Thursday 1 November, 1.15 p.m.
Sometimes, Joanna thought, when you visit the scene of an accident, you are surprised at the lack of physical clues. People could die and leave little trace. Joanna had visited the scenes of fatal stabbings and seen hardly a bloodstain. She’d entered houses where there had been a fatal domestic dispute and seen all in order. People could be abducted, as in the case of Zachary Foster, or murdered, or suffer life-changing injuries and leave no evidence. But the point where Mike had been knocked down was well marked. Not only by police tape. A shop window was cracked; there was blood on the pavement, broken glass, a piece of black plastic – at a guess some of the bumper. And a couple of long rubber tyre marks. Two personnel in white forensic suits were gathering evidence and the entire width of the pavement was marked off with police tape and indicator arrows. She approached the team. ‘Anything?’
One of them shook his head. ‘Nothing new,’ he said. ‘Nothing we didn’t already know as we have the vehicle. Looks like the vehicle came from the side street.’
‘That’s what Korpanski said.’
‘You’ve seen him?’
‘He asked to see me.’
‘How is he?’
‘Not great.’
‘How’s his leg?’
‘Looks like time will tell,’ she said. ‘Apparently it’s too early to say.’
The two guys couldn’t find any words except to look at each other, their faces grave.
‘Deliberate targeting, Joanna. Hit-and-run. Stolen vehicle.’
And she could do little but ask they be thorough in their search for any evidence as to who had tried to murder her best colleague.
Then she left the scene.
Friday 2 November, 10.05 a.m.
In the house in Mill Street, Zachary was sitting on the bed, looking around, when Fifi entered the room. ‘Hey, old man,’ she said. ‘You want a cup of tea?’
‘I …’ and Zachary stopped as he looked at her. Which sent the creeps up Fifi. What if he recognized her when all this was over? She was pretty recognizable with her swollen, red nose. She’d kill the guy who’d suggested she have a bloody nose ring.
Maybe she should wear a face mask like she’d seen in the movies?
Zac frowned and shook his head, puzzled, unable to work any of it out.
11 a.m.
Kath was pleased with herself. Her little plan was going like clockwork. So far. Thanks to her magic pills, Zac spent most of the time sleeping. The rest of the time he wasn’t eating much. Fifi had given him a slice of pizza but she’d said he’d had trouble eating it, partly because he was so sleepy and partly because he did not have a full set of teeth. She and Debs took it in turns to keep an eye on the old guy while Kath laid her plans for the next stage. Apart from the fact that he pissed (sometimes in his pyjama trousers), and when he was awake he whinged, they weren’t complaining, although Fifi said he hardly shut up about his missing teddy. She said she’d tried giving him a teddy she’d nicked off her little sister, but he kept throwing it back at her so she took it off him. ‘You’d have thought,’ Fifi said when she was telling Kath her woes, ‘that one bloody teddy’s the same as any other to a dement.’
Kath didn’t respond. She was in her own little world where Piercy was begging for mercy and she kicked her right in the teeth. Then in her big, pregnant belly. Then in her head, then in her … She looked up. ‘What’d you say?’
Fifi harrumphed and Kath returned to her world. It was all a matter of timing, she thought. Early afternoon would be the best. Get him out there, make the call. By four thirty it would be dusk. Just the right time for sending her out to the moors. And to delay her little team she would scatter breadcrumbs. The old guy’s slippers. Maybe a bit of white hair caught on a twig. Make it convincing.
She almost rubbed her hands together. This was better than a snort of cocaine.
Feeling ignored, Fifi stomped back upstairs. With the result that the next time Zac complained it was the wrong teddy, he got short shrift from his jailer. ‘I know that, you stupid fucker,’ she snarled, ‘but it’s the only one we’ve got so you’d better get used to it.’
But Zac didn’t. He threw it to the floor with a defiant glare and the sad little toy lay there, twisted, unwanted, unloved and neglected.
Debs was even shorter tempered with him than Fifi. When he was actually awake enough to start complaining, she was tempted to smack him, but she held back. This mad old man was vital to Kath’s plans. If she so much as touched him, Kath would vent her anger right on her head. She’d seen it happen before – Kath lose her temper with one of her mates. Being a mate of Kath’s didn’t protect you from her violence or her anger. So she kept the old man as quiet as possible by feeding him the sleeping tablets. Jubilee had warned her via Chi they were strong and he couldn’t have more than one in twenty-four hours. But Kath took no notice of that and so neither did Debs or Fifi. Chi was giving them a wide berth and when they did see her she was on edge, but Jubilee had turned up a couple of times to check they were looking after him properly. ‘Where’d you get a conscience from?’ Kath jeered and twisted the knife. ‘If it wasn’t for you, your patient wouldn’t even be here. It’s all your fault. And don’t think the police won’t put two and two together. They’ll know it was an inside job. Anyway …’ Kath’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought once you’d got the money, you and Chi was going to do a runner.’
But Jubilee was one of the few people in the world who was not intimidated by Kath. She’d found some strength from somewhere. So she responded carefully. ‘Chi and I might take a small holiday. When Mr Foster is back in his bed in Ryland’s Residential Home. Now let me see him.’
All three of the captors looked guilty when Jubilee entered Zac’s room. Her eyes took in the bindings that kept him on the bed, his stertorous breathing, and her nose recognized the smell. She turned on Debs, who was nearest. ‘Why are you not looking after him properly?’
Debs had her answer ready, up her sleeve. ‘Because I’m not a fucking nurse.’
‘You are giving him too much sedation and you need to wash him.’
Debs stared her out but Kath looked at her, sensing the potential for trouble.
‘OK,’ she said.
Jubilee bent over the bed. ‘You will soon be back, Mr Foster.’
And she kissed his forehead.
Kath was glad to see her go.
When she’d seen her out, she sat rubbing her finger over the broken tooth.
She was nearly there.
As Jubilee walked back down the road, she was sick with guilt and worry. She had been forced to do this and right now she was regretting it bitterly. Even conjuring up her dream of Jamaica wasn’t helping. The images of white sand, blue sea, green palms didn’t look quite so attractive now and, besides, she’d heard in the news yesterday that there was a big problem of gun crime over there and tourists were being advised to steer clear of Kingston. And then the newscaster had added, ‘And the gun violence is spreading to other towns too.’
And when Chi rang her they had both worried. ‘Straight from the devil right into the deep blue sea. The world is full of villains.’
Chi’s response had been, ‘At least Kath doesn’t carry a gun.’
‘Because she doesn’t need to. That person can do it all with fists and a knife.’
Jubilee’s sense of guilt was eating away at her. She had put Zac into the jaws of the crocodile. After stealing his beloved toy and selling it. So now who’s the psycho? she asked herself. But, she reasoned, she hadn’t planned on his abduction. No one could blame her for that.
Oh, yes, they could, her conscience said. It was your hand he slipped his into. When you put your finger to your lips and said ‘Sssh,’ he obliged. He trusted you.
‘I’ll help you find it,’ you whispered. ‘I’ll take you to your teddy. Come on.’
She’d held out her hand and, childlike, unsuspecting and innocent, he’d taken it. She’d lured him so he hadn’t demurred or made a sound but had kept silent, tiptoeing out of his room, waiting for her to check no one was around, not even waking his vigilant roommate who would have raised the alarm. He had walked beside her, which reminded her of a song her granny used to sing when she was a little girl, ‘I’ll walk beside you …’ She couldn’t remember any more of it, only her grandma, singing it to her. But now, unwelcome, it simply conjured up the image of Zac. Less like taking candy from a baby, more like leading a lamb to the slaughter, she realized. And now, too late, she realized how deeply involved she was. She had been the catalyst. Without her cooperation, Zac Foster would still be lying in his bed. The police had already started asking uncomfortable questions. It was only a matter of time.
What she didn’t know was why Kath had needed him.
She wished heartily that she’d never read that bloody article and recognized the toy for what it was, wished that Zac hadn’t confirmed its value. They had the money now but it was bringing her no joy.
She hated herself. Not even the thought of a shedload of money, landing in Kingston, going home to Spanish Town, something she’d wanted so badly all her life, could replace the feeling of self-disgust. And when she’d delivered him to the car where Chi had been waiting, her new friend’s face had mirrored her own expression. Self-loathing.
Then there was the question of the sleeping tablets. Jubilee might not be a trained nurse but she did know that old people and large doses of sleeping tablets don’t mix too well. Chi had apologized for asking for more. ‘Just in case he’s a bit upset.’ Which hadn’t fooled her for a minute. So she’d stolen them, which had been the easy part. The medicine trolley was not checked frequently and there was always the occasional inmate who refused them. Checks were loose so she’d pocketed plenty. But as she’d handed them over she’d warned Chi. ‘Don’t give too many at once. He could die. He’s an old man and isn’t used to more than one in twenty-four hours. At most two.’
As if anyone was going to stick to that advice.
Theft of drugs. Another crime to add to her name.
How long did she have before the police connected her with Zac’s disappearance and made the connection between whatever terrible event it was that Kath was planning? What was she going to be charged with? Murder? If Zac died.
She could almost feel the hand on her collar. Could she and Chi make their getaway before she was arrested? How fast could they run? Did Jamaica have an extradition treaty with the UK? She looked it up on the internet. No. Well, that was one little ray of sunshine.
As she neared the town centre, she tried to shift the blame to him. It would all have been all right had Zachary not kept that one article with its tempting headline. That one fucking article that he’d saved and showed her: Teddy bear made as mourning bear following sinking of Titanic sells for £91,500.
Zac had watched her read it, smiling, proud of his little treasure.
‘Mummy gave it to me. Her mummy bought it for her with the compensation after Auntie Elinor drowned.’ He’d been stroking the teddy as he’d talked. And she’d listened. ‘Compensation,’ he repeated, ‘but Mummy said nothing could make up for what happened. It was a big ship and it didn’t have enough lifeboats and the other ships saw their distress flares and they thought it was fireworks. But an iceberg had struck and ripped it open …’ He’d displayed this with a tearing gesture of his hands. ‘Ripped,’ he repeated, ‘a big hole in the ship and it broke in half and then it sank. Right to the bottom of the sea. And my Auntie Elinor who worked as a kitchen maid went with it to the bottom of the sea. She’s still there. And this is all I’ve got left to remind me of her.’
He’d wrapped his arms around it and closed his eyes, smiling, gone to sleep. And she’d looked at the teddy, read the headline for herself and had the idea. Surely, she’d reasoned, Zachary’s tatty little teddy wouldn’t be missed? He wouldn’t notice a substitute. He was too demented. But he had. The value meant nothing to him. It was just a childhood toy with a memory and a past, but it was something familiar, something reassuring. She was realizing that now. Too bloody late.
She’d done her homework, studied the bear, checked everything she could against the article, the size – fifty centimetres. The little button in the left ear and the magical name Steiff. Looked again at the astonishing amount of money. And the little seed of greed had been planted. And then she’d met Chi with her contacts.
Antiques and Objets d’Art
Bought and Sold
She could pinpoint exactly when she had first tasted reservations and the fear.
It had been when she’d met Kath.
And now? She would go when she knew Zac was safe. Not before. Going to work was hard. She felt her colleagues’ suspicions. Real or imagined?
And every time the police visited, she sensed them inching towards the truth.
And then the sergeant was involved in a hit-and-run. And suddenly the heat was off. They were too busy searching for the person who had driven the stolen white van.