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Authors: Barry Maitland
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number.
‘Kathy! You’ve sorted things out?’
‘’Fraid not. They’re getting worse, actually. You’re not in bed, are you?’
‘It’s only ten. Lloyd just got in.’ Her partner was also a detective, in North London.
‘I need a big favour, Nicole. I’m trying to find out about two guys who were in the army together. There’s not much on them on the PNC. I was wondering if you could access their army records, and dig up anything else.’
‘Sure. I’ll get onto it tomorrow.’
‘I was wondering if you could manage it now. We’re interviewing them first thing in the morning. It would really help if I could have something by then.’
There was a silence. ‘You want me to go into the office
now
?’
Kathy sighed. ‘No . . . I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea. Forget it.’
Another long silence. ‘What are their names?’
‘No, really, Nicole. Forget it.’
‘I’ve had a couple of drinks. You’ll have to pay for the cabs.’
•
It was a short drive to Bradshaw Street. TV screens flickered through curtained windows as Kathy made her way to flat three. It took a long while for Sheena to come to the door. She blinked at Kathy, bleary-eyed, racking her brains.
‘Kathy Kolla, Mrs Rafferty, from the police. I came about Marion, remember?’
‘Oh . . . oh aye. I’m . . .’ She looked vaguely back over her shoulder. She was wearing a dressing-gown, hair mussed, a cigarette burning in her fingers.
‘Can I have a quick word?’
‘S’pose so.’
There was an empty vodka bottle on the floor in the living room, clothes scattered, TV emitting canned laughter.
‘Can we turn that down?’
Sheena blinked, looking around for the remote. Kathy found it and handed it to her. The sound boomed louder, then dipped to a murmur.
‘How have you been?’
‘Oh, you know. How does a mother feel, eh?’
‘Yes. Can we sit down? I’m afraid I’ve got a bit more bad news. Keith’s been arrested.’
Blank incomprehension. ‘Keith what?’
‘He’s been arrested.’
‘Keith? Did he hit somebody?’
‘We think he spiked a girl’s drink, in a pub.’
Sheena’s eyes came abruptly into focus. ‘What?’
‘Him and Brendan Crouch.’
‘Jesus Christ. The stupid . . . Where was this?’
‘The Three Bells.’
‘Och no. Pissing on his own bloody doorstep, the stupid . . . Ah’ll kill that bastard.’
‘Has he done anything like this before?’
‘Is the Pope a fuckin’ Catholic? Where’d ah put ma fuckin’ drink?’
‘With Marion?’
‘What?’ Sheena’s eyes widened, the whites ringed with smeared mascara.
‘Did he try stuff with Marion?’
‘What . . . what are you tryin’ to say?’
‘Come on, Sheena. You know, don’t you? Marion didn’t tell you when she moved three months ago. Why was that? It was to keep Keith from finding her, wasn’t it?’
Sheena opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was taking quick shallow breaths. Suddenly she gave a little cry, and looked down at her hand, where the cigarette had burned down to her fingers. She stabbed it in an ashtray and wheeled on Kathy.
‘Git out,’ she said hoarsely.
‘I want to help you, Sheena. I want to help you do the right thing for Marion.’
‘GIT OUT!’ she screamed. ‘GIT OUT! GIT OUT!’
‘Calm down.’ Sheena was looking wildly around, as if for a weapon. ‘All right, I’m going. Just think about it, Sheena. I’ll be here when you want to talk.’
•
Brock had told her to go home and so, belatedly, she did. The place was cold and she put the heating on and made a cup of hot chocolate, then sat, waiting, trying to think.
Towards 2 a.m. her phone rang.
‘Kathy?’ It was Nicole, sounding weary. ‘Rafferty left the army six years ago. He was in the Second Battalion, Light Infantry, along with Crouch. They served together for four years, in Iraq and Northern Ireland, and on the mainland. There was one incident of interest, in Belfast. A girl accused the two of them of rape. Later she
‘Kathy! You’ve sorted things out?’
‘’Fraid not. They’re getting worse, actually. You’re not in bed, are you?’
‘It’s only ten. Lloyd just got in.’ Her partner was also a detective, in North London.
‘I need a big favour, Nicole. I’m trying to find out about two guys who were in the army together. There’s not much on them on the PNC. I was wondering if you could access their army records, and dig up anything else.’
‘Sure. I’ll get onto it tomorrow.’
‘I was wondering if you could manage it now. We’re interviewing them first thing in the morning. It would really help if I could have something by then.’
There was a silence. ‘You want me to go into the office
now
?’
Kathy sighed. ‘No . . . I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea. Forget it.’
Another long silence. ‘What are their names?’
‘No, really, Nicole. Forget it.’
‘I’ve had a couple of drinks. You’ll have to pay for the cabs.’
•
It was a short drive to Bradshaw Street. TV screens flickered through curtained windows as Kathy made her way to flat three. It took a long while for Sheena to come to the door. She blinked at Kathy, bleary-eyed, racking her brains.
‘Kathy Kolla, Mrs Rafferty, from the police. I came about Marion, remember?’
‘Oh . . . oh aye. I’m . . .’ She looked vaguely back over her shoulder. She was wearing a dressing-gown, hair mussed, a cigarette burning in her fingers.
‘Can I have a quick word?’
‘S’pose so.’
There was an empty vodka bottle on the floor in the living room, clothes scattered, TV emitting canned laughter.
‘Can we turn that down?’
Sheena blinked, looking around for the remote. Kathy found it and handed it to her. The sound boomed louder, then dipped to a murmur.
‘How have you been?’
‘Oh, you know. How does a mother feel, eh?’
‘Yes. Can we sit down? I’m afraid I’ve got a bit more bad news. Keith’s been arrested.’
Blank incomprehension. ‘Keith what?’
‘He’s been arrested.’
‘Keith? Did he hit somebody?’
‘We think he spiked a girl’s drink, in a pub.’
Sheena’s eyes came abruptly into focus. ‘What?’
‘Him and Brendan Crouch.’
‘Jesus Christ. The stupid . . . Where was this?’
‘The Three Bells.’
‘Och no. Pissing on his own bloody doorstep, the stupid . . . Ah’ll kill that bastard.’
‘Has he done anything like this before?’
‘Is the Pope a fuckin’ Catholic? Where’d ah put ma fuckin’ drink?’
‘With Marion?’
‘What?’ Sheena’s eyes widened, the whites ringed with smeared mascara.
‘Did he try stuff with Marion?’
‘What . . . what are you tryin’ to say?’
‘Come on, Sheena. You know, don’t you? Marion didn’t tell you when she moved three months ago. Why was that? It was to keep Keith from finding her, wasn’t it?’
Sheena opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was taking quick shallow breaths. Suddenly she gave a little cry, and looked down at her hand, where the cigarette had burned down to her fingers. She stabbed it in an ashtray and wheeled on Kathy.
‘Git out,’ she said hoarsely.
‘I want to help you, Sheena. I want to help you do the right thing for Marion.’
‘GIT OUT!’ she screamed. ‘GIT OUT! GIT OUT!’
‘Calm down.’ Sheena was looking wildly around, as if for a weapon. ‘All right, I’m going. Just think about it, Sheena. I’ll be here when you want to talk.’
•
Brock had told her to go home and so, belatedly, she did. The place was cold and she put the heating on and made a cup of hot chocolate, then sat, waiting, trying to think.
Towards 2 a.m. her phone rang.
‘Kathy?’ It was Nicole, sounding weary. ‘Rafferty left the army six years ago. He was in the Second Battalion, Light Infantry, along with Crouch. They served together for four years, in Iraq and Northern Ireland, and on the mainland. There was one incident of interest, in Belfast. A girl accused the two of them of rape. Later she
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