Jack opened the door wider for Ridley, then closed it behind him. He started up the stairs. ‘Give me a moment to put some clothes on.’
Halfway up the stairs he paused.
‘Actually, why don’t you follow me up and go into my office. I’ll be right with you. Maggie’s sleeping.’
Ridley left the bouquet of roses on the hall table and followed Jack up the stairs. He moved slowly, stopping once to take a deep breath before he continued. Maggie sat up when Jack entered the bedroom.
‘Who was it?’
‘Ridley,’ Jack whispered. ‘He bought you a huge bouquet of roses. I told him you were sleeping. He’s in my office so that we won’t disturb Penny if she goes into the kitchen for a cuppa.’
‘Bit odd, isn’t it? What does he want?’
Jack shrugged as he pulled on a pair of jeans.
‘He’s going on holiday for three weeks in the effing Caribbean. I dunno what he wants, but I’ll get rid of him as soon as I can.’
Maggie sat up, watching him search for a t-shirt, and then almost losing his balance as he tried to put on a trainer.
‘Do you want me to go and make coffee?’
‘No. Listen, if you make an appearance, which I don’t think you should, you didn’t know anything about the situation he was in, right?’
‘Right, “I know nuffink, guv — I’m just ’is wife, he never tells me nuffink.”’
Jack laughed. ‘You just stay put and I’ll get rid of him as soon as I can.’
‘How’s your nose? You only yelped once when you were kissing me.’
Jack tapped his nose. ‘I think I can go another round with you later tonight, so don’t move.’
She grinned. ‘I’ll be waiting.’
Jack went down to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of whisky, some glasses and the ice tray, then hurried back up the stairs to his office. Ridley still wearing his coat and woollen hat was sitting in Jack’s swivel chair, looking at the stacks of files and notebooks on his desk. He stood up as Jack came in.
‘What have you done to your face, Jack?’ Ridley asked.
‘Oh, had a run-in with the banister, almost broke my nose. It’s a lot better than it was...’
‘You’ve certainly got a lovely shiner there!’
‘Yeah, I’m keeping an ice pack on it whenever I can... I’ve got a big day coming up.’
Ridley drew up a hard-backed chair, leaving Jack to sit at his desk. He had folded his overcoat neatly placing it on the floor.
‘Here, let me get the ice out while you pour — and not too much for me.’
Ridley expertly squeezed the ice out, plopping a couple of cubes into each glass and Jack poured a double measure. They clinked them together but neither of them said ‘cheers’. They sat in silence for a moment as they drank. Ridley still looked very drawn; he had obviously lost a considerable amount of weight.
‘It’s over with the investigation, Jack... well, my part, anyway. The rest will be ongoing for some time, years probably; it’s a hell of a fraud they’re uncovering, quite apart from the murders. But for me, it’s “Take a holiday and keep your mouth shut.”’ He sipped at his drink.
Jack noticed that Ridley’s hand was shaking slightly. Sounding more affable than he felt, he asked, ‘So, after your sunshine break, do you know what’s going to happen?’
‘Not yet. I’ll be given details on my return, apparently. But I wanted you to know that your part in it did not go unnoticed. I’m obviously personally grateful — that goes without saying — but you won’t regret assisting with the investigation. Your involvement can never be made public, but, as I just said, it has been noted and not just by me.’
Jack shrugged. ‘I didn’t do it for that; I just wanted to help. It’s already forgotten, and you or whoever they are should have no concerns about me discussing it with anyone, if you’re worried about that. That said, personally, I do have a few questions I’d like answered, because the whole thing still doesn’t make sense to me. You put me at risk and, God help you, my wife, my daughter and my mother. Then you turn up with a bunch of roses and tell me you’re off on holiday and everything’s back to normal. But it isn’t, especially not between you and me because I don’t think I can trust you anymore.’
Ridley took another swallow of the whisky, before he carefully placed the glass back on the desk. ‘Firstly, I want you to know that when I found out the dangerous situation I had inadvertently drawn you into, my priority was the immediate protection of you and your family. Your safety was the investigation’s top priority, even before you traced Sandra’s — I mean Lorna’s — identity.’
Jack looked unimpressed. ‘So at what point did you put a tracker on my car?’
Ridley sighed. ‘OK, almost day one. I also lied about the ankle bracelet; that was also for my safety, so they always knew exactly where I was. Look, I apologise for the lies. I was not staying at the house because of the murder enquiry; it was really for medical reasons. I have been very sick. I needed treatment round the clock. The truth is, I still do.’
Jack could hardly believe it. He drained his glass and poured another one straight away, stopping himself from lashing out at Ridley. There was a long pause before Ridley continued his story.
‘The night Lorna had arranged dinner with me, she said that it was time she told me the truth, that she had used me from day one as a form of protection. But, she said that she was meeting someone important before our dinner, someone who could provide a crucial piece of evidence. I didn’t know evidence of what and she wouldn’t tell me. I believe now that her obsession with finding Anton’s killers turned into something else as she began to uncover evidence of fraud and money-laundering on a global scale. But she couldn’t stop, even though she knew the more she uncovered, the more her life was at risk.’
‘Well, she got that right,’ Jack said brutally, ‘seeing as she ended up dead in the boot of your car.’
‘Yes, yes she did,’ Ridley said.
‘Did you find out where she was murdered?’ Jack asked.
‘No, but whoever she was meeting had to be the killer, or killers. From what you found in the Pimlico flat, it was obvious that she was careful not to take any of the evidence she had gathered with her, or any personal items: handbag, passport etc. As soon as you identified her, we checked the CCTV footage in the area of the flat, but it was spotty. There’s footage of Lorna leaving the building and heading towards the main road. She was wearing a camel-hair coat, a headscarf and dark glasses but carried no briefcase, purse or anything. That was the last sighting of her alive.’
‘So, all that bullshit you fed me, about being suspected of her murder was... what? More lies?’
‘No, not to begin with; it was what else they eventually found inside my car that changed things.’
‘You mean beside her naked strangled body?’ Jack snapped.
Ridley sighed. ‘I understand why you’re angry. But I am trying to explain.’
‘OK, so, tell me, what did they find in your fucking car?’
Ridley slowly pulled off his woollen hat, revealing his bare scalp with just a few tufts of hair. The skin looked raw and scabbed.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Jack exclaimed.
As Ridley drank the rest of his whisky, Jack could see how drawn and drained his face was with dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes.
‘I was barely alive when they found me, Jack. I’d had convulsions for two days, hardly being able to breathe, pissing and shitting myself, constantly vomiting. The only reason they reckoned I’d survived was because of my chemotherapy sessions, and the fact I’d spent so long in the shower, trying to get to my feet. By the time they got to me they had already found Lorna’s body, and my car had been towed for examination by the forensic team.’