Val McDermid - Crack Down

‘Over a day?’ I echoed foolishly. I couldn’t take it in. I had no sense of having lost a day of my life. I felt like I’d woken up from a strange dream after a brief spell of unconsciousness. Did people feel like this when they came out of comas that lasted weeks or years? No wonder they felt dislocated. I’d only lost a day and I felt like I’d stumbled into an episode of the Twilight Zone . I managed a twisted grin. ‘You know it’s a bad case when the only way you can catch up on your sleep is to get unconscious.’

‘I’m glad you can joke about it. We were starting to get really worried. The doctors gave you a brain scan and said there seemed to be no damage, but they couldn’t say how long you’d be out.’

‘Does Richard know?’ I asked.

‘I discussed it with Bill and Ruth, and we decided not to tell him before this morning’s hearing. It seemed the best solution.’

‘Yeah,’ I sighed. ‘He couldn’t have done anything, and they wouldn’t have let him out unless I was really at death’s door. It would only have had him climbing the walls. The last thing he needs right now is to be charged with assaulting a police officer.’ The only good thing I could see about having lost an entire day was that I wouldn’t have to wait so long to see Richard again. With luck, he’d be out on bail by lunch time.

‘How are you feeling?’ Della asked.

‘Took your time asking, didn’t you?’ I teased.

Della looked hurt for a few seconds, before it sank in that I was at the wind-up. ‘Listen, Brannigan,’ she said, pretending to be stern, ‘I don’t have to be here. I’m not on duty. I’m here out of the goodness of my heart, you know.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, meaning it. ‘I’m impressed. I’ve never known you go this long without a cigarette voluntarily. Actually, I don’t feel too bad. A bit woozy, that’s all. And my head’s throbbing. And now I’m awake, they’ll probably give me something for that. At least I know I’ll be out of here in a few days. How’s Crazy Eddy handling it, being locked up in a cell?’

Della stiffened to attention again. Her face shifted from concerned friend to alert copper. ‘You know who this guy is?’

‘Why? Don’t you?’

She looked faintly embarrassed. ‘As it happens, we don’t. He won’t say a word. He had nothing on him that would identify him, and his prints don’t seem to be on record. Who is he?’

‘His name’s Eddy Roberts. He’s an ex-Para. He got invalided out a couple of years after the Falklands war because he was out to lunch and not coming back. He’s supposedly been working all over the globe as a mercenary. He’s been back in Manchester since Easter. Apparently working as a hired gun. Among other things.’ I stopped, suddenly exhausted.

‘Kate, I know you’ve been through it, and I’m sorry to have to keep on at you. This isn’t the time to take a formal statement, but this is really important information. How do you know all this? Have you been chasing him?’ She had the good grace to look ashamed of herself.

I gave one of those laughs that turns into a cough halfway through. ‘No, Della. He was chasing me, remember. The reason I know so much about Crazy Eddy is because his wife and kids told me. Eddy Roberts used to be married to Cherie Roberts. The woman he blew away outside the post office on Tuesday.’

That was revelation enough to shatter Della’s official cool. ‘You mean, that wasn’t a professional hit job? It was a domestic?’

‘It was a hit job all right. Cherie had found out about the child porn racket. And I expect she threatened that she’d spill the beans to me. The fact that Eddy used to be married to her was, I suspect, totally irrelevant. If anything, it probably made it more exciting.’

‘And that’s how you got involved? Through Cherie?’

I was growing wearier by the second, but I forced a smile. ‘I thought you weren’t taking a statement?’ Della started to apologize but I waved it aside. ‘Only joking, honest. No, I got involved because Davy came home stoned out of his mind.’ I gave Della the thirty-second version of events around Oliver Tambo Close. I’d just got to the bit about interviewing Wayne and Daniel when we were interrupted.

She was only in her mid-twenties, but the night sister was fierce. ‘Is the patient awake?’ she demanded. ‘Chief Inspector, I gave you strict instructions to ring for a nurse if the patient showed signs of coming round. You’ve got no right to interrogate her on my ward without my permission.’

‘It’s my fault,’ I butted in. ‘I wanted to know what had happened.’

The sister busied herself with my pulse. ‘You’re in no fit state to discuss it,’ she said firmly. ‘Chief Inspector, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can come back after Mr Rocco has seen the patient and if he decides she’s fit to be interviewed.’

Della got to her feet meekly and winked. ‘See you soon, Kate,’ she said.

‘I hope so,’ I sighed. ‘Oh, Della — before you go…Sister, can I ask the officer one question?’

The sister smiled, unexpectedly. ‘If you must. But keep it short,’ she added, frowning pointedly at Della.

‘The van. What sort of state is it in?’

‘Amazingly enough, it’s just superficial damage. You’ll be relieved to hear it’s not a write-off, according to Bill last night.’ She edged towards the door. ‘Thanks for your help, Kate.’

I watched her retreating back while the sister bustled about doing sisterly things to my reflexes. She asked me who the Prime Minister was, and I told her about the pain, so she gave me some pills once she’d finished her neurological observations. The last thing I remembered as I drifted into sleep was being grateful that I hadn’t written off the Little Rascal. It was only seven months since another homicidal nutter had sent my last company car to the great scrap yard in the sky. Any more of that, and the insurance premiums were going to be higher than the price of a new set of wheels.

The next time my eyes flickered open, I thought I was hallucinating. There, sitting on the uncomfortable chair, brown hair flopping across his forehead, eyes intent behind his glasses, was Richard. Seeing me waken, a slow, joyful smile spread across his face. I’d never seen a more welcome sight. ‘Hiya, Brannigan,’ he said. ‘You’re not fit to be let out on your own, are you?’ He stretched out an arm and gripped my right hand tightly. The bruises sent out a protest bulletin on all frequencies, but I didn’t care.

‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ I said. ‘This is all your fault anyway.’

‘I had a funny feeling it was going to be,’ he said, grinning. ‘I see the blow to your head hasn’t improved your grasp of logic. They tell me you’ve not got brain damage, but I told the consultant different. He said there was nothing they could do about the state you were in before the accident. So I’m just going to have to live with it.’

‘Did you get bail, or was it Group 4 that escorted you to court this morning?’

‘The police withdrew their objections to bail, and they let me go without conditions. Ruth says they’ll drop charges once they’ve nailed the real guys in the black hats and cleared me. I came straight here, you know. I didn’t even go home for fresh clothes and a joint. You did a great job, Brannigan.’ He released my hand and dropped to his knees, hands clenched in supplication. ‘How can I ever repay you?’

‘I’ll think of something,’ I said. ‘You can start by giving me a kiss.’

He jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll have to close my eyes,’ he said, mock-seriously.

‘I look that bad?’ I demanded, suddenly discovering a new anxiety. I put my hand up to my head, discovering a thick turban of bandage that extended halfway down my forehead.