‘My car’s in the hospital car park.’
‘You’re not driving anywhere in your state. I’m going to take you.’
Branson smiled bleakly at him. ‘What am I going to do, Roy?’
‘I’ll tell you exactly what you are going to do. Do you remember, a few years back, telling me why you had become a copper?’
‘What did I say?’
‘You told me that you were a night club bouncer. When your son Sammy was born, you looked down at him and realized that one day someone at school would ask him what his dad did for a living. You didn’t want him having to say his dad was a bouncer. You wanted him to be proud of you. That’s why you joined up. Doesn’t matter how much Ari poisoned them against you. I’m going to drive you home in a few minutes, and you are going to walk in through the front door and hug them. And one day, very soon, they’re going to forget all the shit they’ve been told and they will be very proud of you indeed. Because you’re a very special guy, and they are damned lucky to have you as a dad.’
Branson gave him a bleak smile. ‘You know, after my second, Remi, was born I looked down at both of them one day – and I had this weird thought. I thought, one day you are going to think I’m a better person than I really am. So I’d better try to improve myself, in order to cushion their eventual disappointment!’
Roy Grace raised his glass and clinked it against Glenn’s. ‘You’re going to be okay. Know that? I love you, mate. I really love you.’
Branson squeezed his friend’s arm and blinked away tears. Then he took a deep breath. ‘Let me tell you something. It’s a warning, okay?’
Grace frowned. ‘A warning?’
‘I don’t want the same thing to happen to you that happened to me. You’ve been through enough shit in your life. You’ve got to realize that ever since Noah was born, your relationship with Cleo has changed for ever. You are no longer the most important thing in her life, and you never will be again. You’ll always take second place to your son, and to any other kids you might have. I’m just telling you that because I know you’re a decent, caring man, but you’re overloaded with work and it might take time to sink in – it did for me. Our kids didn’t bring Ari and me together, and I blame myself.’
Roy Grace shook his head. ‘You don’t have anything to blame yourself for. You’re a good man, mate.’ At that moment his phone rang. He answered, then looked at his watch. It was a quarter past eight. He had planned to take his work home and help Cleo, who was sounding stressed, by looking after Noah. But this was too important.
Reluctantly, he said to the caller, ‘Okay, I’ll meet you there at nine. Forty-five minutes.’
He ended the call and turned back to Glenn. ‘Drink up, you’re going home. Home. To your house and your kids!’
‘What – what do I say to them when I get there?’
Grace balled his fist and touched his friend’s cheek lightly with his knuckles. ‘You just say, “I’m your dad, and I’m home.”’
37
‘In your dreams,’ Amis Smallbone said, through his missing teeth. Seated in a booth in the busy pub, opposite a glass tropical fish tank that acted as a dividing wall, he cradled a whisky, feeling particularly ratty as he hadn’t had a smoke for over half an hour because it was pissing down with rain outside, waiting for this fuckwit who was late, and hurting all over from his beating. He was dressed in his regular summer rig of blue blazer, open-neck shirt with a paisley cravat, chinos and Cuban-heeled boots.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Gareth Dupont, with a pint of Diet Coke in front of him and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. He was feeling equally ratty because he was running very late for his date with Suki Yang. He sat there in a thin leather bomber jacket over a white T-shirt, jeans and flashy loafers. ‘And what the fuck happened to you?’
‘I walked into a door.’
Dupont nodded, not expressing any interest in the details.
‘We made a deal,’ Smallbone said. ‘You don’t renege on a deal. And you don’t grass up people in this city.’
‘I don’t need to grass up anyone,’ Dupont said. ‘You weren’t straight with me. You didn’t tell me how much value was involved here – and you didn’t tell me I was going to be at the wrong end of a murder enquiry. I’m out on licence like you. You asked me to find a home for some paintings. You never told me I was going to be the driver for some psychos and ten million quid’s worth of gear.’
‘And you really think you can grass us all up and collect the reward? You’re fucking dreaming.’
Dupont shook his head. ‘You’ve been inside a long time, Amis. But don’t tell me you’ve been out of touch.’ He dug his hand into the crisp packet. ‘You must know about Crimestoppers?’
‘What about them?’
‘They’re a charity. Any member of the public can call them with guaranteed anonymity. They will never, ever reveal the caller’s identity to the police or to anyone else. But if that anonymous call results in arrest and conviction, the caller will get the reward. Are we on the same song sheet now?’
‘You’re forgetting that I know everyone, Gareth,’ Smallbone said. He spoke kindly, like an uncle to an errant nephew.
‘You’re forgetting you’ve been inside for over twelve years, Amis. Most of your contacts are inside or have gone away. That’s why you contacted me.’
‘So what do you want?’
‘You offered me ten grand for this deal, right?’
‘That’s what you accepted, and very gladly,’ Smallbone replied.
‘Yep, well, now I want one hundred grand. Or you’re going back inside.’
‘In your dreams.’
38
Grace sat outside Glenn Branson’s house in Saltdean, in his new – new to him at any rate – black Alfa Romeo Giulietta, which he had bought from the second-hand lot of Frost’s at a bargain price. Hard summer rain drummed on the roof. Cleo had sounded exhausted on the phone, and he wanted to get back to her, and to see Noah.
‘I have to meet this guy, darling, it’s really important.’
‘I thought you were going to be home early today,’ Cleo said.
‘I had to see Glenn. His wife died – I told you, right? Dead from an allergic reaction. It’s unbelievable.’
‘You did tell me, and I can’t imagine how he is feeling. Poor, poor guy. Aileen McWhirter died and that’s terrible, too. You have to find her killers, and you have to find them quickly, and you will, darling, because you’re the best. But a few hours aren’t going to change anything, Roy.’
Sandy had never understood – or at least, accepted – how the work hours of a homicide detective could be so totally unpredictable. But Cleo was different. Until only a short time before she had given birth, she ran the Brighton and Hove City Mortuary, and had equally unpredictable hours, recovering bodies from wherever they had died. People were rarely courteous enough to drop dead or get murdered within office hours. But all the same, he really wanted to be at home with her, wanted to spend every precious minute with Noah that he could.
‘I’m doing all I can to keep the weekend clear, darling,’ he said.
‘So you can go to the footy?’ There was humour in her voice.
‘If I go, it’s for work. How is Noah?’
‘He’s cried, pooed and vomited for five hours, non-stop.’
‘I’ll be on Noah watch all night, after I get home, I promise.’
‘That’s sweet of you to say, darling, but you won’t. You’ll fall asleep and I won’t wake you, because I know you have to be at work at 6 a.m. And besides, you don’t have breasts.’
‘Couldn’t I bottle-feed him to give you some sleep?’
‘I’m so tired,’ she said, ‘I can barely think straight.’
‘I’ll be home as soon as I can.’