Val McDermid - Crack Down

‘No, it doesn’t matter. Your dad must be really proud of you. When did you see him last?’

‘We saw him yesterday,’ Daniel said. ‘But he’s been around for ages. He came back at Easter.’

I knew that if I betrayed my surprise I wouldn’t get another word out of Daniel or Wayne. Somehow, I had to keep superficially calm at the news that Crazy Eddy was back in town. I breathed softly and thought about something restful; a room freshly painted barley white, actually. ‘I thought your dad worked away,’ I said.

Daniel stuck his chest out like a sergeant major. ‘He does. He’s a warrior, my dad. He teaches whole armies how to fight like him. But when they’ve learned how to do it, he comes home and sees us.’

‘Does he come home often?’ I asked.

‘Once or twice a year,’ Wayne muttered. ‘The first time was just after I was five. We were playing in the playground at school at break time and this soldier came up to us, and he crouched down beside us and said, “You know who I am, don’t you?” And we did, because Mum had his picture on her dressing table.’ At the mention of the photograph, something clicked inside my head. Wayne looked up and met my eyes. ‘Do you think we can go and live with him now? Be soldiers with him?’

‘You’ll have to ask your foster mother about that,’ I said, distracted by the piece of the jigsaw that had just fallen into place. ‘Where does your dad stay when he’s here?’ I tried to sound casual.

‘In the Moss. With a man that used to be one of his squaddies,’ Daniel said. ‘He’s never taken us there. He’s too busy training us.’

‘Of course he is. It’s a tough job, being a good soldier.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Davy getting restive. I pretended to be stern. ‘And you soldiers are letting the side down now.’ All three looked puzzled. ‘Do you know what’s wrong with this picture?’ I asked, gesturing at the table. They all held their breath and shook their heads. ‘Empty plates!’ I mock-roared. ‘Time for seconds! Who wants more?’

I didn’t have to ask twice. After the waiter had brought the second round of ice-creams, I said, ‘So what training were you doing with your dad yesterday?’

‘Tracking and observation,’ Daniel reported. ‘We met Dad round the common, and then we went and hid across the main road, on the waste ground. We had binoculars, and we watched the outside of the flats and we waited for Mum to come out, then we trailed her and spied on her talking to Woody. Dad said she should keep her nose out of other people’s business when we told him she was on about the transfers.’

‘Did he know about the transfers, then?’ I asked through a mouthful of chocolate hazelnut. I’d succumbed the second time around.

‘Course he does,’ Wayne said, scornful again. ‘He told us to get the transfers off Woody and get the other kids to use them. He said they’d all want them and that way they’d do what we told them to. But we don’t use the ones we take off Woody. Dad said that would be a sign of weakness, so we don’t.’

Eddy wasn’t wrong about the transfers being a sign of weakness. I couldn’t help wondering just how much he knew about what was going on in the house on the corner. It was time I paid it a visit. But first, I had to keep my side of the bargain I’d made with myself. I’d had my needs met; now, Daniel and Wayne were entitled to the same thing. I dug my hand in my pocket and dumped a handful of change on the table. ‘Who wants to play?’ I demanded, gesturing with one thumb towards the array of video-game machines at the far end of the ice-cream parlour.

I kept half an eye on them as I struggled with the significance of what Wayne had told me without realizing. Now I knew why the big bouncer at the Lousy Hand seemed so familiar. It wasn’t because he was a regular in the Mexican restaurant downstairs from the office.

I’d once seen that photograph that Cherie kept in her bedroom. She’d shown me it when she’d asked me to hunt her husband down. He’d been in uniform, the maroon beret of the Paras cocked jauntily on his head. He’d been nearly ten years younger too. But that scar clinched it. The man who was fingering cars for Terry Fitz was none other than Crazy Eddy Roberts. At the very least, it was a strange coincidence.

It takes more than bereavement to divert small boys from arcade games. By the time they’d fought in the streets, driven several grand prix, played a round or two of golf and done enough terminating to get us jobs with Rentokil, the effects of the afternoon’s trauma had receded noticeably. When we all piled back into my car, the haunted look had left their eyes. I didn’t doubt that it was only a temporary respite, but even that was enough to ease my guilt at having taken advantage.

I dropped them off, promising that we’d keep in touch, then I drove Davy back to Alexis’s. Of course, he was fired with curiosity as to why they’d moved back to their house and why he was staying with them there instead of with me in Coverley Close. Luckily, he was tired enough to be fobbed off with the excuse that Alexis and Chris needed to be at home now they were back at work because all their clothes and stuff were there. Alexis greeted him like a long-lost friend and hustled him off to the spare room, where she’d moved the video and the portable TV from their bedroom. I made the coffee while she made sure he was sufficiently engrossed in The Karate Kid for the dozenth time.

‘You all right, girl?’ Alexis asked when she returned. ‘You look about as lively as a slug in a salt cellar.’

‘Gee thanks. Remind me to call you next time my self-confidence creeps above the parapet. I’m just tired, that’s all. I’ve not had a decent night’s kip since last Wednesday.’

‘Why don’t you crash out here now? You can have the sofa bed in the study.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got to go and sit outside a house in the dark.’

‘Hey, the sofa bed’s not that bad,’ Alexis protested, joking. ‘I’ve slept there myself.’

‘Sorry to hear that, Alexis,’ I said, pretending deep concern. ‘I hadn’t realized your relationship was in such a bad way.’

‘Hey, carry on getting it that wrong and you could get a job on the Chronicle ’s diary column.’

‘Tut-tut’ I scolded. ‘And you the one that’s always telling me how unfairly you journos are maligned for your inaccuracies. Anyway, enough of this gay repartee. I’ve got work to do, and you’ve got a child to mind. I’ll call you later.’ I headed for the door. ‘And Alexis? I know you probably think I’m over-reacting, but don’t open the door to anyone unless you know them.’ I was through the door before she could argue.

I got in the car, revved up noisily, and drove round the corner. I gave it a couple of minutes, then turned back on to Alexis’s street, stopping as soon as I had a clear view of the path leading to the house. I picked up my mobile and dialled a familiar number. It rang out, then I heard, ‘Hello?’

‘Dennis? It’s Kate. Are you busy tonight?’

‘I don’t have to be,’ he said, his voice too crackly for me to hear whether he sounded pissed off or not.

‘I need a major favour.’

‘No problem. Whereabout?’

I gave him brief directions and settled back to wait. OK, so I was being paranoid. But like they say, that doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. There was no way I was leaving this street until I was sure that Davy, not to mention Alexis and Chris, had someone to watch over them. And there was no minder I’d trust more than Dennis. He had an added advantage. Years of earning his living as a burglar had developed in him an astonishing ability to stay awake and alert long after the rest of us are crashed out snoring with our heads on the steering wheel. If he was sitting outside the house in his car, I’d feel a lot less worried about the possibility of Jammy James wanting to use me or Davy as a lever against Richard. Not that I believed for one minute that the demolition of my front door was a message from James. I just thought it was better to be safe than sorry. Or something.