‘No, no need. But Jamie, go check my office. Make sure you’re not watched.
‘Of course, um, what am I looking for?’
‘Go to the book case, make sure nothing looks out of place, and report back.’
‘Of course, Mr Ma—’
Mantel hung up before Jamie could finish his sentence. He was reeling, struggling to process what was happening. In his line of work there were always ups and downs, but nothing like this. Two of his businesses had been hit in two consecutive days. Only days after the raid at Hunter’s. It was now crystal clear that the people he owed, the people who had told him he had a week, weren’t honouring their side of the agreement. No one had ever dared to be so brazen before. He was being laughed at, publicly mocked, and he knew unless he took swift and decisive action, his reputation would be in tatters. He’d be like a lame old lion that was once head of a pride.
The hyenas would come for him.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mantel forced away the migraine that was threatening. And in the silence, he tried to formulate a plan in case the call came back not in his favour.
He didn’t have to wait long, as his phone began vibrating. He watched it ringing but didn’t pick it up straight away.
‘Fuck’s sake, Henry,’ he said to himself and snatched it up. ‘Well?’
‘The top shelf has been disturbed, books thrown on the floor. Some of the books are missing, I think.’
Mantel hung up. He’d heard enough. He dialled Tony.
‘You all right boss?’
‘The club’s been hit.’
‘What?’
‘Tony. Whoever it is, they must know where we keep our profits.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I think it’s someone who works for us.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘They’ve found more.’
‘A lot?’
‘Yeah, a lot, but that’s not the point though. Someone is stealing from me and I want to know who it is.’
‘Do you want me to drive to the club now?’ Tony asked.
‘No, the police are there.’
‘Police as in …’
‘I think so.’
‘That fucking copper.’
‘Goodwin is a prick,’ Mantel said. ‘But he’s doing his job. He’s supposed to try and stop me. Can’t blame him. But Tony, I was promised time to make amends for Hunter’s fuck-up, and they aren’t giving me it. And Tony, I’m thinking whoever this thief is, how do they know I have money stashed? How could they?’
‘Good question. I don’t know.’
‘There is only one answer I can think of. They are using one of my staff to do it. Someone who isn’t customer facing,’ Mantel said, not needing to say anymore, those who weren’t customer facing were making money illegally for him.
‘But how can you—’
‘I just know, Tony, don’t question me. Someone is fucking with me, and I want to know who.’
‘How’d you wanna do it?’
‘Get a list of everyone who’s worked for me over the past decade.’
‘On it.’
‘And find me someone who can sniff out a liar.’
‘Leave it with me.’
Once Tony had hung up, Mantel logged into the CCTV cloud for the nightclub. As he thought, a little after 3 a.m., the same man who’d targeted his café could be seen in the club. He watched him go into the office, and after much searching, take the box down from the top shelf of his bookcase.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ he said, closing the app; he had seen enough. Someone close to him was doing this, it had to be, and he wondered if it was someone in his garage.
Making sure no one was on their way up to see him, Mantel lowered himself to the floor. Pulling back a square of carpet, he opened a small hatch underneath and pulled out the contents that were stashed in the confined space. He had enough money here to pay back what he owed – and some – and the intention was to honour his word by cleaning it, processing it, and repaying what was lost. But if he did so now, he would appear weak. His career over. Instead he would pay someone to help find the disloyal employee, and he would find out who was behind the break-ins. And he would show them he wasn’t done yet. That the lion was still head of his pride.
Putting the money away, Mantel replaced the carpet square and walked out onto the gangway that overlooked the workshop. Staff were aware he was watching, he could sense them tense up. They all knew something was going on.
Normally, he’d dip back into his office, but today he needed to walk around his patch, and see his subordinates. Show them who was boss. Everyone would know he had been robbed, and he wanted them to see him out there smiling, without a care in the world. Like everything was in hand.
As he headed down the stairs, his staff continued to work, and down on the floor, they greeted him as he walked by.
‘Henry.’
‘Morning boss.’
‘Hello, Mr Mantel.’
He nodded, smiled, patted shoulders and moved like it was any other day. But as he smiled, he was trying to see if any of his staff looked guilty. As he continued through to the reception, he spotted young Ethan.
‘Hello kid.’
‘Mr Mantel. Everything all right?’
‘Yeah, just checking up on you. How are you liking it?’
‘It’s great, people are nice.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
Mantel looked around the space. Ethan kept it tidy, in order. The magazines and papers were neatly stacked. He liked that. The local rag was on top. There was a woman on the front cover, one Mantel thought looked familiar. Picking it up he read the headline.
‘Local mother needs your help.’
He read on, and it didn’t take long to understand where he knew the face from. It was Goodwin’s wife, who was talking about their struggle with their daughter. She was a copper too but her daughter’s illness would keep her off the force.
Pity.
He was about to discard the paper but then something caught his eye, something that might be helpful. To him, she was just the copper wife of George Goodwin, but it seemed Clara Goodwin had been a whole lot more when she worked for the Met. The article mentioned her stint in London, how she was a detective specialising in profiling criminals.
And it gave Mantel an idea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Clara
After another bad night, I wondered how long a person could survive without sleep. How long would it be before I would lose my mind and then die? I looked it up. The longest someone had stayed awake for was eleven days. It had only been a few for me and I was struggling. Everyday tasks were difficult to perform. Things I usually took in my stride. Feeding Tabatha, changing her, playing with her. It was tough going, my mind was foggy, my arms and legs ached. But then Tabatha was still smiling. She was still engaging. Even given how tired she must be as she recovered from her latest round of chemo. She still made the effort. She giggled as I sang to her and I couldn’t help but think she was only giggling for my benefit. Giggling because she couldn’t say to me, ‘It will be all right, Mummy. Everything will be all right. Just keep going.’
She couldn’t say it, but I heard her nonetheless.
Mum joined us, coming from the shop shortly after I finished with Tabatha’s breakfast. She took one look at me and frowned. She could see I hadn’t slept.
‘We got accepted, Mum, The email came from Philadelphia.’
‘We have?’ she said, and I could only nod in reply as more tears fell. Mum squealed and grabbed me, and we both laughed and cried.
‘Oh Clara, I’m so happy.’
‘Me too.’
She let me go and then picked up Tabs and hugged her.
‘Thank you, Mum, for helping make this happen.’
‘Nothing to thank me for, I want to be there for my daughter and my grandchild. Anyway, we have time in the future to celebrate, all the time we want, but right now, let’s make sure she gets on that plane. Where are we at?’
‘About a hundred and seven,’ I said.
‘It’s a lot.’
‘It is, and yet still over a hundred and twenty away.’
‘We will get there,’ she said. ‘Right, I’d better get ready for work. Hopefully another day’s trading will help us.’
‘We’ll come down with you. If it’s quiet, we can work out exactly what we need to do logistically, assuming we raise the money.’
‘We’ll raise the money, don’t you worry about that,’ Mum said confidently.
I followed her down the stairs and then made us both a coffee whilst Mum fussed Tabs. As she did, I quickly prepared the banking run. I smiled as I totalled up the latest takings from the shop and café. Things were going well. After covering bills, stock and staffing, there was almost four grand we could put into the fund – if Mum wanted to, of course. After all, it was her money. It was mostly from the café, though some was from bookshop sales and a small amount was the money I had taken from Tesco, accounted for as additional cups of coffee, an idea given to me by none other than Henry Mantel.
I showed Mum the paying-in book and she smiled. ‘It’s been busier. We might have to start banking daily. As soon as its banked, I’ll transfer it all into the fund.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, fighting back a tear.
‘As I said, nothing to thank me for.’
Above us I heard the flat door open. George must be back.
‘Go see him,’ Mum said. ‘I’ll open up, this little one can help me.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ I stood, clearing away our cups. As I washed up, I heard Mum speaking to a customer, a man, who must have been waiting outside. As soon as I heard his voice, I knew exactly who it was. My heart raced and I made my way quickly towards the front of the shop, instinctively feeling the need to move my daughter as far away from him as I could. As I reached Mum and took Tabs, Henry Mantel was browsing the crime section, but I could see he wasn’t interested in the books at all. His attention kept flicking to the back of the shop.
Mum approached him before I could tell her to leave him to it.
‘Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?’
‘No, just browsing.’
‘Well, I’m at the till if you need any help.’
Mum continued setting up, turning on the till and readying for a potential sale. She smiled, happy that the customers seemed to be coming earlier and earlier. I managed to smile back, but remained wary. Mantel moved along the shelves, from crime fiction to true crime. He picked up a few books, smiled, put them back, and continued to work his way down the shop. Keeping Tabatha with me, I walked towards the café, making myself look busy by grabbing a cloth and wiping the tables. Tabs was heavy in my arms, but I didn’t dare put her down. If George was right about everything, there was an extremely dangerous man browsing our bookshelves.
Another customer walked in, a lady Mum knew, and they both headed towards the café. The woman was a similar age to Mum and she took a seat and chatted as Mum made her a coffee. I recognised her as one of the regulars, though I didn’t know her name. Mantel drew ever closer to the café, and then quietly took a seat himself.
‘I’ll be just a sec,’ she said, smiling his way as she walked the black Americano to the other table. He didn’t smile back.
‘It’s okay, Mum, I’ll help.’
I handed Tabs to her and the two women started fussing over her as I walked over to Mantel.
‘What can I get you?’
‘Oh, a cappuccino would be fine. To go, I’ll not be staying.’
‘Of course,’
Making his drink, I kept an eye on him. Two more people walked into the shop and came over to the café. They took seats, and Mum put Tabs down in the children’s area, then took their order. I made Mantel’s coffee and handed it to him.
‘Is there anything else I can get you?’ I asked.
‘You know I own the Bean Hut, right?’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘I’m sure you know, it’s closed at the moment.’
‘Yes, I saw something online. I’m sorry about the break-in.’
He waved me off. ‘And I’ve heard a lot of my customers are coming here now.’
‘Yes, we’ve certainly seen more coming over the last couple of days. I’m sure once you’re open and trading again, they’ll come back.’
Mantel didn’t comment and instead looked over to Tabs on the play mat. It took every ounce of strength not to grab his face and force his gaze away from my daughter.
‘She sick?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Your daughter, she looks sick.’
‘She has cancer,’ I replied, making sure I didn’t blink, making sure he saw in my eyes not to fuck with me.
‘I know,’ he said, and I had to wonder if he knew, why did he ask? The answer was clear. Cruel prick.
‘What do you want?’ I asked, trying and failing to hold back my anger. I couldn’t work out what kind of person you’d have to be to know someone is poorly but ask about it so indelicately.
‘The paper says you need to raise a lot of money.’
‘Yes.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘We are getting there.’
He took a sip of his coffee. ‘It’s good.’
‘Mr Mantel, what do you want?’
‘You know my name?’
‘Everyone does.’
‘Well, Mrs Goodwin, or rather, DI Goodwin,’ he said, stressing the DI. ‘I want to help you.’
‘Help me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know who my husband is?’
‘Of course, good old George,’ Mantel said.
‘I don’t need your help, Mr Mantel.’
‘Your FundMyCause page, which is still not even halfway to your target, says otherwise.’
I wanted to ask him to leave, to remind him that although I wasn’t an active police officer, my husband, who was upstairs, above our heads, was. Mantel knew George was investigating him and I should have told him to fuck off. But I was curious as to what he was going to say in case it was anything that would help my daughter, anything at all.
‘So, do you want my help?’
‘Fine, I’ll bite.’
Mantel stood, picked up his coffee and went back to the crime section to browse the books. I followed. Mum looked up, and I gestured that it was okay, that I would help the customer. Making sure that neither she nor anyone else could hear me, I spoke first.
‘You know I shouldn’t be talking to you?’
‘And yet, here we are.’
‘Only because I want to hear what you have to say that might help my daughter.’
‘They say that you are red-hot at profiling criminals.’
‘Who’s they?’
‘Doesn’t matter, are you?’
‘I’ve done a bit.’
‘Now don’t be modest, neither of us have the time.’
‘Fine, yes. I’m good at profiling people.’
‘Including me?’
‘Yes, including you.’
‘So tell me, what kind of man am I?’
‘How is this relevant?’
‘Call it a test.’
He looked at me, enjoying himself. But if it helped my daughter, I’d do anything. ‘Fine, you are a man who is used to getting his own way. You naturally control a room, and understand how to manipulate people to your liking. You are smart, educated, although not traditionally, and making money comes easily to you.’
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘You take pride in what is yours. I’m guessing your house is immaculate, your wife is younger than you and your children are model students in school.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Because for you, your name isn’t just a name, it’s a brand.’
He nodded, a small smile catching the corner of his mouth. I had passed the test.
‘I have a problem, Mrs Goodwin.’
‘If this has anything to do with my husband …’
‘No, this isn’t about him.’
‘What’s this about then?’
‘As you know, someone robbed me.’
‘And?’
‘Last night, a club of mine was hit too.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope they catch whoever did it,’ I said, trying my best not to look nervous as I was sure Mum was now watching.
‘I don’t know who it is.’
‘So, find out.’
‘I was thinking this morning,’ he continued, ignoring me, ‘who would know how to find a criminal better than a copper?’
‘What is it you’re saying?’
