The Outsider, page 18
‘Would you? For the money?’
‘No, obviously not. Look, can’t you just walk out? The more complicated you make it the more likely it is that you’ll get found out.’ Especially because you’re really bad at lying.
‘I can’t. I don’t have any money, or any friends. I don’t have anywhere to go or anyone I can trust. I’ve only got my mum and he’d find me straightaway.’ She wasn’t crying but the lifeless tone of her voice was almost worse than tears.
Opal would kill me for getting involved, but I couldn’t ignore the danger she was in. I thought about what I’d said to Maeve about wanting to stop bad things from happening instead of dealing with the consequences. What was the point of being a police officer if you couldn’t help someone in Naomi’s position?
‘I can get you some money. Not a lot, but enough to give you a head start. A car. I can leave the keys in one of Geraint’s vehicles. Your best plan is just to drive away and keep going. Dump the car as soon as you can. Don’t go anywhere you know anyone. Pick somewhere and keep your head down.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘He’ll kill you either way.’ It was brutal, but I had to get through to her. I’d seen this before, from the other end – standing over a dead woman, arresting her husband when it was all far too late.
‘I know.’ She took the phone back and slid it into the waistband of her jeans. ‘I can’t leave unless I have somewhere to go. Somewhere to hide. They’ll come after me.’
‘Maybe not. Geraint has other things on his mind. He might be able to persuade Bruno to let you go.’
She shook her head. ‘He’ll want me back. I’m not leaving my daughter behind.’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘You know that Geraint will never forgive me for taking Tessa. He’ll go to the ends of the earth to find her and punish me.’ She shrugged. ‘There’s no future for me here. Bruno will kill me if I stay. I need to go, but I can’t leave Tessa, and once I take her, I’m dead. These people said they can help me. I know I shouldn’t trust them, but I have no choice.’
The beginnings of an idea began to form in the back of my mind. I couldn’t decide if it was ethical, or even sensible.
‘What if you could get them locked up instead? Bruno and Geraint?’
‘How?’
I wasn’t a gambler – quite the opposite – but there were times when it was the only appropriate course of action. I put it all on red and hoped for the best. ‘I’m only telling you this because I want to help you and I can’t see another way to do it. I’ve heard the police are interested in what they’re doing. They’re trying to recruit someone to find out what they can about Geraint’s businesses and plans for the future. They would pay for information.’
Her face remained blank. ‘That’s nothing to do with me.’
‘No, me neither. I heard about it, that’s all.’ Back-pedalling furiously. It only dawned on me a moment later that she wasn’t interested because she simply didn’t have room in her head for anything other than her own worries, not because she was loyal to Geraint. ‘Naomi, if you can help the police, they can help you, that’s all. If you hang on for a week, or a month, your problems might go away instead of you having to run away from them. And as I said, if you can find out anything useful, you might be in line for a pay-out from the police that would give you enough to start a new life somewhere else while Bruno is in prison. You could get away from him for good.’
‘I don’t think I can wait any longer.’ It was a whisper. I was about to argue with her, to persuade her that staying was less of a risk than going, when she turned back the sleeve of her jumper so I could see a row of inflamed marks all the way up her arm: cigarette burns. ‘He’s getting worse and worse.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re kind.’ She tried to smile and her lower lip split, a thin line of dark red blood running down it. She seemed oblivious. ‘The thing is, I need to do this my way. I only get one chance at this. And like you said, I’m dead anyway.’
25
Naomi and her problems occupied my thoughts, in the absence of anything else specific to worry about. I watched her covertly, noticing how she flinched when Bruno walked into the room. I watched Bruno too, looking for signs that he was getting more unstable, more overt in his manipulation of her. I’d been trained to spot different stages and risk factors in domestic violence, but that had been years earlier. I could have done with a refresher course. What I half-remembered was that a period of violence could be followed by a calmer phase, but that was no less dangerous for the victim. Bruno on drugs was unpredictable and uncontrolled; Bruno sober was more likely to notice that his wife was edging towards leaving him.
I still thought that I could make use of Naomi, if she was prepared to spy for me, and that it would be far safer for her than trying to run away, but she had avoided me ever since the meeting in the woods. At least she hadn’t given me away, I thought, as I tried to sleep. It was hard not to strain to hear raised voices coming from the family’s wing of the house. It was hard not to scan Naomi for the physical signs of Bruno’s violence.
A couple of days after I’d met Naomi in the woods I ran into Juliet by the garage, where I was washing the unused Mercedes for want of anything better to do. She was wearing a clinging polo-necked jumper, skin-tight black jodhpurs and riding boots polished to a high shine, and she was carrying a riding crop.
‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘Ballet.’
‘How did you know?’ She was playing with the end of the riding crop, as if it was the only thing that interested her. ‘It was actually my dressage lesson. You should have come to watch.’
‘I was busy.’
‘You’re always busy.’ She pouted but I had the sense it was automatic; her attention was elsewhere. Her eyes were focused on something behind me. I looked back, casually, and realised she was staring at the chauffeur’s apartment. When she spoke again, her voice was low. ‘Can we talk for a minute? Somewhere private?’
‘Sure.’ I threw the sponge into the steaming bucket of soapy water at my feet and walked into the garage. When I turned around, she was right behind me. She put a hand on my arm and pulled me close to her.
‘Make it look as if we’re flirting.’ Her face was strained, her expression a million miles away from seduction.
I leaned an elbow on the roof of the nearest car – the Aston Martin – and traced the curve of her cheek with my thumb, slowly. Her face was tight with tension.
‘Naomi talked to me.’ It was a murmur, nothing more, and I had to strain to hear the words.
‘Did she?’ Shit. I’d taken a chance with Naomi, even though I hadn’t said that I was connected with the police myself. I began to think of ways to talk myself out of it before Juliet took her concerns to her father. An approach by a stranger – of course I hadn’t wasted any time on it. And I hadn’t mentioned it to Geraint because … because …
‘She said you offered to help her get away.’ Juliet’s eyes were wide, beseeching. ‘She said she turned you down.’
‘I’m worried about her.’
‘Me too.’ Juliet swallowed. ‘Bruno was always mean, you know. I avoided him, even when I was tiny. He would break my toys just to see me cry. He punishes anyone who’s weaker than him. Anyone who Dad loves is fair game.’
‘I’ve noticed that.’ I switched to stroking her hair and she shook her head as if I was an irritating fly. I should have guessed that her hair was off limits. I ran my other hand down her arm instead, and she shivered, but not from pleasure.
‘You notice everything. I told her she should have taken you up on your offer – if you meant it.’
‘My offer.’
‘The car. The money.’
So Naomi hadn’t given me away by mentioning the police informant role I’d had in mind. It was a shame that I couldn’t recruit Juliet, I thought, because she would be the ideal person to find out what was going on, but she was too loyal to Geraint for me to take that risk.
‘I did mean it, but it’s dangerous for her.’
‘And you.’
‘I don’t care about that. But … couldn’t your dad help?’
‘He won’t do anything.’ She shut her eyes for a moment. ‘Family comes first, you see. She’s an outsider. Bruno is Dad’s priority, even though he’s a piece of shit.’
‘I can understand that.’
‘Can you? I can’t.’ She sighed. ‘Last night, Bruno choked her so hard she blacked out. She wet herself.’
I winced. It was a bad sign that he felt confident enough to choke her until that point. ‘It’s involuntary when you lose consciousness like that.’
‘That didn’t stop him from punishing her for it.’ Juliet moistened her lips. ‘I’ve got some money. Some cash. I was saving it in case … in case I ever needed it.’ In case the door of the gilded cage was ever open. I felt very sorry for Juliet. ‘I want Naomi to have it. If I give it to you, can you make the other arrangements, like you were saying?’
‘If she’ll go.’
‘She has to.’
‘What’s going on here?’ Den was standing outside the garage, peering in. I stepped back, my hands up.
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing? So I’m nothing? Charming.’ Juliet glared at me and sashayed out to Den, who was grinning. ‘Forget you saw anything, Den, all right?’
‘Yes, please.’ I came out of the shadows, looking rueful.
‘Bit of advice, Mark, speaking from experience. You’ve got to watch the Carter women. They’re a lot of work. Worth it though,’ Den added hastily, as Juliet’s eyes widened.
‘As if he’d get the chance. As if—’ Juliet broke off. A loud yell, full of rage, filled the air.
‘Den? Mark? Get in here.’
Geraint, in a towering rage. I set off at a run; there was a time and place for being casual and this was not it. Harry met us at the back door, his face troubled.
‘I was just coming to find you.’
‘What’s up?’
‘Study.’ Harry jerked his thumb in that direction. ‘He’s waiting for you. Don’t hang about.’
‘And I suppose I’m not allowed to know about it. Fantastic.’ Juliet pushed past me and disappeared into the kitchen, her boots loud on the floor.
Den went into the room ahead of me. ‘What’s up, Geraint?’
‘They’ve been arrested.’ Geraint’s voice was already raw with anger and fear. He had come straight from the golf course and his outfit was incongruously jaunty: patterned trousers and a pale blue jumper. It clashed with his face, which was dark red, a stroke or a heart attack waiting to happen.
‘Who have?’
‘Boxton, Manners and Burniford,’ Harry said. ‘Last night. We just heard.’
Looking shocked was no effort. I assumed that Opal had found out something alarming enough to make her pull the trigger on arresting them, but I wished I’d had some warning.
‘Oh shit,’ Bruno drawled from where he was half-lying on a sofa, looking unmoved. He was wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt but I guessed he’d thrown them on to come downstairs; his hair was all over the place and his face was puffy from sleep. ‘That doesn’t sound like good news for us, does it?’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ Geraint swung around, staring, wild-eyed. ‘I don’t think they would give me away deliberately, but we have to assume the police will come here next. We have to make sure there isn’t anything here that could get us in trouble.’
‘But the plans are all in your head, aren’t they?’ I said.
‘You’ve been upstairs. You know what’s up there.’ His breathing was rapid. ‘I wouldn’t be able to explain it away.’
I held up a hand, genuinely worried that he was going to collapse. ‘Calm down. Your collection is of historical interest. It’s got nothing to do with whatever Boxton and Burniford and Manners were planning, which you knew nothing about. If the cops turn up here and search the place, we don’t want them finding any guns, so I’d move them, but everything else? You’re a keen student of history. That’s it.’
‘What about the computers?’ Den asked, and I could have killed him. ‘We should wipe them.’
Geraint grimaced. ‘I don’t like that idea either. Getting rid of all the information seems risky. I’d want to go through it – see what I want to keep. And I don’t have time for that.’
‘We can hide them too.’ I snapped my fingers. ‘There’s a storage place I used in Swindon. The guy who runs it doesn’t ask any questions. If we box up the computers and the guns and anything else that you don’t want to see the light of day, I can take it over to him. He has fuck-all in the way of CCTV or records – it’s all cash in hand. The best way to make them disappear.’ Disappear right into Opal’s hands, did Geraint but know it.
He nodded. ‘Right. All the computers. All the guns.’
‘How did they find out about the others? Do we have a leak?’ Den looked around at the rest of us, wary. I felt my stomach clench.
‘It’s going to be that stupid fucker Boxton’s guys who got arrested.’ Bruno yawned. ‘Bet the other three wish they hadn’t been so chummy with one another. All those meetings without us, laying a trail for the cops to follow.’
‘Why do you think I didn’t mind staying on the outside?’ Geraint folded his arms, looking happier. ‘I never pushed to be one of the big boys. They thought I was intimidated, and I let them think that. But now I have deniability and they have connections they can’t explain away.’
‘What’s the plan?’ I asked.
‘Harry, get hold of some boxes. Den and Mark, you start putting everything together. Bruno, get dressed for fuck’s sake. When all the stuff is packed up, Mark, take it to your guy in Swindon, then come back here.’ Geraint sighed. ‘And I’d better call my lawyer.’
I was convinced that something would go wrong – that someone would reconsider handing over all of the most incriminating material in Geraint’s house to me, a virtual stranger, to be deposited with someone they didn’t know in a place they couldn’t locate – but Den and a reluctant Bruno helped me to clear the estate’s van of miscellaneous tools and equipment, and then loaded it up neatly with everything I could possibly have wanted to hand over to Opal. The hard part, as they saw it, was driving a load of contraband goods to Swindon without getting stopped by the police. Geraint gave me to understand that, if that happened, I was on my own, and I agreed that I would take the blame for the guns and the really quite impressive array of weaponry he owned: swords, daggers, shuriken and katanas, as well as a handful of grenades that seemed all too viable. I drove to Swindon carefully, and went to the lock-up, and unloaded the boxes, and told the bristle-faced and yawning man in charge to send the bill to Opal.
‘Right you are.’ Not a hint of excitement, but he was already lifting the phone when I left.
I headed back to Haulton House with the radio turned up, singing along to classic rock, euphoric. It couldn’t have worked out better – a dream result. I went in the back gate and parked the van out of sight behind a barn, to be cleaned later, then made my way to the house to give Geraint the good news.
They were all in the kitchen when I let myself in, which wasn’t in itself unusual: the whole family and Harry, standing around the table. What was unusual was the atmosphere in the room, which was practically solid with tension. The cheery greeting died on my lips as I took in grim faces, Cassie holding hands with her mother, Juliet and Naomi in floods of tears with their arms around each other. Juliet stared straight at me, desperately trying to convey some sort of message, but I couldn’t interpret it quickly enough.
‘What’s going on?’
Geraint turned. ‘Ah, Mark. Glad you’re back.’
He didn’t look glad.
I had an instant physical reaction – pure knee-trembling, gut-clenching fear – as he stepped aside to show me what lay in the middle of the table.
A mobile phone.
Geraint folded his arms. ‘So what do you have to say about that?’
26
‘A phone?’
I came forward to look at it as if I’d never seen it before. It took a moment for me to convince myself that it wasn’t mine, to confirm that I was safe. But if it wasn’t mine …
‘Whose is it?’ I asked, and my voice sounded normal to me even though my thoughts were running at a hundred miles an hour.
‘That’s what we want to know.’ Geraint looked around the room. ‘We’re just waiting for someone to remember it belongs to them.’
‘Where did you find it?’
‘In the mud room, at the back of one of the shelves.’ Den was looking unhappy. ‘While you were out, Ger decided we should search the whole house in case there were any listening devices or signs that someone was watching us.’
I thought of the secret phone that was in my bedroom, tucked behind a skirting board I’d loosened for the purpose, and thanked my guardian angel that it had been a quick and shoddy hunt through the house. No POLSA team that I’d ever worked with would have missed it.
‘I wanted to know if someone was spying on us. I never thought it might be a member of the family passing information to the police.’ Geraint’s voice was granite-rough.
‘Big leap to think this is anything to do with the police, isn’t it?’
‘Is it?’ he snapped, and I held my hands up.
‘OK. It could be that. Can I have a look at it?’
‘Help yourself.’
The phone was switched on but not unlocked, the screen asking for a password. I weighed it in my hand. ‘This could belong to anyone who was in the house and came in through the mud room, which is everyone except your guests and the family. A plumber or an electrician. The florist. One of the personal trainers. A housekeeper.’ I dropped my voice, addressing Geraint. ‘Look, we know that the other three were compromised because of Boxton’s men being arrested. You haven’t been contacted yet. That means the trail stops with them. Boxton’s guys don’t know about you, so you’re all right. This phone is nothing. A red herring.’
