Quintin Jardine - Blood Red

There was a pause in the recording. ‘But why would you do this?’ it continued. ‘What possible reason could you have had? Let me tell you. You planned to disappear too; you planned to take her son and to join her in hiding, letting her be condemned as a murderess in her absence, but freeing you to spend the rest of your life with the woman you love. Brilliant, flawless. . or it should have been. You underestimated her resourcefulness, and her ability to prove her own innocence.’

‘Something I will never do again,’ said Gerard, quietly.

‘So that’s it?’ Valdes asked him. ‘You admit it?’

‘You’re a very smart man, Comisari,’ he replied, with a soft chuckle that caused me physical pain as I listened to it, ‘to have figured all that out. You put it on paper and I’ll sign it; as you said, it’s brilliant.’

The commissioner switched off the recording. ‘So you see, senora,’ he sighed.

I stared at him, that John Cazale lookalike, and as my eyes filled with tears, I knew that he’d done to me what Fredo did to Michael in Godfather Two . He’d broken my heart.

Iasked Valdes if I could speak to Gerard. He told me that he had no personal objection, provided that there was a guard present for my security, since I was now a potential witness against him, but that ‘the prisoner’. . how I hated it when he used that word. . had made it clear that he did not want to see anyone.

I asked him if he would contact Santi, but he replied that the prisoner had expressly forbidden him from contacting his brother. ‘He says that he will not allow his situation to compromise his career. He has that right, senora; I have to respect it.’

There was nothing that I could do but leave. I sat outside in the car park for a while, not wanting to drive until I had pulled myself together and was able to concentrate on the road. The last thing I needed was to hit a kid, or get hit myself, through lack of attention.

I was stunned. I’d gone in there telling myself that nothing would ever make me believe that Gerard was guilty, only to hear him admit it. I called Mac, on my mobile. He had been in on it, so he had a right to know. I told him where I was, and what had just happened.

He was as stunned as I was. ‘He set you up?’ he repeated. ‘He did that to you?’

‘I don’t think he set out that way, but when he heard that I was implicated, he saw a way to get himself clear and to get us what we both wanted, each other. I’m in no doubt that if I had been caught he’d have come forward and confessed.’

‘You reckon?’ he growled. ‘You’re too good to people, Primavera, that’s your problem. You trust too much.’

‘I haven’t always. This time I really thought I could. Luck of the devil, eh. Oh Mac, why do I always fuck up? I get close to someone then I do something daft, or he dies, or goes to the bad. I’m a fucking carrier of disaster; they should lock me up like one of those typhoid women and chuck away the key.’

‘Aye, and who’d look after your boy then? Don’t beat yourself up over the imperfections of others. You were far more loyal to my son than he ever was to you, and as for this fellow, seems to me you’re lucky you didn’t get any closer to him.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Look, would you like me to come back out there, me and Mary? We could look after the wee man while you get stuck into this new job of yours.’

‘Thanks, Mac, but I’m not even sure I’ll go ahead with that.’

‘Hey,’ he exclaimed, ‘you’ll get me angry in a minute. There’s every reason why you should. This guy’s kicked you right in the self-esteem. You’ve been given this opportunity because people think you’re worth it. If you walk away from it, you’ll be letting them down, Tom down, me down, yourself. . Ach shit, Primavera, you’re going ahead as planned, you’re going to let Father Gerard take his coffee and you’re going to wash him out of your hair along with that bloody dye. So, do you want us to come out?’

I considered his offer; then I turned it down. ‘It’s good of you, but if I’m going to do what you say, I’d best begin by standing on my own two feet.’

‘That’s more like it. Keep in touch, though.’

‘I promise.’

I was ready for the road; Mac had put some backbone into me. I found my way out of Girona and took the quickest way home, via the short hop up the autopista from junction six to five. I got home just as Tom was getting to the fretting stage, fed up with the dogs and worrying about me. I bought a case of Riogenc from Ben, partly as a thank you and partly because I was running low on pink wine, and took Tom and Charlie home.

The dog had barely settled into his kennel before Tom planted himself in front of me, looked me square in the eye, and asked, solemnly, ‘Mum, what’s wrong with Gerard?’ He didn’t add, ‘And don’t fob me off with some crap story about him going away to another parish.’ He let his expression do that for him.

‘He’s with the police, son,’ I replied. ‘He’s in trouble.’

‘I heard someone saying he’s killed people.’

‘That’s what the police say too.’

He looked at me scornfully, dry eyed. ‘Gerard wouldn’t do that. You don’t believe them, do you?’

‘He’s admitted it, Tom. He’s confessed to it; I heard him say so, on a recording.’

‘But has he told you that he did it? Has he told YOU?’ He shouted the last word.

‘No, he wouldn’t see me.’

‘He wouldn’t see you because he knew he couldn’t tell you a lie.’

He’s a tough little monkey, but he was getting close to tears. I drew him to me, and pressed his face into my chest. ‘Tom, my love, you don’t tell a lie that’s going to put you in prison for thirty years. I’m sorry.’

‘No!’ he shouted, then twisted out of my grasp and ran into the house. I didn’t follow him; since he was about three he hasn’t liked anyone seeing him cry, not even me. I’m not keen on it myself, so I went indoors too.

After a while, I changed out of my black dress, into denim shorts and a red shirt. I hung the dress up, tossed my new shawl into the box where I keep odds and ends like that, and went down to what I was going to have to think of as my office. I had it to myself, so I booted up my computer and Skyped Mark Kravitz.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, immediately. Christ, did I look that bad? A glance at my box onscreen showed me that I did.

I told him the story. ‘Jesus, Primavera,’ he murmured into his mike, ‘what a length to go to. Wouldn’t you have shagged him if he’d just asked?’

‘Not on the side,’ I replied, ‘not while he was still a priest.’

‘The police case is rock solid, is it?’

‘Rock solid and with a signed confession. I spoke to a cop who knew him back in Granada; this guy’s supposed to be the hardest man in town, but he didn’t think so himself, when the Hernanz brothers were lads. Gerard was, plus he has a history of violence when his women are insulted, or abused.’

‘Indeed?’ He looked at me. ‘So what are you going to do now?’

‘Look after my boy; he’s broken-hearted. Then. .’ As I looked at him, I had an idea. ‘I’ve been told to get on with my life, so next week I’m coming to London to meet a man at the FCO. How do you fancy having an office junior for a couple of days; nearly nine, and big for his age?’

‘That would be great. Why don’t you both stay here?’

‘No, Mark, I wouldn’t impose that much. We’ll get a hotel; the FCO are paying for it, and I can’t remember the last time I was on expenses.’

Tom came into the room just as we finished our conversation. I wondered if he’d been listening, and immediately felt ashamed of myself; he doesn’t have a sneaky bone in his body. ‘We’re going to London,’ I told him. Normally a piece of news like that would have set him hollering, but all he did was shrug.