Chapter 17

By the time we got back to the office, Nicky had gone home. We decided our best bet would be to trace the whereabouts of Jack Dawe, the private investigator who had abandoned Alice’s commission and escaped back home to Peterborough. That’s if Peterborough was his home.

It struck us both as odd that a person running a successful business - because if Alice had researched him, he must have had a reasonable reputation - would suddenly disappear, almost as if he feared for his life. But then, out there was a killer who had slaughtered Alice’s family, and more recently Ricky Bishop, just because he found out who this Eclipse was. And Brad Shapiro had confirmed Eclipse’s identity, who was a man named Alexei based in Krakow. So it seemed Chapmays was working for Eclipse in this country, stopping anyone from getting at the truth.

‘Alice’s old man must have been heavily involved with some really vicious bastards,’ Bill observed as he turned the computer on. ‘It has to be Mafia, or organised crime on a large scale.’

‘That’s why we need to find out who threatened this investigator. And whoever it was had enough of a reputation to scare him off.’

Bill stared at the computer screen, his eyes fierce and penetrating. ‘You don’t think we might be getting in too deep?’ He glanced across the desk in my direction. ‘This is more dangerous than anything we’ve ever done.’

I laughed the fear away. ‘What about our time in Angola? It’s how you ended up with pins holding your ankle together.’

‘A Jeep hitting an IED’s nothing compared to this... this weird and freaky hostility. It’s enough to send shivers down the old cliché.’

‘You’re not getting second thoughts about this, are you?’

Bill didn’t reply, concentrating on the screen. ‘Here we are. That’s useful. There are only two people named Dawe in Peterborough.’

‘There may be some who are ex-directory,’ I pointed out.

‘There may be one or two shut Dawes, but let’s walk through the open Dawes first.’

I groaned, but couldn’t resist adding, ‘And then you can see if there are any Jars in the area.’

‘I’m going to hate myself for asking - ’ Bill grinned.

‘When is a Dawe not a Dawe?’ I explained. ‘When it’s a Jar.’

‘Steed threatens steed, and fire answers fire,’ Bill quoted. ‘And groan answers groan.’

It had always been like that in the past. Whenever we got into a tight spot we’d go into terrible gags mode. It relieved the tension.

He picked up the desk phone. ‘Shall I be mother?’

‘Shame Nicky’s not here. She’s excellent at performing.’

‘Don’t you mean lying?’ He dialled the number and waited for about four rings. ‘Hello, Mr Dawe? My name is Bill Walters. This may seem a bit strange, but I’m trying to trace an old mate of mine from our army days - we were great buddies back in the nineties - and I just wondered if this might be your son or brother, because I know John - who we used to call Jack, comes from Peterborough.’ Bill paused as he listened carefully. ‘Ah, well, that does tend to alter things more than slightly. Sorry to have troubled you. Thank you for your time and good luck with your wedding.’

He hung up and explained, ‘Geezer in his early twenties, getting married next week, and no relation to our Dawe.’

‘Here,’ I said, stretching across the desk and grabbing the phone. ‘I can’t let you do all the work. You’ll only sulk.’ I read the other number from the monitor and dialled it. I waited for a long while, and was about to hang up when it was answered. I heard a television playing in the background.

‘Hello?’ Who is it?’ The voice was cracked with age, and the rising inflection made him sound startled, as if he never received phone calls.

‘You don’t know me, Mr Dawe...’ I began, but he cut in.

‘Is this one of those sales calls, because if it is...’

It was my turn to interrupt. ‘Not at all, Mr Dawe. I’m a friend of your son.’ I paused, hoping he had a son. ‘I know his name’s John, but in the army we always called him Jack. I’ve lost his address, and I promised I’d look him up. I live in London but I happen to be in Peterborough tomorrow, so I thought it was good opportunity to sink a few beers with him.’

A brief pause while he digested the information. Then: ‘Well, I’m not so sure about this. John asked me not to give out his address if anyone got in touch.’

Bingo! It looked like I’d hit on the right one. I gave Bill a thumbs up sign as I spoke to the father.

‘I quite understand. I’ve got his phone number, only he doesn’t seem to be answering.’

‘He don’t want anyone calling him.’

‘But I only spoke to him at his office in London about six weeks ago. And he definitely wanted me to look him up. He gave me his address, I scribbled it on a bit of paper but I’m afraid I’ve lost it. He’ll be really annoyed if he knows I was in Peterborough and didn’t call to see him.’

He dropped his voice, speaking conspiratorially, a losing battle to compete with the blaring television.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I can’t hear you, Mr Dawe.’

‘Hang on a minute.’

I waited while he went and turned the volume down. When he came back, he said, ‘That’s better. Now where were we?’

‘You were about to let me have John’s address.’

‘You got a pen and paper?’

‘Fire away.’

‘But I think there’s something I’ve got to tell you. John’s been suffering from depression lately. He hardly goes out.’

‘I think as one of his closest mates when we were in the army... if I can’t cheer him up no one can.’

Reluctantly, as if he was still unsure of whether he was doing the right thing, Dawe’s father said, ‘Well, if you’re sure it’s all right.’

‘Positive,’ I assured him. ‘Now where is it he lives?’ He gave me the address and I scribbled it on a notepad. ‘Oh, I think it would be nice if you didn’t warn him I was turning up tomorrow.’

Suspicion crept into his voice. ‘Why’s that then?’

‘It’ll be a nice surprise. I can picture his face when he opens the door.’ I clocked Bill’s sardonic expression, and gave him a cocky grin as I ended the conversation. ‘I wouldn’t want you to spoil the surprise. He’ll be over the moon when he sees me. I’ll really cheer him up. So thanks for your help, Mr Dawe.’

‘Your welcome, son. But I didn’t catch your name.’

I hung up.

‘Nice one, Freddie. So it’s off to Peterborough first thing tomorrow.’

I sighed. ‘As long as it’s not a wasted journey. Even if and when we confront Mr Jack Dawe, he might be so shit-scared we might not get anything out of him.’

‘There are ways and means.’

‘You mean, we might have to lean on him a little? Poor bastard. If there was any justice in the world, we should leave him alone. Let him sink into obscurity.’

I saw Bill’s lips tighten in that determined expression I knew from old.

‘No way. If he has any information to stop this cold-blooded killer from murdering any more people, he ought to share it with us.’